EIGHT
The next day, Ginny is placed on leave from the Holyhead Harpies.
It’s not usually a problem to play in the first trimester — or even much of the second — with the right protective charms, the team healer explains apologetically, but by the time the season is in full swing, that point will be well past. Gwenog then decides that it then makes the most sense to put her star chaser on unspecified medical leave effective immediately, so that the team can get used to playing with their reserves. Though Ginny had prepared herself for this exact outcome, she’s crushed.
She’s certain Harry will take offense to her moping over this turn of events. For one, Harry was on Team Don’t Play Until The Baby Is Born, Please, and will be relieved to hear that she won’t be playing this season. It goes deeper than that, though. It’s clear to Ginny that Harry hasn’t just accepted this situation with grace; he’s actively excited about it, happy and caring and overprotective and all the things she always knew he’d be, if he ever got the chance to be a dad. She doesn’t want him to judge her for having complicated feelings about it: she can be happy about their baby and still sad about the timing of it all affecting her career.
She’s dismissed immediately and sent home, where she drinks tea and sits on the sofa, flicking through a book on magical pregnancy and childbirth that Hermione sent to her after their close encounter with Ron at Grimmauld Place. It quickly becomes apparent that this is the driest, most academic book on this particular subject that they sell at Flourish and Blotts — which, Ginny supposes, makes sense given who sent it. She sets it on the coffee table and moves to lay down on the couch, rolling up her shirt so the little bump of her abdomen is visible.
She strokes her stomach with one finger and, without thinking much about it, starts occupying herself by talking to the baby (but really, herself) instead.
“Obviously, I knew this was a possibility,” she finds herself explaining. “I think I just expected to be able to practice, at least, a little longer. You liked flying with me, didn’t you? Your dad reckons it’s bad for you, but you and me, we both know you were safe. And you liked it — I don’t think your dad and I would be capable of having a kid who didn’t like it.” She’s not self-conscious as she prattles on, and isn’t even thinking about it enough to wonder if she should be. “He’s a good bloke, your dad. I always thought that when I had kids, they’d be with him. So I guess, in that way, you’re what I always wanted, really.” She pauses. “He’s just overprotective, you see. And with all he’s been through, I can’t really say I blame him. It’s just…well, I do think he’ll be a good dad for you, I really do. He’s just not always aware of why he feels the way he feels, and that’s what always worried me. And I thought if I broke up with him, he’d work on that —”
She’s cut off by her fireplace roaring to life, as her mother’s face materializes. Ginny sits up quickly, hastily covering up what she was doing.
“Ginny, dear, you’re home,” Molly says cheerfully, seeming pleasantly surprised.
Ginny bites back a sour question about why her mother would floo if she didn’t expect her to be home. “Practice was canceled today,” Ginny replies instead. She’d say she called out sick, but then her mother would insist on coming over to take care of her, and there’s simply too much proof of the pregnancy lying around for her to allow that.
“Mm, that’s nice,” her mother agrees. “So you decided to do some reading instead?” She asks, noticing the closed book on the coffee table. Ginny is thankful that her mother’s vantage point will not allow her to see the cover, which reveals the title of the book is The Prepared Witch’s Guide to Magical Pregnancy and Childbirth.
“Just one of those silly muggle romance novels,” Ginny lies quickly. “Is everything all right, mum?” Molly Weasley never calls without a purpose, especially not in the middle of the day when she’d typically expect Ginny to be in Wales for work.
“All right? Of course, dear, of course everything is all right. I was just thinking it’s been weeks since you came to dinner, and your brother says he hasn’t seen Harry in about as long,” her mother tells her. That’s it, Ginny realizes. “So I wanted to make sure you and Harry would both be here on Sunday.” It’s not a question. It is a statement.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Ginny agrees. Even if it weren’t a command performance, they’d need to be there. Ginny had convinced the Harpies to hold off on announcing her medical leave for a week to give her time to talk to her family. While the team would never state why she went on medical leave, her family would go mad with worry if she didn’t explain ahead of time.
