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SIYE Time:6:59 on 4th December 2024
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Unforgettable
By ronsforever

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Category: You're Having My Baby Challenge (2010-1), You're Having My Baby Challenge (2010-1)
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Oliver Wood, Other, Ron Weasley
Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama, Humor, Romance, Songfic
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: G
Reviews: 6
Summary: Harry receives news that Ginny is going to have a baby and plots the perfect way to tell her.. The answer comes to him in a dream, but all does not go as planned.
Hitcount: Story Total: 5964



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:
For the "You're Having My Baby" Challenge.
Appearances by Ron, Bill, and Oliver Wood create comic relief while the romance burns between our favorite couple, the Potters.




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Harry reclined at his desk, attempting to clear it of a bit of the paperwork he so strongly detested, but thus far, he had managed only some light rearranging. He flicked his wand lazily at a stack of Ministry pamphlets that had been obscuring his small photograph of Ginny, and they shifted five inches to the left. The nineteen-year-old version of his beautiful wife beamed at him from the delicate gilt frame and, eager to go home, he hastened to check the time on his ancient gold wristwatch. He groaned. It was only noon and the rest of the day held no promise of any interesting activity; the entire week had been unpleasantly slow. He supposed that he could begin reading one of the pamphlets he was supposed to be handing out to the rest of the Auror office. However, before he could further examine one, an inter-department memo swooped into the room. Amalay Jennings, the tough but kindly witch with whom he shared an office, looked up in surprise, but when it zoomed onto Harry’s desk, she commenced her work, which today seemed to consist hurling crumpled posters of a wizard they had recently sent to Azkaban at the waste bin nestled in a corner across the room. She failed several shots but merely lifted them into the basket via her wand. Harry smiled, vaguely recalling Dudley and other Muggles from his youth playing a similar game and wondered whether it would not have been much easier with wands. Remembering the memo that had now begun to prod his forehead lightly but expectantly, he unfolded it. It informed him that an urgent owl had arrived for him downstairs from St. Mungo’s. Alarmed, he hastened to the golden elevators and down to the main secretary’s office to retrieve the message, remembering as he went that he and Ginny were expecting big news, but the results were to be sent to her. As the snowy delivery owl flew away into the Atrium, he scanned the stroll impatiently. It read:


To Mrs. Ginny Potter,
We are delighted to inform you that the results of your pregnancy test are, indeed, positive. Congratulations on this happy news and please do not hesitate to return in the event of complications or necessary check-ups. We have attached another copy of the informative brochure you picked up on the date of your test.

Sincerely,
Philomena R. Pitchinger
Department of Magical and Natural Deliveries
(Where Magical Families Begin!*)
St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries
London
England

*This slogan property of Dept. of Magical and Natural Deliveries of St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

Why had this letter arrived for him, when it was clearly addressed to his wife? He glanced at the secretary, who was now asleep at her desk. No matter. Harry broke into a huge grin; this would make Ginny so happy. He tried to imagine the look of elation on her face and decided that this celebration would have to sweep her off of her feet. They both wanted at least three children; of this they were very sure. Moreover, he realized this meant that he had won the unspoken but thinly veiled battle between himself and Ron. At this notion, he chuckled outright to himself. Suddenly, this day was beginning to brighten. Quickly asking Oliver Wood, who was now his boss and slight superior, for the rest of the afternoon off, (“Sure, sure, Potter. I remember a few years ago when Marthie told me she was pregnant, really heard about it when I didn’t plan some elaborate celebration...women, eh… but then again, my mother-in-law was in town…”), Harry hastened home to plot the victory he was about to achieve with his wife.

By that evening, he had nothing. He had paid a visit to Ron and Hermione’s to ask for advice, but this trip had proved fruitless. Hermione, who normally would have been an immense help in a matter such as this, was out shopping with her aunt and cousin from Liverpool. Ron, on the other hand, was keen to offer the kind of help he was famous for.

