Ginny
Mid-October, 1998
Harry was at work and Hermione had holed herself away in her room to read. This left Ginny feeling like a ghost, wandering through the old house. The floors of Grimmauld Place creaked underfoot. There were drafts in many of the rooms, letting in the chilly autumn air. Ginny secretly hoped she could bring herself to hate it. She wished she could have stormed out like the character of a romance novel.
Instead, Ginny was in limbo. She loved Grimmauld Place and the ‘homey’ touches that she had contributed. The house was no longer dark and dreary but rather a safehouse for the storm around her. It had been the headquarters of the Order during the war and now it was her first ever home away from the Burrow (apart from Hogwarts).
No matter what she felt towards Harry, Ginny would always appreciate Grimmauld Place. She would always appreciate the solace she had found in the old house.
Ginny stood in front of the baby’s room. Warm yellow walls, lace curtains, a wardrobe, a bookshelf, and two chairs beside the window. It was just as she imagined it. However, she couldn’t help but feel like it was tainted.
After Harry’s confession, Ginny had been forced to do some thinking--deep thinking. It wasn’t the kind of thing she preferred to do. She wasn’t the kind of person who enjoyed pondering life’s great mysteries. She much preferred to clear her mind with a game of Quidditch or a trip to the pub. However, being six months pregnant made her choices limited.
I should have known, she thought to herself. It had become an incessant thought in the back of her mind. There were plenty of signs that alluded to the idea that Harry did not love her in the ways a straight man loved a woman.
We’ll never be what my mum wants us to be, she let out a sigh and walked further into the bedroom.
As Ginny sat down at one of the chairs beside the window, she looked outside at the overcast day. Below was a neighborhood street in Islington. People wandered here and there, going about their day. She wondered absently if any of them had nearly married a gay man.
“Hey,” a soft voice came from the hallway.
Ginny turned to see Hermion hesitating in front of the door, two cups of tea in her hands. “I thought maybe you’d like some tea?” Her wild hair was tamed slightly into two long plaits and she wore a baggy wool sweater along with brown corduroy pants. Ginny couldn’t help but smile at her friend as Hermione stepped into the room
“Thanks,” she said, taking one of the cups.
Hermione sat down across from her, just where Harry had been when he made his confession. “How are you doing?” she asked tentatively.
Ginny let out a long sigh. “I’ve been better.”
“I’ve been meaning to tell you that…you handled everything with Harry really well. I…promise I didn’t know until I touched him. And I wasn’t trying to keep it from you. It’s just that it felt like his to tell. You know, I-”
“Hermione,” Ginny smirked at her friend. “I don’t blame you for any of this.”
The brunette stilled. She took a sip of her tea. “I’m sorry, anyway. I’m sure things haven’t been easy for you.”
“No, they haven’t,” she admitted quietly. “Lately things rather…suck. I love Harry and I don’t even really blame him, but my life has been…”
“Irreparably changed.”
She laughed darkly. “I guess, yeah. I thought since the war was over and I was going to have a child this was kinda my ‘happily ever after’, you know?”
“You need to stop reading romance books, Gin.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who got me hooked on them.”
Hermione laughed. “It’s just that things in real life aren’t always ‘happily ever after’. But I don’t think that means they’re bad either.”
“I know that,” she said sharply. “But that doesn’t make it any easier. I know Harry wasn’t trying to hurt me. I know he loves me in his own way. I know there’s nothing I can do to change that. But at the end of the day, I still wish he could love me like that. I wish I had the kind of love my parents share.”
“And that’s perfectly valid,” Hermione leaned back into the chair. Her dark eyes gazed outside at the dreary day.
“I know that I’ll be fine,” Ginny said. “But right now, it all…hurts.”
Hermione nodded. There was a clear look of understanding in her eyes.
“I suppose we’re both a bit fucked, huh?” Ginny raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe a little.”
Silence fell upon the two women. Sitting beside the window, Ginny could hear the sounds of the muggle streets and the distant river. Sunlight was beginning to poke through the clouds but not enough to make much of a difference.
“I don’t want to leave,” Ginny said at last.
“What? Why would you leave?”
“I don’t know but this is Harry’s house.”
“Just as much as it is yours,” Hermione said defensively. “And he’d be heartbroken if you left.”
“But I'll have to eventually, right? That’s what happens when people break up.”
Hermione looked conflicted. “If you want to leave, I’m sure he’d understand but…Harry wants a family. Maybe it won’t look the way he imagined it--or you imagined it--but he wants you here. That much I know for certain.”
“But what about the future? What about after this child is born? Won’t he want to date and move on with his life?”
“Maybe he’ll want to date but, Gin, this is Harry we’re talking about. He’s not just going to leave you on your arse. He loves you. And as far as what he’s said to me; he plans on changing nothing. He’s still excited for you and this baby.”
Ginny looked down at the little decorated teacup in her hands. She had bought them with enthusiastic glee--knowing she’d have them for a very long time.
