Making Mistakes

The sun creeping over the windowsill woke Ginny. She tried to move, but James' sleeping body draped over her lap made it impossible. Ginny was grateful that James could sleep through just about anything, and eased him off her lap to the rug. She decided to leave him there. There was no way she would be able to pick him up and put him in the cot from the floor. Ginny groaned to herself as she forced her stiff muscles from their position and leveraged herself to standing. She stood for a moment, trying to stretch the muscles in her back, but it ached abominably. That's what I get for sleeping on the floor, she thought sardonically. Ginny reached into the cot and pulled out the light blanket she'd draped over James last night. She spread it over him, and shuffled out of the room.

The sounds and scents of Molly making breakfast reached Ginny and she went downstairs to the kitchen. Molly already had a basket of warm scones on the table. Ginny picked one up and re-tucked the tea towel around the others. 'Is James all right?' Molly asked.

'Yeah,' Ginny said. She rolled her head a few times trying to ease the kinks in her neck, and rubbed her lower back a few times. 'Mum?'

'Hmmmm?'

'Can you... Could you...' The words stuck in Ginny's throat. She swallowed a few times; wryly noting it seemed as if she was trying to literally swallow her pride before she tried again. 'Would you please go get James up in about an hour?' she asked in a low voice.

Molly just managed to keep the surprise off her face. 'Of course,' she said nonchalantly, but heaving a silent sigh of relief that Ginny had finally asked for help.

'I think I'm going to go back to bed,' Ginny stated. 'I don't feel very well.'

Molly turned and looked at Ginny. She didn't look well at all. 'Want me to bring you some breakfast on a tray later?'

Ginny made a face at the idea of eating. 'No thanks, Mum. I'm not really hungry.' Ginny trudged back to the stairs and headed straight to her room. She closed the door, and looked down at the scone in her hand in a daze. She didn't remember picking it up. Ginny laid the still-warm scone on her night table and crawled into bed. She picked up her wand and cast the Cooling charm she'd used when she was pregnant with James on the room. The temperature dropped several degrees and Ginny sighed in relief. It was entirely too hot in the house. Ginny rolled over, wedging a pillow between her knees and squirmed a few times, trying to ease the nagging ache in her back. 'Why didn't I use the armchair?' she grumbled to the other pillow, on what would have been Harry's side of the bed. You weren't thinking that's why.

She yawned widely, and closed her eyes, falling into what she thought of as waking sleep. Ginny slept, but she could hear Molly wake up James, and James' giggles as Arthur carried him down the stairs on his back. Ginny heard Ron come in the kitchen early to help prepare lunch. It all felt so far away, it might as well have been a dream to her. She didn't know how long she had lain there when she opened her eyes. Hermione stood next to the desk, a scrap of parchment in her hands, Rose in a sling, cuddled to her chest. 'What's this?' Hermione asked, holding it out to Ginny.

Ginny sat up, and took the parchment from Hermione, frowning. Her eyes widened as recognized the pro/con list she had made after interviewing the Harpies two weeks ago. 'Nothing,' she muttered, crumpling it up in her hand and tossing it to the top of the desk. She glanced down, and noticed her bag had fallen from the chair to the floor. Must have knocked it off the chair last night.

Hermione retrieved the parchment and smoothed it out, sitting on the edge of the bed. 'I see Gwenog asked you to come back,' she remarked.

'Yeah.'

'Are you serious? About this list?'

Ginny pulled the parchment from Hermione's hands. 'I don't know.' She rolled a corner between her thumb and forefinger. 'I love writing for the Prophet,' she said.

'But...?' Hermione prompted.

'Who says there's a "but" in there?' Ginny huffed.

'It's flashing like neon,' Hermione replied dryly. 'But...?'

'Part of me wants to go play again, just so it's not always me stuck here waiting.' Ginny tore the parchment in half, then into quarters, and kept tearing until it was a pile of small squares on top of the mattress. 'Or so that he has to make a few sacrifices.' Ginny twisted around, stretching her back. The nap hadn't seemed to help.

'Ginny, I know you're upset, but it's his job.'

'I know that,' Ginny snapped.

Hermione didn't say anything. She remembered all too well the hormonal mood swings that made everything rational seem completely irrational. Instead, she scooped the pile of confetti into her hands and dropped it into the small bin under the desk.

