The Portkey Chronicles

A/N: This is not the epilogue to The New Zealand Chronicles. (That's coming next week) The Portkey Chronicles consists of three stand-alone stories detailing Harry and Ginny's passage home after their year in New Zealand. I would have given each story its own chapter, but the Taj Mahal story is only 660 words long, so I combined them here in a one shot. Thanks to Rachael for the inspiration in the first place, and for the beta!

Title: Australia

Summary: Harry and Ginny visit the Hold-On Broom Factory

Word Count: 2752

The Hold-On broom factory was not a typical tourist destination, but it was the place Ginny most wanted to visit during their stay in Australia. Ironically, it wasn't recommended to ride brooms to the broom factory since Hold-Ons were manufactured in the "Back of Burke," as the desk clerk told them. It would take several hard days of flying across arid scrubland to reach the place. So, after spending a few days at a luxury resort on the Gold Coast, Harry and Ginny took a Portkey to Nullarbor, in South Australia.

Now that they were in front of the dusty brick buildings, Harry could see why the company chose this remote place to make brooms. They could test fly anytime they wanted without worrying about being seen by Muggles.

"Look" Ginny pointed to two wizards already flying through the bright blue morning sky. "I wonder what they're testing today?"

"Dunno," Harry answered. "Let's ask the bloke with the clipboard."

The bloke with the clipboard turned out to be Peregrine Holden, co- owner of the Hold-On Broom Company, the same wizard who had awarded Ginny her trophy after the Strait Race. He remembered Ginny of course, although Harry could tell she was surprised to be recognized. It never ceased to amaze him how oblivious Ginny was to the attention she received. Just her red hair alone made her stand out.

Mr. Holden gave Harry a quick nod and then starting talking to Ginny with such enthusiasm that the nostrils in his beaky nose started to quiver. "We've been trying out your sequence on all of our stock models. Mike's flying our longest broomstick, the Brougham." He beamed. "It's a beaut of a luxury broom and perfect for your charms since there's plenty of room for your acceleration sequence and the Braking Charms needed for such a heavy stick."

Ginny colored prettily and started asking questions about how they spliced the charms together. While Mr. Holden was answering her, Mike, the test flier, landed next to Ginny with a flourish.

"G'day," he said to Ginny, raking her curvy figure with twinkling eyes. "You must be the witch who designed this sequence."

Harry hated him on the spot. Not only was Mike good-looking in that tanned outdoorsy way, he also had a cool job. To his relief, Ginny lifted her chin at his leering and gave him a frosty stare that would have made McGonagall proud. "Yes," she answered.

"Crikey! That's one good sequence!" Mike exclaimed with a grin, not at all put out by her reserve. "I never thought I'd get that bloated Brougham off the ground with the factory charms. It's got six stubbie holders on it —"

"Stubbie holders?" Ginny interrupted.

"Sorry, stubbies are beer bottles. Management thinks the upscale broom owner is looking for cup holders."

Mr. Holden was not amused. "Mike, if you've sold as many brooms as I have, you'd know —"

"If I had sold as many brooms as you, I'd have a skybox for Thunderer's home matches and all the pretty witches I could — "

"As you can see," Mr. Holden interrupted, "Being a test flier is really more about nerve than common sense or manners."

"So who tested your broom?" Mike asked Ginny, ignoring Mr. Holden completely. "Don't tell me a beautiful witch like you did something so dangerous."

"All right, I won't tell you then," Ginny snapped. She threw Harry a get-me-away-from —this-idiot look.

"Ginny did all the test flying herself," Harry said, glad to finally have a chance to make his presence known. "I flew with her a few times, but she did everything."

"Oh!" Mike tore his gaze away from Ginny and looked at Harry in surprise. "Didn't see you there, mate." He stuck out his hand. "So you fly, do you? Lucky break you have a broom. I thought all you Pommys used that Floo Network."

"I fly," he said.

"Good thing," Mike said easily. "All blokes should fly — a witch, it doesn't matter so much, but —"

Ginny's eyes were flashing and her face was an ominous red. "I beg your pardon?" she asked in a low, dangerous voice. "What did you just say?"

