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Together | ||||||
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Category: Post-DH/AB Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Drama, General, Romance Warnings: Death, Extreme Language, Intimate Sexual Situations, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Sexual Situations, Violence Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 128 Summary: "I've had enough trouble for a lifetime," Harry Potter tells his friends after the Battle of Hogwarts. Life, however, is not done with Harry. The Wizarding community is left in chaos and it's up to Harry to fix it, and there's the small matter of repairing his relationship with Ginny, strained after months apart. Will Harry ever be able to settle and enjoy a simple life with the ones he loves? Hitcount: Story Total: 59518; Chapter Total: 2986 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: Third update today bc I'm crazy. Only the epilogue left folks! I hope everyone feels that I've brought Harry and Ginny to a point of contentedness in their lives together! After all, that was really the point of the whole story. Chapter titled after "The Start of Something" by Voxtrot. Thank you all for sticking with me this far! |
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Exhausted after an afternoon of wandering Knockturn Alley, hoping to overhear information regarding a potential mole from the Belarusian Ministry of Magic, Harry Apparated directly onto the front step of his and Ginny's London home. Before he could reach for the doorknob, however, the door was yanked open from the inside. Standing there was Ginny, wearing a thin-strapped dress that revealed a good deal of her freckled shoulders, her mane of fiery hair bouncing excitedly. There was something of a mad glint in her eye. "I'm so glad you're home!" she exclaimed, and Harry grinned. "Were you waiting at the door?" he asked. She smiled in response, reaching out one hand to pull him into the house, albeit quite slowly, for these days, Ginny could walk in little more than a waddle. The pair made their way through the hall, past the sitting room and into the kitchen. The gleaming wooden table was already set with bowls filled with steaming soup, a fire was roaring in the hearth, and Ron was sitting on the long bench, drinking an ale and reading the evening Prophet. "Do you ever go to work?" Harry asked him skeptically. He had hardly realized that Ron and Hermione would manage to live apart from each other for three months, and was beginning to regret saying that Ron could stay in his study indefinitely while his best friends sorted out their feelings. "For about an hour," Ginny answered for her brother. "His work ethic is embarrassing." Ron shrugged. "I bring home the Galleons. Did you tell him yet?" "Then start paying rent," Harry grumbled, sitting down next to Ron and picking up his spoon. "Tell me what?" Ginny beamed, hardly able to contain herself. "I'm in labour!" she exclaimed. "You're in what?!" Harry dropped his spoon back on the table and felt his face grow hot. "That's impossible! It's only September 9th and I know you're not due to have the baby until September 19th because it's Hermione's birthday! I wrote it down." He shrugged his rucksack off his shoulder and began searching wildly for the scrap of parchment where he was positive he had written "Baby - September 19th, 2003". Ron sniggered into his soup. "Very chill, mate." Harry threw him an angry look. Ginny rolled her eyes. "I don't know anyone who's actually had their baby on their due date. I started having contractions this morning after you left and they've evened out a bit and gotten really regular. I'm having one every eight to ten minutes now!" Harry felt panic rising in his throat, perhaps exacerbated by the fact that Ron and Ginny seemed remarkably unconcerned with this development. "Why didn't you write me?" Harry pressed. "Or send me a Patronus? Or have Ron get me? Or Flooed me in my office?" "I didn't want to bother you," Ginny said lightly. "Anyways, the active labor has only just started; before that it was really quite erratic. Ron's been here, too, which has been helpful." Ron looked up from the newspaper and tipped his glass in Harry's direction. "Didn't - Didn't want to…," Harry spluttered, feeling his blood pressure rise. "Ginny!" "What?" Ginny asked innocently, but suddenly Harry noticed that her wide eyes were perhaps too innocent, her voice too light. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked, and she grinned wickedly, the façade broken. "I have to make sure you suffer somehow," she said. "Since I'll be doing all the hard work." Harry shook his head, picking up his spoon again. "I would've liked to have been here," he told her softly, bringing some of the warm broth into his mouth. "I know you would've," she said, not unkindly. "I didn't want you home all day fretting. It's really been uneventful. I folded laundry, made the soup, got our room ready. I haven't even owled the midwives yet." She put a loaf of bread and a knife on the table in front of him, waving her wand so that the knife set to work, severing the bread into thick slices. Ron eyed the knife apprehensively. "Watch it," he warned. "It's been more than eight min-" Suddenly, Ginny sucked in a breath, placing one hand on the table and leaning over, pressing the other hand, the one holding her wand, into her distended stomach. The knife started chopping maniacally, sending hunks of bread flying across the room, as Ron ducked for cover and Harry jumped up and flew to Ginny's side, grabbing her arm to steady her. She remained bowed, eyes closed and lips tightly pursed, and Harry felt his panic surge again. After several long moments, however, she straightened up, exhaled loudly, and looked at Harry happily. The knife fell back to the table with a clatter. "That one was definitely stronger than the last," Ginny said excitedly. "How long?" Harry stared at her blankly. The contraction seemed to him as though it had lasted hours, but he doubted she would appreciate that response. Ron's head reemerged from beneath the table. "Forty-two seconds," he said promptly, glancing at this watch. "Longer by three seconds." Ginny rubbed her stomach absentmindedly. "I wish things would hurry up a bit," she sighed. "I'm ready for this one to be out." Harry felt that he couldn't agree less. He had been convinced that he had ten more days before he really had to worry about anything. Now the baby was coming early and he didn't feel prepared at all. There were so many things that could go wrong. Ginny seemed relatively alright now, but he had panicked just seeing her hunched over in pain. He thought again of George's warning. What would happen when the bleeding and the vomiting and the Severing started? Would he lose his head entirely? Would they even let him be in the room? The worry must've been splashed across his face, for Ginny reached out and rubbed his shoulder reassuringly. This perhaps made him feel worse. Was he really the prat that had to be comforted by his wife when she was the one having the baby? "This is why I didn't owl you," she said knowingly. "I'm fine, Harry. Will you please eat?" But Harry was too keyed up to force anything down his throat now. He sat next to Ron, who was more than happy to consume Harry's helping of soup for him, while Ginny bustled around the kitchen, tending to various small tasks. The contractions continued to come every few minutes, and as Ginny was usually holding her wand when they hit, more and more cookware was upset as the evening wore on. Even after being struck in the head with a copper pot, Harry gallantly tried to have Ginny take