Wednesdays were always the same for Harry. Every week he would wake up early, eager to start the day.
He would make his way to the kitchen, cooking enough breakfast for two, though Ginny would rarely take any for herself. She always insisted the occasional piece of toast or slice of bacon would be plenty. Afterwards, she would head off to work, shop or do whatever it was she did to pass the time between then and lunch…until they would see each other again.
He found that, over the years, he always had a difficult time occupying himself. In the early days of their marriage, work kept him busy in the hours between their morning kisses and afternoon snogs. Years after Harry retired, he spent the idle time talking with Ron about everything and nothing.
These days, an occasional walk in the park, doing the crossword puzzle, or reading a book seemed to be the only thing that helped the minutes melt away until he could see her face again, until he could hold her once more.
Even after fifty years of marriage, their love never waned. It was always strong, everlasting and passionate. And every Wednesday was their tradition.
Each week, since the day Harry and Ginny were married, they would have a picnic at their favourite spot in the park under the shade of an old beech tree. A small pond sat only metres away from the tree, often reminding them of their days at Hogwarts in his sixth year, her fifth, when they would sneak away to enjoy rather memorable moments by the lake.
In Harry’s younger days, Ron loved taking the mickey out of him for these weekly dates that he obviously thought his sister was behind. But Harry never admitted to his best mate that they were his most cherished times. He accredited his and Ginny’s long lasting relationship to their Wednesday dates.
Ron later learned how to take the goading from his childhood mate when Hermione decided that a date night was a terrific idea for the two of them.
Harry restrained himself from taking it out on Ron; he knew that his friend had a difficult time accepting that his loving wife had him wrapped around her finger. Harry also knew that his mate had come to the same conclusion that he had early on. He’d grown very fond of having time alone with his wife. No matter how hard life got, these times were what helped remind him and Harry of just how wonderful life really was.
With the hint of a smile drawing at the corners of his lips, the now grey-haired man blinked, waking himself from his thoughts. He had let the time get away from him again as he sat out in the small backyard of their cozy home.
It hadn’t been the first time that he’d lost track of the hours by just staring into the empty sky, disappearing into his thoughts, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.
Harry jumped out of his comfortable lawn chair and made his way back inside, determined not to be late for their date. He had planned for this picnic to be a memorable one.
As he made his way back into the house, he crossed through the sitting room, passing his sleeping owl. It had been years since Hedwig had passed and there was never a day that Harry didn’t miss her. After all, she had been with him during the most difficult years of his life and he often recollected such good times with her.
His bare feet stepped lightly onto the cold kitchen floor, his mind suddenly fixed on making a delicious lunch for the two them. His heart fluttered as he counted the seconds until they’d be together again.
Harry busied himself, gathering things from the cupboard when he heard the faint pop of fire coming from the fireplace in his sitting room.
“Harry,” called a rough, aged voice. “Harry, mate, are you there?”
“Er…yeah,” he replied after a pause. “I’ll be there in just a second.” Moments later, Harry walked back into the sitting room to see Ron’s head floating in the flames, staring at him.
“Anything wrong?” Harry asked, slightly concerned. “You and Hermione okay?”
“Oh,” Ron said, a bit thrown off, “yeah, we’re both just fine.”
“Well, what’s going on? I’m a little busy at the moment.” He glanced into the kitchen, giving his wand a quick wave so the food began to prepare itself.
“I, er…” the older Weasley cleared his throat. “Listen, I just thought I’d call to see if you wanted to come over and play a few games of Wizard’s chess or something. Hermione has her nose stuck in a book again and I’m bored out of my mind.”
“I can’t, mate. It’s Wednesday. After all these years, have you forgotten?” Harry wore a shocked expression on his face at the perplexed look about Ron.
“Huh?”
“My old friend, I think you’re finally losing your marbles. Ginny and I are having our picnic today just like we do every week.” He frowned, slightly worried for the aging man in front of him.