"Like I said, to be a test flier, you don't need common sense," Mr. Holden said hastily, stepping between them. "Mike still has several hours of testing to do and I want to show you the factory now."

Mike gave Ginny a roguish wink and casually straddled his broom. "I'll be thinking of you." Then he took off, pushing the broom through the charm sequence so fast that he was above the roof line in seconds. He really could fly, Harry thought grudgingly. But his mood lightened when he saw the scowl Ginny gave Mike as he flew away.

Mr. Holden toured them through the main factory first. They saw the basic ute broom being assembled in conveyor belt fashion — except there was no mechanical belt - the brooms were all in the air and stopped at each assembly station to have charms or twigs or polish added. There was so much to see that Harry hardly noticed all the wizards staring at Ginny as she walked through the factory.

By the time they reached the Experimental Building, Harry felt he had learned more than enough about brooms. In order to fly, he didn't need to know the optimal ratio of twigs to handle or which broomstick coatings worked best in hot, dry conditions.

Ginny, however, was in seventh heaven. She asked questions of the workers. She exclaimed over sticks of unfinished wood that looked like kindling to Harry. She laughed and frowned and on occasion caught his eye whenever something struck her as important.

Even though he didn't care that much about broom manufacturing, Harry was having fun watching her having fun.

The Experimental Building was quieter than the main factory and smelled of wood dust and broom polish. Magic tickled his nose and made his scalp tingle. Soon the conversation turned even more technical.

"This stick is made from the wood of the quandong tree," Mr. Holden explained, putting what looked to be a thin gnarled branch in Ginny's hands. "We're experimenting with native woods. We've had good luck with the candlebark gum . . ."

Harry tuned the wizard out and just watched Ginny. She was dressed in her navy blue "career" robes as she called them. Harry knew that she thought they made her look all- business, but there was no way she could hide what an attractive woman she was. Luckily, Mr. Holden was old enough to be her grandfather and was more interested in her thoughts on brooms than anything else.

And she did have a lot of thoughts about brooms.

Until today, Harry had no idea. She had told him what she doing to prepare for the Strait Race, of course, but he never realized how much she loved brooms in general, or that she had thought about such things as using different types of twigs in a bundle to balance the properties of stability and aerodynamics.

Once Ginny had talked to everyone in the Experimental Brooms Building, Mr. Holden wanted her to meet some of the other Hold- On executives. "Maybe we could talk you into taking a job with us," he said seriously. "You should think about it. The broom industry is tightly controlled in England. Here the sky's the limit for what you could try."

"Well, I — " She looked helplessly at Harry.

"We've been in New Zealand for a year," Harry said. "And we're going back to England to our new house and . . ." He held Ginny's gaze, feeling guilty. What if this was something Ginny really wanted to do? She had given him a year to be trained. Maybe he should do that for her.

"And," Ginny added quickly. "We're really not looking to emigrate right now." Her eyes were big and sincere. "Although I loved seeing your factory and this would be a wonderful place to work."

Mr. Holden looked pleased. "We have a hard time recruiting new talent since Nullarbor is off the beaten path, but if you love brooms . . ."

"I do love brooms," Ginny said quietly. "But there are other things I love more."

Mr. Holden let them take up the Brougham after treating them to lunch. Harry wanted Mike to see that Ginny was in control of the broom, and to make his point he settled into one of the plush cushioning charms and put his fizzy drink in the cup holder. Mike tried to explain the features of the broom, but Ginny ignored him.

"Ready, Harry?" she called over her shoulder and then pushed off before he had a chance to say anything.

Her hair streamed out behind her as they flew away from the factory. The edge of the horizon, where the flat brown land met the blue sky, was so far away that the line was pale blue and fuzzy.

It was the first time Harry had ever let someone else fly him around, and he felt a bit awkward — as if he had extra hands and feet. But soon the novelty of being on a big quiet broom, sheltered by charms from the hot wind and the blazing sun, relaxed him and he began to notice the land below them. He spotted a mouse — or maybe it was something else — skittering across the hard-packed earth.

"Think we'll see any kangaroos?" he asked in Ginny's ear.

"That would make Ron happy," she answered.

