Making Mistakes

Bill stood in the corridor, unsure of whether to stay or go home. Ginny had firmly closed the door as soon as he had cleared the doorway. Sighing, Bill conjured a straight-backed chair and set it down with a thump on the floor. He shuddered slightly at what would happen if Fleur found out what he'd said to Ginny. Fleur may have only been one-quarter Veela, but she had a temper to match anything Molly could have thrown at him. Thinking of Molly made Bill's heart twist. Since Harry had left on his assignment and Ginny and James moved into the Burrow for the time being, Bill was put in mind of the time Molly had taken him and Charlie to Grannie Prewett's.

It had been thirty years, and most of it was hazy to Bill, but he clearly remembered getting up for a drink of water and passing by the bedroom where Molly slept. The door was ajar, and Bill stopped, hearing a muffled choking sound. He put his hand on the door, and pushed it open a bit more, and stood in shock to see his mother facedown on the bed, crying. To Bill's five year-old mind, mums weren't supposed to cry.

*****

Bill forgot all about the water. He padded into the room and stood next to the bed. 'Mum?'

The cries stopped suddenly, as if Molly had flicked a switch. She sat up, using both hands to wipe her cheeks, her hair falling into her face. 'Are you all right, Bill?' Bill nodded silently. 'Is it Charlie?' He shook his head.

'I wanted some water,' he whispered.

Molly picked up a glass on a table next to the bed and handed it to Bill. He took a few perfunctory sips and passed it back to his mother. Molly slid off the bed, and took Bill's hand and took him back to the room he shared with Charlie. 'Back to bed with you, then.' She tucked Bill into the small bed and leaned down to kiss his forehead.

'Mum?' Bill clutched his stuffed Kneazle, worrying one of its ears between his forefinger and thumb.

'Yes, Bill?' Molly smoothed Bill's hair away from his face.

'I want to go home,' he sniffed.

A few days later, Molly went back to the Burrow, Bill and Charlie in tow. They had never talked about it. Bill didn't think Charlie remembered any of it. He had only been a bit older than James. Most of it was so hazy to Bill, it might have been a bad dream, save for the memory of seeing Molly cry.

Bill pushed his feet against the floor, and tilted the chair back against the wall. He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the lines of the scars under his fingers. His stomach churned with unease in the unnaturally silent corridor. He closed his eyes, letting his mind wander. He remembered when Molly and Arthur had brought Ginny home. It was a few months before his eleventh birthday. The next year he'd gone to school. When she was eight, he went to Egypt, and stayed there for five years. When he had come up for the Triwizard tournament her third year, Bill had barely recognized her. It had been strange for him to think of Ginny as nearly grown. She was still that precocious imp whom he caught breaking into the broom shed at the age of six. She grinned up at him, and kicked off, flying in faster and faster loops around the paddock, her nightdress hiked up past her knees, plait floating behind her. He stood and watched her for a few minutes before realizing she was on his broom.

He didn't really know Ginny. Not like George or Ron knew her. He knew Ginny through the letters he'd gotten from Molly and from the photographs she had enclosed. He'd moved to Alexandria just as Ginny got interesting. And by the time he had come back to England, she didn't need him. She had Ron, Fred, and George. And now... Now she was no longer just his baby sister. Now, she was someone's wife and the mother of two children. Bill supposed he was acting like a git now because he hadn't been able to when she was younger. He let the chair's legs fall to the floor, and buried his face in his hands. After the war, by the time Ginny went back to school for her last year, she and Harry were accepted fact. The look in her eyes the morning they'd found the two of them under the apple tree after her birthday all but challenged them to say something against it.

Privately, Bill wasn't too sure about letting Ginny be with Harry. He liked Harry well enough. His parents had all but adopted Harry, and Ron was Harry's best mate from day one. He'd seen the look on her face after Dumbledore's funeral. When pressed for information, Ginny told Bill it was none of his concern. But he'd seen the look on her face with the dust settled from the attack on the wedding and Harry was nowhere to be found. He watched her mope until the day the train left for school. After the war, Bill worried that Harry's choice to go into the Aurors would end up hurting Ginny.

Bill believed he was right. No matter what Ginny said.

