SIYE Time:17:36 on 10th December 2024 SIYE Login: no | | |
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Worthwhile By DebbieO
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Category: Post-HBP
Characters:All
Genres: Drama
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 16
Summary: Harry has been alone too long. Can a reunion with Ginny give him the will to keep fighting?
Hitcount: Story Total: 5360
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: This is my first foray into fan fiction. It is a bit heavy on the drama/angst side, but the ending is worthwhile (pun intended). I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
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Worthwhile
Harry wrapped his cloak tighter around him and stared at nothing. He was injured, but he didn't hurt. He was tired, but he couldn't sleep. There was work to do, but he couldn't concentrate. He had long been angry at his fate, but no more. He was nothing but a tool--a weapon to fight evil. Evil that drew nearer all the time.
Hermione watched him from the door of the tent the trio shared. Her brown eyes swam with tears. She looked at her boyfriend and spoke her thoughts, "Ron, we have to do it. I know it's dangerous and Harry will be furious, but..."
"I know," Ron said, sighing. "Go get her."
"I love you," she whispered, embracing him.
"Be safe," he replied, brushing her forehead with a kiss.
Hermione apparated to Ottery St. Catchpole and walked to the Burrow, hidden in Harry's invisibility cloak. She approached cautiously, sensitive to the increased security. She sent her patronus ahead with the message, "All safe, need to talk."
A moment later she saw the air shimmer as a magical barrier dissolved. Molly Weasley ran out of the kitchen and Hermione whipped off the cloak to embrace her.
"Hermione, dear. How are you? How is Ron? Harry?"
"Let's go inside. I'll tell you everything I can."
Molly made tea and the witches sat in the kitchen. "I'm alone at the moment," Molly said. "Bill took Ginny and James to Diagon Alley. We need supplies and my daughter needed to get out of the house."
"I can imagine," Hermione said. She knew staying home was killing Ginny.
"I actually came to talk to you about Ginny," Hermione said. "Harry isn't well. He seems to have forgotten how to feel. His magic is weakening. I'm terrified that an encounter with a Death Eater or Dementor would be enough to kill him, forget Voldemort." Hermione had long become hardened to the use of the name. Over a year of tracking and destroying portions of the monster's soul had made him far less terrifying. Molly shuddered out of habit.
"Oh dear," Molly said. "I'm not surprised. The poor boy has had such a hard life."
"Yes, he has," Hermione admitted, sighing. "He would be furious if he knew I was here, but fury would be an improvement. He needs to see Ginny. He needs to meet James. He needs a reason to fight...a reason to live."
Molly trembled visibly. Ginny had suffered so much. She couldn't bear losing her or James, but if Harry died, Molly knew she would lose Ginny anyway. They would all lose everything. She steeled herself and asked, "He still doesn't know about James?"
"No, Ginny swore us to secrecy. She wants to tell Harry herself, and Harry's refused to see her. He said it hurt too much to let her go, but now...well, I'd rather see him hurting than empty."
"They should be back soon. Why don't you go up and rest until they come."
"I'd love a real shower," Hermione confessed. "You don't mind?"
"Of course not, dear. I believe some of your old clothes are in Ginny's room. If you'd like, I'll launder what you're wearing."
"That would be wonderful." Hermione impulsively threw herself into Molly's arms. "I've missed you so much," she whispered. "Ron has too," she added.
Molly's eyes filled. "We've missed you, too."
Ginny and Bill made their way down a nearly deserted Diagon Alley toward the Leaky Cauldron. Their arms were full of bundles, one of which was squirming and fussing.
"Shh," Ginny whispered, kissing her son. "I know you're hungry, we'll be home soon."
A few moments later, Ginny and James flooed to the Burrow. Ginny brushed ash from James' blanket and uncovered his face. "Peek a boo, love," she whispered. James' green eyes opened wide in surprise. He giggled at his mother.
"You are such a darling. Lunchtime, isn't it?"
Ginny retired to the living room to nurse her son. As they settled, she was shocked to see Hermione enter the room.
"Hermione! What are you doing here? Where's Harry? Ron?" Ginny's heart was pounding so hard she was afraid it would burst from her chest.
"They're safe, Ginny," Hermione assured her. "Harry thinks I'm in town gathering supplies. Ron knows I'm here."
"You lied to Harry?" Ginny's eyes narrowed. "What's going on?"
"Gin...Harry's not well."
"What? What do you mean?" Ginny jumped, disrupting James' meal. He promptly screamed his protest. Ginny's hands were shaking so badly she could hardly help him.
"I told you he's safe, Ginny. That's true. He's well physically, but...he seems to feel nothing. No fear, pain, joy, hope... Ron and I think you are the only person who might be able to reach him."
"When do we leave?" Ginny's mind was racing.
"As soon as possible," Hermione said. "I think you should bring James."
