Making Mistakes

'Is it worth it?' Ron's quiet question broke into Harry's mindless counting. 'Being an Auror? Is it worth this?'

Harry sighed and stood up, stretching. He bent over the cot, and carefully lifted the baby into his arms. He took his seat in the rocking chair, cradling the baby to his chest. He looked down at the miniature face, creased in sleep. 'Yes. So he won't have to live the way we did.'

'Is it worth your marriage?'

'No,' Harry replied in a low voice. 'If she asked, I'd give it up.'

*****

Harry rocked silently, holding his newborn son to his chest. He fingered the bracelet around the baby's ankle. Shanti had explained that it would monitor his temperature, weight, pulse, and how well he was breathing. That information was sent to a charmed clipboard she carried. He had almost forgotten Ron was still in the room when Ron cleared his throat. 'She wouldn't ask you to do that.'

'No.' Harry's voice was nearly soundless.

Ron looked toward the door when he heard a rustle of fabric. Ginny stood framed in the doorway, plucking at the dressing gown over her chest. What Ron observed in the next few minutes worried him. He saw Harry glance toward the door and rise from his seat in the rocking chair. Harry brushed his lips over the baby's head, then laid him back into the cot, and leave with a curt nod toward Ginny. Ginny, for her part, kept her gaze glued to the floor, and stepped to the side to let Harry out of the room. Ginny then came into the room and picked up the baby, loosening the top of her dressing gown. Ron, realizing she was going to feed the baby, hastily averted his eyes, blushing.

He looked at Ginny out of the corner of his eye, trying to avoid the expanse of skin she had bared. 'I take it you're still angry with him?'

Ginny shrugged, her eyes fixed on the baby.

Ron got up, the plate in his hands, and walked out of the room. He saw Harry sitting on the floor of the hallway, back braced against the wall, forehead resting on his knees. Ron felt a tremor of unease in the pit of his stomach. He had always seen Harry and Ginny as one of the tightest couples he knew. He began to wonder how much of a toll the past six months had truly taken on their marriage.

Ron walked back out to the waiting area where Hermione waited with Rose. 'Come on,' he said shortly. 'We need to talk.' Hermione followed him, mystified. Ron didn't say anything until they were on the Tube, heading back to their flat. 'Have you seen them? Today?'

'Just Ginny earlier this morning. Why?'

Ron shook his head. 'They won't even stay in the same room together.'

'That doesn't sound good.'

'It's doesn't look good. They're not even talking to one another.'

'Bloody hell,' Hermione breathed.

'You can say that again,' Ron muttered.

*****

By Tuesday, the entire family knew Harry and Ginny weren't speaking to each other. Molly had brought food that neither of them ate, and Vanished after a few token mouthfuls. She saw the strange, tense dance they did around each other when she brought them lunch. Harry would sit with the baby for a while, then Ginny would appear in the doorway, and they would silently change places. It was obvious Harry hadn't left the hospital since Sunday night. Molly noted with concern that he didn't seem to have slept, either. The lack of sleep only made the hollows of his face deeper. He's too thin, she thought.

'Is there something you need, Molly?' Harry's voice rasped in the quiet of the corridor. He leaned against the opposite wall from the open doorway, hungrily watching Ginny nurse the baby.

'No, dear.' Molly left the hospital, her face creased in anxiety. She was afraid if they didn't manage to at least try to reach over this wall they had created between themselves, it might be too late when Harry managed to complete his assignment.

Arthur noticed it, too, when he brought them dinner that evening. He handed Harry a plate of food that Harry picked at with a listlessness Arthur hadn't seen in years. 'Harry? Why don't you go home for a few hours? Take a shower and have a kip in your own bed?'

Harry glanced up at Arthur, before sniffing cautiously at his shirt. 'What day is it?'

'Tuesday.'

Harry considered Arthur's suggestion. 'I can't,' he said, shaking his head. 'What if something goes wrong, and I miss that too?' he said bitterly.