“Did he tell you he wanted you to leave?” Hermione looked almost scared.
“No, no, he practically begged me to stay. It’s just that…”
“Your new family may not look like the one you grew up with,” the other witch said. “But that doesn’t make it wrong, right?”
“You’re right,” Ginny swallowed back the desire to cry. “I just…I guess I’m mourning the plan I originally had.”
Hermione nodded. “I know the feeling.”
Ginny met her eyes. “Right, I suppose you would.”
“I planned to join the Ministry with Harry, you know. Not as an Auror, but I had hoped to work at and eventually run their Archives," Hermione's voice was soft as she spoke. There was a clear look of sad acceptance on her face.
“I never knew that.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t really get much of a chance to do that. I’m too much of a liability now that I can’t touch anyone.”
“I’m sorry,” was all Ginny could offer. The words felt hollow. She wished there was more she could do for her friend.
“I’d be lying if I said it was ‘alright’. I have no idea what to do but…but being here with you and Harry has made everything better. I look forward to seeing Ron when I can and I…I guess I’ve been trying to find the good in a bad situation.”
“It seems like I’ll have to do the same.”
Hermione nodded. “And I’m sorry for that. But at least we have each other, right?”
Ginny smiled, “yeah, at least we have each other.”
November, 1998
“No, please just take the master bedroom,” Harry groaned. “I can’t keep fighting you on this.”
“It’s your house, Harry,” Ginny wanted to launch her coffee mug at the man in front of her. The Burrow was much smaller than Grimmauld Place and she had grown up there with six brothers. She wasn’t the least bit concerned about Harry taking the largest bedroom.
“It’s just that-”
“Every room here is massive. I don’t need to take your room. There are still two more to choose from.” She gave him a look that meant she was done with the conversation.
Harry let out a long sigh. “Then we need to make it nice.”
“That’s fine,” she crossed her arms. “Hermione loves painting, she’ll help me.” Ginny gestured to Hermione who was quietly trying to escape the conversation-turned-argument.
“It’s just…you should really take-”
“Harry,” Ginny knew her scold was beginning to sound frighteningly similar to her mothers. However, at that moment she hardly cared.
“Fine. Which room do you want?”
“I’ll take the bedroom beside the baby’s room--it'll be on the same floor as yours so we can take turns getting up with the baby.” Ginny said, thinking about the now-empty room beside the nursery.
Like the master bedroom, her new room was on the third floor of the house. Currently, it was being used as a storage space for the piles of baby toys and clothing she had been gifted. However, if she cleaned it and painted it (like they had done with the rest of the house) it would be the perfect bedroom. It already had decent natural lighting from the windows and its own bathroom.
“I think that’s perfect, Gin,” Hermione said as she poured herself a cup of coffee.
“Would you help me with it?” Ginny looked at her friend.
She smiled. “Of course!”
Music played over Hermione’s little radio as Ginny opened the fresh can of paint with the end of a screwdriver. Harry had left for the day, and she had told him that when he got back, he would hardly recognize the place.
“It’s an easy enough spell,” Hermione said as she stood in the center of the room with her hands on her hips. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun at the top of her head. She wore a pair of paint-stained overalls that were a couple sizes too big.
“Well show me then,” Ginny said placing the paint in front of Hermione.
The brunette witch grinned. She raised her wand and said, “Wingardium Leviosa,” the paint rose out of the pail. “Ad Murum.” The white primer divided in the air and danced towards the walls. It slowly covered the dark, burgundy walls almost instantly. All at once, the room felt ten times lighter.
“Hermione,” Ginny gasped. “Did you make that spell on your own?”
She shrugged in response. “It really wasn’t hard. I’m surprised that I couldn’t find one for this task already. How do witches typically paint their walls?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure. My walls at The Burrow have been the same color since the day I was born. And I doubt they’ll change. I can’t exactly imagine my mother repainting it.”
“I suppose not. Well, this will dry quickly but if we’re in a hurry-”
“Let me guess, you have another spell?”
Hermione smirked.
The room was painted a pale shade of green. Ginny had picked it out especially because it reminded her of the color of sunlight through the leaves of a willow. She had wanted something warm and light, in contrast to the dark colors that most of Grimmauld Place had been painted.
After painting and cleaning up, Hermione and Ginny agreed to go to the store together the next day to pick out curtains, bedding, and accessories for the room. Ginny felt a bit childish at not knowing how to go about those things, but Hermione assured her that it would be fun.
That night, Ginny fell asleep in the living room, spread across the couch as the hearth burned warmly. She had strange dreams, the kind that she would think about for days later. In those dreams there was an ancient book that was opened by a pair of pale hands. Words floated up from the pages, but she couldn’t read them. However, upon awakening a singular sentence hung in her mind.
“The Empath has returned.”
Ginny tried not to wonder what that could mean as she stirred milk and sugar into her coffee. She assumed that it had to be about Hermione. Lately, she had been a bit worried for her friend. Perhaps, that worry was manifesting in her dreams. She could only hope that it was nothing more than that.
