Lilies In Autumn

little_bird

Story Summary:
Lilies don't just bloom in the spring. Harry and Ginny welcome Lily into their lives.

Chapter 04 - All Good Things

Posted:
05/10/2009
Hits:
1,015


Ginny spit a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink. She glanced at Harry, brushing his teeth in seeming serenity. Unless you looked at his eyes. The skin around them had tightened into tense creases, and he kept sneaking quick looks at her from the corners of his eyes. 'What?'

He shook his head, cupping a hand under the tap and slurping the water from his cupped palm to rinse the toothpaste from his mouth. 'Nothing.'

'That's not a "nothing" sort of glance,' Ginny told him, rinsing her own toothbrush.

Harry shrugged, avoiding Ginny's gaze. 'Are you sure this is normal?'

'What's normal? Brushing our teeth at the same time?'

'No...' Harry wiped the counter dry with a towel and threw it into a basket in the corner. 'This doesn't feel right...'

Ginny started to leave the bathroom, and padded to the bed, turning the quilt back, before climbing in. 'You're going to have to clarify that one,' she said. 'The boys are in bed, sound asleep, the house is locked up and protected... Hermione's doing fine. Nobody's left threatening notes on our doorstep in nearly two years. Mum and Dad are all right, and as far as I know, so is the rest of the family.'

Harry wrapped a hand around one of the bedposts, resting one knee on the bed. 'I was talking about you.' He dropped to the edge of bed.

Ginny looked at him askance. 'What on earth are you on about?' she asked idly, picking up a book, and leafing through it.

'How have you been feeling?'

Ginny ran a hand through her hair, sweeping it away from her face. 'Fine. Great, actually.'

'See!' Harry exclaimed. 'That's not normal.'

'Did you slip on the ice fetching the Muggle post and hit your head?' Ginny asked suspiciously. 'You're not making sense.'

Harry rubbed a hand over his face. 'You haven't been ill at all,' he said patiently.

'And this is a bad thing?' Ginny asked, amused.

'Well, no,' Harry admitted. 'But with Al you were always sick. And when you were carrying James you couldn't even tolerate the smell of certain foods, but this...' He gestured to Ginny's still relatively-flat middle. 'Nothing.'

'Again... This is a bad thing?'

Harry sighed and crawled up to the head of the bed, sliding under the quilt. 'I suppose not.' He toyed with the edge of the sheet.

Ginny laid a hand over Harry's that twisted the sheet, stilling the movements of his fingers. 'What are you really worried about?'

'Who says I'm worried about something?'

'I do.' Ginny gently tugged the sheet from between Harry's fingers. 'You're not worried about me or the baby. Well, you are,' she said hastily when Harry's mouth opened to protest. 'But not like this.'

Harry pulled his glasses off and dropped them on the bedside table before he slid down in the bed, burying his face in his pillow. 'Victor Crabbe and Garrett Goyle are getting out of Azkaban,' he said morosely, his voice muffled by the pillow.

'What's going to happen to them?'

Harry rolled over and stared at the ceiling. 'Probation. They'll have to get permission from the Ministry to leave the country. They'll have to tell us if they intend to travel in Britain or Ireland. They must register their wand. If they don't, it's an automatic sentence in Azkaban. If they still have a wand, that is. Theirs were destroyed after the war, though.'

'What happens if they use someone else's wand?'

Harry grimaced. 'I'll see it. When I use Legilimency on them.' His face twisted slightly and his nostrils pinched as his stomach heaved. He still hated using Legilimency on Death Eaters, even after a decade. 'They'll get another sentence in Azkaban. If they get caught doing something, like Muggle-baiting, it's Azkaban for life...'

'When are they getting out?'

'In June. We have to prepare their paperwork with MLE before then.'

'But it's only January.'

'And MLE operates at the general pace of treacle in February,' Harry retorted.

Ginny's lips twitched. 'That's an image I didn't need,' she murmured. She could picture the Wizengamot as blobs of partially-frozen treacle, oozing around the Ministry. It was rather fitting, given their conservative nature.

Harry didn't hear her. 'It's never going to go away, is it?'

'What?'

'Them. The way they make me feel like I've hiked though six feet of mental sludge.'

'I don't know.' Ginny shifted to her side, facing Harry. He lay on his back with an arm flung over his eyes. 'They're coming up soon, aren't they? Your probation interviews?' she asked tentatively.

'Next week. Monday.'

