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SIYE Time:14:00 on 29th March 2024
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Vigil
By KateMae

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Category: Post-Hogwarts
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Action/Adventure, General, Humor
Warnings: Mild Language
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 13
Summary: After putting the last of her children on the Hogwarts Express, and having the row of a century with her boss, Ginny Potter is on the hunt for a new career. What she finds alarms her mother, impresses her children, and is liable to give her husband an anxiety attack.
Hitcount: Story Total: 3418



Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.



Author's Notes:
I don't like the number of OC's in this chapter, but only one will reappear. I haven't written much of anything before this, so I know that I have a lot to improve upon. Other that that, hope you enjoy!




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Many of the most unpleasant moments in the life of Ginevra Molly Potter occurred on Platform 9 ¾. Her earliest memories were speckled with the occasional unhappiness at having another one of her precious brothers stolen away by the Hogwarts Express. Even her own first ride on the scarlet train, which should have been filled with excitement and wonder, was marred by worry for her brother and his best friend,while simultaneously battling the weary feelings caused by an oncoming possession. And with all the tearful goodbyes she shared with Harry during her seventh year at Hogwarts, you would think she had been through it all. But out of every event that took place on that platform, this was turning out to be the worst.

“Harry?”

“Hmm?”

“That was our last baby,” Ginny whispered, resting her head on her husband's shoulder as they stared after the train that had whisked all three of their babies away. She lifted a hand to wave to her brother and Hermione, who were both getting ready to go through the platform wall. “We don't have anymore, do we?”

“No, not that I know of,” answered Harry, who took hold of her elbow and began to guide her off of the platform, “But I'll check the hall closet if you'd like.”

Her elbow jabbed roughly into his ribs, and he chuckled. He hadn't really expected that particular joke to go over well. Not when she was in this kind of mood.

Ginny scowled. “Why aren't you more upset? Our daughter is all grown up.”

“Eleven is hardly very grown up at all. Lily still needs us, Ginny. I promise.”

“I suppose,” she admitted reluctantly.

Overall, this had been a very strange experience for her. When the time came to put their sons on the train, Ginny had been the tough, laid-back parent who supported her husband and eased her son's worries. Now, she was devastated at the loss of all of her children, leaving her frazzled and liable to become weepy the minute they reached the privacy of their own quiet cottage, which was now barren without the many sounds of the lively Potter children.

Her freckled nose crumpled in distaste. She hated being weepy.

~*~

As she had earlier discovered, the only thing that Ginny hated more than being weepy, was her boss, Leonard Tarwater. While the Daily Prophet was very closely associated with the ministry, it was officially owned by Mr. Tarwater. Which meant that Ginny, as Senior Quidditch Correspondent for the Daily Prophet, frequently had to put up the man.

It was unfortunate that Mr. Tarwater was so determined to make her life difficult, because otherwise, Ginny genuinely liked her job. She still got to go to Quidditch games, which was especially nice after spending so many years on a professional Quidditch team. And in addition to writing her own column, she helped the younger staff to edit their articles and assigned the pieces that she couldn't cover herself to others in the office, which, for the most part was enjoyable.

“Claybourne, how far are you on that piece about the Wasps?” Ginny asked, calling across the main office as she scratched down a few notes on the corner of a rough copy.

The younger man shrugged, tossing a sheet of crumpled parchment into the waste bin. “Alright. I'm almost halfway finished. Who's their rival team, again? Was it the Kestrels or the Magpies?”

“The Arrows,” Ginny said weakly, resisting the urge to rub the oncoming headache out of her temples, “The Appleby Arrows, Claybourne.”

A petite journalist called Claire, who was by far Ginny's favorite writer and colleague, scurried over to Marcus Claybourne's desk, slapping him on the arm and snatching the article away. “Proofreading time!”

She settled herself at the opposite end of Ginny's desk, dipping her quill into a pot of red ink and beginning to read.

“How bad?” Ginny asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. Claire leaned in closer, so that the two women could whisper without being overheard.

“If you'd like,” she started, glancing at Claybourne quickly, “I could assemble a panel of reasonably intelligent trolls to write it. It would be better than this.”

Groaning, the very frustrated correspondent picked up the parchment to see the damage for herself. Claire hadn't been exaggerating. It really was a piece of inaccurate rubbish.