his place at the table after each labour pain but, despite his protestations, she insisted that she was much happier staying busy. Sometime around eight o'clock, Ron had decided that it was in his best interest to get incredibly drunk in celebration of the impending arrival of a new niece or nephew. He had forsaken the beer in favor of firewhisky for this venture, and he and Ginny were now partaking in a heated conversation about whether the Chudley Cannons stood a chance against Puddlemere United in next week's opening match. Harry, still moodily sat on the bench with his arms crossed over his chest, hadn't spoken in nearly a quarter-of-an-hour, since Ginny had refused his last plea to owl her midwives, two elderly witches named Winifred and Theodora, who had been married for three decades and delivering babies together for nearly twice that time. Harry quite liked them; they both had brisk, no-nonsense attitudes and had come at the suggestion of Andromeda. They had assisted in the birth of Teddy, accepting no payment and showing no fear or judgement at the prospect of delivering the child of two known operatives in the Order of the Phoenix, one a werewolf, during the height of the war. "Harry," Ginny began patiently, turning away from her brother. "Why don't you have a beer? It may calm you down a bit." "No, thanks," Harry shot back. "It's probably best if one of us at least remains coherent and rational, since Ron's gone and got pissed and apparently you're not fussed in the slightest that this baby is coming any minute." Ginny's eyes rolled so far upwards Harry thought they might go all way back into her head. "Harry," she said again, still in her most accommodating tone, but Harry caught a slightly hardened note in her voice. "There is nothing to be concerned about. The baby is not coming 'any minute'; it may not even come tonight or tomorrow. Everything could slow down and I won't give birth for days. Anything could happen. It's no use getting yourself worked up. Have a beer." She was standing with her back against the counter, and as she turned to the icebox, Harry heard a tiny pop. Ginny froze and cried, "Oh!" Her eyes traveled downwards to her feet, and Harry followed her gaze. A puddle had collected on the kitchen's wooden floors, and Harry could feel his heart rate slow to nearly nothing before picking back up again at a rapid pace. He could see stringy bits of blood in the fluid, and as Ginny picked up one foot, more of the gelatinous substance trickled down her leg. "Oh," she said again, more weakly this time. A foul smell was beginning to permeate the room. Ron's face had turned quite pale. Harry's mind flew back to the pages of What to Expect When Your Witch is Expecting; he conjured the memory of a section titled 'Spontaneous Rupture of Membranes'. "I think my waters have broken," Ginny whispered, as more fluid hit the floor with a final splash. Ron wrinkled his nose; Harry sprang up from the bench, quickly conjuring a flask and transferring the mess at Ginny's feet into the glass. "Alright," he said forcefully. "Alright, let's get you into bed. I'll send for the midwives, and you can just rest until -" "No," Ginny cut across him. "No. I think - I think I'm going to have a bath." "Have a bath?" Harry blinked. "Alright, whatever, we'll go get you in the tub and then I'll send for the midwives and -" "Stop rushing me!" Ginny snapped, and Harry stepped back. Ron coughed pointedly, trying unsuccessfully to hide a small smirk. Ginny's eyes narrowed. "I need to talk to you, now," she said to Harry, looking so much like her mother that Harry's terror only grew. Ginny waddled out of the kitchen, Harry following meekly behind. As soon as they reached the hall, she rounded on him. "Right," she huffed, and Harry blanched. "Right, let's get this out of the way. I know that you're scared, and I know that when you're scared, your instinct is to take command of the situation, and do everything all on your own, and be protective. But I need you to calm down, and find a way to be okay with this being out of your control. You can't have this baby for me. I have to listen to my body. I can't do that if you're bossing me around, alright?" Harry felt terrible. "Alright," he said. Ginny sighed, reaching out to touch his face. Harry let his head sink into her caress. "Everything is going to be alright," Ginny murmured. "I know this is putting you out of your element, but I promise everything will be absolutely perfect." Harry nodded. "I'm going to have a bath. Ron can write to Theodora and Winifred when the contractions are three minutes apart. I need you to stay with me." "I won't go anywhere," Harry said automatically. He hadn't meant to boss Ginny around. He had only wanted to be helpful. He hated the inevitability that she was going to be in pain, that there was nothing he could do. "Good," Ginny said, and she reached up and pecked him on the lips. "Ron! I'm going to have a bath! Harry's coming as well!" "Urgh! Don't tell me!" was the reply from the kitchen. Ginny grinned, before turning and slowly making her way up the stairs. Harry was rather concerned that if she fell back he may not be able to stop them both falling to the landing, but he tactfully decided not to voice this concern to Ginny. He was truly hoping he could survive the next few hours without falling victim to one of his wife's notorious hexes. They finally reached the bathroom, and Harry pointed his wand at the tub. Water quickly started pouring from the faucet. "Not too hot," Ginny reminded him, crossing her arms over her chest to pull her dress over her head. Harry nodded. The dress fell to the floor, revealing Ginny's naked frame. Harry was still so unused to her body like this. Her petite figure had changed little except for the in the region of her torso, where her stomach now hung so low that Harry was frankly surprised the baby had not yet fallen out of its own accord. Her breasts were bigger, too, falling heavily over the swell of her stomach. There was something quite erotic about her body with this newfound purpose; even through his anxiety, Harry was able to appreciate how absolutely mental it was that she was about to bring their child into the world; that she had grown it from a single cell over the last nine months. "Were you not wearing knickers?" he asked her cheekily. "I can't bend over to pull anything up anymore," she replied in a sing-song voice. "Everything must come on over the head." "I see," Harry said softly. He reached a hand out, and she took it, stretching one leg into the water. Harry was about to help ease her down when she groaned loudly, grabbing on to the front of his shirt and burying her face in his chest. "Merlin!" she cried. "This one hurts so much!" "Breathe," Harry said firmly. "It'll be over soon." She took in a ragged breath, but stopped to groan loudly again. "How long was it since the last one?" she moaned. Harry checked his watch. "Five-and-a-half minutes." She was still leaning on him, and Harry's heart fluttered anxiously. "Ginny," he began, "do you still want to get in the tub?" "Yeah," she panted. "Yeah, I do." Harry grabbed her shoulders and gently eased her into the water. She leaned back against the end of the tub, closing her eyes and letting the water lap over her chest. Her stomach was an island in the tide of the bath, and Harry reached out and gave it a small rub. He still found the entire thing immensely weird. There couldn't actually be a person in there, could there? It must've all been some elaborate ruse. Ginny smiled at his touch, her eyes still closed. "Did you know," Harry asked, "that Muggles have ways of finding out whether a baby's a boy or a girl before it's even