“Honestly, mate, I don’t see why you’re so nervous about this, you should just sing her a song, like that Muggle one Hermione’s cousin Borace tuned his strange ‘erlectric’ radio onto the other night. You’ve got to hear it, Harry, Muggle music is great. I’ll bet dad would just love it.”

“I didn’t say I was nervous-” Harry started to protest, but Ron had already begun to sing in a mock off-pitch baritone.

“Having my baby, what a lovely way of saying how much you love me, having my baby…”

“Ron! Focus! I need something really special planned so Ginny will remember this forever.”

“What a lovely way of saying what you're thinkin' of me, I can see it, your face is glowing, I can see it in your eyes…” His voice ascended until it cracked, and he held up a hand to his best friend, feigning a sappy version of romance.

“You’re no help, are you?”

“No,” Ron replied, but “I'm happy in knowin' that you're having my baby!”

By now, he was beside himself with laughter. Harry elected to leave him rolling on the floor and head home. It was clear that he could not have a plan by tonight, so the news would have to wait, and he would have to keep Ginny away from suspicion.

This proved difficult, however, as she brought up the test nearly five times during dinner, and with each mention her eyes drifted further off into the distance. It was clear she was dying to hear the results, and she seemed vaguely apprehensive that they had not come yet. Thankfully, it was Friday, and so Harry decided that to avoid any anger at his scheming, he must have a solid plan by the end of the night, to be implemented the following day. After they had cleared the table, listened to their favorite radio show, The Wizened Gamot, and discussed the performance of the newest member of the show, their old friend Lee Jordan, Harry asked, trying to sound nonchalant,

“You haven’t planned anything tomorrow, have you, dear?”

“Well, I was supposed to go to a dinner meeting with some clients, and since when do you call me “dear”? We aren’t getting old that fast, are we?”

“No, of course not, dear,” Harry grinned and winked at her, “But is there any way you could reschedule?”

“Why? What’s going on?” she probed as she took his hand and led him into their room.

“Nothing, I just really think that you should reschedule.”

“Well I suppose I could, but on this short notice, I had better have a good reason to tell them.” She looked annoyed and curious at the same time.

“You have a great excuse. You’ve fallen ill.”

“Yeah, that isn’t vague or anything.” She summoned a pillow from across the bedroom and whacked him in the back of the head. He took this opportunity to end the conversation by grabbing her tenderly by the hips and pulling her down on the bed for a long kiss. He should have realized this would not stop her, though, and she continued, “You know I don’t like surprises.” She pouted her bottom lip. She looked adorable but she had to be resisted.

“You love surprises, dear, you just hate waiting for them.”

“Well, I’ve done enough waiting in my life, where you’re concerned. I’m only impatient because I love you.” Harry knew she was only joking or trying to get information out of him, but he still felt a pang of sympathy for teenage Ginny, who always had to wait while he sorted things out. But, sensing this, she diffused the situation by adding, “And if you want to start using pet names, I’ve got a few you’ll adore, snookums.”

“Hey, use whichever names you want in the bedroom, just save the good ones like ‘snookums’ for public.” He kissed her again and, removing the wand from his back pocket, shut off the lights.

The next morning, Harry awoke from a vivid dream involving Ginny and a remarkable weekend getaway with a jolt when a large chocolate brown barn owl collided with his window. He climbed out of bed to open it and Ginny, seemingly undisturbed, rolled over and cuddled into her pillow. He stood, watching her, for a moment, and wondered how he ever came to be married to the most beautiful woman in the world. As he pondered this and how cliché it sounded, he remembered the owl and pushed open the window, allowing the gentle spring breeze to weave its way through the room. He untied the letter clutched in the owl’s great talons and it immediately flew away. It was a nasty letter from the Ministry, reprimanding him for leaving their reminder pamphlets about safety in goblin relations stacked on his desk, rather than distributing them. He groaned. As if anyone from the Auror office would be stupid enough to insult a goblin. Then, in spite of himself, he smiled, thinking that the Ministry would never change. A flash of the previous night’s dream swept across his mind. Thinking back, he had felt absolutely content with the dream-date, and racked his brains for the details that were quickly slipping from his consciousness. All he could remember was Ginny’s bright smile as she spun around, laughing. Wait…spun around, that was it! In the dream, he had taken her dancing. But that was hardly good enough…where were they? Suddenly, he remembered something Ginny had mentioned years ago. Following Voldemort’s downfall, Bill and Fleur had been able to take a delayed honeymoon, and went to the southern coast where they went dancing on a cruise ship. Ginny subtly hinted at how romantic she thought it was. Well, if that’s what she wanted, she would get it.