“Wonderful!” Mrs. Wealsey is beaming as she bids Ginny goodbye and pulls her head out of the fireplace.
Ginny sighs, flicks her wand toward the fireplace to close it to calls, and picks her book up off the coffee table. She opens back up to the fifth page, where it begins a long, theoretical explanation of how the strength of her magic will be depleted as the pregnancy wears on, until the baby’s birth, as her magical core devotes itself to developing the baby’s magic. The book says this will make her feel tired, but as Ginny dozes off on her couch, she thinks the book is what’s actually zapping her energy.
…
Ron Weasley and Harry Potter have never really been good about respecting one another’s personal space. Ever since that first day on the Hogwarts Express, where Ron asked to see Harry’s scar and then offered to share his sandwich and Harry responded by buying them a feast of sweets, it’s been understood between the two of them that most things that belong to one of them belong to both of them. Even when they’re angry at each other, they still occupy a disproportionate amount of space — both physical and mental — in one another’s lives.
Hermione has tried to get them to set boundaries in their friendship — simple things, like Ron asking Harry before he shows up at Grimmauld Place or Harry making plans with Ron in advance instead of assuming Ron will always be up for whatever adventure he’s schemed up — but that only works to an extent, usually when Hermione is closely monitoring it. When Hermione is otherwise occupied or too slow to stop it? Anything goes.
Tonight, Hermione is away for a conference on international magical law in Belgium, leaving Ron restless and bored. He doesn’t think twice before flooing over to Harry’s, where the wards will almost always let him in; even if Harry isn’t home, there might be a fun surprise, like the pizza he found in front of the fireplace last time.
The sitting room is empty when Ron arrives, which leads him to believe he should at least search the rest of the house to see if Harry’s all right. The door to Harry’s bedroom is closed, so Ron does knock — lest he see something he doesn’t want to see — but when no one shouts that he should sod off (or, more likely, sending a hex in case he’s a dangerous intruder), he decides it’s safe to go in.
The sound of the shower pours in from the en suite, but that’s the only sound, so Ron can assume Harry is alone. He decides he can just wait for his friend here. There’s a bench at the foot of Harry’s bed, facing the dresser, that seems like the best place to sit, given that the bed itself is messy and unmade. He assesses his appearance in the mirror, taking in that he could probably use a shower himself, given that his hair is so greasy he’s reminded uncomfortably of Snape. Then, something else on the mirror catches his eye.
The two little pictures, black and white and blurry, look vaguely familiar to Ron, though he can’t place why. As he goes over to the mirror and picks one up, he thinks to himself that these are strange pictures that really don’t look like much of anything besides some vague movement. He’s about ready to tell himself he recognizes it as something he saw in his time as an auror, when the image shifts again. It’s clearly the form of a human baby, and Ron realizes he recognizes this because of the little magical pictures Bill showed off when Fleur was pregnant with Victoire. He’s about to admit to himself that he doesn’t know why Harry would have one of these, let alone two, when another detail jumps out at him: the name Ginevra M. Weasley on the top of the picture.
He’s staring at the picture, unable to let the pieces of the puzzle fit together in his mind when Harry walks out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. Harry’s brow furrows. “Ron? What are you doing here, mate?”
Ron would normally admit he was bored and wanted to know if Harry was up for going to the pub. Instead, he holds up the picture in his hand and goes: “What’s this?”
Harry blinks, not sure of the best way to respond. Ron was supposed to find out about this at the Burrow on Sunday, along with the rest of the family. He decides the best way to answer is with another question. “What do you think it is?”
“Well, it looks like one of those weird little pictures they give pregnant witches of their babies,” Ron explains, sounding doubtful or at least like he wants to be. “But it has my sister’s name at the top.”
Harry nods, wondering why Ron wouldn’t just hex him and be done with it if he knows what it is anyway. “Right.”
“I don’t understand why my sister’s name would be at the top,” Ron continues, almost as though he's willing Harry to tell him it’s all a massive prank.