When Marcus Claybourne had shown up at newsroom, sample writing in hand, looking for a job, Ginny had originally turned him away. The man didn't appear to know anything about Quidditch, and his writing was at a nursery school level. Nevertheless, Claybourne kept trying, finally applying to the owner himself. Mr. Tarwater, being a firm believer that women had no place in Quidditch even as reporters, had been displeased with the fact that three out of his seven starting level reporters were witches. So, Marcus Claybourne was hired on the spot.

And now, Ginny was dealing with the consequences.

“Alright, then. Marcus, Claire's going to take over the article on the Wasps. Is that okay with you, Claire?”

The other woman nodded and went back to her own desk to completely rewrite the ruined piece. Claybourne shrugged. Again. It was beginning to get on Ginny's nerves.

“Does this mean I can leave early today?”

“No,” answered Ginny, who stood up from her desk and moved to stand over the irritating reporter, “But you can have the rest of the week off.”

Looking slightly confused but otherwise thrilled, he shrugged. Indifferent little tosser.

“Today, I need you to get everything out of your desk. Tomorrow, you can begin your new and exciting life as someone who is unemployed. Do you understand what I'm getting at?”

Marcus looked thoughtful for a moment. “No.”

“You're being sacked,” Claire called, helpfully.

He blinked, looking as if he thought he had misheard.

“I could get you a box for your things, if you'd like,” Ginny offered. The words came out awkwardly, the sudden silence of the normally busy making her feel uncomfortable. The entire office was watching now, afraid to move, trying to blend in with the pale green walls. A flash of realization blinked in Marcus's eyes, and he was instantly on his feet. Stuttering, the man stepped towards her, encroaching on Ginny's personal space, hoping to intimidate her. Her stance straightened automatically, and she refused to step back.

“Your boss won't let you do this. He hired me. You'll really be on his bad side if you try something like this.”

“Do you think I give a flying flobberworm what Tarwater thinks? Go ahead, tell him. And while your at it, tell the old git to pull his head out of his arse and stop hiring prats like you!”

~*~

“It really wasn't very convenient that Tarwater picked today for his semiannual employee evaluation,” Harry observed that evening, as the Potters were lounging comfortably in their bed. “Of all the days in the year.”

Ginny made a soft, apathetic noise and buried her head further into his stomach.

“To be fair, love,” he said, reaching a hand down to stroke her hair, “He probably would have let you stay if you hadn't hexed him.”

“It's possible. I figured if I was going down, I may as well make it good.”

“You never do anything half way do you?” he laughed.

His fingers grazed her back and sides as he tried to rub the tension away. Poor Harry had been walking on eggshells around her since she'd told him about her day a few hours earlier. Normally, Ginny would have scolded him for it, or at least let him know that she really was alright, but at the moment, she didn't have enough energy or motivation to do either.

To be honest, she suspected that Harry was more broken up about the job than she was. While he was very supportive of it, she knew that her Quidditch career bothered him occasionally. Always her biggest fan, he was there for every game she had, proudly announcing to anyone that would listen that she was his wife. Nevertheless, he tended to panic when she was injured, which was a frequent occurrence in professional Quidditch. Harry liked her job at the paper. Especially because she no longer ended up in the hospital on a monthly basis.

“You don't have to work, you know. It's not like we need the money.”

One brown eye surfaced and peeked open only long enough to convey a miffed glare before being tucked back into his chest.

“What?” he asked, laughing softly, “Would that be so bad?”

“This would be a good time for you to take a moment to imagine me shut in this house all day.”

A pretend shudder ran down his body, shaking his chest and her head along with it. Giggling, she slapped his leg softly.

“We'll figure something out, Gin. I promise.”

Ginny studied her husband as he relaxed on the bed, eyes lightly shut. Years as an Auror had worn deep lines into his pale skin, and as thrilled as she was that being head of the department kept him out of danger for the most part, it seemed that he was coming home more tired than ever. The stress of being responsible for dozens of young men and women who put their lives at risk everyday was finally getting to him.

“Get some sleep, love,” she said softly, “You have to be up early again.”

“We haven't solved your problem, yet.”

The two shifted until they were tucked under the duvet, side by side.

Smiling, Ginny shook her head. “We have all the time in the world for that.”

~*~

When he left the next morning, Harry had made her promise that she would visit him at the ministry for lunch. She knew that she was trying to keep her busy and appreciated the effort, but lunch at the ministry was never something that she looked forward to. Ministry officials were far from being her favorite people, especially when they were completely doe-eyed over her husband.

