Making Mistakes

It was early. Not yet sunrise. Harry didn't know how early, so he shoved his glasses on his nose and squinted at the alarm clock. It was yet five-thirty. He rolled over to discover Ginny's side of the bed was empty. A thin band of light shone from under the bathroom door, but Harry knew she was in there, even if he couldn't hear anything. He cautiously opened the door, and found Ginny draped over the toilet. She was moaning softly, strands of hair pasted to her sweaty face. He didn't remember her being sick like this with James. 'This can't be normal,' he observed, picking up a face cloth, and turning on the tap at the sink.

'I'm fine,' she said hoarsely, before heaving over the toilet again. 'I have to be fine. The article's due at noon today.'

'Do you think some toast will help?' Harry asked worriedly, wringing out the face cloth.

'Oh, God...' Ginny bent over the toilet again, but nothing came up. 'Don't talk about toa - That,' she said, pressing her lips together tightly.

'Sorry.'

'It's all right.' Ginny leaned back against the side of the tub. She took the wet face cloth Harry handed her, and mopped her clammy face with it. 'I'll be all right in a couple of hours.'

Harry squatted next to Ginny. 'You weren't this bad with James.' He stroked the hair from her face.

'Really, I'm fine.' Ginny pushed herself to her feet and rinsed her mouth. 'I need to get downstairs and finish that article while James is still asleep.' She draped the face cloth over the edge of the sink.

Harry nodded, anxiously wondering if he'd put everything away from the night before. He usually didn't leave anything sitting out overnight, but he'd been a bit distracted lately.

'Go back to bed, Harry.' Ginny swayed on her feet, closing her eyes to stave off a wave of nausea and dizziness. 'James goes down for a nap after lunch. I'll get some sleep then.'

'Are you going to be all right for the game tomorrow?'

'Of course, I will.' Ginny managed to retort with her customary tartness. 'And if not, I'll just have to fake it.' She left Harry in the bathroom and went down into the office, making a detour to the kitchen to grab her bag.

She sat at the desk with a sigh. The article for Quidditch Quarterly was a big deal for her. They had asked her to write about the abilities of modern female players as compared to the males. It was part of ongoing debate for the year in the magazine about the place female players held in Quidditch. There always had been some who felt Quidditch was too rough for women to play well. Ginny felt most of it came from a sense of sour grapes from failed players - both men and women.

Ginny dug into her bag, pulling out a notebook and a scroll, half-filled with her article. Quidditch, Ginny argued, was not a game of brute strength. Rather it was a game of skill and finesse. Ginny didn't deny it was a physically demanding game. She remembered with vivid clarity the professional games that lasted for hours, leaving the regular players and the reserve players in heaps of exhaustion at the end. There were games played in pouring rain, trying to avoid lightening and games in played in bitter cold that made the Quaffle as hard as a Bludger, and even with Warming charms, left one's hands stiff and numb. Snow. Sleet. Stifling heat and humidity. She also knew what it felt like to have men twice her size attempt to knock her off her broom. Avoiding them was where the skill and agility came into play. Not letting the opposing team's supporters or any of the mind games on the pitch get to you had nothing to do with physical strength. That was all mental.

It was an argument she'd had with Flanagan countless times when he worked at the Prophet. Flanagan didn't really approve of women players. Ginny knew from her own days playing, Flanagan had been a Reserve Seeker for Caerphilly for several years, but for most of those years, the Seeker was a very capable woman. When she retired, Flanagan tried out, but lost to another woman.

Ginny often wondered if his stymied Quidditch ambitions colored Flanagan's attitude. He never really got on with most of the staff and he seemed to find an unholy amount of glee in ripping Ginny's articles to shreds, often forcing her to rewrite them numerous times.