Arthur seized Harry's arm in one hand, and dragged him out to the waiting area. 'You're not doing either of you any favors by not taking care of yourself. What good will you be to Ginny, James, or the baby if you get sick, too, eh?' Arthur turned, he Side-Alonged Harry to the house in Godric's Hollow.

It was hot and still in the valley. Harry blinked, bemused to see sunlit grass and trees, instead of dimly lit corridor of the hospital. He considered yanking his arm out of Arthur's tight grip, and Apparating back to London, but he was far too exhausted to Apparate properly. Harry felt a slight push on his arm, as Arthur propelled him toward the back door. 'Have wards up?' Arthur asked.

'Uh, yeah. I'll get them.' Harry drew his wand and jabbed it at the doorknob. The door swung open, and Harry walked over the threshold, a faint tingle on his skin as the spell recognized him. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, and removed the wards from the house, so Arthur could come inside. 'They're down,' he called softly through the open door, collapsing into a chair, suddenly too tired to stand.

Arthur strode into the kitchen, and rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. 'Go on and take a shower, son. You'll feel better. Then go lie down for a few hours. I'll stay here, and wake you up in a bit.'

Harry groaned softly as he pushed himself to his feet. His fingers traveled down the front of his shirt, unbuttoning it, as he trudged heavily up the stairs to his bedroom. Harry dropped the shirt on the floor and toed off his trainers. He'd been wearing them so long it felt like they had fused to his socks. Harry wrinkled his nose at the odor emanating from his feet. Fine, I could use a shower, he reflected, peeling off the socks. Ugh, that's foul. I'm surprised nobody said anything sooner. Harry shoved his jeans and boxers off at the same time, and went into the bathroom, his feet dragging.

Harry turned on the shower, and wearily climbed into the tub. He stood under the spray, letting it pound him for several moments, before he picked up a bar of soap. He scrubbed himself thoroughly, then automatically reached for Ginny's shampoo. After rinsing the lather from his hair, Harry turned off the water, and reached for a towel, haphazardly drying himself. He considered just crawling into the wide bed naked, but the knowledge that Arthur would come wake him in a few hours sent him to the cupboard where his things were kept. He yanked on a pair of worn boxers and an equally worn t-shirt, before almost falling into the warm bed.

Harry lay on his back on his side of the bed for a long moment. Something's missing. He rolled over, and in his haze, reached for Ginny. His eyes flew open when his hand encountered nothing but air. Oh, right. She's at the hospital. Harry's eyes burned, as he pulled Ginny's pillow to his chest. The soft cotton of the pillowcase still bore a faint scent of Ginny. Harry burrowed his nose into the fabric, his arms tightening around it.

In seconds, the fatigue took over, and Harry was asleep.

*****

At the hospital, Shanti sat at her desk, looking at the clipboard. Something had caught her attention. She held it in her hands, for several seconds, frowning. She set the clipboard down slowly and massaged her temples for a minute.

*****

Arthur heard the water shut off upstairs. He waited, patiently counting off the minutes to himself, then crept upstairs. The door to Harry and Ginny's bedroom stood ajar, and Arthur noiselessly pushed the door open a bit more. Harry's soft snores reached his ears. Arthur slipped into the room, and tiptoed to the bed. He pulled the bedding up around Harry, like he was Teddy's age, and stood there for a few moments, watching the man he considered to be one of his own sons sleep.

Arthur slipped out the bedroom, and curiously poked his head into one of the other bedrooms. The room was an odd jumble of furniture. Molly's old rocking chair sat by the windows overlooking the back garden, and a cupboard and changing table were pushed against a wall. A pile of wood was stacked in the middle of the room, and Arthur bent to examine it. It was the baby's unassembled cot.

Arthur swiped a finger over the surface and of the wood, frowning at the streak he made in the dust. He wiped his finger off on his jumper and gazed sadly around the room.