“I think you do,” Harry responds drily, moving to get a pair of pants from his dresser. Ron, unfortunately, seems frozen in front of his underwear drawer. “Can you budge over?”
“Ginny’s…pregnant?” Ron doesn’t sound angry, at the very least, which Harry can certainly work with.
Harry sighs, makes an effort to do the right thing of looking into Ron’s blue eyes. He decides to be calm, “Look, we’re telling everyone else on Sunday, all right? If you could keep it to yourself before then, I know Ginny would really appreciate it.”
Ron blinks hard, breaking eye contact; it strikes Harry that this is his most effective disarming ever, save for the time expelliarmus somehow killed Voldemort. “Yeah, yeah, okay,” Ron agrees confusedly. “How …”
“I didn’t think you wanted to get into those details,” Harry quips drily, finally shoving Ron out of the way so he can grab his pants. “Can you just turn around for a second?”
Ron obliges. “I know how babies are made, git. It’s just — you haven’t been back together for long. You’re not even married,” he points out.
“I think you know firsthand that being married is not a prerequisite,” Harry retorts with a sigh. “You can turn around now, if you want.” He’s at least wearing underwear now, and towels off his hair, making a bigger mess than usual.
Ron turns around. He says the first response he comes up with: “Mum’s going to have kneazles because you’re not married.”
“We’re aware.”
“Are you planning to get married?”
Harry shoots his best mate an incredulous look. “What is this obsession with getting married?”
“That’s what you do,” Ron explains. “Mum’ll be fine as long as you tell her you’re going to get married.”
Harry considers this. “I would have proposed to her three years ago if I thought she would have said yes,” he admits. This part is painfully truthful. Harry’s always wanted that with Ginny; he felt like she was his home from the moment his lips first touched hers in the common room, and if that isn’t the kind of love that makes a marriage, he isn’t sure what is. It’s Ginny that’s always held him back.
“Of course she’d say yes,” Ron insists daftly. “She’s pregnant. That’s what you do if you’re pregnant.”
“In 1970, maybe,” Harry jokes. “Modern women don’t necessarily want to get married just because they’re pregnant,” he explains, channeling both Ginny and Hermione. “All your mum needs to know is that we’re happy and excited and that her grandson is already very loved, all right?”
Ron’s eyes widen. “Grandson?” He repeats softly. “It’s — it’s a boy? I’m getting a nephew?”
Harry nods, a grin beginning to take over his thin face. “Yeah, you’re getting a nephew. Don’t bring up us getting married again and you might even get a godson.”
This earns him a glare. “I bloody well better be the godfather,” he tells Harry hotly. “Who else would it be?”
Harry shrugs. “Dunno. We could always ask Percy,” he muses sarcastically.
Ron snorts. “Don’t be a prat. You’re already on thin ice, Potter. You still got my baby sister pregnant.”
“Duly noted, Weasley.”
…
Ginny’s full of nerves as Sunday approaches, though it does ease her anxiety a bit when Harry tells her that Ron took the news surprisingly well after stumbling upon it. They’ve decided that they should tell everyone at once, so no one has the chance to find out from everyone else, but Ginny can’t help but feel uneasy about that choice. After all, in a perfect world, her mum would have been among the first to know.
Still, there’s no putting it off — not with the news of Ginny’s medical leave about to break and the little bump becoming the slightest bit bigger seemingly every time she blinks — so the two of them muster their courage and apparate to the Burrow.
They’re fashionably late, as they tend to be both separately and as a pair, which leads to some casual ribbing from her brothers. George makes a comment about what activity could possibly make them late and leave Harry’s hair so mussed, while Bill insists that Harry’s watch might need fixing, since he never seems to know the time. Even Percy joins in, asking if Harry’s assistant might help arrange his calendar. Ron remains suspiciously quiet through all of it.