Ginny wrote steadily for nearly three hours, reveling in the stillness of the early morning. She didn't mind being able to write from home. Eleanor had been more than generous in letting Ginny come into the office on a part-time basis, but it was getting more and more difficult as James got older. Getting up early, like this morning, was usually her only recourse. Ginny finished the last sentence, and blew on the ink to dry it, massaging the cramp from her hand. She tapped the scroll with her wand, and it rolled itself into a tight cylinder, sealing the edge shut. She stretched and glanced at the clock. Eight-thirty. She needed to get it out in a few minutes to get it to London by noon. The earlier nausea had faded to bearable proportions where she didn't want to vomit at the idea of toast. Toast sounds really good right now, she thought. Ginny picked up the scroll and headed into the kitchen.

Her owl, Ariel, sat on her perch in the corner, preening her feathers. Ginny stroked the tawny owl's head for a moment. 'This one goes to Quidditch Quarterly,' she told the owl, tying the scroll to Ariel's leg. Ginny opened the window and watched Ariel launch herself into the sky.

Harry came into the kitchen with James in his arms. 'Feeling better?' he asked, setting James down in his chair, and pointing his wand at the teakettle. He hadn't been able to go back to sleep after Ginny went downstairs, and was desperate for a cup of tea.

'Yeah. But I think I'll stick to toast this morning.' Ginny gave James a spoon and a cup of strawberry yogurt. 'Are you going to be late tonight?'

'I don't know.' Harry handed Ginny the vial of prenatal potion. 'Don't forget this.'

Ginny wrinkled her nose, but managed to swallow it without gagging. 'Gack. You'd think they'd figure out how to make it taste better.' She stole Harry's tea and took a sip to get rid of the taste of the potion in her mouth.

Harry took the cup back from her, drained it, and kissed Ginny, making a face at the taste of the potion mixed with tea. 'I'll get word to you if I'm going to be at work past six.' He left the house and Disapparated as he passed through the boundary around the house.

*****

Andre rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had just come off the overnight shift at Percy's house. He held a large paper cup filled with coffee in one hand, his knapsack in the other, as he rode the lift to Level Two. He was meeting Eric to write their report for the overnight surveillance. Iain was sitting at the table in the trainees' room, every magazine published in wizarding Britain and Ireland spread on the long, scarred table. 'Didn't you do the middle shift yesterday?' Andre asked, gulping his coffee.

'Yeah, but I couldn't sleep.' Iain had one of the notes in front of him. I spent the night trying to figure out which mags they used.' He indicated the stack of magazines at his elbow. 'I nicked these from my parents' house.' He rubbed his face. 'I think I've got it narrowed down, though.' Iain shoved a small stack of magazines toward the middle of the table. 'Witch Weekly, Transfiguration Today, Potent Potions, Quidditch Quarterly, and oddly enough, The Quibbler.'

'That's an odd collection,' observed Andre.

'Yeah, and it still doesn't really tell us much. Other than they were too lazy to get Muggle mags.' Iain finished the report and handed it to Andre. 'Give this to Harry would you? I'm all done in. I need to get some sleep before I go to Mr. Weasley's this afternoon.'

'How's that going?'

'Nothing unusual.' Iain paused. 'Aside from those notes, that is.'

'I don't get it.' Andre ran his hands through his hair. He pulled the file with their copies of the notes closer. 'Every time, they just show up. The door doesn't open, so they're not under an Invisibility cloak or using Disillusionment charms.'

'And they're not being Banished from outside the building, or we'd see the note before it got to the door.' Iain shoved his chair away from the table. 'Check with Kathleen if you see her later. She might have an idea.' He yawned widely. 'I'll see you later.'

*****

Ginny picked up James and went though the fireplace to the Burrow. 'Mum?'

'In the scullery, dear!'

'Mum, can you watch James for a bit?' Ginny carried James into the scullery off the kitchen. 'I need to go to Wimbourne and Harry's working on a case.'

'Of course I can.' Molly held her arms out to James, and he half-fell into his grandmother's embrace. 'Does Harry know you've left James with me?'