'I'll have to see if Mum can watch the boys, then,' Ginny mused.

Harry lifted his arm from his face and peered at Ginny. 'Why?'

'First appointment with Shanti. It's at ten.'

'Oh, damn...' Harry sighed. 'I wanted to go with you.'

'I'll live,' Ginny said dryly. She touched his shoulder. 'When will you be home Monday?'

'I don't know...'

Ginny nodded. 'We'll stay at Mum's for dinner,' she decided.

Harry's shoulders relaxed slightly. 'Thank you,' he said faintly. It would be a precious few hours of solitude. He rarely came home from one of these days in anything that resembled a good mood. Ginny learned early to give him a wide berth on those nights.

When she first moved into Harry's Soho flat, during her first season with the Harpies, she had come home from practice, only to be confronted by a surly, aggrieved Harry, who sat in the dark flat, nursing a bottle of Muggle beer, surrounded by several empty bottles. He abjectly refused to talk to her, ignoring all attempts she made to try and persuade him to come to bed. Ginny had curled on the sofa next to him, stung as he jerked away from the hand she laid over his. Eventually, she had given up and gone to sleep, huddled in the cold, achingly empty bed. The sound of running water woke her a few hours later. Silently, she slid from the bed, and cautiously padded to the partially open bathroom door. Peering through the door, she craned her head to peek inside a crack between the shower curtain and wall into the bathtub. Harry sat with his back to the cascading shower spray, ruthlessly scrubbing his arms with a face cloth. Every so often, his shoulders would begin to tremble and just as abruptly as they would still into a tense wall. Ginny noiselessly retreated back to the bed and climbed under the quilt. She turned on her side, eyes fixed on the open bedroom door, waiting for Harry to join her. At last, he eased into bed, deliberately keeping his distance from Ginny. After that, she would purposely stay at work late, either putting in some extra time training; or after she retired from Quidditch, she would stay at the Prophet office working on an article. Once James was born, she would take him over to her parents' for the day, and find reasons to stay for dinner. It was something she continued once Albus came along.

Ginny hated the probation days, even though they only occurred twice a year. She was cognizant of why Harry avoided them when he came home. He didn't want to connect them with that particular aspect of his job, no matter how badly he might need whatever form of comfort she and the boys could offer.

'Go to sleep, Gin.' Harry's voice floated through the darkness. The sheets rustled as he shifted closer to Ginny, his fingers twining through hers. 'I can hear your brain spinning,' he said wryly.

'I will if you will,' she countered.

'Touché,' he murmured, settling into the bed.

*****

Hermione tucked Rose's small blanket around the child, sleeping with peaceful abandon on Ron's side of the bed. The quiet descended over the flat with a soft sigh, and Hermione nestled into the pillows stacked against the headboard. She carefully opened her tattered copy of Hogwarts, A History, and resumed reading, albeit silently now. Hermione had been reading aloud to Rose until she fell asleep. Hermione had laughed quietly to herself, watching Rose's dark, wide eyes, stubbornly staying open, then slowly drifting shut, only to snap wide open once more, until she surrendered to the nap that had been threatening to overtake her.

Ron was away for the day, checking up on things in the Hogsmeade shop. He wouldn't return until the early evening, so Hermione and Rose had been left to their own devices. Hermione cherished the small moments alone with Rose like this; acutely aware they wouldn't last much longer. As much as she looked forward to the new baby, Hermione knew she'd miss these quiet stolen moments.

Hermione's free hand curved with the contours of her body, palm lightly caressing her stomach. Turning the page, she felt a staccato flutter under her fingers. It would have been too faint for Ron to feel, had he been there. She felt a smile of utter contentment spread over her face. 'Hugo...' she whispered, knowing there would never be another name for him. 'Hullo, there.' The book slipped from her fingers and Hermione's attention turned inward, her hands spread over the rounded arc of her abdomen. She smiled sleepily, remembering.

*****

'You feel all right?' Ron asked, a note of amusement in his voice.

'I'm a little tired, but what working parent isn't?' Hermione spooned a third helping of peas onto her plate, and added another lamb chop.

Ron looked significantly at her plate. 'You just seem awfully hungry.'

Hermione gazed at him with a mouth full of peas. Swallowing, she shrugged as she cut up the lamb chop. 'It just tastes really good tonight.'

'Hmm.' Ron mashed a roasted potato into Rose's bowl. 'You've been doing that a lot...' He indicated Hermione's rapidly clearing plate.

