Unable to remember the last time that she had felt so awful, Ginny Weasley bent over the sink and cupped water to rinse her mouth out, holding her hair back with the other hand. Her stomach seemed to settle a little as she washed her hands. After flipping the toilet lid down with a bang, she sat down and took a deep breath, pressing her hand against the flat of her belly. It was still churning.
After a brief moment of panic when she thought that she would be sick again, Ginny began to relax as the terrible swishing feeling subsided. She stood up and lifted a small but bulging black bag from a shelf next to the mirror. I need a bigger vanity case, she realised as she rifled through the contents, looking for a hair brush. She eased it gently though her locks and cherished the mindless motion. A hint of a burning smell startled her out of her reverie. Ginny bolted for the bathroom door.
“David!” she called, running towards the kitchen. The silver toaster was just beginning to smoke. Pressing the release catch, Ginny grabbed at the two pieces of blackened toast that popped into the air. She swore as she threw them down onto the counter. She turned around and glared at the man who was sauntering into the kitchen. “You burned your toast again.”
“Did I?” he asked, peering around her to the overdone toast, which lay discarded on the bench. “Oh, right. Sorry about that. I was on the phone.”
“Why don’t you just make sure the setting’s right before you start your toast off, Dave?”
“Because I expect it to be the way I left it.”
Ginny rolled her eyes and smiled, her irritation forgotten. David was a very absent-minded kind of flatmate. Forever burning his toast and forgetting to bring their mail up from the post-box downstairs, he just didn’t think about things the way that Ginny did. That’s why she loved him so much.
They had met during Ginny’s first week at the British Library, and they had instantly taken to each other. Back in the days when Ginny always Apparated to London, they had become close friends, although they had only spent the hours at work together. She had never understood why people said that gay men were the best friends a woman could have until the first time he had pointed at her skirt and just said, ‘No.’
When David had complained of needing to find a new place to live and a new flatmate to share the rent, Ginny knew that this was the opportunity she had been looking for. Desperate to leave the Burrow and step out on her own, she had joined him in flat hunting around London. She learned after their first attempt that flat shoes were essential to survival.
This flat had been the thirteenth that they had looked at, and they had felt at home in it almost as soon as they had walked through the door. The neighbourhood was quiet, and despite living above some shops, there was very little noise to be heard. Having to climb two flights of stairs after a long day pacing the vaults of the Library was a bit of a pain, but the cheap rent, ease of location and atmosphere within the flat made it worth it.
Proof that, despite his scatterbrained personality, David was the ideal flatmate came during their first day together. He had happily given up the larger of the two bedrooms to her, laughingly agreeing that she probably did need more space for her shoes than he did.
“I’ll make you some more,” she offered as he kissed her cheek in friendly greeting.
“Thanks,” he said. “And good morning! You’re still sick, I hear.”
“Yeah.” She popped two more slices of bread into the toaster and fixed the heat dial to medium. “Sorry. I try to keep the volume down. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
David stared at her for a long moment. She could feel his eyes on her as she bustled about collecting side plates from the cupboard above her.
“Ginny?”
“Yeah?”
“Have you ever thought…? Look. I’m not saying you’re stupid or anything, but have you given any thought to when you’re being sick?”
“Eh?” She reached into the refrigerator for the margarine and blueberry jam.
“Come on, Ginny, you’re not this daft. I know you’re not. You’re being sick in the mornings. You’re fine by the time we get to work. About two weeks ago I should have had to hide in my room to escape from evil PMS-Ginny, but she never showed her face. You’re pregnant,” he stated, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“No, I’m not,” she said as she laughed, believing it to be a ridiculous idea.
“When was the last time you… um… saw Blondie?”
Ginny smiled briefly at his nickname for the boyfriend he had never liked and calculated in her head. “About five weeks ago.”
He nodded slowly. When her face paled, he took the butter knife from her hand and pointed her towards her bedroom. “Go and check your diary.”
Ginny trailed slowly towards her bedroom, almost afraid to pass through the door to where she could find an answer. She paused momentarily before entering and carefully closed it behind her. She heard David let out a long, sympathetic sigh as he lifted his breakfast from the toaster.
A tear traced a slow path down her cheek. No, she thought. No. Ginny's hands shook fiercely as she reached into the first drawer on her dressing table. Her red leather diary fell to the floor with a clatter. She lowered herself to the carpet beside it and leafed nervously through the pages. A wave of panic surged through her, and she had to close her eyes and concentrate on easing her breathing. She opened them and focused on a circled P half way down a page. That marked the start of her last period. She slowly flipped the pages to today’s date. Four weeks, five weeks, six weeks.