Ginny can tell her mother suspects something, but what she suspects is not quite clear. Before dinner, Ginny felt pleased that she could tell everyone on her own terms, and that she got away with keeping this from her mother for so long; now, she feels like a naughty child as her mother narrows her eyes across the table. They’d planned to do this during pudding, when everyone was sated and happy, but with her mother looking at her like that, Ginny can’t wait a second longer. She doesn’t even give Harry a gesture of warning before she clears her throat. “Uh, so, I want to warn everyone that there’s a story coming out tomorrow,” she states.
Harry chokes on his roasted potato in response; on this other side, Ron claps him hard on the back.
“About how I’ve been placed on medical leave from the Harpies,” Ginny elaborates, glancing around the oddly silent table for reactions.
Her mother looks at her, expression unreadable, and promptly bursts into tears.
“Mum?” Ginny prods her mother nervously. “It’s okay, I’m not very sick or anything.”
“Not very sick?” George repeats, his mouth still full of beef roast. “So then why would you be on medical leave?” He swallows. “Are you pregnant?” He asks sarcastically, clearly thinking this is just one of his many jokes. Next to him, his girlfriend Angelina glares, as if to tell him that he’s tempting karma by even thinking it
Ginny’s eyes go wide; if Harry wasn’t freaking out, he’d acknowledge that she looks like she did the first time he ever arrived at the Burrow, completely struck dumb.
“George,” Bill admonishes, their mother still crying so hard it’s unclear if she’s heard any of this. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s not funny,” Ginny agrees. “But it is true, so.” She looks at Harry to tell him to stop shoving his food around his plate and actually help her.
Molly begins to cry harder, which makes Ginny realize that, if nothing else, she was listening. Ginny’s dad offers her a sad smile, before moving over to comfort his wife.
Harry can feel the heated glares of three of the four Weasley brothers currently present on him as he begins his part. “Er, we know you’re all probably shocked,” he jumps in with the line they’d rehearsed. “It’s a shock to us, too. But lots of good things are unexpected and we’re very excited that we’ll be welcoming a son come May.” Ginny thinks he looks like he’d rather be facing Voldemort again than facing the blank, processing expressions of her family.
“A boy!” Fleur jumps up and runs over to hug them both. Ginny has consistently been surprised by her sister-in-law since the war, and it’s difficult to recall why, exactly, she didn’t like Fleur in the beginning. “Zat ees so wonderful, mon chéris!” She squeezes Ginny tightly before pressing a kiss to Harry’s head. She turns back to the rest of the family. “Eesn’t zat wonderful, Bill?” She prompts her husband pointedly.
Bill still looks like he wants to murder Harry — though Harry supposes that might just be the scars on Bill’s face making his concerned expression scarier — but he’d never defy Fleur. “Congratulations,” he tells them tightly. “Might share a birthday with Victoire, huh?”
Ginny nods, forcing a big grin to let everyone know that she’s happy, actually, and they should be too. “Should be arriving around then, yeah,” she confirms. “Though I suppose he could come early, be closer to Teddy.”
Harry’s face goes sheet white at the realization that he will have to figure out the best way to tell Teddy about this, without spooking the little boy who is so, so attached to his godfather. Luckily, Teddy isn’t here tonight.
“I’m going to be the godfather,” Ron announces smugly with — Harry thinks — unearned confidence.
“Could be me,” George responds. “I’m her favorite brother.”
“You haven’t even congratulated me yet,” Ginny points out with a huff.
“Neither did he,” George jerks his thumb over toward Ron as Angelina jumps in to congratulate Ginny and Harry.
Ron is about to contribute that he congratulated Harry days ago — that’s good enough, isn’t it? — but luckily he doesn’t have a chance before Molly Weasley bounds from her seat across the table and hugs both Ginny and Harry tightly against her chest.
“This is wonderful news,” she sobs, more at them than to them. Harry and Ginny are both left to wonder if these have been happy tears the whole time. “A grandson!” She sniffles so much that Ginny is certain that both snot and tears rub off onto her sweater.
With Molly’s permission, everyone begins hugging Ginny to congratulate her — although she notices that Bill and Percy are both somewhat stiff to Harry. Still, both her parents are warm and seem both excited and interested, which is the best case scenario, probably.
