Through His Mother's Eyes

Chapter Twelve - Dream On

Convincing James that it would be a great adventure to have twins in their family was an easier challenge than Ginny had ever dreamed of. Visions of his very own miniature versions of Uncles Fred and George flooded his brain and James was agog at the very prospect (he talked of little else, with the occasional exception of Quidditch rankings). Both Ginny and Harry did nothing to dissuade their son's fantasies - after all, he was finally excited about the fact that his mummy's belly was swelling, and had stopped all negotiations for a canine addition to the household.

Harry's enthusiasm didn't hurt the cause, either.

One evening, Ginny caught Harry and James leafing through Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland together, discussing which team members' names sounded good in pairs.

"How about 'Kevin' and 'Karl'?" suggested Harry as Ginny floated a basket full of laundry down the hallway. "They were a pair of Beaters who played for Falmouth way back when."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Since when do I want to call any of my children after a pair of maniac Falcons Beaters?"

Harry shrugged and turned a few pages. "We could dub one of them 'Barny,' after your team's adorable mascot."

Ginny sent a dirty sock hurtling across the room. It landed atop her husband's head, but he hardly noticed as he swatted it to the floor. He was busily turning pages in his Quidditch guide.

"Let's call one 'Chudley' and the other 'Cannon'," suggested James eagerly.

Ginny looked at him and laughed out loud, "One more comment like that and we're sending you straight to Uncle Ron's!"

As Harry was listing off the names of Walter (founder of the Wigtown Wanderers) Parkin's male progeny, Ginny felt the need to inform her husband and son about one tiny piece of pertinent information they'd both missed.

"What if they're not boys," Ginny said plainly.

"What?" replied Harry weakly.

"Accio sock!" called Ginny and the dirty sock she'd launched earlier came speeding back to the laundry basket. She carried on with her chore, floating the basket until both she and it reached a washbasin located in a small room off the side of the kitchen. She set the dirty clothes to wash with a flick of her wand and called back to her husband, who was sitting speechless in the living room, "Imagine if one or both of them are girls!" She smiled broadly, imagining the shocked looks on their male faces.

When she returned, she found Harry giving her a You-Don't-Win-That-Easily look. James flipped quickly through the book, paused, gave a triumphant gleam, then showed Harry what he'd found.

Harry smirked and cleared his throat, "Good call, son," he said proudly. He looked at Ginny and said, "Perhaps the names 'Glynnis' and 'Gwendolyn' are more to your liking. And if not, I'm sure any number of the old Harpies rosters - dating back to 1203, mind you - will supply a couple female names that are pleasing."

Ginny sniffed indignantly. "Give me that book," she said, snatching the volume from the pair of conspirators. She flipped through and said dramatically, "Oh, see here... you've overlooked 'Catriona' and 'Meaghan'-"

"Okay, so are you saying no Quidditch names?" interrupted Harry, who was grinning at his exasperated wife.

Ginny raised an eyebrow and said, "Do I really have a say in the matter?"

"Probably," Harry said. He had got to his feet and left James to look at the book by himself. He grabbed Ginny from behind and wrapped his arms around her so that they came to rest on top of her great belly.

"Don't do that," Ginny fussed, but she made no effort to move. "I'm absolutely huge!"

"You are," agreed Harry, and Ginny made a huffing noise deep in her throat. "But you're also absolutely beautiful." He kissed the back of her neck. "Our babies are in there," he whispered, stroking her swollen tummy gently. "Boys, girls, a boy and a girl...it doesn't matter...they're ours...yours and mine."

Ginny sighed contentedly and leaned her head back against his chest.

Sometimes he was so right.

***

Two more months until the blessed day and Ginny and Harry were still in the dark about the gender of the babies.

The Obstewizard was positively infuriating during one visit to St. Mungo's for a check-up. He clearly knew the sex of the twins and was just like a teenage girl with a secret, anxious to tell. But Ginny and Harry decided they liked the expectant feeling of not knowing. They enjoyed the mystery of it. They'd wait until the big day and find out the old-fashioned way.

But the not knowing was encouraging all sorts of strange dreams. There was one dream last week where Ginny found herself going through twelve hours of excruciating labor, only to discover she'd given birth to a pair of...

"Puppies, Mrs. Potter!" announced the Obstewizard in her dream (who looked strangely like Gilderoy Lockhart). "One Irish Setter - aww, her coat looks just like yours - and one black Labrador, whose coat looks quite like his father's!" The wizard handed her a pair of pups who wriggled and writhed in her arms. "Don't forget to have them de-wormed!" he said.

Ginny woke up that night in a cold sweat, vowing to never let her son's fixations permeate her subconscious self again.

But other things managed to subconsciously find their way into her mind each and every night. The closer the impending due date got, the more off-the-wall her dreams became.

"Oh, it's not uncommon," Hermione told her one afternoon. She'd popped through the fireplace between classes for a chat. "During the final bit of the pregnancy, a woman can expect to dream about all sorts of wonky things...when I was expecting Reid, I remember dreaming I was swimming in a vat of chocolate at the place where they make Chocolate Frogs...I resembled a giant beluga whale, bobbing through the chocolate, and every once in a while I'd submerge and take a great, big gulp-"

"Sounds like you were well past the nauseous bit by then," said Ginny, giggling.

"M-hmm," said Hermione. "The wonders of modern sorcery had allowed me to eat anything and everything I craved at that point...Chocolate Frogs, Cauldron Cakes, un-fizzy Pumpkin Fizz..."

Ginny giggled again, but that very night, a food-related dream of her own had been coaxed into existence. It seemed like nothing was sacred when it came to source material for cataleptic theatre.

***

One chilly Sunday afternoon, Ginny had collapsed onto the sofa and drifted off into her typical midday slumber.