It wouldn't be so bad if it was only the witches. Ginny was very confident that Harry loved her and wouldn't do anything to hurt her, so she wasn't frequently jealous of the female attention that he attracted. Not to say that it never happened, but not often. However, even the male employees were very starstruck because of Harry's fame. And lunch with your husband was always much more pleasant without a line of people waiting to get their turn with him.

But still, it wasn't as if she had anything else to do. Which was exactly why she found herself seated across from Harry at his desk, munching thoughtfully on the lunch that she'd brought for him.

“You could always work with Ron and George at the shop,” Harry suggested, lazily sipping on his pumpkin juice.

Ginny shook her head. “I'd really rather to come home at night without a tail. I saw on the way in that Xavier Skullet is looking for a new secretary. He seems like a decent man, and his wife is always so nice to us at those ministry events.”

Remembering Xavier Skullet's last secretary, who stormed out in an understandable rage after Skullet had sexually harassed her for the fifth time, Harry gulped a bit.

“I don't think you'd want to be taking orders from anyone. I can't imagine you'd like that.”

“I could get used-”

“No. Trust me. Just, no.”

They both thought in silence for a moment, using the time to finish their lunches.

“You have plenty of NEWTS. You could come work at the ministry.”

Pulling a disgruntled face, she turned the idea down. She didn't even like being at the ministry for lunch. There was no way that she'd last all day there.

With a flick of her wand, their mess was cleaned and Ginny was on her way to the door. Harry leaned down to kiss her, and placed his palm on the side of her face.

“It's going to be alright, you know that right?”

She nodded and stepped out into the hallway, where her face fell. This job hunt was taking a lot out of her. Especially now that she was out of Quidditch related careers. Maybe she could go back and play for the Harpies again...

“Mrs. Potter?”

Ginny's eyes lit up as she spotted the gray haired man in front of her.

“Rodney! How are you?”

If she had to, Ginny would be hard pressed to tell you exactly how old Rodney Milton was. When Harry joined the Aurors, Rodney was his supervisor and had looked to be at least seventy. Now, about two decades later, his appearance hadn't changed in the slightest and he was still one of the best Aurors at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Rodney had turned out to be an excellent friend to the Potter family, as well as one of Harry's most influential mentors.

“I'm doing just fine. How about you? You finally get a day off from that paper of yours?”

“Um...well-”

The older man smirked fondly and lifted his eyebrows until they disappeared under his hairline. “Sounds like quite the story. Would you like to tell me about it?” he asked, opening the door to his office and gesturing for her to enter.

On the surface, Rodney's office would never be able to compete with Alastor Moody's. The walls were white, the corners were crisp, and the office in general had a orderly, Percy-like feel. Nothing whirred, spun, or flashed. For the office of an wizard, it was remarkably tame. However, things are not always as they seem, especially when dealing with an ace Auror.
.
Rodney settled himself behind his desk, leaving Ginny to glance warily at the pair of cushioned chairs across from it. While they seemed perfectly normal, she knew that they were charmed to make a person feel anxious and overheated if they told a lie while sitting in them. Being aware of the enchantments that the old Auror placed on seemingly innocuous objects, didn't make her feel any safer. Just mistrustful. It didn't help matters that she strongly suspected that the potted plant in the corner had bitten her once.

While he fussed with some papers, she launched into her tale, telling Rodney everything from the time Marcus Claybourne was hired to the moment that her Bat Bogey Hex made contact with Tarwater's face.

“It's not that I'm having trouble being accepted for a position,” Ginny explained, after Rodney had stopped chuckling over the thought of pompous Leonard Tarwater swatting at giant, flapping bogeys, “I haven't even applied anywhere. I just can't decide what I want to do.”

The wizard appeared mull that over for a bit before he spoke again. “When you first left Hogwarts,” he began, “What did you want to do? Besides Quidditch.”

“Don't laugh. I suppose I would have liked to be an Auror.”

“A damn good one,” he said, simply, apparently not finding the notion as daft as she did. “How would Harry react to that?”

“Poorly.”

His chuckle and faint nod were cut short as his face quickly rose in a realization.

“Rodney,” warned Ginny in a low, dangerous tone of voice, “What's that all about? You look like one of my brothers after being stuck by a particularly devious idea.”

“I may have a position for you,” he said slowly, a wide grin spreading across his cheeks, “If you're willing to take a risk.”
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