Then Harry felt the broom drop slightly. "What was that?" he asked. This was not the place to stall out on a broom.

"It's a segue point in the magic," Ginny answered. "Usually a racing broom just speeds up as you go through a sequence, but I wanted spots where I could get my bearings for a second or two."

They were riding a broom using Ginny's magic, Harry marveled. And somehow, the way this broom handled was just like her — forthright and steady — with a few surprises thrown in. She really was talented, he thought with pride. "So what did you think of the broom factory?"

"It was brilliant," she answered, turning around to smile at him. "That one bloke in the Experimental Building knew so much about twigs, I couldn't believe it. I could watch him work for hours."

"Do you want to do more with brooms?" he blurted.

She raised her eyebrows, and pulled up on the broom to slow it.

"I thought you were just messing around this year to give you something to do whilst I was in training, but if this is something you love . . ."

They were now hovering forty feet in the air. The broom was so long, that Ginny easily swiveled her cushion so she could face him with her knees touching his.

"Didn't you hear what I told Mr. Holden?"

"That you love brooms, but you love other things more," he answered, not really sure what he wanted to hear from Ginny.

"That's still my answer," she said, cocking her head. "I want to go home. I want to see my family. I want to see our house."

"Yes, but after all of that excitement, what are you going to do?"

She stared at him a moment and bit her lip as if she was trying to decide what to say. "Well, after we're settled in the house, it will soon be Christmas. And, of course, I'll help you with establishing a Search and Rescue program and . . ."

It all sounded so dreary and predictable — not like test flying brooms or trying out new magic. "But Ginny, you could do so much more. You have done so much more!"

"Maybe we'll have a baby," she said. Her eyes were very bright with emotion — but what emotion, he didn't know.

"Maybe." His stomach flipped at the thought, but he wasn't quite ready to think about that. He looked down and was startled to see several kangaroos hopping between the dusty shrubs.

"We don't belong here," Ginny said after he looked from the kangaroos to her. "Oh, I suppose we could belong here if we tried."

He nodded. They had managed to make a life for themselves in New Zealand and he was rather proud of that.

"But we have so much waiting for us back home."

"We do," he said. "But none of that is important if you're not happy."

"Harry," she said through gritted teeth. "We've had this conversation before."

They had had this conversation before — and it had been the worst row of their marriage, that first night in New Zealand after she had been rejected for training. Ginny was getting angry again, but he wasn't going to drop it. "I just watched the head of a major broom company offer you a job. Those blokes in Experimental Brooms couldn't stop talking to you. How are you going to learn more about brooms if you go back to England?"

"How did I learn about brooms in the first place?" she retorted. "Everything I know I learned in between driving a bus and an ambulance and making meals and doing the laundry."

She had him there. The way Ginny had been talking today - it was almost as if she had gone to broom school or something. But she hadn't. She had just decided to charm a broom for racing and she had done it — in spectacular fashion. He started to smile.

"What?"

"You're such a Weasley." He took her hand.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She was smiling, too.

"Your last name might be Potter. And we might be flying a broom with the Patented Potter sequence, but you're such a Weasley."

"Harry." She laughed. "That's not very clear."

"Fred and George decide they want a joke shop, so they make one of their own out of practically nothing. Your dad decides the Muggles need more protection, so he writes a law. You decide you want to make a racing broom out of a ute broom — so you go out into the potting shed and you do it."

She giggled. "And what does a Potter do?"

"Wait for a Weasley to notice him and take him in." He was only partly joking.

"Oh, Harry," she leaned forward and kissed him with her hands touching the back of his neck. "I had to win two Quidditch matches for you to notice me."

He could smell that sweet, distinctive scent of her hair. "I still don't know why I was so lucky . . ." He ran his hands down her back, feeling the curve of her hip.

"Because you're such a Potter, that's why."

Then she added something about 'extreme cuteness,' but his brain went on holiday as she pressed against him, and he was too distracted to ask her more.

"A Brougham is a much better broomstick than a Firebolt for this sort of thing," Harry said once they came up for air.

"A borrowed Brougham," Ginny reminded him primly, pulling away and straightening her robes. Harry wished he hadn't brought up the Brougham until she added, "And that Mike bloke is creepy enough without us coming back looking like we've had a session."