At ten o’ clock, he told Ginny he had to run a quick errand and disapparated before she could ask about his mysterious plans for the day. Arriving on the short, quaint path leading to Shell Cottage, he prayed that his brother-in-law was home and rapped impatiently on the door. To his delight, Bill answered on the third knock, sleepiness still washed over his scarred face.

"Oh, hello Harry. What brings you here at this hour of the morning?”

“Sorry Bill. It is ten already.” Bill merely grunted. “I need to surprise Ginny. Could you tell me how to get reservations on that dancing cruise you took Fleur on? Is there any way to get one for this evening?”

“I dunno, Harry, they’re usually pretty booked, but considering that it’s you, they’ll probably fit you in anyway.”

Within minutes, they had looked up the address of the magical cruise line’s office, and Harry scribbled it onto a scrap of parchment and shoved it in the pocket of his navy blue robes.

“Thanks a lot, Bill. I owe you one,” Harry said.

“Don’t mention it. Just make sure she has fun. And keep and eye on her, will you? She never much enjoyed swimming.”

“Of course. But you know, she isn’t eleven anymore.”

“Nonsense. See you, Harry,” Bill rubbed his eyed and yawned.

“Thanks again, and say hi to Fleur and Victoire for me.”

Harry had begun to walk away but heard Bill mutter something about “Angelica” before he shut the door.

Harry turned on the spot and disapparated, concentrating on the address on the page. He expected some sort of office building, perhaps magically concealed, but arrived at a small cottage, not much larger than the one he had just visited, with peeling paint and a sign in front that he supposed Muggles could not see, that read:

Meridian Magical Cruises
Please Tap Front Door With Wand

He did as instructed and the door flew open. An ancient, wheezing witch greeted him at the door and exclaimed,

“My word, Michael, it’s Harry Potter!” and a bearded, black-haired wizard in striped red and white robes hurried around a corner, clutching a tray of stale-looking biscuits.

“Well! This is a nice surprise. Mother and I are quite big fans of yours. What brings you here tonight, boy?”

“I’m looking to book for my wife and I. She loves to dance, and I have some big news for her, you see. I was wondering if it would be too late to make reservations for tonight?”

“Tonight…” The smile faded from the witch’s face and she looked toward her son.

“Well! You’re Harry Potter, aren’t you? Mother, don’t act like we’ve forgotten what this boy did. I think we can do him a favor, don’t you?”

“I suppose…we might have enough room on the Angelica, if need be,” The old witch sputtered, coughing.

"Well! It’s settled then.” He pulled out a long wand from his robed and produced two tickets printed on yellowing parchment.

“Great. Thank you, sir!”

“Not at all, my boy.”

Harry returned home and kissed Ginny full on the mouth. When they broke apart, she blushed and asked,

“Now will you tell me what this is all about?”

“Not quite. First, we must go shopping and buy you some new dress robes and dancing shoes.”

“Dancing shoes? Well, this is an occasion, Mr. Two Left Feet.” Ginny’s quizzical expression had become one of amusement and mild curiosity, and the couple left the house, laughing, for Diagon Alley.