'Yeah. He'll be round about five to pick him up.' Ginny adjusted her bag and leaned over to give James a kiss. 'Bye, sweetie.' She stroked his messy black hair and went back into the sitting room to Floo to the stadium where the Wimbourne Wasps played.

Ginny climbed the stairs to the press box. She was early, but she liked to watch the teams warm up. It gave her an idea of what strategies they might use. She settled into a seat and took a Self-Inking Quill and her notebook from her bag. The weather was lousy - cold and dreary, with intermittent sleet. The press box was protected with Impervious and Warming charms. Reporters were a notoriously cantankerous lot, so the Quidditch teams tried to make the box somewhat comfortable.

Ginny watched the Wasps' Chasers warm up. The weather was making the ball slippery. Ginny closed her eyes and massaged her temples. It was probably going to be a long game. She knew from playing Seeker at school that the Snitch could be harder to find in gloomy weather conditions when the sun didn't glint off its surface.

'Potter.'

Ginny opened her eyes, and stared with frank dislike at Ryan Flanagan. 'Flanagan.' She coolly returned the greeting and went back to watching the Chasers.

'How's the paper?'

'Doing great. We don't even notice you're gone.' Ginny made a few notes in her notebooks, trying to ignore Flanagan.

'You look like hell,' Flanagan said with his usual bluntness.

'Always with the compliments,' Ginny replied dryly, unwilling to give Flanagan an edge. She was not in the mood to spar verbally with him. She was bone-tired and still slightly nauseated.

'Sandwich?' Flanagan opened his bag, pulling out a packet of sandwiches and unwrapped them.

'No, thank you.' Ginny's nose twitched as the pungent scent of corned beef filled the air. She gagged and bolted for the ladies' toilet at the bottom of the stairs.

Ginny returned to the press box, wiping her face on the sleeve of her jumper. Flanagan smirked at her. 'Sprogged up again, are you? You do realize what causes that sort of thing, don't you?' he intoned disdainfully.

Wearily, Ginny picked up her notebook. 'Get stuffed, Flanagan.'

'Oooh. Is that all you can come up with, Potter?' he taunted.

'Ginny set her notebook down. 'You are a bitter, impotent, gormless eejit, Flanagan. Talk to me like that again -'

'And what? You'll tell your husband? Set him on me?'

'No, arsehole. I'll take care of you myself.' Ginny pulled her wand from her bag, and she lightly caressed the handle.

'Yeah, right,' Flanagan scoffed. 'Like you could.'

Ginny's fingers tightened on the wand. She was on the verge of hexing Flanagan, but several other reporters came into the box, calling out greetings to Ginny. 'You're a miserable excuse for a human being, Flanagan,' she spat softly, regretfully putting her wand away.

*****

Ginny Apparated home from the Prophet, too tired to deal with the Floo. The game had been long, but not as long as Ginny had thought. The Harpies won by a narrow margin, making Ginny smirk at Flanagan on her way out. She went inside the house, dropping her back by the door, and toeing off her shoes. She went upstairs, intending to go to bed, but decided to check on James. He was still awake, lying on his back, watching the enchanted ceiling above his cot. He brightened when he saw Ginny. 'Mummy!'

'Hi, James.' Ginny lifted him from the cot, breathing in the scent of his shampoo.

James nestled into Ginny. 'Tory, Mummy?'

'A story? Didn't Daddy read one to you before he put you to bed?' Ginny sank into the armchair.

'Wan' tory,' James insisted.

'All right, then. What story do you want?'

'Pee R'bit.' James reached for the battered book on the shelf next to the chair.

'Again?' It was one of James' favorite books, and he usually demanded to have it read to him at least once a day. Nonetheless, Ginny picked up the book and opened it, reading it in a soothing voice.