He left the room and went back downstairs, settling into one of the squashy armchairs in the sitting room, looking longingly at the television. He had mastered a few Muggle appliances, like toasters, but most audio/visual equipment baffled him. There were too many buttons. There was a wizarding wireless on a shelf next to the television, so Arthur pointed his wand at it, and adjusted the volume to a low murmur. A Quidditch game in Appleby was on, so Arthur didn't bother to change the station.

Arthur's mind wasn't on the game, though. It was on the chasm that had opened between his daughter and her husband. He Summoned a photograph from the mantle of the fireplace. Ginny and Harry grinned at each other, wrapped up in each other's arms. It had been taken after their wedding, and they danced to music only they could hear, surrounded by hundreds of twinkling fairy lights. Arthur hadn't been opposed to their engagement, but he had been shocked to find out they wanted to marry in the upcoming Quidditch off-season. Ginny had only been nineteen and Harry twenty. Arthur had felt they were far too young to get married, but they had both been adamant - Ginny in her furiously stubborn way and Harry in his quietly firm insistence.

Arthur hadn't minded having Ginny and James at the Burrow the past month. What he had minded was the way Harry left Ginny in the dark about everything. He understood on some level, that Harry hadn't wanted Ginny to know anything, to keep her safe. But all it had done was make Ginny worry more. Harry sometimes still lived in the world of ten years ago, and it made things difficult more often than not. He wasn't one to confide in people, save for Ron, Hermione, or Ginny. And sometimes, it seemed, not even Ginny.

*****

Harry slowly opened his eyes and blinked in momentary confusion. He didn't recognize the room. He sat up warily, conscious of every ache in his body. Harry's gaze swept around the room, squinting to bring it into focus. He slumped in relief when he realized he was in his bed in the house. Gradually, he remembered Arthur taking him home, insisting he shower and sleep a little. Harry pushed the bedding back, and tried to remember where he had left his glasses. He found them on the counter in the bathroom, and slid them up his nose.

Harry went back into the bedroom, and looked at the clock. He didn't know what time it was when Arthur brought him home, but the alarm clock read eight-thirty. It was getting dark outside, so Harry knew it was eight-thirty in the evening. Harry found an old pair of jeans and pulled them on, grimacing at how much they drooped over his hips. He hadn't paid attention to how much weight he'd lost over the last month. Harry took the time to examine himself in the cheval mirror in the corner. You don't look so good yourself, he thought, noting the purple smudges under his eyes, and how much deeper the hollows of his face were. No wonder Molly keeps throwing food at me. Harry ran a hand down his side, alarmed at how easy it was to count his ribs. He turned his back on his image and stood uncertainly on the landing outside the bedroom. Harry noticed the door to the baby's room was open. He had closed it before they left, after he'd put the changing table together in there, so James couldn't get into the pieces that made up the new cot.

Harry padded into the room, a pang of guilt surging through him. I should put that together. Otherwise, Bun will have to sleep in a drawer, and Ginny will never forgive me. Harry began to sort through the pieces, consulting the instruction booklet. He supposed he could do it by magic, but he preferred to do this by hand.

*****

Arthur heard the dull sounds of wood clanking on wood upstairs and went into the kitchen to make some sandwiches. Arthur wasn't much of a cook, no matter how hard he tried, but he could make some sandwiches and heat some soup when the need arose. He climbed the stairs, levitating a tray with a plate of ham sandwiches and a couple of bottles of butterbeer he had found in the refrigerator. He found Harry in the baby's room, sitting on the floor, surrounded by the pieces of the cot, frowning at a small booklet. Arthur softly cleared his throat. 'Are you hungry?'

Harry shrugged, not looking up from the booklet.

'You should eat, son.'

Harry got to his feet, and took the tray from Arthur, putting it on the changing table, and took a sandwich. 'I need to get this done, before I have to leave,' he said, gesturing to the pile of wood. Harry mindlessly took a bite of the sandwich and swallowed it before he looked up at Arthur. 'Would you mind helping? It really does take two to put it together.'