The shriek of an alarm blasted from the room where Albus slept. Before Bill could stand up, Ginny shot out of her room, and scooped Albus from the cot. Bill stood in the doorway, holding his breath. Ginny held Albus to her chest, murmuring to him, while she rubbed his back. In a moment the klaxon of the alarm ceased. She heaved a sigh of relief and settled into the rocking chair, using one hand to unbutton her pajama top. Bill hastily averted his eyes, his gaze fixed on the toes of his boots. When he dared to look up, Ginny was slowly rocking, while she nursed the baby.

It was the first time Bill had gotten a good look at him.

Charlie had come to Shell Cottage Monday evening, his scarred and roughened hands expressively gauging how small Albus was. To Bill, it looked as if Ginny was holding a doll. He didn't know how long he stood there, watching Ginny and her son. But too soon, the piercing alarm went off again, and again, Bill watched dumbfounded as Ginny gently, but firmly encouraged Albus to breathe once more. It seemed to Bill that the alarm went on for hours, but in less than a minute, the large male trainee used a bag with a mask attached to it to force air into the baby's lungs. Ginny exchanged a few words with the trainee, the Ewan she had spoken of earlier, Bill supposed, and carefully laid the baby back into the cot.

She turned and began to trudge toward the door. Bill stepped aside as she approached the doorway. Ginny pointedly ignored him and went back into her room, her face pale under the scattered freckles across her cheeks.

Bill went back to his chair, staring into the darkened room at the halo of soft light around the baby's cot.

The unfairness of the situation crashed around Bill's head.

If this person Harry was chasing wanted to kill him, Bill was afraid they would have to take a number. He wanted to be first in line.

The Boy-Who-Lived was going to wish he hadn't.

Harry was going to have a lot to answer for when he came home.

*****

Arthur strolled into the waiting area of St. Mungo's maternity/neonatal wing, Ginny's breakfast in hand. He stopped, momentarily confused when he saw Bill sitting on a sofa, his feet stretched in front of him. Arthur could have sworn Fleur was supposed to be here, but Bill looked like he was asleep and Arthur decided he should see to Ginny first. He knocked softly on the door to Ginny's room, and it swung open.

Ginny stood on the other side, her eyes red and puffy. She looked as if she hadn't slept much, and Arthur felt the hair on the back of his neck ripple. This couldn't be good. He sidled into the room, and set the basket on the table. 'So, how's Al?'

Ginny slumped into the armchair, curling into its cushions. 'Fine.'

'Really?'

Ginny's eyes opened to slits. 'No.' She reached for the tea Arthur was holding out to her, but refused to say anything else.

'So... Bill?' Arthur gestured toward the waiting area.

'Fleur wasn't feeling well.'

'Ah.' Arthur quietly unpacked the rest of the food, feeling there was more to the story.

'I didn't care for his topic of conversation,' Ginny said, a hint of defiance coloring her voice, as she answered Arthur's unspoken question.

'Oh.' Arthur wisely dropped the subject and dug a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Ginny. 'James drew this for you yesterday.'

Ginny unfolded it and smiled wistfully at the crayoned scribbles festooning the paper. Arthur pointed to a whorl of black. 'That's Harry, or so James says.' His finger moved to a bright orange spiral. 'He says that's you.' A smaller puff of black was between them. 'And that's James.'

Ginny didn't bother to restrain the tears that slipped down her cheeks. Arthur handed her a handkerchief and perched on the arm of the chair, awkwardly wrapping an arm around Ginny's shoulders. 'I'm sorry,' she said, wiping her face with the handkerchief. 'I'm just so tired.'

'Shhhh. It's all right, Gin.' Arthur pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 'I'm surprised you're still standing upright with all you've been through.'

Ginny looked down at the crayoned drawing in her hand. 'Do you think it would be all right if I came to see James later today?'

'That would be fine. He misses you and Harry.' Arthur gave Ginny a small hug, and rose from the armchair. 'I need to get to work. I'll see you tomorrow.'

'Dad?' Arthur turned at the sound of Ginny's voice. 'Thanks.'