Ginny sat at the small table in the corner of the kitchen and waited for Harry and Hermione to awake. Sunlight was already beginning to make its way into the small space, illuminating the dishes on the counter in a soft glow.
Harry was the first to awake. He was dressed for another day as an Auror, smiling kindly at Ginny as he walked into the room. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down with her.
“Any plans for the day?” He asked, taking a sip.
“I’m going out with Hermione. We’re going to try to finish up my room today. If we’re lucky, I might move my stuff in there this afternoon.”
“Are you sure it’s-”
“Harry,” she scolded him. “It’s fine. I’m actually excited to have my own space.”
He gave a slow nod.
“I’ve actually been thinking…about everything,” she began.
A look of concern passed his features. “Yeah?”
“And I love you--I probably always will. But at the same time, I…we were so young when we first started dating then the war and…we were awfully rushed, weren’t we?”
He gave a silent nod.
“And maybe I should take my time to figure out what I want. I loved you for so many reasons, but I was also a child. I didn’t know any different.”
“So, you want to start dating?”
She laughed and ran a hand over her belly. “Not right now,” she grinned. “Just in the future I’m sure I will. And living here might…well, I don’t want to complicate things with you and our baby and-”
“Gin,” Harry met her eyes. “I want you to do what you need to do. If you don’t want to be here, I understand but…I really hope you stay.”
She looked down at her half-empty mug and then back up at Harry. “Truly?”
“Of course.”
The streets of Islington were busy with people coming and going from work. Shoppers lined the streets in preparation for Christmas shopping. Shops advertised all manner of supplies from cosmetics to sporting gear. Many of the shops were already decorated for the holidays, garland and twinkling lights hung around their windows and door frames.
Ginny walked beside Hermione, allowing the other woman to chat idly about her latest read. It had something to do with Legilimency but Ginny was barely able to focus with everything that was happening around her.
“So, I know for sure that I’m not a Legilimens.” Hermione concluded after a long-winded explanation.
“Right,” Ginny agreed. As much as she loved her friend, sometimes Hermione’s lust for knowledge was overwhelming to listen to.
“And I trust Snape, I think he’s right about the whole Empath thing,” Hermione pressed on.
“He’s been…nice?” Ginny ventured. It was hard to imagine the former Potions Master as anything close to ‘nice’. However, after several weeks of working with him, Hermione seemed to enjoy his company.
“I…well…nice is perhaps not the right word,” she struggled to explain. “But he’s helpful. And I suppose he’s a bit easier to talk to, now that he’s not my professor.”
“But isn’t it weird to go to his house?” Ginny couldn’t help but shiver imagining herself alone with the professor.
“No, his house is nice. It’s warm and I…I guess I like it there.”
She turned to face her friend. “Are you mental? We’re talking about Snape, right?”
Hermione’s tan cheeks flushed with pink. “I know how it sounds but really, he’s not that bad.”
“I suppose at least now he can’t take points from Gryffindor.”
Hermione laughed. “I think he wants to, sometimes.”
“Why, you’re the smartest student he’s probably had in decades. If he’s capable of liking anyone it might be you.”
“It’s not,” she said quickly. “He’s made it very clear that there are no personal stakes in this for him. I’m practically a science experiment.”
“I really don’t like that,” Ginny looked at her friend. “You’re a person, Hermione. He shouldn’t treat you-”
“I know,” she said sharply. “He doesn’t treat me poorly he’s just…cold. You know what I mean. And he’s the only one who can help me, so I deal with it.”
Ginny wanted to argue and tell Hermione that she deserved better. However, not much could be done. Her friend had seen countless specialists to help her, and they all failed. Half of them quit after a single session. At least Snape could help her or was trying to.
“It’s just frustrating because there’s so little material about Empaths,” Hermione pressed on.
“You’ve checked all the libraries?”
“Everything. It’s so strange how little information there is about it. Most people act like it’s not even real.”
“I suppose I’ve never heard of it before and my whole family is magical.”
Hermione nodded.
Ginny came to a stop in front of a cute shop that was advertising home decor and handmade goods. She paused in front of the windows.
“Do you want to go in there?” Hermione asked, eyeing a particularly nice-looking handmade journal.
“Let’s go.”
Ginny returned back to Grimmauld Place with several large bags of goods. Never in her life had she spent so much money on herself. Even Quidditch (something she loved so much) she had never spent much money on. It had been hard to buy the things she truly wanted but Hermione had been no small help in overcoming those fears.
“You deserve nice things,” the other witch had said.
As she walked into her house, she began to wonder if she needed so many nice things. However, Ginny knew it would feel good to finally have a space to herself. Something that was hers.
Ginny’s new room still smelled faintly of fresh paint. Tossing her bags onto her bed, she began to organize and decorate. She turned on a CD Hermione had given her (Look Down from The Bridge) and began the process.
(If seeing a floor plan helps you, check out this link!)