At six o’ clock that evening, a loud crack sounded on a quiet, lonely dock. Two immaculately dressed people appeared, holding hands, out of thin air and looked around. A large but rusting yaht lay in the water in front of them. It had been magically repaired in places and had an unsteady look about it. However, several jovial witches and wizards could be seen through the many grimy windows and at that moment, a stout, kind-faced man appeared around a corner and shouted to them in a thick Scottish accent, “Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Potter! We’ve been expectin’ you. Go right aboard, lad, an’ ladies firs’. Go on, I’ll be along in a minu’.”

Harry placed his hand on his wife’s lower back and though she looked uncertain, he was determined to make this night perfect. He smiled encouragingly and said, “These are the same people that Bill and Fleur booked through.”

This seemed to pacify Ginny’s apprehensions, and she exclaimed, “So we’re really going dancing on the ocean? This is so romantic, Harry, thank you!”

As the waves broke violently against the rocks, the couple ascended the ramp and entered the ship.

A Celestina Warbeck tune was echoing through the big metal hall. Plenty of couples were already on the dance floor, but there would be plenty of time for that later. Harry directed Ginny to an empty table beside a large window, out of which they could see the rich blue sky met the inky black of the water and extend for miles. It was truly a beautiful night. They sat and, immediately, a disheveled old witch bustled over to present them with a tray of puddings and miniature shepherd’s pies. They both accepted a few helpings of each, and china dishes appeared in midair and the witch began loading them. She smiled and hurried on her way.

“Harry, this is fantastic. I’ve always wanted to do this. But you have to tell me, why did you bring me here? You’ve been acting way too mysterious since last night.” The music changed and their wedding song, a love ballad by the Weird Sisters, began to play through the crackling speakers.

“Alright, here goes. Ginny, a letter addressed to you came to my office yesterday. It was from St. Mungo’s.”

Understanding broke over her face before he could finish, and her eyes lit up with delight.

“We’re going to have a baby,” Harry finished, taking her hand and kissing it, wishing to know exactly what she was thinking in that moment.

“I knew it!” Ginny leapt from her seat, just as the ship began to move through the water, never letting go of Harry’s hands. She pulled him to his feet and threw her arms around his neck. “I love you,” She whispered in his ear.

At that moment, a thousand white candles hanging from the walls and ceiling, which had until now gone unnoticed, lit up simultaneously. Ginny looked even more beautiful limned in their glow than she had a moment ago.

“I will love you every day of my life and forever afterwards.”

They kissed passionately and swayed to the music. Neither could imagine a more magical moment or a more suitable way in which to celebrate the new life they were bringing into the world.

They danced in this manner for a long while, and began discussing their future.

“We’ll need a bigger house, maybe something closer to the country,” said Ginny.

“What wrong with our house? We’re cozy enough as it is,” Harry contradicted.

“It’s not exactly the best size for raising children. It only has one bedroom! We agreed it was to be a starter house.”

“But I thought we’d both grown attached to it,” Harry replied, “and besides, we could turn the spare room into a nursery.”

“The spare room has dangerous windows and that step right in the middle. It isn’t fit for a baby.”

“I guess you’re right. But why do you want to move to the country? We’ve always been comfortable in London.”

“It has fresh air and we could buy a bigger house! I always loved living in the country. And you can be back in the city in the blink of an eye.”

“I see your point. I guess I always sort of knew that would happen. I just feel strange about living so far from Ron and Hermione.”

“Oh for goodness sakes! You and my brother should have gotten married, you see more of him than you do your own wife!” Her tone, however, was mild and teasing, and he simply brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek.

“Once again, you’re right, as usual. But let’s not fight about this. We’re supposed to be celebrating.”

“Of course we are. But I just can’t help wanting to talk about this baby!” Ginny was, again, beaming, and her smile was practically infectious.

“Then let’s talk about the baby, not our future house. What names do you like?”

“I’ve always liked Evangeline for a girl, and we could call her Angie.”

“Evangeline. It’s nice-” Harry began.