Ginny felt the prickle of tears in her eyes. 'I'm sorry,' she breathed. 'I don't really have an excuse.'

'Sure you do. It's hot, you're tired, you've got more hormones than blood in your veins.' Hermione shrugged. 'It's all right. We've all been there.' Hermione leaned to give Ginny a one-armed hug. Ginny felt her shoulders relax a bit. 'Do you really want to go back?' Hermione asked gently.

'Not really,' Ginny admitted, her head bent. 'I'm just tired of being left behind all the time,' she confessed. 'You three have done that to me for years. You have your...' Ginny waved a hand around helplessly. 'Thing,' she finished. 'You have this circle with each other and it's horribly difficult to break into it.' She gulped back a sob. 'And you don't see it. How can you? You're married to Ron. You married part of your circle, and I've been drifting on the outside of it since I was eleven.' Ginny wiped her eyes with the edge of the sheet.

Hermione sat back, horrified. She knew Harry, Ron, and she were closer to each other than most anyone else, but ever since Ginny's last year of school, she had assumed they included Ginny in their friendship. Have we really shut her out that much? 'Ginny, I...'

Ginny drew in a deep breath, wiping her cheeks with her hands. 'I'll be down in a little bit,' she choked. 'It must be close to lunchtime.'

Hermione left the room in bewilderment. She made a beeline for the kitchen, where Ron was directing the loaded platters and bowls to the table with his wand. 'Did we do the right thing?' she asked bluntly.

'What?'

'With Ginny? By not letting her in on what was going on with Harry and the case?'

'No,' Ron replied automatically. 'We should have told her. We should have told everybody.'

'Do we shut her out? You, me and Harry?'

Ron let the last bowl of potatoes fall to the table. 'I can see how she'd feel that way,' he said slowly. 'We're almost closer than Fred and George were.' He reached into the sling and gently lifted Rose out. 'What brought this on?' he asked, baffled. Hermione told him about the parchment that had fallen out of Ginny's bag and their conversation about it. His eyebrows rose into the hair that fell over his forehead. 'She could just be babbling nonsense,' he ventured. 'She is seven-and-a-half months pregnant. You didn't exactly make much sense at times yourself, hen.'

'I'm not so sure.' A faint crease appeared between Hermione's eyebrows. 'This doesn't feel like hormonal rubbish.'

Ron leaned over and kissed Hermione. 'When Harry gets back, I'll have a word with him about it. Will that make you feel better?'

'Don't do it to appease me,' Hermione said mulishly.

'I'm not.' Ron chewed his lip for a moment. 'D'you think she'll go back? To the Harpies?'

'Ordinarily, I'd say no, but I think the only reason she's halfway considering it is to get some sort of revenge.'

'That's an awfully strong word.' Ron murmured as the kitchen door swung open, and the family trickled in, taking their places around the table. Arthur dragged James' high chair from its usual place and wedged it between his chair and Percy's. Charlie swung James into the high chair. Ron watched at Arthur put some mashed potatoes and carrots on James' plate, then carefully shredded a small piece of roast beef before pushing the plate within the reach of James' spoon. That's odd. Ginny usually does that. He automatically piled food on his own plate, one-handed while he held Rose, and looked at Ginny from the corner of his eye. She doesn't look well.

Ginny was rapidly reaching a level of crankiness she hadn't seen in two years. Her back wouldn't stop hurting, and the sight of all the food made her more than a bit nauseated. She put some mashed potatoes on her own plate, and a spoonful of peas. She was so tired. Ginny felt as if she couldn't hold her head up. She propped it on a hand and used her fork to push the food around her plate. She didn't notice the worried glances her mother and sisters-in-law kept sending her way. She refused the pudding and never heard the urgent whispered conversation that sent the men and children outside to the back garden. She was so wrapped up in her own swirling thoughts, that when Bronwyn laid a gentle hand on Ginny's shoulder, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Bronwyn slid into the chair next to Ginny. 'How are you feeling?' she asked conversationally.

'I'm fine,' muttered Ginny. She pushed away from the table and tried to stand up, but Fleur's hand landed on Ginny's other shoulder.

'You do not look "fine",' she declared. 'You hardly ate anyzing.'

'I'm just tired,' Ginny protested weakly. 'And my back hurts,' she added.