Her head dropped instantly. David was right, she realised. How could she have been so blind? Switching positions so that she could hug her knees to herself, Ginny leaned against her bed and cried.
How could she have let this happen? Why now? Why Draco?
Jumping at a gentle knock on her bedroom door, Ginny swiped the heels of her hands across her eyes, momentarily not caring that she spread her mascara all over her face.
“Just a minute,” she called, standing up and looking in her dressing table mirror. What a mess. She pulled a tissue from the box and quickly wiped away the streaks that cascaded down her cheeks. Considering herself presentable, she walked to the door, sucked in a rushed breath, and opened it.
“Oh, Ginny,” David sighed, wrapping his arms around her while being careful not to tip the toast he had brought her onto the floor. A fresh wave of tears pushed forward, and she buried her head into his shoulder. “Shh,” he calmed her. “Shh.”
“David, I…” she sobbed. “I don’t know how this happened.”
“Well, I could fill you in on the details, sweetheart,” he teased gently, “but you should have noticed at the time.”
When his joking evoked nothing other than more weeping, he leaned forward and set down the plate on top of her chest of drawers. He sat down on the foot of the bed and pulled her down with him. “Come here,” he said, settling her on his lap while he wrapped his arms around her. “There’s no need for this, Ginny.”
“You think?” she stuttered.
“Well, we don’t even know if you’re pregnant. All we know for sure is that you’re late. See?” Ginny nodded her head slowly, her cheek rubbing noisily against where it rested on his shoulder. “We’ll calm you down, and then we’ll go down to the pharmacy and find out for sure.”
Lifting her head, Ginny pressed a kiss against his cheek. “Thanks, Dave.”
“Anytime.” He hugged her tighter. They sat together for a long stretch of time, Ginny lost in her thoughts. Questions raced around her mind. What if she was pregnant? What would Draco say? What would her family say? Could she cope at twenty-five with a baby? Could she have an abortion? Should she tell anyone? Answers were the problem, Ginny realised, not questions. She had none.
“Let’s go,” she said, standing up. “I need answers.”
David groaned and stretched his leg out in front of him. Ginny murmured an apology for squashing him for so long. He just smiled in answer and stood up to give his leg a shake. He picked her jacket off the hook in the back of her door and opened it out for her. “Let’s go,” he said.
“I don’t want to use this pharmacy,” Ginny said as they walked along their street. “Let’s go somewhere else.”
“There’s no shame in this, you know, Ginny,” he asserted. “People have babies every day.”
“Not people like me,” she insisted, grasping his hand and pulling him across the road and away from their local pharmacy. “And not people like Blondie, either.”
“How will he react?” David asked, almost positive that he already knew the answer.
Ginny raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “Who knows?”
She knew.
“If we turn left here, there’s another one along the end of this road.”
They turned the corner and walked in silence until they entered the chemist. Affronted by a range of products, Ginny and David looked at each other.
“Come on. Let’s get ‘the most advanced technology you’ll ever pee on,’” he said, mocking the product’s successful but annoying television advertising campaign. He picked a small box from the shelf and carried it to the counter ahead of Ginny, handing over a ten pound note.
“Thanks,” she said. “I forgot to pick up my purse.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Let’s get home and get this done.”
Their return journey was also almost silent, for which Ginny was thankful. Her mind was still racing, her belly churning with nerves. Although she was eager to complete the pregnancy test and find out her fate for certain, she was also terrified.
This is going to change both of our lives, Ginny realised as she climbed the stairs behind David. She could hear rustling ahead of her and knew that he was unwrapping plastic from the box and putting the test together. She had been irritated by this at first, thinking that he ought to just leave her to it. Her annoyance melted away when she realised that he was probably as nervous as she. He might not have a baby in his belly, but his life would be turned around if she did.
David handed her a completed test wand as he closed the door behind them.
“Three minutes,” he told her, pushing her gently towards the bathroom. “Go on.”
“I don’t need to go yet,” she said, striving for a little more time.
David rolled his eyes dramatically at her and gave another little push. “Go.”
When ten minutes had passed, David rapped on the door. “And?” he asked.
Ginny opened the door, her cheeks streaked with tears and her broken heart written upon her face.
“Pregnant,” she said.
Ginny lay quietly on her bed, listening to the sounds of the road below through her open window. My life is in tatters up here and none of them know it, Ginny mused, envying the position of the people down on the street. She wished that she didn’t know herself. If only it would go away, she thought.
A wave of swearing crept through into her room. She smiled briefly. David had just dropped something. That was typical of him. She knew that he had been set on edge too. Their lives were both going to change, no matter what happened. If she chose to have the baby, could she still live with him? How would he feel about it? If she chose to have an abortion, how would he feel about that? It was something that they’d never discussed: their views on abortion. She never thought that it would be an issue.