born?" "Audrey told me," Ginny answered. "Muggles must be quite boring. The surprise is the best bit of all of this." "I thought you were convinced it's a girl," Harry remarked. "I know it's a girl," Ginny said. "But it would be much less fun if no one had reason to doubt me." Harry smiled. Ginny rubbed a hand over her stomach. Harry found himself, as he always did, admiring her Pre-Raphaelite beauty. He had never been able to get over that feeling that he was living someone else's life. Perhaps he had died in the battle, and this moment was some elaborate construction of the afterlife. It couldn't be possible that he was here, with Ginny, and that in mere hours he'd have a family; his deepest desire finally realized. They had created life, together, and his heart ached with the anticipation for it. He shook his head. He wouldn't let himself get all odd and sentimental now, not when Ginny needed him. He reached into the lukewarm water and grabbed her hand. She brushed her fingers across his knuckles. They sat like that as the hours passed, murmuring to one another about everything and nothing while her contractions grew closer and closer together. Harry did everything he could to alleviate her suffering, digging his thumbs into her lower back in between contractions and holding her tightly as she cried into his t-shirt over their terrible duration. In the kitchen, she had largely been able to square her shoulders and talk through each pain, but here, it was like every few minutes she was possessed by another person. It was so unlike Ginny, who was typically quite tough. Harry had seen her whacked out of the sky by Bludgers only to get back up as though nothing had happened. This was a completely different story. "Right," he breathed, lowering Ginny back into the water after a particularly difficult cramp that had left Ginny moaning over the side of the tub a full minute after it had ended. "That was three minutes. I'm going to owl the midwives." Ginny leaned back, eyes shut and lips thin. She nodded once before furrowing her brow. "Harry?" "Yeah?" "Will you owl Hermione as well? I want her to be here." Harry sighed. He wanted Hermione there too. He didn't like thinking about how long had passed since her explosion at George and Angelina's. Was there actually a chance that her and Ron's relationship was irreparable? "Of course I will," he said. "Will you be alright alone for a moment?" She nodded again. Harry silently cast another warming charm on the tub before walking out of the bathroom, heading back for the kitchen. Ron was asleep on the bench when Harry entered, the empty bottle of firewhisky still on the table in front of him. Harry snorted before grabbing two strips of parchment and a quill, hastily scratching out messages to the midwives and Hermione. He went to the window and cranked it open. "Swanhild?" he called quietly into the night. She appeared on the windowsill after only a moment, holding out her leg obediently. He tied the letters to her, a for a moment thought briefly of Hedwig. He missed his old owl terribly sometimes. He turned away, hurrying back up to the bathroom. Ginny was exactly as he'd left her, and for a moment he wondered if she too had fallen asleep. But as he moved closer she cracked an eye open. "What if it's gotten this bad already and I'm only a centimeter dilated?" she asked him anxiously. "I don't think that's going to be the case," Harry said reassuringly, kneeling down alongside the tub again. "How would you know?" Ginny spat, irritated. Harry sucked in his breath, silently praying that Winifred and Theodora would brew up some Nodoloros Potion or at least Draught of Peace when they arrived. Luckily, it didn't take long for the elderly witches to make their appearance. It was Theodora who entered the bathroom first, pulling her long, gray hair into a bun as she surveyed the room. "Apologies for not knocking," she said briskly, looking down at them over the bridge of her long nose. "We tend to find that all formalities have gone out the window by this point." Harry laughed, relief flooding through his veins. Ginny was in the middle of a particularly difficult contraction; she had yet to acknowledge their new company. Winifred followed quickly behind her partner, taking in the sight with a pleased look on her face. "Ah, you're in the bath!" she said. "Has it helped with the pain?" "Not particularly," Ginny said through gritted teeth. "Well, we're here now," Theodora said, pushing her arms out of her cloak to reveal a large black medical bag, which she promptly set on the tiled floor, kneeling in front of it. "Start with a Calming Draught," Winifred suggested. "We'll check her cervix after and see if she could do with something stronger." She turned to Harry, looking at him curiously, and her frank, wide eyes made Harry think of Luna Lovegood. "Did you know there is a man asleep in your kitchen?" "My brother-in-law," Harry replied, and Winifred smiled in understanding. "Well, he seems fine where he is at the moment," she said enthusiastically, clapping her hands together as Theodora finished handing Ginny a goblet with a clear tonic inside. "Alright, dear. Up we go!" Ginny placed a hand on each side of the tub, and Harry grabbed her from under the arms to hoist her out of the water. Theodora leaned forward to take her hand, Winifred came down with a towel, and together the three of them got Ginny into a standing position. She huffed uncomfortably, leaning again desperately into Harry's shoulder. They marched, with Harry and Theodora on each side of Ginny, out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. As they reached the bed, Ginny grabbed hold of the mattress, leaning forward and groaning again. She gasped and moaned for several long moments, while Harry rubbed her back, and Theodora whispered support reassuringly in her ear. Finally, she seemed to relax, and Winifred looked at Theodora sharply. "Well, dear, you seem to have gotten quite far along without our help," she said to Ginny. "Why don't you lie back and we'll have a look-see at what's going on down there." Ginny nodded, rolling over so that she was sitting on the bed. Harry propped up several pillows so that Ginny could sit upright, and she gently laid herself against them, swinging her feet up onto the bed. "Will you get me a t-shirt?" she asked him, seeming slightly uncomfortable at being so exposed. Harry nodded, summoning one from the wardrobe and helping slide it over her head. Meanwhile, Winifred pulled out a small bottle of purple liquid, dripping some onto her fingers and rubbing them together. "Antiseptic," she said, noting Harry's curious expression. "We bothered with rubber gloves back in the sixties… rather clever of Muggles, in my opinion, but I find I can get a better feel without the barrier." She sat down on the edge of the bed in front of Ginny. "Spread your legs, please, dear. I'm afraid this may be a bit uncomfortable." Ginny nodded, grimacing, before placing her heels on the bed and drawing up her knees. Harry felt mildly queasy as Winifred inserted two fingers in between Ginny's legs, moving her hand around slightly as she gazed intently at the ceiling. Ginny's own eyes were closed, and she was breathing slowly through her nose. Harry held her hand, muttering nonsense about how proud he was of her and how well she was doing, and yet even his most supportive words seemed to fall flat in the face of this tremendous task he was watching her accomplish. Winifred removed her hand from Ginny and looked to Theodora, giving a quick nod. She put a bracing hand on Ginny's thigh, and Harry saw blood smeared there. His stomach lurched. "You're very nearly there, Ginny," Winifred told her. "You