“Oh,” Ron said, distracted. He glanced to his right as if he was looking at something in the fireplace wall. “Right…I must’ve just forgotten.”
Harry sniggered lightly and gestured back to the kitchen. “Well, I’d better finish up here. I’ve still got to make a stop before I meet Ginny.”
“Okay, then. Er…if you change your mind later, feel free to pop over.”
“Thanks, Ron. I’ll keep it in mind.” With a kind smile, his friend’s head disappeared from the grate, leaving Harry alone in the sitting room again.
Twenty minutes later, Harry was strolling down the sidewalk in a Muggle neighborhood near the village where they lived. He always took the same journey each week, passing the coffee shop on the right and the store, further up on the left, that sold little knick knacks and things of that sort. He loved having the chance to enjoy the scenery and take in the life around him.
As he rounded the corner, Mr. Middleton’s small shop came into view, reminding Harry of the last item that he needed to pick up before his date with Ginny.
“Ah, Mr. Potter!” Mr. Middleton said, spotting the still well-spirited gentleman nearing his stand. “How are you today? You’re running a few minutes behind for your date. Did you let the time slip away from you again?”
“I’m well, Frank,” he replied with a genuine smile. “You know me too well.”
“You haven’t exactly changed much over these many years, sir.” Frank sat down the newspapers that he had been putting out for display. “How is the family?”
“They’re just fine. How are you this morning?” Harry asked in return.
“Oh, I’m just as chipper as can be, Mr. Potter.” He clasped his hands, bouncing happily on his heels.
“Please, Frank. Will there ever be a day when you just call me Harry?”
“Maybe one of these days, sir,” Frank said with a small chuckle. “What can I get for you today, then? Your usual dozen daisies?”
“Not today, my good man. Today I’d like to get two dozen roses. Red ones.”
“I’m sorry. It’s your anniversary. It must’ve slipped my mind.” He cupped his forehead, “My goodness, where has the time gone? So, that’s two dozen red roses,” he paused a moment before asking softly, “and two white ones?”
“No, three this year, Frank.”
The old shopkeeper nodded quietly with a small smile as he began gathering the flowers for Harry and wrapping them with tender care.
“So…any big plans this year, Mr. Potter? This is your fiftieth, right?”
Harry smiled warmly with a tiny shimmer of remembrance in his eye. “Yes, it’s our fiftieth anniversary this year…but we don’t have anything out of the ordinary planned.”
“Well, these ought to make it a very special day,” Mr. Middleton said as he handed the roses over to Harry. Seeing him fishing in his pockets for money, Frank stopped him. “No,” he said, shaking his head, “they’re on me this week.”
“Honestly, Frank. I insist on paying,” he protested.
“Nonsense, Mr. Potter. Consider this as my anniversary gift. Besides, you’d best be off. It’s nearly noon and we both know that you don’t like arriving late.”
“You’re right,” Harry said as he glanced down at his watch. “Thank you.”
“Do you need a hand carrying everything, Mr. Potter?” the shopkeeper called as Harry began walking away.
“No, no, Frank. I’ve got it. Thanks again, old mate,” he added with a small wave. “I’ll see you next week.”
“Until then…and give my best to the family.” Mr. Middleton watched Harry wave goodbye as he headed back down the sidewalk, attempting to pick up his pace a little as the wind rustled in the trees around him.
He released a short, musing breath, dropping his head slightly. He’d been selling flowers to Harry for more than thirty years, ever since he was a teenager, working for his father. Looking back, Frank thought that there never seemed to be a day when he didn’t see Harry’s love grow even stronger for his companion, his love, his wife.
A few minutes passed before Harry reached a small piece of property, guarded by a tall rod iron gate.
Up until a few years ago, they’d always gone to the same park and sat next to the same tree every Wednesday since they were married. As the years rolled on and the two of them changed with age, they longed for a more secluded place, somewhere that was just theirs.