Hermione speared a roast potato. 'I'm fine. Just hungry.'

'If you say so,' Ron conceded, using a damp dish cloth to wipe the remains of Rose's dinner from her face and hands. 'All right, then midget, let's go have a bath, shall we?' He lifted Rose from the high chair and set her on the floor.

'Bubbles?' Rose asked, her small face alight with hope.

'Sure,' Ron told her, ruffling her mop of curls.

'Bubbles!' Rose crowed running down to the bathroom, plopping on the bathmat to pull her socks off.

Hermione began to clear the table, filling the sink with water, humming slightly. She idly checked the date on the calendar, as she set the dishes to wash themselves. Since Rose's birth, her cycles had become somewhat irregular, but it wasn't anything to worry about. She and Ron hadn't yet discussed attempting to have another baby, but they weren't as vigilant about birth control as they could be. And given their difficulties conceiving Rose, neither of them expected to conceive again easily. She kept track of dates out of habit. Hermione took the calendar down from the wall, and flipped back a few pages. The last mark on the calendar had been slightly more than three months ago.

A red flag rose in her head.

There had never been a gap of more than twelve weeks between her cycles. Six, sure. Eight, absolutely. But not twelve.

Twelve was highly unusual.

'I can't be...' she murmured. 'It's impossible...' Shrugging, Hermione put the calendar back on the wall. It wouldn't do any good to worry about it. Knowing her history, she probably wasn't. Work had been stressful the past few weeks, with managing to persuade the Wizengamot to fold the Werewolf Registry into part of the Werewolf Support Services, arguing that lycanthropy was more of a manageable disease, not death sentence. Besides, the registry reminded Hermione uncomfortably of several moments in Muggle history. She didn't think werewolves should be forced to wear badges, or be subject to random scrutiny and examinations by some cold, aloof Ministry official.

Hermione turned to the sink and began to return the dishes to their cupboard. She tried not to think about it, as she read to Rose and tucked her into bed. She tried to push it from her mind as she slid into a bath. She tried not to obsess over it as she lay in bed, waiting for Ron. She tried not to dwell on it while she stared at the dark ceiling, listening to Ron breathing next to her. She turned over on her side, huffily, unable to shake the idea that she might be pregnant. 'All right, enough,' she spat softly. She flung the bedding back and swung her feet to the floor. She pulled a jumper over the t-shirt she wore, and shoved her feet into a pair of trainers. 'Ron?' she whispered, shaking him a little.

'Whaa?'

'I need to go out,' Hermione told him.

Ron lifted his head and rubbed his eyes, looking at the alarm clock. 'It's after midnight, hen,' he yawned. 'Where are you going?'

'I just need to go do something. I'll be back in a few.' Hermione darted out of the bedroom and Ron heard the nearly soundless pop of her Disapparition. Sighing in resignation, he pushed himself up against the headboard. He wasn't going to go back to sleep any time soon. When Hermione got something in her teeth, it was difficult for her to let it go.

She returned to the flat several minutes later, bearing a small bag from the Tesco Express on Charing Cross they frequented on their late-night forays for things like ice cream and milk. She disappeared into the bathroom, the rustling sounds of a box being ripped open reaching Ron's ears, after he heard the bathroom door close firmly. When Hermione didn't come out of the bathroom for several minutes, Ron slid from the bed, his curiosity aroused, and stood outside the bathroom door. 'Hermione?' Ron tried to open the door, but it was locked. He glanced over his shoulder at his wand, lying on the night table and sighed. He trekked back to the bedroom and picked up the wand, pointing it at the door. He was about to say the incantation to make the door open, when it swung open, revealing a stunned-looking Hermione, wordlessly holding something out to him. Mystified, Ron took the steps necessary to close the distance between them, and reached out for the object balanced on her palm.

He held it up to the light, squinting at the two lines. 'This can't be right,' he informed her.

'That's what I thought,' she agreed. 'That's why I did two.' She handed Ron the second test.

Ron stared down at it, his eyes going back and forth between them. 'I knew it!' he exclaimed. 'I knew there was something going on with you!'

'Shhhh!' Hermione motioned for him to be quiet. 'You'll wake Rosie.' She herded Ron back into their bedroom, and closed the door.

'When did this happen?' Ron asked, eyeing Hermione.

'I have no idea,' she said helplessly. Hermione gripped Ron's hand. 'We've never talked about having another one.'

Ron blinked down at the tests in his hand. 'Not really.'