Arthur nodded and returned to the waiting area and sat next to Bill, shaking him awake. Bill blinked groggily at Arthur for a moment, before sitting up and raking his hands through his hair. 'What did you say to Ginny to upset her?' Arthur asked, point-blank.

'Nothing,' Bill sulked.

'If you didn't say anything, then why in Merlin's name are you sitting out here?' Arthur asked with deceptive serenity, polishing his glasses with a handkerchief.

'I just asked her about Harry, that's all,' grumbled Bill sullenly.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at the tone and looked at Bill. 'That's obviously not nothing,' he noted. Bill said nothing more, but shoved his hands into his the pockets of his jeans. 'Any other time, Bill. You could have said whatever it was any other time before this, but now was most definitely not the time to question your sister's marriage.'

'I just want to help take care of her is all,' Bill mumbled.

'She doesn't need you to,' Arthur said sharply.

'James needs a father around,' Bill retorted.

'He has one.'

Bill snorted. 'Not doing a very good job of it right now, is he?'

'That's enough, William!' Arthur's voice wasn't very loud. He wasn't a shouter like Molly, but he could cow every single one of his children with a glance. Arthur took in a deep breath. 'I don't know what's eating at you, Bill, but taking it out on Ginny or Harry is completely unacceptable.' Arthur rose to his feet. 'You'd better apologize to your sister. And soon.' Bill got up and started for the double doors. 'Not now. I don't think she wants to see you.' Arthur grabbed Bill's arm. 'You need some time to think, son.' Arthur released Bill and patted him kindly on the back.

'I don't want James to wake up in the middle of night, and to find Ginny crying.' Bill wasn't looking at his father.

'What?' Arthur gave Bill a hard look.

'Nothing,' Bill mumbled.

Arthur's mouth fell open. He had a feeling it wasn't Ginny Bill was talking about. 'I'll see you later, then,' he said softly. The waiting area was not the place to have that kind of discussion. He went to a fireplace in the waiting area and Flooed to the Ministry.

Bill watched the emerald flames flicker and disappear. He picked up his jacket and retraced Arthur's footsteps. He picked up a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. 'The Burrow.'

Bill stepped out of the fireplace at the Burrow, narrowly avoiding bumping his head on the mantle. He grimaced; normally he was much more graceful when he Flooed, but he hadn't slept beyond a light doze here and there. He could hear Molly in the kitchen, James chattering nonsense while Molly made them breakfast. Bill followed the stream of babble and blinked in the bright, sunny kitchen. 'Bill!' Molly exclaimed. 'What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work?'

'I stayed with Ginny last night,' he replied.

'I thought Fleur...' Molly gestured to the schedule tacked on the wall by the scullery.

'She wasn't feeling well,' Bill said.

'Oh, well, all right then.' Molly turned back to the stove, and flicked her wand, turning over a few slices of eggy bread. 'Would you like some breakfast?'

Bill's stomach lurched at the thought of eating and he shook his head. 'No, thank you, Mum.' He Summoned a cup from the cupboard and poured a cup of tea for himself, waiting until she had cut James' eggy bread into bite-sized pieces. 'Can I ask you something?'

'Of course.' Molly frowned at the tone in Bill's voice, but said nothing else.

'When I was five...' Bill took a deep breath. 'We went to stay with Grannie Prewett - you, Charlie, and me.'

Molly toyed with her breakfast, watching James smear marmalade on his face as he stuffed a piece of bread into his mouth with his hands. 'Yes, we did.'

'Why?' Bill's eyes remained fixed on the dark amber surface of his tea.

Molly pushed her plate away. 'It's complicated,' she began.

'Try me, Mum. I'm thirty-five years old.'

'Don't remind me,' Molly muttered.

'Mum, please,' he begged.

'I was angry.' Molly got up from the table and began to wash the dishes stacked in the sink by hand. She continued before Bill could interject another question. 'He joined the Order, and I wanted to join, too. You were, oh, three, almost four, I guess. But your father put his foot down. Told me outright that I wasn't to entertain any such notion,' Molly sniffed.

'Did Dad know how well you can duel?' Bill's memories of Molly dueling Bellatirx were still quite clear.

'Of course he did!' snapped Molly. 'We used to practice in the paddock after you and Charlie went to bed. I was better than he was. Still am.'