waited quite a long time to owl us, didn't you? I would say you're already seven centimeters dilated - if not eight!" Harry thought Ginny would be encouraged by this news, but she was already tensing again. Theodora put a hand on Harry's arm, seeming to sense his confusion. "Perfectly normal at this stage. When things speed up Mum tends to get quieter and quieter. Just hold her hand and rub her back. We're here for the messy bits, she just needs someone to remind her she can do it!" Harry nodded, his anxiety beginning to take hold again. He moved even closer to the bed, and gripped Ginny's hand as she had another pain. He raised their entwined fingers to his lips, softly kissing her sweaty skin. "You're so strong," he told her quietly. The Calming Draught did seem to bring about an improvement in Ginny's mood. She was far more focused and far less agitated. Theodora had quickly whipped up an additional potion that dulled her pain, and now she was resting while Harry and her midwives made idle chat. Every so often Winifred would place a hand on Ginny's abdomen, or take her pulse, but otherwise the entire process seemed quite relaxed. The hours slipped by slowly, with Ginny attempting to sleep, but having little success as the contractions grew stronger and stronger. Winifred decided to check Ginny's cervix again at half-three. "Right," she said surely. "Very nearly there. Do you feel like you need to push?" "How can I be sure?" Ginny asked, wincing and grasping tightly to Harry's hand. "You'll know, dear," Theodora said confidently. They all lapsed back into silence, the only sounds being Ginny's continued puffing and moaning. Harry rubbed her back and muttered more encouragement, but he was definitely starting to feel like more of a nuisance than anything. Ginny had grown quite pale, and beads of sweat rested on her forehead and the tip of her nose. It had been another few minutes when Ginny shifted, raising herself up to look around. "I think I need to push," she said. "I can feel it, it's very far down." Winifred nodded, standing up and moving back over to the bed. Harry gripped Ginny's hand as the midwife placed her own hand again between Ginny's legs. She looked at the couple in front of her, flashing them a beaming smile. "Yes, I can feel the head near-completely. Alright, dear, this is it!" Ginny nodded. Harry could see her most determined expression beginning to make its way across her face. He was hoping she could harness some of that Quidditch strength to get through the next few moments. Winifred positioned herself so she could clearly see what was going on between Ginny's splayed limbs, while Theodora began to remove more objects from her large black bag. Harry saw her set various silver instruments, several towels, and a soft-looking cotton blanket on his dresser. His heart leapt. "Ginny, when you feel your next contraction, I want you to push down hard into your bottom, like you're having a bowel movement, for ten seconds, alright?" Ginny nodded, her face the same color as their bedsheets. Winifred placed a supportive hand on her shoulder and rubbed it, giving her a kind smile before gesturing to Harry. "Harry, why don't we have you hold her leg up, like this, so I can see what's going on down here?" Harry nodded, taking his assigned position. "Alright, Ginny, are you ready?" Ginny pushed herself up on her forearms, nodding. "Push!" Ginny curled herself over her stomach, groaning loudly, as Winifred began to count down from ten. "...five, four, three, two, one. Excellent, Ginny, keep going just like that. I can see Baby's head when you're pushing, hopefully it will crown quite quickly and we'll have Baby born within the hour." It was terrible. Ginny's face had gone from white to red, but she continued bearing down again and again, all with Winifred's sincere encouragement. Harry rubbed her arm and offered more encouragement, and the minutes passed quickly. "It burns," Ginny moaned, as she pressed her chin into her chest for the eighth or ninth time. "Good work, Ginny. I think with a just few more pushes Baby's head will be crowning," Winifred said merrily. Ginny's own head flew up suddenly, and fiery hair whipped around the bed as she looked at Harry with terror in her eyes. "I think I just pooed myself," she whispered, her voice cracking. "What?!" Harry exclaimed. But they didn't have time to confirm her suspicions, as Theodora commanded her attention. "Take a break, dear," she said to Ginny. "You're doing brilliantly, but we don't want Baby to pass through too quickly." Ginny moaned and shook her head. "I have to push," she puffed stubbornly. "I have to!" Her face was turning purple. Harry felt about as helpful as a disease as he gripped Ginny's hand and pushed some of her sweaty hair away from her face. "You're amazing," he told her. "It's almost over." "Don't touch me!" she cried, turning towards the other side of their bed. Harry whipped his hand away. "What do you need right now?" he asked her. Ginny groaned. "Water," she answered, and Harry conjured a glass and brought it to her lips. Winifred leaned over so she could look Ginny in the eye. "If you feel like you need to push, pant instead," she instructed smoothly. "Take a break, recover your strength. Harry's right; it'll be over soon." Ginny started panting wildly, but stopped suddenly as another contraction rocked through her. She groaned and curled over her stomach. Theodora, who was now across the room waving her wand over her cauldron, turned back. "Ginny, don't push!" she cried authoritatively. Ginny fell back on the bed, closing her eyes and nodding through thin lips. Harry couldn't help it; he reached out again and grabbed for Ginny's hand. She cracked one eye open. "You're doing worse than I am," she said weakly, giving him a small smile. "Oh, no contest," Harry answered, staring at her reverently. "You're doing brilliantly. I can't even believe this is happening." Ginny laughed, but suddenly doubled over again, crying out this time. Winifred walked over and positioned herself between Ginny's splayed legs. "Baby's crowning," she informed Theodora. "Alright, Ginny, I want you to begin pushing with the next contraction. We'll do ten seconds of pushing followed by a ten second break for the next minute." Ginny nodded, raising herself up slightly and again curling herself over her heaving stomach, chin pressed to her chest. Harry's heart was beating rapidly, and he silently willed himself not to say or do anything stupid. Theodora lifted one of Ginny's legs and gestured for Harry to do the same. He touched her gingerly, not wanting to upset her again. "Alright, dear, here we go. Bear down, Ginny," Winifred directed calmly. Ginny grunted, and her foot strained against Harry's palm. Harry reached out and placed his right hand on her shoulder in a way that he hoped was comforting. "…three, two, one," Winifred counted down. "Wonderful, Ginny, have a breather." Ginny shook her head. "I really need to push," she pled through gritted teeth. Ginny's distress made Harry feel even worse that there wasn't much that he could really do in this situation; typically, she could hold her own against any adversary but now, as she struggled with both her body and her midwives, she seemed a bit pitiful. Winifred exchanged a glance with Theodora, who shrugged. "If you say so, dear. You're running the risk of tearing," Winifred warned. Harry blanched as he again remembered George's warning, and he prayed silently there would be no tearing, severing, or any event whatsoever that involved skin separating from itself. But Ginny was already pushing again, grunting now in a way that was utterly animal. Harry attempted to rub the shoulder that his hand