All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and definately not me, I'm just messing around with them.
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Ginny watched as her son bounded up the stairs to his room, wishing he would always be there to wake her from her daydreams.
“Breakfast in 20 minutes,” she called at his back.
Ginny felt her heart beat with hope for the future that lay ahead of this energetic 11-year old. He was kind and mischievous, just like his father, and had all the talent Harry had ever dreamed of possessing. She thought she heard a muffled concur whisper back from the second floor and she peeled herself away from the window.
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“Do you think he’ll have as much fun as you did in school, Harry?” Ginny asked quietly.
“He?” Harry lifted his eyebrow and grinned.
They would have no way of knowing if it was a boy or girl until the baby was actually born, but Harry could tell that Ginny was hoping for a son as much as he was.
He coughed out a gentle laugh, then, his hand placed gently on her swollen belly, replied in a stately manner, “No one can have that much fun.”
Ginny smiled and placed her right hand atop his. Harry looked up at her face, pale in the shadows of the tiny room, as his wife took in a breath of decrepit air. Ginny never let on how much it ached her heart to think about giving birth to a child in this place, knowing full well the weight that was already on her husband’s shoulders.
As she glanced around the room, she noticed the pine dresser to her right, missing all but three knobs and an entire front panel from the bottom drawer. Hanging on the wall above it was a dusty and faded painting of the mountains, offset by an elaborate bronze frame, engraved with delicate flowers, ridges and designs. The small bedroom door matched the walls with its array of paint colors showing beneath the various cracks and torn pieces of plaster. The rickety old bed they were laying on smelt moth-ridden and stuffy and the mattress sunk down to the fragile wooden planks beneath.
The only comfort amidst this rubble was the large yellow and brown blanket she had knit the month before.
Ginny shifted to her side and looked to the window, magically darkened to prevent anyone outside from seeing in. Tonight, however, it had been boarded up, with only a tiny crack visible towards the top. The death eaters were closer to finding them every day, and even the slightest bits of protection could make all the difference between life and death. She knew a few planks of aged wood would hardly stop a pack of death eaters, desperate to kill her and take Harry to his end with Voldemort, but there was a humanly comfort in at least knowing something extra was being done.
Ginny squeezed the hand on her stomach, her heart full of hope and despair at the same time. She could tell Harry was deep in troubled thought, although he never let on. Tonight marked almost four years that the battle had been raging on, and Harry was worn. He had been working mercilessly on the remaining horcruxes and at times it seemed he would never solve the riddles that guarded their identities.
Each day brought more momentum to Voldemort’s army and more and more death to the Order. Muggles had begun to die the year before, and the British Prime minister was spending all of his time trying to make up excuses and put innocent men away for the crimes to satisfy irate citizens. The magical world was in utter disarray, leaving very few intact.
“It will be all right, Ginny.” Harry spoke softly, as if knowing the next thought on his wife’s mind. He reached his arm around to comfort her, his body conforming to the tightly bent shape of hers. “I promise you that.”
Ginny forced a dim smile and nodded. She was too afraid to speak for fear of desperate words flowing from her lips-words of hopelessness and anger, desperation and desire. Her eyes burned with the powerful run of tears she refused to let Harry hear, and every bone in her body ached with need to explode into sobs as the thought of her unborn baby never surviving this war broke something deep within her.
This child would be so pure, so perfect…it had every right to experience life outside her womb. She dreamt of its smile, the tiny toes and fingers...her hands dug into her sweater and she curled her head into her chest.
Feeling frustrated at the lack of comfort he seemed to be able provide, Harry removed his hug and pulled out of bed. It was late in the night, but neither he nor Ginny were even pretending to be able to sleep; too much was on both of their minds. Ginny didn’t move, but quietly clasped her hands around her belly. She heard the door creak open and seconds later click shut, and she exploded with hungry, wet tears.
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The sizzle of bacon filled the kitchen of the Potter home as Ginny reached into the cupboard behind her to pull down a few dishes. One hand fingered the smooth ceramic plates on the highest shelf whilst the other cupped two bowls on the second.
“James!” She hollered towards the stairs.
“Here, mum,” an excited voice replied.
Ginny looked down to notice her son had somehow appeared at her side and was reaching for the plates to help her unload. He quickly walked over to the small round table, cozy in a small breakfast nook across the room, and began setting the plates in their normal homes. Ginny smiled with motherly content to see how calm and responsible her son was, even though it would not last much longer. It was his last morning at home, and he was on his best behavior.
“Thank you, James. What would I do without you?” She giggled.
“I suppose you’ll miss me, then,” James said with a maturity in his voice far beyond that of a normal child his age.
Ginny smiled and replied, “Well, only when I need a good match for Wizard’s Chess, but at least now I can get a decent hour of sleep.”
She giggled again as James huffed and she ruffled his already messy hair. They ate breakfast slowly, talking all about Hogwarts and what Ginny had done when she was there. She gracefully avoided certain topics, but rambled on about Quidditch and sneaking out for snacks in the middle of the night. She made sure to remind her son that he was to behave at all times, but they both knew she was only being half-hearted. Deep inside Ginny looked forward to the mischief she knew her son was capable of, after all, he was not only part of Harry, but Weasley as well.