Arthur held pieces together, while Harry patiently screwed the various parts to the frame. It took over an hour, yet neither of them spoke, beyond Harry's requests for Arthur to hold this piece to that one. When the cot was completed, Harry looked around the room, and pushed the cot against the wall adjacent to the windows. Harry picked up another sandwich, and began to tear the crusts off the bread. 'How's James?'

'He's fine. Misses you and Ginny, of course.'

'I'll come see him tomorrow,' Harry whispered, shame-facedly.

Arthur sat in the rocking chair, his body molding to the familiar contours. He ran his hands over the arms. Percy had been a colicky baby, and Arthur had spent hours with him in this chair. He watched Harry mangle his sandwich for a moment. 'You know, Harry, I don't like to meddle in my children's lives.'

'I know.'

'Ginny deserves better than what you've been doing lately,' Arthur said with uncharacteristic sharpness. Harry's head jerked up, face going red. 'She's demonstrated time and again she can take care of herself. She is definitely Molly's child, and you know what Molly can do.' Harry nodded, recalling with clarity the way he'd seen Molly duel with Bellatrix. 'You can't shut her out like this. She's your wife. You shouldn't treat her as anything less than an equal.

'I expected better from you,' Arthur concluded quietly.

Harry's hands convulsed on the hopelessly pulverized sandwich, his face paling. 'I just wanted -'

'It's not about what you want sometimes.'

Harry dropped the sandwich on his plate, and rubbed his hands over his face. 'I can't risk putting her in danger.'

'You're going to lose her if you keep acting this way,' Arthur said bluntly.

Harry didn't say anything, but nodded. He knew Arthur was right. As much as he knew Ginny loved him, his silence was going to build a wall between them that might be insurmountable.

Arthur got up and walked to Harry's hunched form. He put a hand under Harry's chin, and forced the younger man to look up. 'You have to find a way to talk to her,' Arthur informed him.

'I've never had a case where she could be at risk,' Harry confessed. 'I don't know how to tell her about this.'

With that admission, something fell into place for Harry. It wasn't that he wouldn't tell Ginny anything. He had talked to her about assignments and cases before. He couldn't force the words past his throat. Harry inhaled, and straightened his shoulders. 'I should get back to the hospital.'

He went into his bedroom and pulled on a jumper and a pair of socks. He looked at his trainers distastefully and rooted in his soiled jeans for his wand. Harry pointed it at the trainers, muttering, 'Scourgify.' He picked one up and sniffed it apprehensively. It was still slightly musty, but better than the stench that had greeted him earlier. He shoved his feet into them and met Arthur on the landing.

'I'll take you back,' Arthur said.

'Thanks.' Harry was grateful for that. He was still too tired to try Apparition on his own. 'I might Splinch something.'

Arthur took Harry's arm. 'I don't like seeing either you, or Ginny hurting like this, son.'

'I'll try to... I dunno... Fix it, I guess.'

Arthur pulled Harry into a hug, surprising Harry, after their 'discussion'. 'Come on, then,' Arthur said gruffly. He led Harry back down the stairs, and went out into the back garden, waiting for Harry to re-set the wards on the house. When Harry walked to where Arthur waited, Arthur took Harry's elbow and turned.

*****

Harry stood outside the door to the baby's room at St. Mungo's, hesitating. Ginny was inside, sitting in the rocking chair, her head leaning against the back, eyes closed. Maybe I should wait... She looks worse than I do. He gulped and took a step into the room. 'Ginny?' he asked nearly inaudibly.

Ginny opened her eyes, and turned her head toward the door. She opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, an alarm began to sound. Shanti and a trainee burst through the door, shoving Harry aside. They took the baby from Ginny, and began to rub his back. After several agonizing seconds, the baby's face took on a bluish tinge. The trainee took a small bag with a mask attached to it, and delicately fitted it over the baby's face, and began to slowly depress the bag, gently forcing air into his lungs.

Ginny had shot out of the chair, her mouth open in shock. 'W-what's wrong with him?' When nobody answered, she shouted, 'What the effing hell is wrong with my son?'