was placed on, but at that very moment Ginny shot forward with a blood-curdling scream, completely unlike the moans and groans Harry had become accustomed to over the past several hours. She looked at Harry, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, and Harry half-expected her to speak, but she caught her breath and screamed for a second time, this one more hair-raising than the first. Harry panicked, but willed himself to be brave. "You're alright," he said bracingly, clutching her hand even more desperately and reaching an arm around her to support her back. "You're nearly done…." "Head is born," Theodora said briskly, and Harry's eyes flew from Ginny's face to between her legs where sure enough, a head had appeared, face down and covered in the darkest hair he had ever seen. Harry's heart seemed to fall to somewhere near his navel. "Oh my God, Ginny, I can see them," he said idiotically. "Good," Winifred muttered. "Don't push, Ginny! Slow down a moment." This was evidently the last thing that Ginny wanted to hear. "GET IT OUT!" she cried desperately. Harry found himself in agreement, feeling like he was about to vomit. "We need to wait for another contraction to get Baby out, Ginny," Theodora said reassuringly. Ginny didn't seem to hear her, and looked at Harry with shocking lucidity for a person who had another person's head hanging out of her bits. "I'm going to die," she said matter-of-factly. Harry rubbed her back. "You're not going to…" But the rest of what he was saying was cut off as Ginny gave another animalistic cry and pressed her chin down again. Before Harry could even realize what was happening, there was a loud squelching sound that was quickly replaced by the wails of their baby. "Good girl, Ginny, good girl," Winifred said, and Ginny's head fell back on the pillows, tears streaming down her face, while Harry turned towards the midwife, who held up something that looked not unlike a mandrake covered in cottage cheese and called out, "It's a boy!" The floor seemed to fall out from under Harry's feet. It was all he could do to keep standing next to the bed. He felt his mouth fall open at the same moment that his grip on Ginny's leg slackened. Theodora pointed her wand at Ginny's t-shirt and muttered "Diffindo". Ginny's sweat-stained shirt split and fell away, revealing her breasts and, with neither pomp nor ceremony, Winifred marched over to Ginny and deposited the baby onto her chest. Ginny's arms flew upwards voraciously to cradle her child. Harry watched her run a finger over his cheek as she looked hungrily into his tiny face. "Holy fuck!" she gasped through her tears. "Oh, we did it!" The baby kept screaming, and Ginny started gently cooing to him, tears continuing to leak out of her eyes and down her cheeks. Harry felt his arm move as thought it was something other from himself, his hand reaching out to touch the skin of their child's back, unable to believe he was real. Theodora reached over and put the small blanket over their son, who stopped squalling long enough for Ginny to look at Harry. Her eyes were wide and her face was drawn, but she somehow managed to exude only happiness and relief. "What the fuck just happened?" she gasped. "Why do you keep swearing?" Harry laughed thickly. He rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, surprised to find that tears were flowing freely down his face as well. He leaned forward to touch his forehead to hers, and then kissed her deeply, their happy tears mingling on their cheeks, before turning to look at their child, sniffling on his mother's chest. "Merlin, that hurt so much," Ginny sighed, her head lolling back on the pillows. "You're amazing," Harry whispered, not entirely sure if to Ginny or the baby. It was surreal. This tiny person was his. Blood thundered in his ears and his chest seemed to swell. Out of the corner of his eye, behind his son and in between Ginny's legs he watched Winifred raise her wand to sever the long cord that followed his child out of Ginny. "Alright, Mum," she said. "Let's hand Baby over to Theodora so we can deliver the afterbirth." Harry's face split into a grin at hearing Ginny called 'Mum'. They were no longer exclusively Harry and Ginny, but this new little person's Mum and Dad. His thoughts flew suddenly to his parents and he found himself amazed that already he had a greater appreciation for their sacrifice than he ever had before. After all the years of finding places for himself at Hogwarts, with his friends, and with the Weasleys, Harry finally had a family that was his. Ginny and this baby were linked to him by blood, the strongest bond, and in that moment Harry knew he would die for them without second thought. Theodora reached out her long, bony hands and scooped up his son, taking him over to the dresser where several instruments and potions waited. She wrapped the baby tightly in his blanket and attached a long, thin, silver tube to the swaddling, levitating it into the air with her wand as she made a recording. "Eight pounds, twelve ounces," she said cheerfully. "Well done, Mum! Good thing he was a bit early, or I'd guess you'd be looking at a nine-pounder!" She plucked the baby out of the air and examined him in her arms. "He really is perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes." Ginny gave another loud grunt. Harry tore his eyes away from the baby, turning back to the bed in time to see a bloody mass pass from between Ginny's legs into Winifred's waiting hands. He nearly laughed at how unfazed he felt by this gory sight. He caught Ginny's eye and found the same mirthful look mixed with her tears; he was sure that after the last few hours, nothing could ever shock them again. She reached a hand out and he grabbed it. "I love you," she said, yawning. "I love you, too," he replied, brushing her knuckles with his thumb. "Have I told you lately that you're the most incredible person I've ever met?" She grinned, but then tears began to fall afresh from her eyes. Harry must've looked surprised, for she tried to justify herself. "I just love him so much." Harry smiled. He, too, felt like his emotional capacity had just multiplied tenfold. Theodora approached the bed again, holding their tightly-swaddled baby in her arms. Harry stepped back politely, expecting her to hand him back to Ginny, but Theodora took his right hand, passing the bundle into the crook of his left arm, before placing his hand back over the blankets covering his son's stomach. Harry felt only a moment of anxiety, for the upheaval of the night had rendered him unconfident in his ability to control his arms, but as he adjusted the blankets, he felt himself fall quickly and hopelessly in love. He couldn't believe that he had made (or helped make, anyway) this person, and he was shocked at how well their baby seemed to fit into the space between his forearm and his chest. Harry took a deep breath as he looked into his son's now-serene face. "He's mine, he's mine, he's mine," played on a loop through his brain as he watched the baby open and close his mouths several times, making adorable grunting sounds. Winifred reached for her wand on the dresser and twirled it towards Harry. A chair appeared out of the air, and Harry sank into it, still clutching the baby. Clean and content, Harry had a chance to truly look over his son for the first time. He looked quite like Harry, with a long face and already the messiest head of black hair Harry had ever seen. He wondered briefly if his son would have Lily's green eyes when Ginny leaned over, placing one of her slender fingers near the baby's brow. "Let's let Dad hold him for a moment while we tidy up and then you can try feeding him. Those little smacking