'Then why wouldn't he let you join the Order the first time?' Bill was perplexed. Arthur was generally quite enlightened regarding women for a man of his generation. Hardly a hide-bound wanker, in Bill's opinion.

Molly sighed, and began to scrub a skillet with unnecessary force. 'Because he was afraid something would happen to the both of us, leaving you and Charlie without parents at all.' She looked over her shoulder at Bill. 'That actually came back to haunt me quite a bit the second time around, when I did join the Order. Ron and Ginny were still underage, and I didn't know what would become of them if your father and I died.'

'So you left because you were angry at Dad for looking out for our best interests?'

'No, I left because I felt like your father was thinking of me as only a wife and mother.' Molly set the skillet down in the drain board and wiped her hands on her apron.

'Why did you come back?' Bill traced the grain of the worn table.

'You. You asked to go home. And I knew I wouldn't be happy anywhere else but with your father. I was pregnant with Percy, too. So between you wanting to go home and the fact I was five months along with Percy...' Molly shrugged. 'And the realization that one of us needed to stay alive. It dawned on me that Arthur wasn't trying to keep me boxed into the role of a helpless witch. It was my stubborn pride getting in the way.'

Molly took a wet dishcloth and wiped the smudges of marmalade from James' face, before cleaning his sticky hands. 'Why are you bringing this up now? It's been thirty years...'

Bill chewed his lip. 'Ginny.'

'What about Ginny?'

Bill gestured toward James. 'I'm not very happy with the way it's been going with Gin and Harry.'

'It's also none of your bloody business.'

Bill reared back startled. 'But he's been gone for how long? Nearly six weeks with no word? Leaving her alone and pregnant on your doorstep? It's not like he's out trying to figure out how to kill Voldemort!'

Molly picked up James and headed for the back garden. She deposited James in the sand pit and handed him a few toys before sitting on the bench by the back door next to Bill. 'First of all, Ginny was given the choice to come stay with your father and me. Second, secrecy is part of Harry's job. It's rather difficult to catch the witch or wizard when it's broadcast all over the wireless. Third, he was meant to be back well before Al was born. Nobody could have foreseen that Al would come six weeks early.

'And Ginny is not me.' Molly tucked a strand of fading red hair behind her ear. 'She doesn't see herself as being wholly defined by being married with children. She doesn't have to force Harry to see her as being capable of taking care of all four them. And no matter how hard it is, dear, you must stop seeing Ginny as a child. She's perfectly able to fight her own battles and doesn't need her hard-headed older brothers to do it for her. She never has.' Molly pulled Bill down and kissed his cheek. 'I know you mean well, dear, but you know as well as I do, that if Ginny wants or needs your help, she'll ask. Hard to wait for her to ask sometimes, but butting in just makes her try harder to do it all on her own.'

Bill shrugged. 'I still don't like it.'

'It's not your place to like it,' Molly chided. 'The only two people who honestly know what their marriage is about are the two people in the marriage itself.'

Bill sat silently watching James play in the sand, his fluffy black hair sticking out in all directions from his head. His conversation with Molly hadn't really changed his mind much. In Bill's mind, Harry could have let someone else go on this assignment. It couldn't have been that important - he should have put his wife and unborn child first, and not some bloody case.

*****

'We've been married for almost six years and you've never looked inside your wedding ring?'

'Have you?'

'Uh...'

'That's what I thought...'

*****

Harry sat on the low wall outside the back door of the house, a cup of steaming coffee next to him. It was his turn to not have a shift today, but he was unable to sleep much past five in the morning. Rays of burgeoning sunlight glinted off the gold band on his ring finger. Harry tugged at his wedding ring until it slid reluctantly off his finger. For most of his marriage it was the first thing he put on in the morning, and the last thing he took off at night. But while he had been in Inverness, he had gotten into the habit of keeping it on at all times. He tilted it toward the rising sun, squinting at the tiny words engraved inside the curve of the ring. Three miniscule words - faith, hope, and love.

Three things he was going to need to see this case through to the end. And the first two were running dangerously low.