She knew she was dreaming the moment she looked down - her bloated stomach was flat, but in the middle of the living room were two mint-green bassinettes, one with a large butter-yellow "F" on the canopy, the other with a "G." A symphony of newborn wails was being produced from within the little baby beds, but when Ginny tried walking towards them, her feet wouldn't budge.

"Accio babies!" she tried calling, but found she had no voice.

After what seemed like an eternity, Ginny found that she could drag her feet slowly, slowly, ever so slowly across the floor. Much to her dismay she found two very hungry babies, both wearing soiled nappies.

"Merlin!" Ginny whispered. "No one's fed or changed you for days..."

Ginny's eyes sprang open and she gasped.

Harry was walking towards the door to the back garden with his Firebolt, James traipsing after him clutching his Junior Nimbus (which he had outgrown long ago, but still held onto until such time his parents saw fit to get him a "real" broomstick).

Harry paused as he heard his wife's sharp intake of breath. "Go on out, James...I'll be there in a second." James skipped out the door and Harry squatted beside the sofa. "Everything okay?"

"The babies need to fed and changed," Ginny said, but then looked down at her stomach and realized it had all been a dream.

Harry looked doubtfully at her. "It's going to be a quandary, getting nappies on them in their present state." He smiled. "Have another weird dream, did you?"

Ginny nodded. "I should write a book," she said.

"Were the babies at least human this time?" asked Harry, smirking.

Ginny nodded again. "And it seems we also managed to get them home from St. Mungo's this time as well...last night I dreamt we left them there."

Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise, but he chuckled. "I wish I could siphon some of your odd dreams off to my brain, and allow you a bit of peace...you haven't had a decent night's sleep in a long time."

Ginny leaned over and touched her forehead to his. "Here...take them, they're yours," she said quietly.

Harry moved a half an inch closer and brushed his mouth to hers. Ginny let her lips linger for a moment, even though she could hear James bellowing, "Dad! Dad! DA-AAAD!" from the back garden, no doubt anxious to take a spin on the Firebolt with his father before the weather turned too nippy. James could wait half a second - Ginny felt she deserved a stolen moment with the father of her children.

***

The next morning, Ginny awoke in the very uncomfortable position she'd been forced to sleep in for a fair few months now - flat on her back. It took her a moment to become conscious of it, but when it finally sunk in, she realized she hadn't had a single dream the night before. She turned her head to greet Harry with a good morning and found him with both arms wrapped protectively around his head, as if trying to prevent something getting to him while he slept. She could just make out his eyes - which were almost-but-not-quite obstructed from view by his arms - and they were scrunched closed tightly, almost painfully so.

"Pssst," Ginny whispered into his ear.

He grunted.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," she said quietly. She was in a terribly good mood after such a lovely sleep.

"Eurghmmph," Harry said as he dropped his arms. His eyes remained closed.

Ginny (with great effort, as she was as big as a house) moved closer and flipped to her side, so that she was facing him. She tickled his earlobe with her fingertip and stroked his mop of hair, which was looking as though he'd slept through a windstorm.

"Slppfrmmrr," was Harry's garbled response. His eyes blinked open just once, then promptly closed themselves tightly again.

Ginny probably should have hobbled into the kitchen to start some coffee for her husband, who had clearly not experienced the pleasure of a good night's sleep, but she was having too much fun. And after all, how likely was he to jinx her in her current condition?

She inched a bit closer and tickled his earlobe again, this time with the tip of her tongue.

"Mmmm," Harry said.

"You like that, do you?" she murmured. "Why am I not surprised? It's those sorts of exploits that have led to my present state of girth-"

Harry had opened his eyes again, but this time they remained so. He said in a very hoarse voice, "I never hear you complain when we decide to indulge in said exploits, dear." He flipped himself on his side so that he faced Ginny.

"Point taken," replied Ginny. "I'm not ashamed to admit...I never seem to grumble when you want to exploit me."

Harry gave a gruff laugh. "Sleep well last night?" he asked.

"Indeed," said Ginny, beaming. "Although I take it you did not?"

"Do you recall when you tried giving me your odd dreams yesterday afternoon?"

"M-hmm," said Ginny, noticing how her husband's usually brilliant green eyes seemed a little muted this morning.

"Well, I think you actually succeeded in giving me your dreams."

Ginny's bright brown eyes grew wide. "Really? Honestly?"

"It's the honest to Merlin truth," said Harry as he wrapped a wisp of her ginger hair around one of his index fingers.

"What did you dream then?" asked Ginny, her curiosity piqued.

"It's too embarrassing," said Harry, dropping the lock of her hair and making a move to slide out of bed.

"Oh, no you don't!" said Ginny, grinning. She grabbed Harry by the top of his pajamas and tugged him back down. "It's time for you to come clean...I've told you all of my dreams!"

Harry sighed. He had to know he wasn't getting out of the bedroom without confessing. Ginny was not the type of person to let something like this rest.

"Oh, all right...I can see you're not one to be crossed," he said, rubbing his tired eyes.

"You're a slow learner, Potter," laughed Ginny. "You're just now realizing this?"

Harry shot her a look that said, "I think not." He yawned and finally collected enough pluck to narrate the events of his bizarre, adopted dream.

***

As Ginny made the morning coffee a half hour later, she was still infected with fits of laughter. She just couldn't get the image out of her mind.

Harry Potter, nursing twins.

Harry glared at her over his cup of coffee as Ginny continued to giggle.

"Never repeat a word," he said. "Never. Ever."

Ginny kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear, "I solemnly swear, dear."

Harry raised a suspicious eyebrow as Ginny patted him squarely on the chest and said, "Have a lovely day at work!" just before he Disapparated.