Breakfast seemed as good a time as any. Afterall, everyone was already gathered round for Easter.
It was a considerable effort to drag themselves out of bed, seeing as they hadn’t returned from Cornwall until after midnight. Harry was all giddy and nervous. He kept on touching Ginny’s hand and jerking it away just as quickly.
“Oh, your mum is gonna have my head on a stake,” he muttered, though he couldn’t stop grinning.
“She won’t,” Ginny said brightly, “she’ll want baby to grow up with a father in the picture.” She touched her stomach. Harry groaned good-naturedly.
She was rather conspicuous about it, reaching out with her left hand for the tray of butter. The ring glinted in a bright ray of sun cutting through the kitchen window.
“Ginevra Weasley.” Mum grabbed her hand and examined the ring finger. “Where on earth…”
She shot a glance at Harry, who stared intently at his plate of eggs as he spoke. “Uh –” he cleared his throat, “Mrs. Weasley –”
“Harry and I got married last night,” Ginny said calmly. “Also I’m pregnant.”
Silence.
George was the first to speak. “I suppose it’s Ginevra Potter now, is it?”
Ginny smiled brightly. “That’s right.”
“And I suppose you didn’t think any of us would want to be there?” Mum said curtly.
“Oh, that’s what you’re worried about. Nevermind I’m pregnant,” Ginny mused. She glanced at Harry, who grinned sheepishly. “Er – we didn’t want anyone to think it was… what was the word you used, Harry?”
“A shotgun wedding,” he supplied awkwardly.
Hermione giggled, hand flying to her mouth. “Sorry,” she said, “it’s just – that is so typical.”
Ron’s mouth was agape. “Are they joking?“ he looked around the table at a sea of blank faces. “They’re fucking kidding us around, right?”
“Language, Ronald!” Mum snapped.
“You’re bloody pregnant?” said Ron, staring at her like she’d grown a second head. He then rounded on Harry. “You – you two –”
Hermione reached out and rubbed his arm, still barely suppressing a grin. “Ron,” she said knowingly, “don’t be a hypocrite.”
“When did you find this out?” asked Dad mildly. He had his stern facade on, but Ginny could tell it was for Mum’s benefit – his eyes crinkled, glinted with happiness. Dad loved babies.
“Yesterday. I had my physical for the Harpies,” said Ginny. “They do a full workup, you know.”
“And you didn’t – I thought I was always good about telling you to use protection –” spluttered Mum.
“Gross, Mum,” said George.
“Well… things happen, mistakes –” she trailed off, sending Harry a desperate look.
“My parents were the same age when they had me,” he offered diplomatically. “Ginny’s age. Even younger than I am now, I suppose.”
“And look for where that got them!” Mum yelped.
Shocked silence fell across the table. Mum’s eyes widened as the weight of what she’d said settled over them. One hand flew to her mouth and gripped she Harry’s arm with the other.
“Harry -”
He guffawed loudly, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, I’d hope we’d have better luck this time round, seeing as no one actively wants me dead anymore,” he said good naturedly.
Ginny glared at her mother. “I can’t believe -”
“It slipped out!” Mum cried, holding her hands up in a surrendering gesture. “Its an awful lot to take in -”
“We’ll have a party, Mrs. Weasley. A big one,” Harry supplied. “We just - er - we really wanted some privacy for the actual ceremony.”
“We didn’t want the press up our arses,” Ginny grumbled.
Mum nodded slowly to herself. All eyes were on her - waiting for her permission to celebrate, Ginny supposed. Hermione and George and Dad looked downright giddy. Ron, for his part, looked like he’d swallowed a bag of shit - though that was to be expected. Ron always put on the act of a sourpuss older brother when it came to her relationship with Harry, but that was all it was - an act.
Sure enough, Mum was blinking back tears a moment later. “Oh, you two.” She lunged forward and crushed them both in a hug. “Oh, we’ll go through the attic, I’ve saved all of your stuff from when you were babies. And Teddy… he’ll be a big brother, won’t he! And, Oh, Ginny -” she pulled back and examined the ring again. She nodded at Harry, and Ginny could’ve sworn she saw him melt at the sign of her approval. “This is an excellent ring, Harry, this is beautiful.”
Harry cleared his throat. “It was in my parents vault.”
Mum cooed, and Ginny snapped around to face him. ”You didn’t tell me that!”
He shrugged. “Bit of a damper on the mood, isn’t it? Heirloom of a dead family member.”
Ron snorted at that. Harry shot him a sideways grin. “I think it would’ve been my grandmother’s,” he told Ginny.
“Oh, wow.” Ginny looked at the ring with a newfound appreciation. She felt her chest swell. “Oh, Harry -”
“Why aren’t you two on your honeymoon?” George butt in.
Ginny looked up. “Well, Harry’s got work, and I’ve got a meeting with the Prophet about writing in the sports column during my leave.”
Hermione squealed in excitement. “Oh, your maternity leave!”
Ginny beamed. “That’s right.”
Mum frowned. “Well you’ve got to do something.”
“And let's not draw any more comparisons,” George said darkly, “I know your parents probably didn’t get a proper honeymoon either, Harry.”
“George!” Mum snapped.
Harry laughed. “I don’t think they did.” He glanced at Ginny. “I could take a week off from work. We could go back to Cornwall.”
“Oh, you did it in Cornwall?” Mum gushed. “It’s lovely there this time of year, shame on you for going alone…”
“Fancy working on your tan, Mum?” Ginny quipped.
Dad was grinning. “D’you know the gender?”
“Nope,” said Harry, “gonna let it be a surprise.”
“Could be triplets,” Ron quipped. “God, Ginny, you’d be huge.”
Ginny flicked a berry at him. “Oh, fuck off, Ron.”
“Language,” Mum grumbled.
George clasped Harry’s shoulder. “Maybe you’ll bring us all on your honeymoon since you couldn’t be arsed to invite us to the wedding.”
“Oh, George,” Ginny grinned devilishly, “you won’t want to be around for all that.” She lifted Harry’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.
“That’s it.” Ron’s chair scraped against the floor as he stood. “I wanted a nice breakfast - this is too bloody much.” He picked up his plate and gestured aimlessly at Harry and Ginny. “Congrats, you two. Hermione,” he smiled down at her, “I promise to give you a real bloody wedding, alright? Don’t think I’m getting any ideas.” He planted a kiss on top of her head and left out the back door, presumably to feed his crusts to the chickens.
Hermione flushed pink. Ginny could see her grinning furiously behind her hand. “Did you just get proposed to?’ she asked.
“I’m not sure,” said Hermione.
“Nah, he’ll do better than that,” said Harry. He squeezed Ginny’s hand. “You’re happy, aren’t you?” he asked softly.
She leaned her head on his shoulder, nodding into the crook of his neck. “I am. I’m so happy.”