One day after talking with Mr. Middleton, Harry discovered that a Muggle man had posted a lot for sale just a few blocks over from the park that they always visited.
He knew that, after all these years, it would take a little time for Ginny to adjust to the new location, but he also knew that she would fall in love with the quaint paradise. And fall in love with it, she did, just as he had imagined.
With a small, hidden tap of his wand on the lock, Harry walked inside, shutting the gate behind him. Crossing the short distance to a shaded area beneath a large oak tree, he thought of how Ginny never failed to remind him that this tree was here for a reason. It was there to protect them, to shield them from everything else in the world. And above all, like their love, it was strong and eternal.
He sighed a sweet breath as a smile played at the corner of his mouth. Now feeling the heavy weight of the picnic basket on his arm, Harry carefully sat it down, gracefully resting the roses against one side. He reached into the wicker basket and withdrew a blanket, holding it at the corners and fanning it out as it slowly floated down, waving in the wind. Meticulously draping the fabric over the ground, he knelt down on it and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small keepsake.
Harry carefully flattened the wrinkles out of the corners, revealing Ginny’s smiling face. He’d carried this picture with him wherever he went, despite her protests. Each time she saw him with the picture, she rolled her eyes, jokingly threatening to wring his neck if he didn’t stop this infatuation with her younger self. Though she was flattered by the fact that he was admiring a picture of her (and not someone else), she had to remind him, on several occasions, that regardless of how much she wished that she looked like her younger image, she never would look that way again.
Nevertheless, he always held onto the picture and vividly remembered the day that it was taken.
It was one fine Wednesday afternoon; they must’ve been in their mid-twenties. After the two of them finished their picnic, she had refused to go back to work saying that she be damned if she let such a gorgeous day go to waste. Harry certainly didn’t disagree with her as she sent an owl to the Ministry to let them know that she would be taking the rest of the day off. All Ginny wanted was to spend more time with her husband.
The vivacious, red-haired witch had been positively giddy all day and her cheeriness and laughter seemed to be quite infectious as Harry soon realized. He watched her as she danced about, flinging her arms into the air and swirling around in delirious circles as a shower of leaves drifted down around her. Her vibrant, red hair was floating in the air, surrounding her with a warm glow.
He’d tried to quietly grab the camera and sneak a picture of her. But as his finger clicked on the shutter, Ginny spun around, catching sight of his intentions and stopped to blow a kiss in his direction.
Little did she know then that the raven haired man would grow deeply fond of the picture that she so often referred to as silly nonsense.
He smiled again, drawing the picture ever closer to him and pressing his lips against it as she blew yet another kiss in his direction. Harry slowly brought her face back into view as a finger trailed down the picture over her cheek just as she mouthed, “I love you.” Moments later, she was spinning around madly again, laughing and nearly tipping over from dizziness.
Harry lowered the picture gently, slowly, leaning it against the stone in front of him.
Reaching behind him, he picked up the roses that were laid against the basket. Harry glanced back to her picture again before his eyes traveled up the expanse of grey stone before him, finding her name engraved into it.
Ginevra Molly Potter
1981-2049
Beloved Sister, Loving Mother and Cherished Wife
“To my partner, my love, my soul mate…I meant every minute.” ~Harry
Harry swallowed the thick lump that was quickly rising in his throat as he laid the two dozen red roses on the ground in front of him. He remained still for a moment before finally making his words audible.
“It’s our anniversary today, love. I don’t know if you remember,” he mumbled quietly. “But I … I bought these for you, just a small way to show my love. And these…” Harry added, placing the three white roses gently on top of the others. “One for every year we’ve been apart,” he whispered.
The grey-haired man that had fallen in love with the beautiful witch so many years ago looked frail as he sat there staring at her picture. Her small figure continued to twirl around as he caught sight of her blowing kisses at him again. Harry couldn’t help but let a few tears fall down his pale cheeks.