motions he's making with his mouth generally signify he's hungry," Theodora said to Ginny. "You can rest now, dear. You've done beautifully." Ginny smiled. "Thank you both," she said to the midwives. Harry glanced up from the baby. "Thanks," he whispered. The witches bowed their heads in unison, watching them for a quick moment. Then Theodora set to work, putting all of her instruments and potions back in her black bag. Winifred was now waving her wand around their bed, tergeo-ing all the various stains and fluids off the sheets. With a final flourish, the unstained sheets vanished from the bed and were replaced with Harry and Ginny's usual bedding, which tucked themselves gracefully over the mattress, ensuring Ginny was quite snug in the process. "Would like to try feeding him now, Ginny?" Winifred asked quietly. Ginny looked unsure. "What if I can't do it?" she said, glancing at Harry, the anxiety evident in her voice. "Fleur said it's horrible." "You're not Fleur," Harry reminded her, and Winifred inclined her head in agreement. "Go on, give it a try." "Good man!" Theodora said approvingly. "He's right, Ginny; every witch is different." Ginny seemed to resign herself, and reached out for the baby. Harry passed him along, and Ginny settled back on the pillows, cradling him gently. "Turn him towards you," Winifred instructed. Ginny shifted the baby so their chests were touching. "Perfect position," Theodora encouraged. "Alright, dear, now touch his upper lip with your nipple," Ginny followed her commands, and Winifred smiled. "Excellent. He's opened his mouth, now gently push him onto your nipple. His mouth should cover your areola." "My areola's bigger than his whole head," Ginny muttered darkly. Harry opened his mouth to say something to the contrary, but he snapped it shut as he realized he'd be lying. He watched as Ginny guided the baby's head onto her breast, a look of great concentration taking over her face. She looked up suddenly. "I think he's latched!" she exclaimed. Winifred smiled. "Does it hurt at all?" the midwife asked, coming around to stand over Ginny's shoulder. Ginny shook her head and Harry let out a long sigh that he hadn't even realized he had been holding. "Well done," Theodora said. "That might be the best latch I've seen yet, and from an early baby, too! Normally it takes them a bit longer to get the hang of it." Ginny beamed, looking back down at the baby, her eyes filling with fresh tears. She was so different, this new maternal Ginny; softer, slower, more vulnerable. "My sweet, smart boy," she cooed, again running a finger down his tiny cheek. She looked back up at Harry. "I'm a mess!" she exclaimed, half-laughing, half-crying. Harry grinned, thinking he had never been so in love with Ginny as he was when she was feeding their child. He thought his heart might burst as it grew with adoration for this baby, but he could also feel his love for Ginny shifting and moulding itself into something new. She was no longer simply just his friend, his partner, his lover. They were a family. She bent over the baby, her fiery hair creating a curtain, shielding the two of them from the outside world. Harry felt momentarily jealous; he knew that he'd never be able to provide for the baby the way that Ginny would. But the feeling didn't linger; Ginny looked up at him again, beaming radiantly. "His eyes are open," she murmured, and Harry stood, walking to the head of the bed, where he sank down, next to Ginny. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and looked at the baby's face. Their son was staring reverently up at Ginny as he nursed, and she looked back at him with equal intensity; their eyes mirrored each other, the exact same shade of bright brown. Harry smiled, pressing a kiss onto the top of Ginny's head. "You know what people are going to say to him, don't you?" she observed. Harry smiled. "'You look extraordinarily like your father, except you have your mother's eyes,'" he recited. A polite cough came from behind the baby's head. Harry turned, and Theodora and Winifred were standing at the foot of the bed. The room had been quickly tidied, and Harry had almost forgotten he, Ginny, and their son weren't alone. "Why don't we make you a cup of tea?" Theodora suggested. "We'll stay for a few hours until you feel confident that you can manage alone. Will your family be here to help?" Ginny nodded. Theodora smiled. "Excellent. Let instinct run, dear. You're Mum now. You know best." The two midwives turned to go when Ginny called out. "Oh, Merlin!" she laughed. "Can you tell my brother I'm alright?" Harry grinned. He had forgotten completely that Ron existed, probably still sat at the kitchen table with the firewhisky. Honestly, he had forgotten that anyone else existed besides himself, Ginny, and their baby. The witches nodded before exiting. "We should probably decide on a name before my family arrives," Ginny said quietly. Harry looked down at her. She was radiating joy and an air of accomplishment that reminded him of when the Harpies won the National Cup, but her hair was damp with sweat, her shirt was still ripped down the middle, exposing dark nipples the size of tea saucers, and her eyes had a bit of a manic look to them. "We should probably get you cleaned up before your family arrives," Harry said. "You look like you've just wandered off the closed ward." Ginny swatted a hand at him. "Kind words for the mother of your son," she said, but she was smiling. "Is he really ours, though?" Harry wondered. "It feels unreal." Ginny sighed. "It will probably feel quite real in the next few days when neither of us are sleeping through the night. But focus, Harry! We need a name." She gestured for him to take the baby, who seemed to have finished feeding and was lying contentedly, and Harry's heart thudded again as his son slid back into the crook of his arms. Ginny took her wand up and attempted to repair her ripped shirt, but it seamed itself halfway up her stomach before faltering and fanning outwards, again leaving her chest exposed. "I'm too exhausted," she groaned. "The midwives said it would be normal for your magic to be a bit off," Harry reminded her, raising his own wand to repair her shirt. "Thanks," she mumbled as the fabric sealed itself back over her. Harry shifted on the bed, and the baby sneezed. Harry's heart picked up its rapid pace again. His son was so wonderfully alive. "I love you," he whispered to his son, marvelling at how right the words felt, just like when he had first started saying them to Ginny. He was someone's dad now. He didn't think he would ever get used to it. He looked back at Ginny, whose eyes seemed on the verge of rolling backwards into her head. "Why don't you try to sleep?" he told her. "I don't want to," she admitted. "I'm afraid I'll miss him." Harry smiled at her and stood from the bed, placing their baby back in her arms. He seemed to fit perfectly there. Ginny flashed him a beatific grin. "I promise I won't hog him," she said. "You're his mum," Harry shrugged, though he was already itching to have the soft, warm bundle back in his arms. It was indescribable bliss. There was a knock on the door, and it cracked open minutely. "Everyone decent?" Ron's voice spoke warily. "No bits out?" "Only mine," Harry said. Ginny rolled her eyes. The door opened fully, and Ron edged into the room cautiously, squinting a bit in case he needed to avert his gaze with little notice. "Relax, Ron!" Harry and Ginny told him simultaneously. "Alright, alright," Ron said, putting up his hands in surrender and looking around the room. "Blimey, Ginny, you look terrible." "You try shoving something the size of a Quaffle through an opening the size of a Snitch