James was asleep before Ginny finished the story. She closed the book and laid it on the shelf. Ginny didn't put James back into the cot right away. She knew these moments would disappear far too soon. Ginny stroked James' hair. 'I don't regret having you,' she murmured, unsure if she was saying it to James, or to the new baby. Ginny didn't know how long she sat there, James in her arms before she fell asleep.

Harry had heard Ginny come into the house, and stop in James' room. He waited for her to come to bed, but when she didn't come into the bedroom after some time, he went in search of Ginny. Harry gently lifted James from her grasp and laid him in the cot. He hefted Ginny's into his arms and carried her to bed. 'Harry?' she asked sleepily. 'Why do people think I'm weak?'

Harry pulled Ginny's jumper over her head. 'Who says that?' Weak was not a word he would use to describe Ginny. Ever.

'Flanagan.' Her eyes were dark with sleep.

'He's an arse,' Harry assured her, working her jeans off. 'People think you're so small, you must be helpless or something.' Harry drew the bedclothes up to her shoulders. 'I know better.' Harry slid into bed next to Ginny. She was curled on her side, eyes heavy-lidded with weariness, but resolutely staying awake. 'Gin, you're the strongest person I know.' Her eyelids drifted down and closed. Harry stayed awake for a long time, watching her sleep. He was worried. The last time Ginny had been this tentative and unsure, she was eleven years old. He didn't know how to make it better. She just seemed overwhelmed by it all right now. And if he knew Ginny, she would be the last person to admit she needed help.

*****

Ginny stirred, prying her eyes open. She stretched and stopped suddenly, lifting the edge of the sheet. She was wearing a t-shirt and her knickers. That's odd, she thought. She didn't remember getting into bed last night. The last thing she remembered was reading to James. Ginny looked at the alarm clock on the night table by Harry's side of the bed and her mouth dropped open. It was nearly ten. The weak winter sunshine struggled through the gap in the curtains and lay in limpid stripes on the polished wooden floor.

Ginny sat up looking around the room. Her clothes from last night lay heaped on the floor next to the bed. She could hear Harry in the back garden with James. She swung her feet to the floor and stood up, stripping the rest of her clothes off, as she headed for the bathroom. As she turned on the taps for a shower, he stomach gurgled. Ginny started to crouch over the toilet before she realized it wasn't nausea, but hunger. Shaking her head, at herself, Ginny climbed into the bathtub and stood under the spray, sighing blissfully at the idea of getting to take a shower that lasted longer than two minutes.

*****

Harry carried a protesting James into the kitchen. 'We'll go back out after lunch,' he promised, kneeling to take James' coat and shoes off. He shot a quick Drying charm on James overalls and sent him to the sitting room to play. He heard the water upstairs shut off. Ginny had been asleep for a long time. He had tried to wake her about nine, but she just pulled the quilt over her head and he decided it was best to leave her be. She needed the sleep.

Ginny came into the kitchen, wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. 'Are you hungry?' Harry asked carefully, not wanting to send her bolting for the bathroom.

'Yeah. I am.' Ginny sounded surprised.

'How hungry are you?' Ginny didn't have to answer. Her stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly. Harry handed Ginny a plate of toast. 'Here. Get started on that. What do you want? Eggs?'

Ginny spread marmalade on the toast and shook her head. 'Porridge.'

'I think I can manage that.' Harry turned to the stove and measured oats and milk into a pot. 'Ron and Hermione are coming over for dinner tonight,' he reminded her.

'Oh, that's right.' Ginny went to the refrigerator and took out a carton of orange juice. 'She's due in a few days, isn't she?' She turned back to the table and frowned at the small vial sitting next to her toast.

Harry saw the frown as he brought a bowl to the table. 'You heard Shanti. Every day. Just like last time.'

Ginny heaved a put-upon sigh and pinched her nose shut, trying to aim the potion to the back of her throat so she didn't have to taste it. The vial dropped to the table as she frantically opened the juice, gulping several swallows straight from the carton. 'Merlin's pants, that's foul,' she breathed.

