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SIYE Time:16:41 on 9th December 2024
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I Want to Hold Your Hand
By Tonksaholic

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Category: Post-DH/AB
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Fluff, Romance, Songfic
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: G
Reviews: 16
Summary: A simple moment before a new life joins the family.
Hitcount: Story Total: 7048



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:
My first fic in HP fandom. I was inspired by the Glee version of the Beatles classic and slightly adjusted the lyrics. I warn you, it's sappy; fluff would look at it and feel hardcore.




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‘Can’t keep this up much longer,’ Harry thought, forcing his aching body through the threshold of his front door. The roomy sofa, bathed ethereally in the moonlight shining in from the window, beckoned him forward, the fluffy and well worn throw pillows each a separate siren’s call that he was all too willing to give in to it. Now to just make it those pesky seven and half steps…

His feet carried him as far as the arm of the couch before he simply decided to fling his torso over it. Grasping the back tightly, he pulled his weary form forward until he was completely horizontal and buried his face into the cushions, inhaling the minute scent of spring flowers that clung to the fabric.

‘She’s trying to knit again,’ he mused, quirking his mouth upward as his eyes closed. ’At least she’s staying off her feet; little bugger must really be tiring her out.’

Slowly toeing off his shoes, the day swam through his drained mind. Three training classes that morning full of doe eyed trainees so utterly enthralled with being in the presence of Voldermort’s Vanquisher (Rita Skeeter never met an alliteration she didn’t love), Harry probably could’ve burned a Dark Mark onto their foreheads without them batting an eye; a two hour meeting with his team to discuss a recent rash of Imperious curses used at a local Muggle park; lunch with Robards to go over upcoming testimony before the Wizengamot; two more training classes where the trainees where only slightly less enraptured with him; and finally filing at least three dozen field reports for himself and two other members of the Auror office. He took on the extra reports in exchange for two personal days each from his fellow Aurors.

He was trying to get as many days off as he could. After all, James was due in less than a month and Harry had a gut feeling that as soon as he saw his son for the first time that being away from him was going to be agony. Not Cruciatus type agony but Harry imagined it wouldn’t be too far off the mark.

The thought of his son, growing gently in his mother’s womb at that very second, and his Ginny allowed Harry to do the impossible: raise his weary body from the sofa and shuffle his way up the stairs to his bedroom to be with the them.

At the top of the stairs, Harry noticed light filtering out from the creases of his almost closed bedroom door and heard a softly muffled melody, trilling but beautiful, coming from the room. Hesitating outside, he strained his ears to try to make out the slowly fading tune but couldn’t. Pressing his hands against the oak, he started to ease it open as quietly as possible so not to disturb the serenity he instinctively knew he’d find inside.

Serenity was an understatement.

Ginny lay on the bed, eyes trained on her round belly and joy on every inch of her smile. She was propped up against the headboard, the lovely auburn hair he never grew bored with running his fingers through pulled into two braids that hung gracefully down to the swell of her supple breast. The autumn patchwork quilt that had been her mother’s and her grandmother’s covered her up to her waist. The only thing covering her stomach was the thin yellow cotton of her nightgown and her hands; one was cradling the bottom of it and the other was gently stroking the side with her fingertips.

Inhaling softly, Harry had a startlingly clear vision of the future, mere weeks away.

James (hopefully with wispy red hair and brown eyes) was nuzzled asleep against Ginny’s chest and she was stroking his sleeper covered back, her face tired but glowing, as if a Patronus was filling her up and bursting through every part of her.

He was so taken with the image in his mind’s eye that he didn’t notice for a few seconds when Ginny’s hand left her stomach and reached beside her, picking something up. Squinting slightly to make it out, Harry only saw a small wooden box that was open at the top hinge; it wasn’t until he saw Ginny’s finger close the box and turn something on the side that he realized it was a music box. Just before she reopened the box, instead of putting it back on the bed beside her she nibbled on her bottom lip and smirked slightly. Shaking her head, she placed the box on the crest of her belly and opened it.

Hearing the music without the wooden barricade allowed Harry to identify the tune he’d heard years ago. For all of Dudley’s abundant faults, at least he was a Beatles fan. ‘That’s not right,’ he pondered, confused. ‘I thought that was a faster number.’ Before he could let the thought grow, he heard Ginny’s light voice and everything else faded away.

Oh yeah, I’ll tell you something
I think you’ll understand
When I say that something
I want to hold your hand

I want to hold your hand
I want to hold your hand


Blinking against the moisture in his eyes, Harry saw Ginny resume the cradling and stroking of her stomach from before, her chocolate eyes resting on it. She couldn’t see their son yet, couldn’t hear his voice or smell his scent but she loved him. Harry could see without a doubt that she adored the life she was carrying; she loved James beyond anything in this world, including her husband.

It didn’t cause any jealousy whatsoever in Harry; it only made him love her more.

Oh please say to me
Say that you’ll understand
And please say to me
You’ll let me hold your hand

You’ll let me hold your hand
I want to hold your hand


Ginny pressed the palm of her hand against the side of her stomach as she continued to sing, massaging what Harry thought was probably a tiny foot the baby was ramming into his mum. James was a fierce kicker, had been for weeks now. He’d probably play football in primary school before he went off to Hogwarts and discovered the wonders of real live Quidditch. Hopefully as a Seeker, any position was acceptable of course, but Harry would lobby hard for Seeker as he knew Ginny would push equally as hard for Chaser. James would probably be so sick of it after eleven years he’d become a Keeper like Uncle Ron.

And when I touch you I feel happy inside
It’s such a feeling that my love
I can’t hide, I can’t hide, I can’t hide

Yeah, you got that something
I think you’ll understand
When I feel that something
I want to hold your hand

I want to hold your hand
I want to hold your hand


The music faded again and Ginny brought a hand up to her mouth and brushed her fingers across her lips before she laid them back on their baby. “I love you, James Sirus,” she whispered, taking the box off of her to put on the nightstand, “and so does your Daddy, who should be better at lurking in the shadows undetected considering that he’s an Auror.” She lifted her sparkling eyes to him, winking and holding her hand out.

Harry took a beat to wipe off the wetness from his face and then walked to towards the bed, grasping her hand the second he could touch it. “Daddy’s zonked,” he explained, climbing onto the bed fully clothed and wrapping his arms around her, resting his head against her shoulder.

“Daddy works too hard.”

“Daddy’s trying to get time off to spend with his boy once he gets here,” Harry replied, joining Ginny’s hand on her belly. The nudges and quivering he felt through his palm never failed to humble him and terrify him all at once. “He wants to be at home for as long as possible with James and Mummy.”

Ginny intertwined their fingers together and turned to her side, spooning against Harry’s stomach. “I love him so much already,” she admitted. “I think back on my life and all the things I’ve wanted: you, a Firebolt of my own, the war to end, to hear Fred’s laugh one last time. And do you know what?” She turned her head so she could see him over her shoulder. “I add it all up in my head and the whole of it doesn’t even come close to how much I want to know what this little boy is going to feel like in my arms. To know whose smile he gets, to brush the unruly mess that will be his hair, to push him on the tree swing behind my parent’s house…” She sighed softly. “The fact that he’s yours just makes him even more perfect to me.”

Harry pressed a kiss on her shoulder blade and lifted slightly to rub the tip of his nose against hers. “You,” he told her, looking so deep into her eyes he wondered how he’d ever climb out of them, “are why the war against Voldermort was won.”

“No,” she smiled and shook her head, squeezing the hand that lay on James, “he is.”
Reviews 16
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