'So...?' Hermione waited anxiously for Ron's reply.

Ron glanced up at her, a faint crease forming between her brows. He remembered how emotionally draining it had been for the both of them when they had been trying to have a baby the first time. And here was something wholly and completely unexpected, yet a gift all the same. Dimly, Ron realized this must be what it was like for the others to discover they were going to have a baby. No worry, no waiting, no counting days, waiting breathlessly as each week passed.

'I've never wanted Rosie to be an only child,' he said.

*****

Hermione woke up; Rose's warm, pliable body snuggled next to hers. Ron lay on Rose's other side, watching them sleep. 'How long have you been there?' she asked huskily.

'A bit,' Ron allowed. He'd been home for more than an hour. 'The two of you looked so peaceful; I didn't want to wake you up.' He noticed Hermione's hand moving in circles over the side of her stomach. 'How are you two doing?' he asked, his hand covering hers.

Hermione smiled. 'We're fine, Hugo and I.' Hugo had started moving again, and the ripples he generated effervesced in waves through her.

'Hugo?'

'Yeah. It's the only one that feels right.'

'Hugo, then...' Ron craned his head over Rose's sleeping body and kissed Hermione softly.

'I want pie...' Hermione breathed, hoping Ron would remember a long-ago conversation.

'But we don't have pie...' Ron informed her.

'No, Ron... I want pie,' she said, waggling her eyebrows in what she hoped was a lascivious leer.

'Wan' pie...' a sleepy voice piped up between them. Rose rubbed her eyes and bolted upright. 'Pie, Daddy!' she pleaded.

'After dinner, Rose-bud,' Ron promised absently, peering at Hermione's face. She brought his hand up to her mouth and pressed a kiss to the palm, making Ron inhale sharply. 'Oh... that kind of pie...' He rolled off the bed, picking up Rose and slinging her over one shoulder, sending her into gales of giggles. 'I think I can manage that.' He sauntered off to the kitchen, tickling Rose. 'Want to help Daddy make the pie for pudding?' he asked her, their voices fading as they went into the kitchen.

*****

Ron's hand lay curved over Hermione's breast. 'What brought this on?' he mumbled, his nose inches away from hers.

Hermione shrugged languidly, the movement making her skin shift under Ron's fingers, sending tiny frissons of delight over her body. Pregnancy had intensified her sense of smell, and Ron was always on the edge of her awareness. She could tell when he had just emerged from the shower, the woodsy scent of his soap invading her senses. Or when he'd spent the day in the back room of the shop, manufacturing and packaging the products. She could smell the myriad herbs and other ingredients he had used. And under it all was that tang of Ron himself. When she had woken from her nap earlier, the scent of him had washed over her. She'd nearly lost all sense of control when he'd laid his hand over hers. All throughout dinner, she'd found every pathetic excuse she could come up with to touch him. Rose couldn't have gone to sleep fast enough. 'No idea...' Hermione murmured.

Ron chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. 'Whatever it is, I'm not going to argue.'

Hermione stretched against Ron, her body pressing against his in a wordless question. 'Enjoy it while you can,' she told him. 'Three more months, and moments like this are going to be hard to come by.'

Ron wound his hands into her hair, shifting so she was draped over him after a fashion. 'I'll take that under consideration, hen...'

*****

Ginny sat on an examination table, her feet swinging idly above the floor. She noticed under the pale green hem of the gown she wore, her socks didn't quite match. In the bright light of Shanti's office, she realized one was navy blue, and one was black. They weren't even the same style. She straightened up when the door opened, and Shanti strode in the room, calmly efficient as always. Shanti perched on the edge of a tall stool, Ginny's file in hand. 'You're definitely pregnant,' Shanti informed Ginny. 'Eight or nine weeks.' She dropped Ginny's file on the counter behind her. 'Ginny...'

'I know...'

'Three children in four years,' Shanti stated. 'Albus isn't even two yet,' she continued. 'It's an awful lot for your body to handle.'

'I know.'

'What on earth were you using for contraception?' Shanti asked, picking up Ginny's file and flipping through it.

'Muggle condoms,' Ginny sighed.

Shanti felt her eyebrow rise. 'Really? Those are usually pretty effective.'

'Yeah...' Ginny began to laugh. 'The ironic thing is, we had decided to wait until Albie is at least three before trying to have another one.' She laid a hand over her stomach. 'That was when this happened.'