Harry snorted. 'Madam Pomfrey asked if I expected pumpkin juice once.'

'When was that?'

'Second year when Lockhart removed the bones from my arm. Avoid Skele-Gro at all costs,' he advised. 'Thought it burned a hole in my throat.'

'I'll try to remember that.' Ginny dipped a spoon into her porridge. 'How elaborate is dinner going to be tonight?'

'Not very. They just need someone else to worry about dinner. Ron's gotten edgy as hell, so George won't let him out front. Hermione's even worse than you were with James.'

Ginny winced in sympathy. She had been quite emotional the last couple of weeks. 'Casserole, salad, soup?' she ventured. 'And something with lots of chocolate for pudding.' She spooned some porridge into her mouth. 'We could all use some chocolate,' she said pointedly.

'For medicinal purposes, then?' Harry asked wryly.

'Yes.' Ginny pushed the bowl away. 'Did I say anything weird last night?'

Harry squarely met her eyes. 'No.'

*****

Ron and Harry put their coats on after dinner and went to the storage shed under the pretense of mucking with the motorbike. Harry switched on the overhead light and handed Ron a wrench. 'We might as well turn a few bolts, while we're out here,' he said.

'Good idea. Ginny'll wonder why there's no dirt on our hands.' Ron gestured to the motorbike. 'Where should I...?'

Harry stood turning a wrench in his hands. 'I need to put the carburetor back on,' he said shrugging, picking up the newly reassembled part from the workbench.

Ron took his coat off and draped it over the bike's handlebars. 'So, how's it going?' he asked, with a meaningful glance at Harry.

'It's going.' Harry tightened a bolt. 'I'm no closer to knowing who it is.' He aimed a light kick at the workbench. 'It's a lesson in patience.' Harry laid the wrench down, and wiped his hands on a rag. 'One of my trainees thinks it's a pureblood, though.'

'Why is that?' Ron's brow furrowed.

'You should know that one,' Harry chided. 'What he, or she, calls Hermione. That's either a dead giveaway, or someone trying to throw us off the scent. But,' Harry added, 'I've never heard anyone but a pureblood use that particular term, since some purebloods are more than a little concerned about blood status. Present company excluded, of course,' he said, cuffing Ron on the shoulder. 'Plus,' he added. 'All the letters they use, they come from wizarding magazines.'

'Yeah, I can't see the kind of pureblood that would leave that kind of rubbish lying around going into Muggle areas to buy a magazine. Most of them are mystified by Muggle money anyway.' Ron meditatively threaded a nut onto a bolt.

'Yeah, it's like we just keep going in circles -'Harry's thought was cut off by the sound of Ginny's voice.

'Harry! Ron! Get in here!'

*****

Ginny leaned over the back of the chair Hermione had just vacated. There was something smeared across the seat. Praying it wasn't chocolate that James had accidentally dropped on the chair earlier, Ginny ran a forefinger through the smudge. She rubbed her finger and thumb together and turned to a heavily pregnant Hermione. 'Hermione, do you feel all right?'

'My back's been hurting all bloody day. Why?'

'I think your water just broke.'

Hermione blinked and looked down at the seat of the chair for herself. 'Oh, so that's what that was.' She looked up at Ginny a rueful smile on her face. 'For a moment, I thought I'd lost all control and pissed myself.'

'We need to get you to St. Mungo's.' Ginny opened the back door and called for Harry and Ron, who were tinkering with Sirius' motorbike.

'Is the pudding ready?' Ron said hopefully.

'No, but the baby is,' Hermione told him.

'What? Now?' yelped Ron.

'Yes, now. Honestly!'

'But we don't have anything,' Ron protested weakly.

'I don't think the baby cares,' Ginny murmured to Harry as a real contraction hit Hermione. The copy of Witch Weekly Hermione held in her hands ripped in half.