Shanti threw a glance to Harry. 'Get her out of here,' she said with calm urgency. Harry looked between his wife and the Healer, before going to Ginny and picking her up, and carrying her bodily out of the room.

Harry strode into Ginny's room across the corridor, and set her down on the edge of the bed. Ginny's eyes were wide with fear, and her mouth worked soundlessly. She looked up at Harry, and her face crumpled. 'It's my fault,' she moaned. 'It's my fault.'

Harry snagged the straight-backed chair by the head of the bed, and dragged it over so he could sit in front of her. 'What do you mean it's your fault?'

Ginny looked at her hands, blinking rapidly. 'The night before he was born. James... He had a nightmare or something, and he was calling for you, so I went to get him and ended up sleeping on the floor, sitting up.' Ginny rubbed a hand under her nose. 'I wasn't sleeping. I didn't eat like I should have.' Her mouth trembled before she took in a slow breath. 'It's my fault he came early.' Her voice broke. 'It's my fault...' she repeated.

Harry wrapped his hands around Ginny's ice-cold ones. 'It's not your fault.' Ginny shook her head, unable to speak. 'Gin, you don't live my life and at some point realize you can do everything right, but things still happen.' He moved to the bed, and wrapped his arms around Ginny's trembling body. 'If it's anybody's fault, it's mine.' Harry let his face rest on top of Ginny's head. 'I put you in an untenable situation. I left you alone, and I didn't have to,' he admitted.

The door opened and Shanti came inside, and closed it again. 'He's fine. He's got something called apnea. It happens with premature babies. I'm adjusting the monitor on his ankle.'

'What's apnea?' Harry asked. He had skimmed over the chapter regarding premature births in the book he had read with James, and didn't remember everything.

'He stops breathing,' Ginny said painfully.

Harry looked at Shanti for confirmation, and she nodded. 'He can also have something called bradycardia, where his heartbeat slows.' Shanti stretched her shoulders. 'Neither of these is serious,' she reassured the two frightened parents across from her. 'It just means we have to monitor him closely.' She rested her elbows on her knees. 'If you're holding him and the alarm goes off, you can rub his back, arms, or legs. This will help him remember to breathe. When he starts breathing again, it'll turn off. But I'll have one of the fifth-year trainees assigned to him at all times.' Shanti paused. 'Young master Potter will be fine. The apnea isn't uncommon for preterm babies.'

Shanti stood up and put the chair back in its original place. 'Now, I'm going to order the both of you to get some sleep. And eat.' She fixed Ginny with a stern glare. 'You will make yourself sick if you don't start taking care of yourself,' she said in an eerie echo of Arthur's lecture to Harry earlier. 'You need to get some rest, eat, and stay hydrated, if you plan on nursing him much longer.' She pulled Harry into the lecture. 'And that goes for you, too. Without the nursing bit,' she added.

Shanti left and Ginny blinked, tears falling swiftly down her cheeks. 'Why are you crying?' Harry asked, thumbing the tears away, but they fell faster than he could keep up with them.

'I don't know,' Ginny said shakily.

'Get some sleep, all right?' Harry stood up, and went to the chair, stretching his feet out, and folding his hands across his stomach.

Ginny slid into the bed, and turned on her side to look at Harry. She sniffed a few times, and wiped the sleeve of her nightdress across her nose. 'Harry?' she whispered.

He cracked an eyelid open. 'Yes?'

'You could... You can...' Ginny struggled to say the words. She lifted the edge of the sheet in invitation.

Harry chewed his lip, contemplating Ginny's invitation. 'Are you sure?'

Ginny nodded once. 'I'm sure.' She scooted over a bit. 'Please?'

Harry slid off the chair, and took his glasses off, laying them on the table next to the bed. He slipped into the bed next to Ginny and drew her against his body. 'I'm so sorry,' he breathed, his mouth next to her ear. 'For everything.' His breath hitched in hit throat.

Ginny laced her fingers through his. She wasn't ready to forgive him yet. But she was willing to try.