Bronwyn met Molly's eyes over the top of Ginny's head. 'Oh? What's it like?'

'It bloody hurts,' ground out Ginny, in no mood for games.

'No, I mean is it worse now than when your back started hurting, or does it really hurt, then not so much?'

'It's the same,' Ginny said irritated. 'It really hurts, and nothing I've done seems to make it better.'

Bronwyn gently squeezed Ginny's shoulder. 'And how long has your back hurt, cariad?'

Ginny ran a hand through her hair. 'Since this morning when I woke up.' She thought for a moment. 'I think that's what woke me.' Ginny shook her head. 'I just slept in an odd position, that's all.'

Bronwyn pulled Ginny to her feet. 'Let me check things out? Just to make me feel better?'

'It's nothing,' Ginny said flatly.

'Then there's no harm in seeing, is there?'

Faced with being bodily carried up to her room, Ginny snarled, 'Fine.' She stalked up to her bedroom, and shoved the door open. Bronwyn shut the door, shot a thorough Scorgify at her hands, and conjured a pair of gloves. . 'This is nothing, but a backache,' Ginny muttered, her face slowly turning bright red.

'How far along are you again?'

'Thirty-four weeks.' Ginny heard a faint note of panic in her voice.

Bronwyn frowned and began to examine Ginny. Her breath caught, but she was able to hide it. Damn it, Bronwyn thought. 'All right, Ginny. We're done.' Bronwyn stripped the gloves off and Vanished them. 'Why don't you stay up here, and have a bit of a rest?'

Ginny lay staring at the ceiling, still unwilling to think it was anything other than back pain, but the way Bronwyn's eyes had tightened left the bitter, metallic taste of unease in her mouth. Ginny rolled to her side, wincing as the pain in her back intensified.

*****

Bronwyn hastily walked back into the kitchen. 'Well?' Molly demanded.

'She's dilated a few centimeters, but that's it. We'll need to keep an eye on her, though, if her water breaks.'

'How bad will it be if she delivers now?' Katie spoke up from her chair. Premature delivery had been a concern with Fred and Jacob.

Bronwyn rubbed a hand over her face. 'Depends. The baby could be fine, or not. She's thirty-four weeks - long enough for the baby to not have any major issues, but still a bit too early for my liking. If she can hang on for one more week -' A cry from upstairs interrupted her.

*****

Ginny was worrying the edge of Harry's pillowcase between her thumb and first two fingers, when she felt something trickling between her thighs. She assumed it was just sweat, since Hermione had lifted the Cooling charm earlier, and Ginny hadn't reset it. Ginny rolled back onto her back, and reached for her wand, to reset the charm. It was stifling in the room. Ginny grunted, stretching to reach the wand, but her questing fingers pushed it off the night table. She dropped her hand, and thought it might take too much effort to retrieve the fallen wand, until she felt another trickle of fluid. It was the last straw for Ginny. She sat up and put her feet on the floor, standing up to pick up the errant wand.

The trickle of liquid running down her legs pushed all the air from Ginny's lungs. She stood in dismay, watching it drip off her ankles into the braided rag rug next to the bed.

It was then that Ginny realized things had spun quite out of her control.

So she did the only thing she could do. She screamed in pain, anger, loneliness, and frustration.

'Noooooooo!'

She stood rooted to the spot, unable to move, idly noting the droplets on her bare feet. It's too early, she thought numbly. It's too early and Harry's not here.

Her head jerked up as Bronwyn barreled through the door. 'My water broke,' she said miserably.

'It's all right, cariad. We'll get you to St. Mungo's.'

*****

The family huddled in the waiting area of St. Mungo's, faces tense and drawn. They looked up anxiously, every time the door leading to the patient rooms opened. Shanti came out a few times, and spoke with Molly and Arthur, their voices hushed and taut with fear. Shanti came out now, and approached Molly and Arthur. She Summoned a chair, and sat down. 'She's progressing and it looks like the baby's coming. Tonight.'

Molly took a deep breath and stood up. 'I'd like to be with Ginny.'

Shanti nodded and escorted Molly back to Ginny's room. Arthur watched his wife disappear through the swinging double doors, and turned his hooded blue gaze to his sons. Arthur knew he gave off a slightly barmy air, but he could be coldly calculating when need be. It was something his sons had never quite figured out. He braced his hands on his knees and stood up, going to Percy.