'Ron, I really don't care what we have or what we don't have, but I don't think Harry or Ginny want me to have this baby on their kitchen table.'

Ron started to walk out the back door, changed his mind, and went toward the front door. 'Ronald, where are you going?' Hermione asked.

'I don't really know.'

'St. Mungo's,' Harry reminded him helpfully.

'Right.' Ron reached out to grasp Hermione's hand.

'Wait!' Hermione cried.

'What now?' Ron was grinding his teeth in frustration.

'Someone needs to get Mum!'

'I don't want to leave you alone,' Ron said stubbornly.

'And we need the bag!' Hermione said, clutching Ron's hand.

Ron was ready to rip his hair out.

'Ron, you take Hermione to St. Mungo's,' Ginny said taking pity on him. 'I'll go get the bag, and Harry can go pick up Jane.' She looked between Ron and Hermione. 'Good?' They both nodded. 'Good.' She looked at Harry, and beckoned to him. 'Let's go, then.'

*****

Ginny came into the waiting area of St. Mungo's maternity floor, Hermione's bag in her hand, grateful for Hermione's anal retentive tendencies. It had been waiting by the front door, just like Hermione said. Harry hadn't arrived with Jane yet. Ron and Hermione were bickering in the corner, waiting for the welcome witch to locate Hermione's file.

Shanti walked into the waiting area and stood next to Ginny. 'It's a like a floor show,' she commented in fascination. 'I've been delivering babies for ten years, and I'd swear I've seen everything. But this.' She indicated the bickering couple. 'This takes the cake.'

'It's how they say "I love you" to each other,' Harry's voice came from behind Ginny. 'When they don't do that, we worry.'

'Have they always been like this?'

'Yes.' Jane replied from behind Harry. 'Since they were at least twelve or so.'

'Mental,' Shanti said, shaking her head. 'You must be Hermione's mother,' she stated, going to take the file from the welcome witch. 'She looks just like you.' Shanti stopped and turned around. 'Want to come back with her?' Jane nodded and followed Shanti to the corner with Ron and Hermione. After a few moments, Ron hastily walked to where Harry and Ginny were still standing.

'Could you call Mum?' he asked.

'I'll get right on that.' Harry went to the small bank of fireplaces, while Ron spun around and sprinted after his wife.

Ginny sat down on the edge of a sofa, while Harry talked to Molly, his head in the fire. She slumped against the back of the sofa, leaning into Harry when he sat next to her after talking to Molly. 'We didn't get our chocolate,' she informed him.

'It'll keep.'

They looked up as the various family members began to appear in the waiting area, their sleepy children in tow. Ginny looked around and gasped. 'Bloody hell! James!' She shot off the sofa and Disapparated before Harry could ask what was wrong.

Harry looked around the waiting area, mentally counting, Isabella, Victoire, Madeline, Parker, Fred, Jacob, Jam... James' black head wasn't there. He was the only one of the grandchildren to not have some shade of red. 'Oh, Merlin's bollocks.' He stood up to follow Ginny back to Godric's Hollow. 'I'll be back in a bit!' he called across the room to Molly and Arthur, before he, too, Disapparated.

*****

Ginny burst into the house, expecting to find all sorts of mayhem. She tripped up the stairs, and stumbled into James' room. He was, as usual, sprawled across the cot, in decadent abandon, his ragged stuffed black dog clutched in one chubby hand. For a moment, Ginny felt a sense of relief that was quickly overtaken by a choking sense of guilt. Feeling a sob rise in her throat, she clapped a hand over her mouth, lest she wake James, and staggered into the closest room, which happened to be the baby's across the hall. The rocking chair was outlined by the moonlight, and Ginny froze on the threshold as she saw it. What kind of mother leaves her baby? She wailed to herself, her back against the wall, as she slid to the floor, a bundle of abject misery. She heard Harry calling for her, but didn't answer. By then, she was sobbing into her drawn-up knees. She wouldn't have been able to answer him if she tried.