When they had finished Ginny sent her son upstairs to finish packing and as he raced away, called that they would leave for the train station in about an hour.
Unmoved, Ginny looked down at her plate, remnants of eggs still lingering along the edges. She always tried to forget about her past when she was with James, but more and more he just reminded her of it. She pulled at her neck where a scratched and pounded ring hung along an even more worn chain, rubbed it through her fingers with a blank motion, and found herself staring out the window once more.
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Ginny hovered over the toilet, vomit breaking free from her mouth. Her cheeks were wet with tears and her stomach was sore from sobbing. Her palms slid down the porcelain bowl until they hit the floor. She didn’t think it was possible to cry anymore than she already had, but the tears continued to break free from her eyes. She heaved out great pounds of rough, scratchy air until her voice could no longer expel sound and she fell back onto her butt, her back propped against the bathroom wall. She shoved her hands through her hair pulling even more strands wild from their place in a low ponytail and left her palms smashed against her forehead, her elbows held up by her knees. She let out an exasperated grunt and dropped her arms limp between her legs.
“Idiot!” Ginny mumbled angrily to herself. “You’re such an idiot!”
Ginny looked up to the sink counter to see the bottle of blue potion sitting dangerously close to the edge. Another muffled curse passed her lips as she lifted herself up just enough to grab the bottle and collapse back against the wall. She stared at the small glass vile for a moment, taking in the thin, bright blue liquid and trying to accept what it meant.
Pregnant…of course. Just the sort of thing that would happen, wouldn’t it? Ginny thought bitterly.
As if this war wasn’t enough. Harry had gone into hiding a little less than a year before, and she had to sneak out in the night to apparate to his mysterious locations. Every time he moved, which was rather often, he would send her a coded note to let her know where to find him and even though Ginny almost never recognized these places, she would simply think about the words on the page, and Harry, and hope she ended up in the right place. Of course these visits were rare because of the sensitive nature of their situation. They had to be explicitly careful to not let anyone figure out what they had done, and especially try to stay undiscovered by Voldemort and his death eaters.
Ginny tugged at the gold band that hung along a simple old chain around her neck, and thought that this was the most precious item she’d ever owned, and knew it would be for the rest of her life. Harry had given it to her on a cold November night as they were married in secret, one week after he proposed. She let the metal slide through her fingers and let it slip onto her left hand. She heaved another sigh as she stared at the simple ring that now adorned her left ring finger and longed for the day it could remain there, without pain, and without fear.
She pulled the prize jewelry off and adjusted her eyes to the bottle still squeezed between her palms. Ginny was only 18, soon to be 19, and knew that this pregnancy was hardly a capable change. I can’t do this, Harry can’t do this! How will I tell him? How will he react? What will he say? A million thoughts raced through Ginny’s mind. There was so much to be said, and yet it seemed like she couldn’t say anything at all.
When Harry had proposed to her less than six months ago, they knew that marriage wasn’t something they wanted to wait on. Perhaps it was the uncertainty of knowing whether or not they would live to see another sunrise, or possibly the overwhelming sensation of adventure that came with this relationship, but either way, this engagement would not linger.
The Order had already expressed concern to Harry that he not get involved with Ginny during the war for fear that the death eaters would find out and use it against him, which had been the reason Harry had broken up with her when Dumbledore died the few years prior. He would have agreed with them whole-heartedly had he not come to the inner-understanding this last August that as much as he wanted to protect her by staying away, there was ultimately no better protection for Ginny than his own presence. Ginny was not the kind of girl that would be held back, thus she would be fighting alongside her brothers in deep combat. It was something he loved about her, but another reason he knew she would not be safe, and wanted to be by her side.
Ginny could tell that Remus Lupin was suspicious of the amount of time her and Harry began spending together, and believed part of the reason he was sent away into hiding was as much for his own safety, as it was hers. She felt horrible lying to everyone about their relationship, about their fierce love that was fast growing with more and more intensity, but it was decidedly better to keep them as clueless as possible. The less they knew about Harry, the harder it would be for Voldemort to catch up.
Her heart began to swell with courage as she remembered her husband and the vow they’d made to stick together, to keep each other through everything. They had defied her parents, and everyone they’d ever known as family, to get married, knowing they would be together forever, whether anyone else thought it was the right time or not. When is it ever the right time, anyway? Ginny sighed, cocking her head sideways as she rested it against the cold wall.
In the bathroom of a tiny house that served as a temporary command center for the Order on the outskirts of London, Ginny pulled herself to her feet with what little strength she had left. “I have to talk to Harry, that’s all that can be done.”
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“Mum?” James voice exploded into the kitchen and Ginny’s hand fell into the plate of leftover food.
“Right…oh…” she said as she fumbled to gather herself. “Ready to go, I suppose?” She stopped to smile at James and took in a deep breath. He nodded excitedly, his trunk resting beside him and his beautiful snowy owl rested in between his arm and hip.
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A/N: Please read and review-I'm anxious to hear what everyone thinks, all things. Thank you so much!