“But in the back of my mind, I’ve always imagined we would name our daughter Lily.”

Harry stared at her in incredulous joy. “Ginny, you are the most wonderful person I’ve ever met.”

“I’ve been told,” she replied teasingly, “but in all honesty, nothing could be more important to me than what’s important to you.”

He was touched but unsurprised. His wife was as unselfish as she was lovely. “Alright. Lily, if she’s a girl. What if we have a boy?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“James? For our son? It has a nice ring to it. But what about Albus?”

“I see we’ve developed a theme. But we can decide later.” Sparks appeared in her eyes so that they glowed brighter than before. “I think this has only just sunk in. Harry, I’m pregnant. It’s really happening! I can’t wait to tell everyone I know. But wait, there is one thing I think we should discuss right now.”

“What’s that?” Harry asked indulgently.

“Should we protect our children from the whole “Potter” fame? I want them to be normal, happy kids. You grew up in the Muggle world, so you never needed to deal with the press and all until you were old enough. I want them to be humble, and I certainly don’t want them to be attacked by Rita Skeeter every other day. I can’t believe that vile woman is still at large, but some things never change, I suppose.”

“I know what you mean. If I had a knut for every time she’s interfered in my work, even recently.”

“So we’re agreed? We’ll wait awhile before introducing him to the public?” Ginny asked. “Or her,” she added.

“Yes. One hundred percent yes.”

At that moment, a booming voice echoed through the ship. “Welcome, witches, wizards, and everyone else, to the Angelica. How are all of you fine magical beings this evening?” This question was answered with cheers and applause.

“I won’t keep you occupied for long, but I’m Barty Bolheav, and if you need anything this evening, I’m the one to call. I hope you all enjoy the food and entertainment, which was to include a live band, but they cancelled at the last minute, so please forgive us and let us know if you have any musical requests. We will be arriving back at the dock at approximately midnight tonight. Until then, have a great time!”

A lively swing number erupted through the speakers and couples rushed onto the gleaming dance floor to demonstrate their dancing abilities. Ginny, who was a fairly good dancer, took Harry’s hand once again and escorted him over to a remote spot. He did his best to keep up with her as she twirled and twisted this way and that. The effect was beautiful and he felt inadequate to be on the arm of such a graceful thing, like a troll trying to dance with a unicorn. She did an intricate spin and her hair spread out around her like a soft red cape and he caught her light, flowery fragrance. He dipped her low and placed a kiss decidedly on her forehead. She was just as sweet today as she had been at fifteen, and he was determined to make her understand this as thoroughly as possible.

Just as he let her up, an earth-shattering jolt rocked the ship and several candles were extinguished. Harry instinctively clung to his wife and looked into her eyes, which were now marked with fear. Another voice boomed across the now silent hall, and this time it was a slightly frightened but heftier one, the source of which could not be seen.

“This is your captain speaking. We have just had a nasty encounter with an iceberg. All should be well, but please do not panic as we determine whether there is call for panicking. Thank you.”

“Iceberg? I didn’t know that was an issue! It can’t have been very large at this time of year! I knew this boat looked a bit…destructible!” Ginny was usually calm at times like this, but it seemed that the pregnancy was beginning to cause mood swings…or perhaps just an increased sense of danger.

“Ginny, it’s probably nothing. We can apparate out of this in an instant if need be, and besides, Bill spoke very highly of this line. He even mentioned the Angelina by name.”

“Are you sure he didn’t say not to choose the Angelina? The pictures from his cruise showed a very modern, stylish ship. This can’t be it.”

“Er…Harry racked his brains and realized that she might have been correct; he hardly heard what Bill had said.”

“Harry,” Ginny said in a small voice, “I think I’m going to be sick.” She ran out of sight before he knew what was happening, just as another, smaller jerk rattled his brain and the vessel came to a stop.

“Ginny!” He exclaimed, stumbling in the direction in which she had fled. He found his way through the crowd to the deck. A cruel-faced, burly wizard stopped him.