“I miss you…so much so that sometimes I don’t know how I’ve been able to make it this far without you.” His hand slowly drifted from his knee to lay softly on the ground above where her body had been resting for the past three years.
“I miss your voice in my ear, the sound of you laughing, my arms wrapped tightly around you…” He let his voice trail off for a moment. “I dreamed so many times of having a lifetime with you. The years we had together just weren’t enough.”
Harry sat quietly, wiping away the tears that were now rolling down his face. “I wanted the chance to spend another lifetime with you, Gin. But what we had together, all of the happiness, all of the heartache, all of the arguments… I wouldn’t trade a single minute.
“I never stopped needing you. I never stopped wanting you. And without a doubt, there was never a day when I stopped loving you, nor will there ever be.”
Ginny’s aged husband paused briefly before crouching low and moving his head closer towards the ground until his right cheek was pressing onto the warm earth. With a gentle breath, he whispered inaudibly into the fading green blades of grass.
It was a minute more before Harry drew himself up, kneeling in front of her grave marker again. He raised a hand, brushing away still more tears from underneath the wire rims of his glasses. With a quiet sniff, he laid a hand on the top of her headstone, prolonging his visit, even if it was only for a few seconds more.
Harry gave a small nod as if agreeing with himself that he had to leave. It was best to go now.
Pushing himself up with a shaky hand, he paused a moment to steady his footing. He took his time folding the soft blanket and remembered something in the basket as he tucked it away. Reaching inside, he pulled out a tiny round object that fit perfectly in the palm of his hand.
Harry turned back to see her name in the gray stone again and felt a stinging in his eyes. His missing her seemed to only get worse with the passing of each year.
“For old time’s sake,” he said after clearing his throat slightly. He bent down and placed a small chocolate egg, covered in a colorfully decorated wrapping, on the raised side of her grave marker.
Before standing upright, he carefully picked up the happy picture of her. Reaching into his pocket as he straightened up, Harry retrieved a soft white handkerchief and shook it open. He placed the cloth over his now outstretched fingers, laying Ginny’s picture on top of it and making sure that the edges were straight once again.
The frail man folded the corners of the handkerchief gently over the moving image until he could no longer see her face. Harry closed his eyes, trying to push aside the haunting images of her that kept flooding his mind as he slid the old picture of her into the front pocket of his coat.
Taking a deep breath, his green eyes flew open, shining visibly in the dimming afternoon light, and he bent down once more to fetch the wicker picnic basket that had been sitting next to the towering oak tree since he had arrived.
He sighed heavily and let his gaze fall to the roses lying on the ground. Harry had delayed his going for as long as he could and now that it was time to leave, his feet seemed to be frozen to the very spot.
Each week had proved harder to leave than the last and with painstaking effort, he finally took a faltering step back.
“Next week,” he whispered. “I love you.” He turned, facing the dark iron bars of the gate once more and felt his heart sink. It would be another week until he saw her again. It would be another six days to wish away until he’d walk down the street, past the small shops before buying a dozen daises from Frank and finally seeing her beneath the oak tree through the iron bars that would then be a sight for sore eyes.
As Harry wrapped his fingers around the handle and pulled open the gate, a strong gust of wind rustled the branches of the oak. Several leaves fell from their home and floated down swiftly with each wave of the breeze. For a moment, Harry forgot the dreaded thoughts that plagued his mind as he looked up in awe. The lonely leaves were circling about him on a gentle wind that was surprisingly warm. It almost felt as if he was being embraced in it.
His heart couldn’t help but lighten in that instant. Harry knew, deep in his soul, that it was Ginny’s way of saying that she loved him and reassuring him that she’d never leave his side.
With a small smile, Harry stepped through the opened gate, letting it close behind him a second later. The gentle tap of his wand sounded quietly, locking the gate once more…until they could meet again.
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