He slid the ring back onto his finger, feeling strangely naked without it. It was as much a part of him now as his glasses or even his scar was. He laughed a little at the idea that he and Ginny had both had something engraved in the other's wedding ring. And for almost six years, neither of them had ever bothered to look.

He began to pace restlessly around the garden, the coffee cradled in his hands. The four trainees who were on the day shift were gone and the four who were on the overnight shift were in bed, sleeping. Or so Harry hoped that they were sleeping, and not lying awake. Between the first four weeks they were in Inverness and the week he spent in the hospital with Ginny and Albus, Harry wasn't used to having what he could classify as down time. A dull thud behind him made him look over his shoulder. It was a copy of the Prophet Shacklebolt would send via Portkey every day for them. An unwieldy method, to be sure, but much more secure than using an owl. Harry picked it up, and took the paper back to the wall, paging through it. Things were still the same. The Cannons were losing spectacularly. Falmouth won, in spite of the penalties they drew from their admittedly dirty tactics. Montrose was in first place, with Puddlemere a close second. Some society reporter speculated on Ginny's absence from the press box, making Harry roll his eyes. He pushed himself to his feet and opened the door, intending to put the paper on the kitchen table for the others, when two loud cracks sounded behind him.

Harry spun around, his wand seemingly appearing from nowhere. Lucy and Kathleen were struggling to hold an unconscious man between them. Harry jabbed his wand at the man, levitating him. 'You can let go now,' he told the two girls. He slowly approached the man, bobbing in mid-air, using a finger to tilt the chin up. His eyes widened. 'Let's get him inside,' he ordered, directing the prisoner toward the door and into a chair. Another flick of his wand bound him tightly to the chair. 'Put an anti-Apparition jinx on him, Kathleen. Lucy and I will do the rest of the house.'

Harry directed Lucy toward the girls' bedroom, and he took care of the boys'. They both did the sitting room and kitchen. Harry took a chair opposite the unconscious man, and looked up at the two girls. 'Why don't you two go on back to the Skye? I'll keep an eye on him.'

Lucy glanced at Kathleen and the other girl shrugged. There was something in Harry's voice that made Lucy nervous about leaving him alone with the man they had brought. Kathleen led Lucy back out to the garden, and in a few moments, they were gone. Harry pointed his wand at the man and murmured, 'Ennervate.'

The man blinked a few times, looking around the kitchen in bemusement. He turned his gaze on Harry. 'Bloody hell.'

Harry's eyes bored into Ryan Flanagan's. 'Why?' Flanagan remained silent. Harry felt an untold amount of anger boil inside his chest. He shoved his chair back so hard, it crashed into the wall, gouging the plaster. 'You son of a bitch,' he growled. 'Tell me why the hell you're involved in this, or so help me, I'll see you're put in Azkaban until you're so old, you have to have your meals through a damned straw.'

Harry's hand shot out, and Flanagan flinched from the expected punch to his face, but instead it wrapped around Flanagan's throat, fingers resting lightly on Flanagan's unpleasantly moist skin. Harry bent so his mouth was close to Flanagan's ear. 'Tell me. Now. If you cooperate, I'll let Shacklebolt know and maybe you'll be released before you lose all your teeth.' His hand tightened slightly.

Flanagan smirked. 'To get back at your wife.'

Harry lost all his self-control. He released Flanagan's throat and drew his fist back, letting it smash into Flanagan's sneering face. Flanagan's head rocked back and his nose exploded in a gush of blood and mucous. 'I'll give myself two weeks of unpaid suspension for that,' he informed Flanagan, panting from the effort to not ram his other fist into that face. 'But given who you are, I can't bring myself to care.'

Harry dropped into one of the other chairs, forcing himself to calm down. One step closer, he chanted to himself. He pointed his wand at Flanagan, and with a sigh of regret, murmured, 'Episkey.' Flanagan's nose ceased to bleed, but Harry made no further efforts to clean the man up. He felt Flanagan should consider himself lucky that he had at least healed the broken nose. Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes and thought of going home. His Patronus erupted from his wand and looked at Harry for a moment, before nodding and galloping out of the kitchen. He turned back to Flanagan, his face set in forbidding lines, eyes cold.

'I want you to tell me how to capture the other person you've been working with. Because we know it's not been just you.'