The thought of anyone seeing Ginny with her hair mused up and her lips swollen from his kisses and her eyes shining with that beautiful afterglow made his blood run cold. "You're right," he said, awkwardly smoothing her hair. "It must have been the broomstick factory that made me lose my head."

"What do you mean?" She frowned. "I thought you looked a bit bored during the tour."

He smiled. "You know how Amortenia makes you smell things you love?"

Her eyes lit up. "Yeah?"

"So, the first time I ever saw it brewing during my sixth year, I smelled —"

"Treacle Tart!" she guessed.

"Right." He laughed because it sounded so silly. "And the wood from broomsticks."

"So that's why you want me to work in a broom factory!"

He shook his head. "And I smelled this flowery scent that I later realized was you."

"You later realized." She sighed and touched his face. "Well, I'm glad we came on this trip so I could find out about your love of brooms."

"Ginny." He caught her wrist and then kissed her hand. "I might love brooms, but there are things I love more."

She touched her forehead to his. "That's what I've been trying to tell you."

Tit le: At the Taj Mahal

Summary: Harry has his reasons for wanting to visit the Taj Mahal with Ginny.

Word count: 660

Harry and Ginny arrived in India at dawn, forgetting about the rapid time zone differences with their Portkey Passage. No matter, Rashid, their sleepy guide had said. Morning was the best time to see the Taj Mahal since the air was cool and fresh and the Muggle tourists hadn't yet overrun the place. As they passed through the arched gateway, the white marble monument and the four graceful minarets took on the soft glow of the rising sun.

Rashid toured them past the long reflecting pool toward the monument. In it, Harry could see the green cypress trees and the cloudless sky and the perfect white dome pointing toward heaven.

As they walked, Rashid told them the story of Shah Jahan, the emperor who had built the complex as a tribute to his beloved wife, Mumtaz Mahal who had died in childbirth. Ginny raised her eyebrows when Rashid told them that Mumtaz was the emperor's second wife and that other, lesser tombs had been built for his other wives. Harry longed to know what she was thinking, but she only squeezed his hand when he caught her eye.

They examined the intricate stonework. Their feet echoed on the marble floors. They marveled at the semi-precious stones worked into the ornate designs covering every inch of the inner chamber. It was like stepping into an elaborate jewelry box.

Dazzled by the beauty and richness of the place and the romantic story that went with it, Harry and Ginny lingered in the garden long after Rashid's tour.

"So she was his second wife," Ginny remarked as she sat on a marble bench by the reflecting pool. "Do you think that meant she didn't have to pick up his socks?"

Harry laughed and joined her on the bench. "Probably." Ginny had a thing about clothes on the floor - maybe all wives did — who knew?

"I wonder which wife had sock duty?" she mused. "Number five?"

"He was an emperor — I think they had servants."

"Oh." They lapsed into silence.

"Er- so what did you think of it?"

Ginny glanced at him and then glanced back at the one of the most perfect buildings ever made. "It's beautiful," she murmered. Then she frowned. "But I wonder — do you think she knew how much he loved her while she was alive? Or did the emperor only show how he felt when she was gone?"

"I don't know," Harry answered helplessly. That wasn't the message he wanted to convey to Ginny from this visit. "That would be hard to say. It was so long ago and there isn't a lot written down and the legends — "

"So all that's left," she began, looking at him with her clear brown eyes. "All that we know - is that he loved her."

He swallowed as he heard the emotion in her voice.

"We don't know why he loved her — what she looked like — how she felt about clothes on the floor," Ginny continued. "We just know that he loved her."

"And he wanted to show the world," Harry added hoarsely. "Not many blokes have the chance to do something -" He waved his hand at the monument that had taken years, even with magic, to build. "Like that."

She put her head on his shoulder. "Now I know why you brought me here."

"I hope so." He wasn't very good with gifts and gestures and words.

"I know you love me, Harry," she said simply.

Sweet relief coursed through him. She understood. "I do."

They sat quietly together enjoying this pause in their travels. Soon they would be home in the midst of daily stresses and worries, and this view of the gardens and the water and the pleasing shapes of the towers and dome etched against the soft blue sky would only be a memory.