Shanti laid the file back on the counter. 'Once the baby's born we're going to have to look into some alternate forms of birth control for you. Unless you want more children?'

'No.' Ginny shook her head emphatically. 'This is it.'

'There are some options we can do. Most of them are temporary, but there are a couple that are somewhat more permanent. But we can discuss that later.' Shanti slid off the stool and went to stand next to the examination table. 'Right. You know the drill...'

'No nausea. A little tired, but nothing unbearable yet. The usual...'

'All right.' Shanti scribbled a few things in Ginny's file. 'No Quidditch. I know how intense your family pick-up games can get,' she added when Ginny's mouth opened to protest. 'You can still fly, just no fancy tricks. Get plenty of rest. Come see me if anything doesn't feel right. Even if it's something you can't describe or can't put a finger on.' She tapped Ginny's chart, frowning. 'James and Albus haven't had dragon pox yet, have they?'

'No. Why?'

'If either of them comes down with it, you'll have to find somewhere to stay for a week, until they're not contagious any longer.'

'Brilliant...'

'I'd go find a nice hotel with room service,' Shanti mused. 'Watch bad telly and read trashy Muggle novels...'

Ginny grinned. 'I knew I liked you.'

'Great minds, and all.' Shanti wrote something else in Ginny's file. 'Set up an appointment for next month with the welcome witch after you dress.' She gave Ginny's shoulder a slight squeeze. 'Are you all right with this? I know it was a bit sooner than you wanted.'

'Yes, actually I am. I was a little shocked at first, but maybe it'll be a girl this time.'

'Something to look forward to, after two boys, eh?'

Ginny slid off the examination table, with a chuckle. 'Something like that.'

*****

Ginny led the boys to the back door of the house, shifting a sleeping Albus in her arms, as she used her wand to open the door. She urged James to go into the darkened kitchen ahead of her. 'Mummy, where's Daddy?'

'He's gone to bed, Jemmy,' Ginny replied absently, waving her wand, lighting a path to the stairs. She laid Albus in his cot and peeled his coat and jumper off, dropping them in the rocking chair. She gently tugged his shoes off and set them on the floor, then worked his small trousers down his legs and tossed them in the seat of the rocker to join his other clothing. Molly had put a fresh nappy on him before they left the Burrow, so she could leave him be until morning. Ginny tucked the quilt around Albus, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead.

Ginny took James into his bedroom and knelt in front of him. 'Arms up,' she said, taking the hem of his jumper in her hands. He dutifully raised his arms over his head, allowing Ginny to pull it off. She made him take off his shoes and socks, while she found a pair of clean pajamas for him.

'Want Daddy to read to me,' James mumbled, as Ginny pushed his jeans down.

'I told you, Jem, Daddy's already sleeping. Like you should be.'

'Why?'

'Because he doesn't feel well.'

'Wh-wh-whyyyyy?' James asked on a yawn.

'Because he's had a horrid day,' Ginny replied tiredly. 'And it's time for little boys named James Sirius Potter to be in bed.' She helped James put on his pajamas and sent him to his bed with a light swat on his bottom. She pulled the quilt up to James' chin and kissed him. 'Sleep well, Jemmy.'

Ginny partially closed James' door and opened the door to her bedroom. She could see the huddled shape of Harry curled in their bed in the dim light from the corridor. She closed the door, and tiptoed into the bathroom to quickly brush her teeth. She stripped off her clothes with a sigh and dropped them into the laundry basket in the corner. The bathroom was redolent of the scent of sandalwood from Harry's soap. Ginny wondered how long he'd been in bed. She didn't think it had been very long, given how warm and humid the bathroom was. She shut off the light, and blindly rummaged in the wardrobe for a nightdress. 'You can turn on a light, Gin,' came Harry's hoarse voice from the bed.

'I thought you were asleep.'

'Not yet...'

Ginny flicked her wand at the small light on top of the wardrobe and dug a nightdress from underneath a welter of shirts and jeans she had carelessly thrown in that morning. She wriggled into the garment, the soft cotton skimming over her body. She turned to the bed, and crawled into it, startled when Harry immediately reached for her. 'Harry...?' she whispered.

'I just...' Harry slowly exhaled and wrapped his arms around Ginny, his head tucked into her neck. One of his hands slowly slid down to Ginny's abdomen. 'I need to remember why I'm doing this...'


The Crabbe and Goyle mentioned in this chapter are the fathers of the Crabbe and Goyle that went to school with Harry.