Percy sat in a chair, leaning forward, his elbows on his thighs, looking at the tiled floor. Arthur lightly touched the back of his head. 'Perce?' he said softly. 'A word?'

Percy looked up and nodded, biting his lip. He pushed himself to his feet and followed Arthur to a corner of the waiting area. 'What do you need, Dad?'

'It's not what I need. It's what your sister needs.' Arthur took his glasses off, and polished them with a handkerchief he took from his pocket. 'I know you know how to get a message to Harry.' When Percy nodded, Arthur continued. 'I wouldn't ask, but Percy, this is an emergency. Ginny needs him here.'

Percy ran his hands through his hair, sending the customarily-neat curls into frizzy disarray. 'I know...'

Arthur grasped Percy's upper arm in his shaking hand. 'This isn't just anybody, Percy, this is your sister,' he hissed.

Percy looked down at his father's hand, and back up into Arthur's apprehensive face. 'I'll go see the Minister right now,' he said mildly.

Arthur's hand tightened reflexively on Percy's arm. He pushed his glasses up a bit and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'I'm sorry... It's just...'

'I know, Dad.' Percy hesitated for a brief moment, then gave Arthur a hug, and walked briskly to Penny, and bent to whisper in her ear. Penny pulled Percy down for a soft kiss, then Percy walked just as briskly to an Apparition point.

Percy Apparated in front of Shacklebolt's house in London. He nervously straightened his glasses, and walked up to the door, pressing the doorbell. He heard voices inside, and waited with a sense of sick dread.

*****

Shacklebolt opened the door to reveal his brother Gareth, and his partner Rafael. 'What did you two do? Leave as soon as exams were done?'

'We start before you do here, and get out earlier,' pointed out Rafa.

'But we did get on the first Portkey to New York then from there to London,' Gareth said. 'Had to wait in that international Portkey terminal at LaGuardia for ages.' He greeted his elder brother with a warm embrace. 'The kids were insane the last week or so.'

Shacklebolt turned his attention to Rafa. 'I'll bet you were packed two weeks ago.'

'Better than throwing everything in the night before like some people I could name,' Rafa drawled, glancing pointedly at Gareth. 'Kept me up all night with the packing and swearing about International Portkey weight limits.' He held up a restraining hand as Shacklebolt started to embrace him as well. 'Oh, Kingsley, no, I stink like Portkey terminal.'

'Like that matters,' Shacklebolt laughed. He turned toward the front door, as the bell buzzed. 'Who on earth?' Shacklebolt warily opened the door, to be confronted by the sight of Percy Weasley. It was not a Percy Weasley Shacklebolt knew.

For Percy, casual Friday meant he loosened his tie. His hair was never mussed or out of place. While most people assumed Percy had a rod shoved up his arse, Shacklebolt knew it was out of a sense of respect that Percy showed up to work dressed the way he did.

This Percy was dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a comfortable sweatshirt from his brothers' shop. His normally neat hair was standing on end. 'Percy?'

'May I come in?'

Shacklebolt opened the door wider and wordlessly stepped back in invitation. Percy went inside, and before Shacklebolt could shut the door he said, 'I need Harry,' in a low, intense voice. 'Well, Ginny needs Harry right now.'

'What's wrong?' Shacklebolt felt a prickle of alarm run its fingers down his spine.

'It's the baby.' Percy shoved his hands into his pockets. 'She's having the baby. Now.'

Shacklebolt's Auror training snapped into place. 'Go back to St. Mungo's. I'll have Harry there no later than midnight. Maybe a bit later.' He showed Percy out, and went back into the sitting room, where Gareth and Rafa had settled on the sofa. Shacklebolt looked between the two of them, before settling his piercing gaze on Rafa. 'Rafa, I need to be you.'

'Oh, Kingsley, honey, we've talked about that,' Rafa said teasingly. 'It takes years to attain the level of fabulousness that is me.'

'Not now, Rafa. I need to be you.'

Rafa and Gareth sat up straighter at the brusque tone in Shacklebolt's voice. 'What do you need?' Gareth asked.