*****

Harry hit the back door at a run. 'Ginny?' She didn't answer him. 'Ginny?' he nearly shouted, running up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He heard a muffled sob sound come from the baby's room. He took a moment to poke his head into James' room. He was sound asleep. They had put him down for the night after dinner. Harry pushed open the door to the baby's room. Ginny was sitting on the floor, her arms around her knees, crying. 'Gin...' Harry folded himself to the floor next to Ginny, wrapping his arms around her. 'What's the matter?' he asked softly, feeling slightly foolish as he did so. He knew exactly what it was.

'I lef-lef-left Jaaaames!' Ginny cried.

'Gin, he's fine.'

'But something could have happened,' Ginny hiccupped.

'With all the wards and charms we have on this place?'

'I'm a terrible mother,' she moaned.

'You're not.' Harry began to lightly rub a hand up and down her back. 'You're a good mother, Gin.' He pulled Ginny into his lap. 'And Gin, we left James. I'm just as responsible as you are.' He rocked her gently, rather like he did with James, saying nothing.

After several minutes, Ginny stopped crying, but every so often she would take a deep breath, shuddering as it hitched in her chest, tears rolling down her cheeks.

'Do we have to go back right now?' she asked hoarsely.

'Not until you want to,' Harry assured her.

Ginny sighed. 'Can we just stay here for a little while?'

'For as long as you want.' Harry bent his head, pressing a kiss to the top of Ginny's head. He worked one hand free, and took out his wand, Summoning a face cloth, using the wand to soak it in cold water. He held out his arm and wrung the excess water from the cloth, and used his wand to Vanish the puddle it produced. He set his wand down, and wiped Ginny's face with the face cloth.

A creak in the hallway made him look up and snatch the wand from the floor, pointing it at the door. It was Charlie. 'All right, then?' he asked. Harry nodded, setting the wand back on the floor. 'Mum's worried about the two of you.'

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Ginny answered. 'We left James,' she said, a slight hue of guilt coloring her voice.

'It was a mistake, Gin,' Charlie said, as he crouched down. 'Rubbish like that happens. It's all right.' Charlie leaned over and brushed a kiss over his sister's forehead. 'Come back with me?'

Harry rubbed the back of Ginny's neck. 'Ready to go, or do you want to stay here a bit longer?'

Ginny heaved a shuddering sigh, and got to her feet. 'Let's go.' She went into James' room, and lifted him from the cot, trying to wrap his quilt around him one-handed.

'Let me.' Harry took the quilt from her hand, and tucked it around James. His hand slid to the back of Ginny's head, and he leaned down to kiss her. The two of them followed Charlie back downstairs and out into the back garden.

*****

Harry held James, watching Ginny cuddle Ron and Hermione's daughter. Who did not have a name yet. He peeked over Ginny's shoulder at the baby, who already had a riot of red curls. 'She's beautiful, mate,' he told Ron, who was grinning from ear-to-ear. Ginny transferred the baby to Katie and was mortified to feel the prickle of tears behind her eyelids. Harry stood behind her, his arm around her waist, hand splayed over the noticeable curve of her abdomen. Ginny rested a hand on top of his and leaned her head back against the shoulder that didn't have James on it. Harry felt a tremor run through her body.

Ginny tilted her head to look back at Harry. 'Let's go home,' she whispered. He looked down at her, and nodded, shifting James a bit. Ginny stepped away from him and went to Hermione and spoke a few words to her, ending with a long embrace that left both of them sniffling.

Harry made his farewells to Molly and Arthur and then went to Ron, pulling his best friend into a one-armed hug. 'We'll see you later, mate. Gin's getting tired.'

'No worries.' Ron waved him off.

Harry went to Hermione, and kissed her cheek. 'Good job, Hermione. Full marks,' he said teasingly. 'We'll see you later.' He took Ginny's hand and the two of them made their way out to the waiting area to Apparate home.