David’s opinion would never be enough to sway her on such an important matter if she thought that she had made the right decision. However, she realised that disagreement on such a touchy subject might pose problems for their living together. Her instinct was to believe that David would have faith in her own decision making skills, and support her no matter what she decided. Nevertheless, she worried.
Having never given any serious thought to motherhood, Ginny was blown away by her situation. She hadn’t been in a long-term relationship for over two years, and the Muggle she had been seeing then wasn’t interested in children. The prospect of motherhood had just never come up. She had certainly never considered being a single mother. Going back to Draco was not an option either. Even if she hadn’t have worn disillusioned with their relationship, her lust and amour had quickly transformed into hatred when he had lifted his hand in anger.
I don’t want to be a lonely single mother, Ginny realised. I don’t want to be on my own. Who will want me with a Malfoy baby by my side? I’ll be alone from now onwards.
Could she even be a mother? Growing up in the Weasley household had given Ginny an unconscious ideal of the family. She wanted to be married to a man that she loved the way that her mother loved her father. She wanted to have a home, to provide a home. What kind of mother could she be, single and living with a gay Muggle?
Overwhelmed by the magnitude of the circumstances in which she found herself, Ginny began to pace the length of her bedroom. The owl perched on the edge of her window went unnoticed until it twittered at her impatiently. The owl’s golden eyes stared at her unblinkingly.
“Who sent you?” she asked in a quiet voice, approaching it slowly. A thick cream coloured parchment envelope embossed with her name was attached to its leg. She untied the letter and absently stroked the owl on the head in thanks. Ripping open the envelope, she sank down on the bed and read it quickly.
Dear Ginny,
How nice to hear from you! Luckily I found your letter now; I wouldn’t have been able to check again for some time, and you would have gone unanswered. Things are about to get interesting for me, plans have been made and traps baited, and [neatly scratched out]. Well, you know how it is! I can’t say.
Regarding your question about Mundungus Fletcher, I have asked my colleagues and we have a little bit of information for you. Although he has been hiding from the public, Fletcher is an ex-convict and therefore his whereabouts must be registered with the Ministry. His last known address is outside of a little village called Burwash in East Sussex.
Other than that, I’m afraid I can’t help you! Pass on my best wishes to Harry for me, and do take care of yourself! If she has been Petrified, Hedwig should be fine in the long run. I hope you get this little problem sorted out.
Your brother,
Percy.
Ginny lifted her eyebrows and sighed. Pompous little twat, she thought as she stood up. ‘My colleagues,’ indeed! Mentors, more like! She opened the window as wide as she could and scratched the back of the owl’s neck.
“You can go now, lovely owl,” she said. “Try not to be seen, eh?”
The owl swept out of the room grandly. She stuck her head out of the window and looked down to the street below, trying to see if any Muggles had noticed the large bird coming out of her flat. There were no faces turned up at her.
She re-read the letter as she continued pacing. What a humongous pile of rat droppings he is, Ginny thought, wondering how he always managed to sound so superior, even in a letter. She folded the letter and popped it back into its envelope before sitting down on the bed again. She let herself fall back onto the mattress, legs hanging over the edge of the bed. She slid her hands over her belly and wondered how long it would be before it started to swell. There’s a little person in there.
Ginny stood up and shook her head thoroughly, trying to clear her thoughts. She opened her wardrobe and pulled out her trainers. She knew that the only way she would be able think lucidly would be to go running. With the laces pulled tight and her shirt changed to a light vest, she slathered sun screen on her sensitive skin and rubbed it in impatiently. The sun shone brightly despite the chill outside, and Ginny had learned from her previous mistakes. Folding the letter in half carelessly, she tucked it into the waistband of her trousers and left her bedroom.
David was sat on the green sofa, stretched out along its length. “Want company?” he asked, tapping the television remote control rhythmically against his belly.
“Nope,” she said as she opened the front door, flashing him a quick smile.
“Didn’t think so,” he muttered to the door that slammed behind her.
Enjoying the rhythmic thud of her trainers hitting the ground, Ginny ran aimlessly. She paid little attention to where she was going. Without realising it, she followed her usual path and headed towards Kensington Gardens. She ran often, not for the physical and health benefits, but because she found it was one of the few ways that she could free her mind to think. Monotonous motion allowed her to stop thinking about what she was doing, liberating her to concentrate on less tangible matters.