Kingsley strode to a liquor cabinet and pressed a hidden button. A door swung open, revealing an array of small glass vials, filled with a thick, murky, grey liquid. 'I need some of your hair, Rafa.' He mentally calculated how long he would be in Scotland. 'Several strands.' Kingsley handed Rafa an empty vial. 'Put them in here.'

'That's a lot of Polyjuice,' Gareth commented, as he used his wand to perform a Severing charm on his lover's hair.

'You never know,' Shacklebolt muttered.

Rafa handed Shacklebolt the vial, all traces of laughter gone from his face. 'You'll need some of my clothes,' he said, going to his bags. 'I'm a lot shorter than you.' Rafa dug into a neatly-packed bag. 'How long will you be gone? More than a day?'

Kingsley nodded. 'A week. That's as long as I can be gone from the office and be unreachable.'

Rafa upended his smaller bag onto the floor, and swiftly packed three days' worth of clothes into it. 'Here.' He pulled a pair of trainers from another bag. 'My feet are smaller, too.'

Gareth laced his fingers together. 'Mind telling me what's going on?'

'You remember Harry?' At Gareth and Rafa's nods, he continued, 'His wife is in preterm labor, and he's working on a delicate case. I can't go as me, I'm too recognizable.' Kingsley went to his desk and pulled out a piece of parchment. He scribbled a note to Percy, informing him he would be out of the office for a week. Shacklebolt tapped it with his wand, sealing to it all but Percy, and took it to his owl. 'Take it to Percy. He's at St. Mungo's right now.' The owl flew off with a rush of wings.

Shacklebolt stripped to his boxers, and dropped one of Rafa's hairs into a vial. It flared, then settled to a softly glowing green. Shacklebolt saluted his family with the vial, and tossed it back. 'I can see why Gareth likes you so much,' he joked before the effects began to take place. After a few minutes, Shacklebolt pulled on Rafa's clothing and picked up the bag. 'Thanks,' he told them quietly.

Shacklebolt looked around his sitting room and his eyes lit on an empty butterbeer bottle. He pointed his wand at it. 'Portus,' he muttered. The bottle glowed blue, then faded. Shacklebolt shoved his wand into the pocket of Rafa's trousers, then grasped the bottle in his free hand.

He slammed into the ground of the back garden of the small house in Inverness. Harry was sitting on a low brick wall outside, a bottle of butterbeer cradled in his hands.

Harry jumped up, simultaneously drawing his wand from his pocket when the strange man picked himself up from the ground, the bottle falling to the bricked-in area, smashing into pieces, splattering butterbeer. 'Who the bloody hell are you?' he snarled, keeping the wand trained on the man three feet in front of him.

'It's me, Kingsley.'

Harry's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. 'What did Mad-Eye say to me about wand handling when you picked me up from the Dursleys' before my fifth year?'

'That you'd lose a buttock if you put it in your back pocket,' Shacklebolt answered promptly.

Harry warily lowered the wand. 'Kingsley? What...? Why...?'

'Remember my brother's partner? Rafa? Teaches in San Francisco?'

'Yeah...'

'It's Polyjuice.'

'Oh.' Harry waved his wand at the mess on the bricks and sat back on the wall. 'Is something the matter, then?'

'It's Ginny.' Shacklebolt perched next to Harry. 'She's having the baby.'

Harry jumped up from the wall. 'What? Now?' he yelled.

'She's in labor, and I promised to get you to St. Mungo's by midnight.'

'But I... I...' Harry stammered.

'One week. Go to St. Mungo's and be with your wife, but you have to be back here in one week.' Shacklebolt pulled Harry back to the wall. 'You can't go yet, though. I need for you to fill me in on your schedules and methods.'

Harry glanced impatiently at his watch. 'Right.' He led the way into the kitchen.

Three hours later, he stood in the back garden, next to Shacklebolt. 'I'll be back next Sunday evening,' he said, shifting his knapsack to his shoulder. 'I'm ready.'

Shacklebolt pointed his wand at a dented soda can one of the trainees found in the alley behind the house. 'Portus,' he said, and the soda can glowed brightly in the darkness. Shacklebolt squeezed Harry's arm. 'It'll be all right,' he said, trying to reassure the tense young man.

Harry smiled weakly. 'I hope so.' He picked up the soda can, and felt the familiar jerk behind his navel and in moments landed in a heap on the street outside St. Mungo's.