Ginny blanched. She hadn't considered dropping that bombshell so suddenly. "Are you sure?"
"Ginny, he needs every source of joy and hope he can get. He needs to know his son, to remember love."
"Okay," Ginny whispered.
Two hours later, Hermione, Ginny and James apparated near the campsite. Hermione sent her patronus to Ron and Harry, and Ginny saw the air tremble as the protective barrier came down. Ginny's heart raced and her breath came in gasps. Tears prickled against her eyelids, as Hermione led her forward.
Ron came loping out of the tent to embrace his sister and girlfriend. "Harry's inside," he whispered.
Ginny gave the baby to Hermione and cautiously approached the tent. She lifted the flap and looked inside. "Upstairs," Ron mouthed silently when she looked back.
The wizard tent was a decent three bedroom flat with a kitchen. Ginny mounted the stairs slowly at first, but knowing that every step brought her closer to Harry quickened her. She knocked quietly, but there was no answer. She knocked louder and a groggy voice said, "Come in."
Ginny entered. The room was scattered with books, maps and papers. Her eyes found his lanky body stretched out on a cot. His arm was draped over his face; she knew he assumed that she was Ron or Hermione.
"Harry," she whispered, approaching the cot.
His body stiffened. He brought his arm down slowly and looked at her. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was covered in stubble. Nothing but his movement betrayed that he recognized her.
Ginny's eyes filled with tears. She knelt beside him and caressed his face. "Harry, it's me."
"Hermione brought you," he said in a flat tone.
"Yes."
"She shouldn't have done that. It isn't safe."
Ginny sighed. "I don't think there are any safe places left, Harry. There are many different ways to suffer."
Harry didn't answer. He just looked.
"I've missed you so much, Harry. I love you..." she trailed off. She didn't expect a response. "I have something important to say. I've wanted to tell you for so long."
Harry sat up. His face was set, as if preparing for a blow.
Ginny sat beside him on the cot. "This is going to come as a bit of a shock, I'm afraid. I don't know how to do this," she said sighing softly. "I thought I would see you long before now, and I couldn't bring myself to tell you any way but in person." Ginny swallowed hard and moved to kneel before Harry, gently cradling his face in her hands and looking deeply into his eyes. "Harry...you're a father. We have a son."
Harry's eyes widened. His face went white with shock. Ginny pulled him into her arms and held him, without saying anything more. She stroked his back, his hair, his arms...willing feeling back into his body. He slumped against her, allowing her attentions without reciprocating. After a while, she pulled back to look at him.
"He's beautiful, Harry. I...I call him, James...but, he's only a few months old, so...if you want to call him something else, we can still change his name."
Harry started to tremble violently. Ginny pulled him back into her arms. "It's okay, love. He's healthy and perfect. I'm healthy. All we need is you."
Harry's face was buried in her shoulder. She felt it grow warm and wet, and was relieved.
"How...when..." he finally choked out.
Ginny laughed softly. "I think the how is obvious and you know when. James was born on October 15th. Do you like the name? I thought it would be nice to call him after your father and Sirius. I haven't made it official though. I wanted you to have a say."
Harry shook his head in disbelief. He didn't answer except to say, "Can I see him?"
"Of course. He's downstairs with Ron and Hermione."
Ginny helped Harry downstairs; he leaned heavily on her . Ron and Hermione rose as they approached. Harry's eyes were fixed on the small bundle in Ron's arms.
Ron smiled at his best friend. Ginny led Harry to the sofa and Ron handed him his son. "Here you go, mate," he whispered, clapping Harry on the shoulder, "he's beautiful." Ron and Hermione slipped from the room.
"James," Harry whispered. "I-I'm your Daddy."
Ginny cuddled up beside Harry and gazed at their son. His Weasley red hair stuck up in every direction like his father's. His emerald green eyes studied them intensely. Ginny's heart overflowed with love for the men beside her.
"He's wonderful, Gin. I-I'm sorry you've been alone in all this," Harry whispered.
"Harry, you have nothing to apologize for. I'm sorry you have missed so much with your son. I needed to tell you in person. I had no idea it would be so long."
"I understand," he whispered. "It's okay." Harry cradled James to him with one arm and put the other around Ginny. "I love the name. It is exactly what I would have chosen." Harry kissed her head. "Thank you, Ginny. I love you so much. Both of you."
Tears rolled down Ginny's face. "We love you too, Harry."
Harry awoke the next morning to find his wife nestled against him. He smiled and pulled her closer, satiated. An unfamiliar surge of hope coursed through his spirit as he looked over at their son, who was still sleeping in a basket by their bed. As he watched him sleep, Harry embraced the idea that he was more than an unwilling, disposable tool of war. He was a husband, a father, a son and a friend. His life might be hard, but it had meaning. Love made it all worthwhile.
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Reviews 16
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