and see how good you look," Ginny said irritably. Ron didn't let this comment disconcert him. "Yeah, well," Ron said, peering curiously towards the bundle in Ginny's arms. "Let's see it, then." "Him," Ginny corrected, but her face brightened, and she held up the baby to her brother, who received him like he was made of the most delicate china. Ron's face broke into a great grin. "Him," he repeated softly. "He's amazing." He glanced up at Harry for a moment. "He could be your twin already, mate." Harry smiled, unable to pretend he wasn't exceedingly proud of his son's early resemblance to him. Ron turned back to the baby. "It's mental, it is; the two of you having a kid. Seems like just yesterday you were besmirching my sister's honor down by the lake at school. Now you're a proper family and everything!" Ginny gave Ron a bemused look. "Is that how you always say congratulations?" she asked him. He ignored her. "I mean, Harry, this little bloke has bits of you and me in him! That's incredible. All of your kids are going to be related to me! Mine aren't going to be related to you though, are they? Funny how that works…" he trailed off, before glancing away from the baby to look back at Harry and Ginny, who were both staring at him, open-mouthed. "What?" he asked defensively. "Nothing," Ginny giggled. "I just hope you, Harry, and your baby are very happy together." "Up yours," Ron said, reddening. "It's just interesting, is all!" Harry smiled, content. Everything seemed right just now; Harry wished they could stay in this room forever, shut off from the outside world, with its darkness and dangers. The only thing that was missing was…. And then, as though Harry had summoned her with his mind, the door to the bedroom and Hermione tumbled in, rubbing ash off her robes as she straightened up, her bushy hair swinging about wildly. "I came as soon as I heard," she gasped, her eyes huge and glassy. "Your owl must've been at my window all night; I fell asleep so early. I'm sorry, I was so angry at you all but I never meant to be so stubborn that I missed it…." Her words faltered as her eyes fell on the baby, who was slowly stirring in Ron's arms. Ginny pushed herself further up on the pillows, her eyes also wide and brimming again with tears. "Please don't apologize," she said sincerely. "I'm so glad you're here." Hermione nodded, unable to tear her gaze from Ron's arms. She walked slowly across the room to her husband, who shifted the baby into one arm and reached out to Hermione, using his thumb to wipe a tear off her cheek. Hermione didn't seem to register this either, as she peered down into the nest of blankets. She looked up slowly, not at Ron, but behind him, to where Harry stood by the bed. "You're a dad," she said, blinking owlishly. Harry grinned sheepishly. "It's a boy," Ron told her softly. "Of course it is," Hermione chuckled thickly. "Ginny was so convinced otherwise. What do you think you'll call him?" "We were just trying to decide that," Ginny said. Harry glanced back at her. She had regained some of her coloring and was glowing like a madonna, surveying the tableau around her bed calmly. "But now that you're both here…" Harry began, catching Ginny's eye. She gave him a quizzical look, which quickly lightened into understanding. "Oh, yes! We want you to be his godparents," Ginny finished. "Of course," Ron and Hermione said simultaneously, looking at each other for a brief moment. "Excellent," Ginny said, closing her eyes and leaning back again. "Hopefully you two can get your shit sorted. It would be awful if we died and he had to be shuffled every week between Ron's new home in Harry's office and your house, Hermione." Hermione blushed slightly, saying nothing. She looked up at Ron, meeting his gaze for the first time. "May I hold him?" she asked. Ron didn't speak, but held out the baby to Hermione, who took him in her arms and began swaying gently. She looked past them all, out the window, where the sun was just beginning to rise, casting the treetops in a warm, yellow glow. Ron put his hands in his pockets, and Harry watched Hermione absently, wondering to himself what they would call the baby, when she spoke, almost so softly he couldn't hear her. "I'm not ready for this," she said. "I don't think I will be for a long time." Ron sucked in his breath and looked at the ceiling. Harry felt his cheeks flush as he realized he was about to have quite an intimate look into the inner workings of Ron and Hermione's marriage. Throwing Ginny a panicked look, his discomfort heightened as he realized she had fallen asleep, leaving him Ron and Hermione's sole audience, but surely they weren't about to hash out their issues here, in his bedroom… "I don't want to pretend that I haven't enjoyed this solitude," Hermione continued. "I think that's why I let it go on for so long. I haven't really had time to focus on just myself since before the war, and it's been refreshing. But I've missed you, Ron." She shifted her weight, and raised a hand to lightly touch the baby's fingers. "I think part of me needed to prove to myself that I don't need you to be happy. And I know that now, but I think I was a little foolish, because love doesn't have to be about dependence, does it? I'm fine on my own, but I'm better with you. You're my partner." "It's just that there's just so much I still want to do at the Ministry. S.P.E.W. isn't just the result of some adolescent sense of injustice, and I'm finally able to take it off the back burner now that we've made such progress with the reparations and restructuring," Hermione went on, barely stopping for breath, and she looked into the baby's face again. Harry attempted to shrink back closer to the dresser, and Ron was still staring at the ceiling. "And I see everything that Angelina and Ginny have had to give up, and I don't want that. If we have a family, that will become the most important thing in my life, and I want my work to be the most important thing right now. I don't think that's wrong. I understood when you wanted to get married after what happened with Rowle and I wanted to be with you and support you - and I still want to be with you - so I was alright with that even though I didn't feel completely ready. But this is something that will cause me to sacrifice so much more, and things that I'm not sure I'm willing to compromise on. So I suppose what I'm trying to say is that if this need for you to have children right now isn't negotiable, than I understand if you don't want this marriage to continue." She finally looked up from the bundle in her arms, and she seemed almost surprised to see Ron had stopped looking at the ceiling and was staring at her, completely vexed. "'Don't want this marriage to continue?'" he repeated, sounding totally mystified. "Hermione, for the smartest person I know, you're certainly being bloody thick right now." "What do you-" Hermione began, looking bemused, but Ron cut her off. "Are you really trying to tell me that you think I'm some kind of raving family man? That I'm so eager to be married and have a kid that I'd shack up with any witch on the street corner?" "Well, I -" Hermione spluttered, but Ron interrupted her again. "I asked you to marry me after I was cursed because I realized that I didn't give a damn if I lived another eighty years or another eighty minutes as long as you were with me," he nearly shouted. "I told you I wanted to have a baby because I saw Bill with Fleur and Victoire and I realized that if we had a family it would be like having more of you. Do you think I'm really so eager for sleepless nights and nappies and crying? Sorry, Harry." Harry shrugged, wishing for nothing more than to be able to Disapparate