So all that's left, all that we know — is that he loved her.

Harry smiled and rubbed his cheek against her hair. It had been worth the trip.

Title:Roma nia

Word Count: 1600

Summary: Harry and Ginny spend time with Leo.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he found the path through the forest that led to Charlie and Kathleen's snug cottage. He was hot, tired and thirsty from following Charlie around all day. After his intense training in Search and Rescue, Harry had thought he was in pretty good shape — but he obviously did not have the stamina or the stomach to be a dragon handler.

He glanced down at the scorch mark on his sleeve and shuddered as he remembered that close call. Dragons, with their iridescent scales and flaming breath, were indeed wonders of the natural world. Dragons guarded the great treasures of the earth. A dragon had carried him to safety once. He appreciated dragons, he really did. But he was content to appreciate them in the abstract.

He savored the cool quiet of the shady forest for another moment and then continued on, feeling grateful for his choice of careers. The silence was soon shattered by the distant sound of a baby crying. Harry looked at his watch. It was five o'clock — 'the Witching Hour,' as Kathleen had dubbed it. This was the time of day when dinner had to be prepared and Leo was tired and fretful. Harry shook his head. Witching Hour made dragon handling look like a walk in the park.

Thanks to Leo, babies were no longer abstractions in Harry's mind.

Ginny was pacing in front of the cottage with her now-quiet nephew in her arms. She looked so pretty with the dappled sunlight playing over her hair and the contented expression on her face. Leo could be her baby, Harry thought, since they both had the same shade of red hair.

He didn't dare call out to her since he didn't want to disturb the fragile peace, but he stepped on a twig and Ginny spotted him. Smiling, she continued to pace.

"Do you want me to take him?" Harry whispered. "He's heavy."

"He's not asleep," she said, turning around so he could see that Leo was gnawing on her shoulder and looking around at the tranquil forest with bright grey eyes.

"Hi, Leo," he said softly.

Leo crinkled his eyes in greeting and went back to gumming Ginny's shoulder.

"Come to Uncle Harry," he coaxed, holding out his hands.

Ginny pried him off of her shoulder and amazingly, Leo allowed her to hand him over.

This baby wasn't an abstraction at all. He was heavy and warm and had that clean baby smell that was strangely addictive.

"I could hear you all the way through the forest," he said to the baby, holding him up so he could see his solemn little face. "The dragons could hear you, I reckon."

Leo's eyes lit up at the word 'dragon.'

"That's right, you were scaring the dragons, little man."

Leo stared into Harry's eyes as if he was listening intently. Then with startling speed, he reached up one chubby hand and swiped Harry's glasses off of his face.

"The Seeker got you again," Ginny chortled.

Leo had been playing that game all week with his Uncle Harry.

"He's quick," Harry admitted with a grin, as he tried to extricate his glasses from Leo's grip.

Ginny waved a small rubber dragon in front of the baby's eyes. "Looky," she trilled.

Leo ignored it.

"Make it fly," Harry suggested.

Soon the fat, green dragon was flying in lazy circles over Leo's head. "He's watching it," Ginny said.

He was. Even without his glasses, Harry could tell those grey eyes were keen and alert. Leo's fingers loosened their grip on his glasses and Harry pulled them away without incident. Leo was consumed with watching the toy dragon flying over his head.

"Ginny, make it swoop down like a Snitch and then hover."

Leo watched it hover for a few seconds and then he grabbed it out of the air with a triumphant gurgle.

"He did it!" Ginny exclaimed. "Leo, you're going to be a Seeker just like your Daddy."

Leo drooled happily and chewed on his prize. "As long as he's not a Dragon Handler like his father," Harry said, shifting the baby to his other arm.

"That bad?" Ginny asked sympathetically.

"It's not the flying," Harry hastened to tell her. "I don't mind eight hours on a broom. It's the heat and the dust and the noise."

"And the danger," she gasped as she saw the burn on his sleeve.

Harry shrugged. "I wouldn't mind if dragons weren't such ungrateful creatures."

She laughed. "How do dragons show love? I'll have to ask Charlie."