“No one goes on deck.”

“But I think my wife is out there!” He practically shouted.

“What does she look like?” The wizard asked.

“She has red hair and-” He started

“Little red? She went that way.” He pointed to the ladies’ toilets.

“Thanks.” Harry barely got this word out before he darted back through the crowd. He paused before the door, then knocked, calling for Ginny.

“Harry? Come in, please, there’s nobody else in here.” Harry went in cautiously and saw Ginny, white-faced, bent over a sink.

“I don’t feel well,” she said, “Harry, I’m sorry, I know you wanted this to be a special night but I can’t stay here.”

“I know. I’m sorry I was such an idiot. I should have planned better.” Harry scooped her up wedding style and carried her out of the loo.

He knew she was in no state to apparate, but he didn’t see any better options. He saw other wizards and witches disappearing together and thought bitterly that he failed his wife what should have been a wonderful night.

The captain’s voice resonated through the room once again and this time, it had darker tidings. “I regret to inform you that the Angelina has begun to sink. We ask that everyone disapparate immediately. If you cannot apparate alone, find a certified witch or wizard to take you by side-along. Thank you for your patience…. We also regret to inform you that there will be no refunds.” There was a deafening crack that indicated their brave captain had just left, and a dreadful silence cloaked the hall. All at once, anyone remaining began joining hands and vanishing, creaking an unpleasant crackling noise throughout the ship. A few unfortunate people were still running around, attempting to collect their party members. Ginny was now looking angered but did not speak. Whether she was angry at him at the moment, he could not tell, but with great difficulty (as he was still holding her), he turned on the spot. A moment later, they were standing outside of their little townhouse, shaken but uninjured. They both knew that they had been through much worse, but the unexpected turn of events was rather disappointing. I can never have a normal night out with my wife, can I? Harry thought.

“We can never have a normal night out together, can we?” Ginny said, though the anger in her voice was at a higher level than he had expected.

“I’m sorry, really. I just wanted to make this unforgettable.”

“Oh, it was unforgettable, alright.” Her arms were crossed and eyebrows knitted. Harry groaned and thought vaguely of mood swings.

“Ginny, let me make it up to you. I’ll make you a candlelit dinner and we can go dancing right here.”

“It’s too late for that, Harry. I feel sick enough as it is. I just want to go to bed.”

Dumbstruck, he recoiled from her biting words. She stormed away and he stood for a minute, chastising himself once again for his insensitivity and idiocy. However, after another minute, he had an idea. He turned on the spot again.

Half an hour later, he returned with an armful of packages and began setting up. When he was finished, he entered the bedroom and saw Ginny lounging above the covers, reading a book.

“Ginny?” He started softly, “Are you feeling any better?”

“A bit,” she said, “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“That’s alright, but come with me.”

“We’re not going out somewhere else, are we? I’m really not feeling well.”

“No, this is much better than going out.” He smiled tenderly and held out his hand for her. He led her to the bathtub, which was warm and full of colorful, fragrant bubbles. Soft, sweet music was playing and a dozen different boxes were lying on the counter. The only light in the room was emitting from a brass candleholder sitting beside them, and in front of that was a deep red photo album with golden script across the front.

“I thought we could look through our wedding album tonight.” Ginny lifted her soft brown eyes to his and a smile curled to her lips.

“Sounds great. What’s in the boxes?”

“Well, my darling, you wouldn’t let me make you dinner, so I brought you dessert, but you get to decide. He presented the packages one by one. He first handed her a heart-shaped box of Honeydukes chocolate, which she accepted enthusiastically. There were boxes of all of her favorite desserts, including chocolate custard, which she graciously refused, and even carrot cake, which she professed a strong craving for.

He poured a few glasses of pumpkin juice, and out of sympathy did not venture downstairs for firewhiskey as he would normally have done. He picked up the album and they got into the tub and spent a very unforgettable evening dreaming of the rest of their lives together.
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