from the very spot. "Do you really think I would choose some hypothetical kid over you? I don't want to have a baby, Hermione, I want to have a baby with you. If you don't want one now, or if you don't want one ever, that's fine. I don't care. I'm sorry that I made you think this was something that I was prioritizing over your happiness." Hermione looked dumbfounded, but still managed to retain her irritated dignity in the face of Ron's retort. "Well, why didn't you tell me all of this a year ago?" "Because I thought you wanted it, too! If I knew that you were getting your knickers in a right twist and Flooing my sister four times a day panicking because you thought you were barren, I would've been the first to tell you to forget the whole thing! I don't know why you didn't tell me all of this a year ago." "Because I didn't want to upset you! Because I thought it would break your heart if I told you that I thought we might never be able to have a baby," Hermione cried. Harry found himself wondering why his baby was still so calm in her arms, given the ever increasing volume of their voices. He concluded that the sounds must actually be rather familiar and comforting, given the amount of Ron and Hermione's bickering that he had probably heard in utero. Ron opened his mouth again to fire back at her, but Harry interrupted. "Look, I'm glad you're both finally sorting this madness out, but maybe we could find a better time, yeah?" Hermione looked at him as if she had just remembered he was there. Ron shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "Sorry, mate," he said. Harry shrugged again. Hermione, blushing, walked over to him and handed him the baby, before standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Congratulations," she murmured. "It's the start of something, really, really beautiful, isn't it?" Harry grinned in spite of himself. "Yeah, I reckon it is," he told her. "Thank you for being here. Thank you for everything." She nodded and squeezed his hand. "Why don't we leave you all alone for a moment. Do you want us to go around and let everyone know?" she asked. "That'd be wonderful," Harry said, glancing back to Ginny's sleeping figure on the bed. "Though I'd be surprised if Molly isn't on her way over already, I'm pretty sure Victoire and Fred had hands on the clock before they were an hour old." Ron chuckled. "Best of luck, mate. There'll be no getting rid of her once she arrives." He turned to Hermione. "Do you want to take a train Bill and Fleur's?" Hermione stared up at her husband. "A train? To Cornwall?" Ron's nose went a bit pink. "So we had time, I mean, you know, to talk." Hermione's quizzical expression turned suddenly pleased. "Oh! Well, yes, of course!" she said, turning towards the door. Ron caught up with her, and Harry saw that his hand touched small of her back as they made their way into the hall. "He looks like he's trying to guide her through the door whenever he touches her like that," a voice said from the bed. "Merlin help you if you ever try that with me." "Oh! Nice of you to emerge from your slumber! Really convenient timing," Harry countered. Ginny flashed him a devilish grin. "It wasn't as bad as it could've been," she said. "At least Hermione didn't take out her datebook to plan some sex for the weekend, because she's done that in front of me before." Harry shuddered. That was exactly the reason he refrained from paying too much attention to Ron and Hermione's relationship. "We're supposed to be a team; you left me to fend for myself!" "Need I remind you that I just shoved almost nine pounds of your child out of my fanny? It's your turn to carry this team for a bit." Harry rolled his eyes, and when they fell back on Ginny, she was no longer wearing her teasing expression, but was gazing at him quite tenderly. "I love you," she said simply. "I love you," Harry told her. "I don't… I can't even begin to tell you how much, or say it enough." Ginny smiled beatifically. "I've been thinking…" she began. "Mhmm?" Harry asked. The baby began to fuss, moving his head from side-to-side while his mouth opened and closed. Harry turned his right hand upward and gently slid his pinky between his son's lips, pressing the roof of his mouth as he felt the tiny tongue suck on the bottom side. "... that I'd like to call him after your dad." Harry's heart seemed to lodge somewhere in his throat. He looked back at her, still propped up serenely in their bed. "Not Peregrin or Ulysses?" Harry tried to joke, but his voice faltered, betraying his true emotion at her suggestion. "Not Peregrin or Ulysses," Ginny repeated. "I was worried, I think, that if we named him after someone we'd lost, it would feel like he would already be born with all these expectations. But after seeing Fred… it's not like that, is it?" "No," Harry murmured. Had he ever imagined he could love this much? Looking down at his child, it was almost like the adoration had always been there, locked away in some hidden part of his heart, and Harry just hadn't noticed it until now. "It's not." "And now…" Ginny said, leaning forward excitedly. "Now it feels like everything that's happened to us, ever, has brought us to this moment. I know that's not true, I know it wasn't just about us or this baby, but it seems like all of the sacrifice and all of the love has gotten us to this point. He wouldn't be here without your parents or Sirius or Dumbledore, and I want to honor that. I think we should call him James." Harry looked back down at the bundle in his arms. James. It seemed to fit, and images flashed through his mind of a happy baby, a merry child, a lanky youth at Hogwarts… "Merlin, Ginny, there'll be a Fred Weasley and a James Potter together at Hogwarts! Our family'll force McGonagall into her retirement," Harry laughed, and the baby - James - broke off his pinky and cried out. Ginny reached out and Harry walked over to the bed and passed him back to his mother. She lifted her shirt and guided him back onto her breast. "James what, though?" she asked, as Harry reached forward and pushed some hair away from her shoulder. "James Harry? Keep with tradition?" Harry shook his head. "Harry James and James Harry? We could name him for your dad, too. James Arthur?" Ginny shook her head. "Percy's already bagsied Arthur and Molly. He has three years of being a selfish prat to atone for. Ronald?" "Nah, we can't inflate Ron's ego too much, we've already named him godfather." "We have to call him something, Harry!" Harry thought for a moment, watching Ginny nurse James. It really was incredible; that he wouldn't be here without the sacrifices of his parents, or Sirius… their love for Harry had given him a future, a life, and now he was here with his child; the result of so much sacrifice and devotion. "Ginny," he said slowly. "Hear me out." She looked up from James, holding his tiny first in her hand. "What if we called him James Sirius? I know it's two names from my family and none from yours but…" "It's perfect," Ginny interrupted with a note of finality. "James Sirius Potter. It has a ring." "James Sirius Potter," Harry repeated, his voice thick with emotion. "A great wizard in the making." James pulled himself off of Ginny's chest, giving a tiny squawk of agreement. Harry laughed. A loud crack suddenly sounded across the house, and Harry could hear Molly Weasley's cries from floors below, accompanied by her husband's quietly reassuring tones. "So much for peace and quiet," Ginny groaned. Harry found himself in disagreement. James had dozens of people waiting to meet him, people who loved him without yet knowing him. It was the most incredible thing in the world. |
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