"I don't want to know," Harry groaned. "And I doubt he would tell his sister."

That night Harry woke to the sound of Leo crying. Then he heard the floorboards creak, and Charlie's voice, and then the cries turned to whimpers and finally silence.

"Kathleen thinks he's getting another tooth," Ginny whispered.

"I didn't know you were awake."

"It's rather difficult to sleep through a baby crying."

"Yeah." He frowned, not wanting to think about his nephew in pain. "You think he's okay?"

"He stopped crying," Ginny said soothingly. She shifted so she was facing him. "All babies must go through that," she mused.

"Everyone ends up with teeth," Harry agreed.

"I didn't realize . . ."

"What?" There was a note in her voice that was out of place and he didn't like it.

"Just how much — I don't know. I don't want to say 'work' because a baby isn't work like I think of work — it's more like . . ."

"Worry?"

"Not worry, exactly — more like a challenge."

Harry was quiet for a moment. Ginny sounded so lost — not like Ginny at all. "Yeah. Challenge is probably the right word," he said in as neutral of a tone as he could muster.

"I don't know if I could do that alone," she blurted. "Take care of a baby —"

"Of course you could," he said quickly. "But you won't have to," he added, taking her in his arms. "I'm not a male dragon who loves 'em and leaves 'em."

"If you did leave, I'd be breathing fire," Ginny huffed.

He laughed and hugged her. "I don't doubt it."

There were silent for a moment. Harry wondered why Ginny was suddenly voicing doubts about babies. Pain squeezed his heart. Surely she hadn't changed her mind now that they had seen a real baby. Spending time with Leo had been a wonderful revelation for him. He had never realized how fascinating even the youngest child could be — and how lovable. But maybe that wasn't true for Ginny. Maybe she had just discovered she didn't like babies all that much.

His stomach flipped. He shouldn't try to convince her either way, but now that he had seen a little red-haired Weasley baby . . . He sighed.

"Harry?"

He could just imagine mischievous brown eyes — Ginny's eyes - gazing up at him and then grabbing his glasses. Oh, how he wanted . . . "Um. I'm always up for a challenge," he finally said.

"I know that!" Ginny pressed against him, touching his face. "You'll be a brilliant father. You're so good with Leo. Kathleen can't stop singing your praises."

"Oh. So what's . . .?"

"It's me," she answered miserably. "No one minds helping when there's an actual cute baby to play with, but I can't even be pregnant by myself."

He started to laugh, partly in relief. Ginny still wanted a baby. "Of course you can't get pregnant by yourself."

"I said be pregnant by myself," she said sharply. "I mean I'll have to have help — loads of help since I won't be allowed to do magic. And that's just . . ."

Ginny hated to show weakness. He had learned that the hard way during their first year of marriage and now he had some inkling of how difficult this fresh worry was for her to admit. "Ginny," he began. He wanted to tell her it would be all right — or distract her with something else like they had done with Leo and the rubber dragon, but neither of those things was going to work.

"I just hate feeling helpless," she said viciously.

He went very still. She had said 'be pregnant'- as if in the present tense. They had only stopped using the Contraceptive Charm since their anniversary two weeks ago. Surely it was too soon to know . . . He gulped.

"But I will," she continued. "If Kathleen can live in a foreign country for Charlie and then raise their son without any family around for support, then I can go without doing magic for six months."

Suddenly, he understood. It was too early to tell if she was pregnant now, but someday soon she would be. And it would be both a joy and a trial for her. But she was going to do it. For him.

His eyes filled. "I know you love me, Ginny," he said, echoing what she had said to him at the Taj Mahal.

"I do," she said tearfully, her arms going around his neck. He kissed the top of her head and held her tightly. Long after they were gone, they would have a child who lived on and the thought comforted him, immensely.

So all that's left, all that we know — is that she loved him.

After a few minutes, she pulled back. "I just want everything to be —"

"In your control?" he asked.

She laughed at the teasing tone in his voice. "Yes. But I guess that's not going to be possible, is it?"

He smiled in the dark. "Leo taught us that, didn't he?"

"Yes." She put her head on his chest. "I'm glad we took the Portkey Passage so we got to see him."

"It was worth the trip," he agreed.