Ginny was terrified. Her future suddenly looked so different to the way it had even a few hours ago. Everything had seemed so certain. Her position at work was firm, and she enjoyed what she did. The smell of the library vaults filled her with pleasure, and she loved coming across the unexpected. The first time she had come across an item that had been wrongly catalogued, she felt a thrill go through her. It was a lost copy of an Agatha Christie play. Ginny had found it while looking through the same storage unit for something else and had been filled with genuine delight when she took the manuscript to her supervisor. The play had never been performed, and very quickly a theatre in Canada had begun to prepare a showing of it.
She was also very happy in her living arrangements. David was a brilliant flatmate, and although they endured the usual problems that two people in such close circumstances suffered, they were great friends. He was a considerate man, and she never felt uncomfortable in her home. He kept his love life to himself, and that suited her. She tried to do the same. Not that she succeeded.
What am I going to do? Ginny asked herself. She was surprised to discover that she was disappointed in herself. She ought to have known better than to get pregnant. Knowledge of how babies were made was hardly unknown, and her mother had given her “the talk” many years ago. Her mother would be disappointed too, she realised. She knew that her mother’s disappointment would melt into happiness though, should Ginny decide to continue her pregnancy. Unless she let slip who the father was.
There was no way that she would be able to explain to her family why she had let herself become involved with Draco Malfoy. How could she look her father in the eyes and say that she had felt so attracted to Draco that she couldn’t stay away? Lust had conquered reason, and Ginny had given in to his advances. How could she explain that she had wanted him? Purely and simply wanted him.
Ginny could hardly glean any comfort from the fact that she could tell her father that he would have been right. Draco had been wrong for her. He had been an atrocious boyfriend, concerned primarily with his own happiness. When she had spoken to him about ending their relationship, she wounded his pride deeper than his heart. She knew that his biggest problem with it was that a Weasley was dumping him.
He would not be pleased to learn that he had a baby growing in her belly. How would he react? Disbelief? Shock? Would he be at all happy, or would he consider it his last revenge? Some revenge: dare to dump a Malfoy, be stuck with one for life. Would he try to force her into an abortion? Would he refuse to let her have one? Would he want this baby?
Questions of whether she could handle the situation, how she would deal with it, how her life would change were less important, but seemed to pervade her mind. Perhaps the most important matter she should be thinking about eluded her. Did she want this baby? Without thoroughly considering it, Ginny already knew the answer.
The Princess Diana Memorial loomed in front of her. A painful jolt shot through her, and Ginny stopped running, momentum carrying her for a few steps. She stood stock still and stared at the fountain in front of her. She had forgotten about Harry.
Fresh tears sprang to her eyes as she slid her hand to her belly again. Her hand ran easily over the flat of her stomach, and Ginny wondered how something that could be causing her so much trouble could be so invisible. Just as Harry had come back into her life, Fate dealt a monstrous blow. She had found herself immersed in his life again, instantly, and that had thrilled her.
For ten years she had longed for him. For ten years she had followed his career through the newspapers, happy to watch his success from the sidelines. On the rare occasion she found herself with a little Wizarding money, gifts from aunties and uncles at Christmas mostly, she had spent it on tickets to watch his Quidditch matches. She had known that he had seen her in the crowd, but still had not sought out his attention. She had also known that he sent free tickets for some of his matches to Ron, and she knew that she could have used them if she had wanted to. She had held back, more than content to watch from a distance until he was ready to seek her out again.
However, it was hardly as though Ginny had sat on the sidelines of Harry’s life waiting for him, refusing to live her own. In the ten years since he had left Hogwarts, Ginny had loved and lost. She had only been in one major relationship, although there had been a few flings along the way. His name had been Will, and he had been a loving partner for three years.
She had met him when she had just turned twenty, and had loved him for every moment of the following three years, one month and six days. One morning, she had woken up, and she realised that she had outgrown him. No one ever quite believed her when she explained it like that, that she had simply stopped loving him. People assumed that she had found interest elsewhere and had decided to turn her back on Will. Those who knew her well didn’t think so, but couldn’t quite understand the immediate change in her either.
Realisation had struck her suddenly. She had changed and morphed into a woman over their three years together. Will had remained the young lad he had been when they met. She was still attracted to him and still found him charming enough; he just wasn’t what she wanted anymore.
It had hurt her to break his heart, and she had agonised for weeks over her decision. He had felt the distance that had grown between them and had approached her. She had to be honest with him. He deserved better than reassurance through lies. Her life had changed drastically in that moment.
Things were going to change now. Everything was going to change. Her fingers rustled over the envelope tucked into her waistband. Ginny pulled it out and opened it up. She had forgotten about it. Shaking the loss of hope for Harry out of her head, she turned her back on the Princess Diana Memorial and ran until her legs ached.
A/N: Many thanks to my wonderful new Beta, Colores!
As for this chapter -- who was surprised? :D