She’s about to breathe a sigh of relief when her mother makes a dreaded statement. “Of course, we can have the wedding here,” Molly hums happily, taking Ginny’s arm. “We could do it soon, if you wanted. A winter wedding would be lovely, with the right charms to keep the ice away and all the guests warm, hm?”
Ginny looks cautiously over at Harry. She feels like she’s about to throw him under the bus, even if she’s pretty sure he’d marry her just to make her parents happy. “We aren’t planning to get married, Mum.”
“Erm, maybe in the future,” Harry contributes. Ginny shoots him a puzzled stare; they hadn’t discussed that. “But we, er, reckon we have enough on our plates at the moment.”
Molly blinks, looking at them as though they’re speaking a foreign language. Behind her, Ron is wearing a told you so smirk he definitely picked up from Hermione, Hermione looks like she’s trying very hard not to jump in and attempt to fix the situation, and George is straight up laughing.
“Babies need two parents, dear,” Molly tells Ginny with a confused smile. Molly is talking to Ginny like she’s a child, but Ginny thinks her mother is the one acting like a child here.
Ginny nods and with the same slow voice she’d use to explain to Victoire why, exactly, she can’t ride a unicorn, she says: “This baby does have two parents, Mum. Harry and I are definitely doing this together.”
“He’s very loved already,” Harry agrees, working hard to keep his eyes trained on Molly, rather than staring at Ginny to take in her reaction. “Gin, why don’t you show her the picture?” He figures avoidance and distraction are decent enough ways to get off this topic of conversation for the time being.
“Oh, yes,” Ginny lights up. “Let me get the picture!” She removes her wand from her waistband and summons the picture from her bag in the other room. “Here, Mum, look,” she says, handing over the little moving picture of the baby. “That’s him! That’s your grandson!”
Arthur takes this moment to peer over his wife’s shoulder. “Well look at that,” he marvels. “These are brilliant. They didn’t have these when you all were born.”
“They took the idea from muggles,” Ginny explains, knowing her father will love that. Distracting her dad also goes a long way to shutting her mom up.
“If you’re doing it together, why not get married?” Molly asks sadly, clearly not letting this go.
“Bloody hell, Mum,” Ron exclaims, effectively giving Harry and Ginny time to collect themselves.
“Language, Ronald,” Hermione reprimands him softly.
“It’s not the 70s anymore,” Ron tells his mother, feeling obviously proud of himself for having learned this from Harry. “Modern women don’t need to get married just because they’re pregnant.” Hermione is so impressed by Ron’s feminist stand that she throws her arms around his neck and hugs him; the only thing restraining her from snogging him like she did during the battle when he asked about the house elves is the fact that his family is present. Fleur nods along enthusiastically, so Bill nods along with her, less enthusiastically.
“I think Mum has a point,” Percy comments to George.
George, however, merely snorts. “Is that because you’re still a virgin?” Percy stammers for a bit that he’s not and shut up, but he doesn’t really open his mouth again after that.
Molly, at least, takes the hint that this is a line of conversation that is closed to her now. “Well, you’ll obviously need to come up with a more suitable living arrangement, then,” she sighs. “Your flat is too small for a baby and his things and his parents. And of course, I’ll be there to help whenever you need me.” The very thought of her mom being over constantly is enough to make Ginny feel claustrophobic.
“Ginny should just move to Grimmauld,” Ron throws out as if it’s obvious. “Then it won’t be so sad that Harry lives there alone.”
“Are you sure you got rid of Mrs. Black, though?” George cuts in. “I don’t know if Black family home turned headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is really a suitable place to raise an innocent child.”
“I’m done with this,” Ginny decides. “We’ve got plenty of time. We’ll sort it all out, but you lot don’t get to decide for us. Understood?”
Abashed, the Weasleys (and their guests) all nod.
“Good,” Ginny agrees. She goes back to her seat and starts eating her potatoes, signifying that the conversation is finished as far as she’s concerned.
Everyone else follows suit: common wisdom in the Weasley family is not to make Ginny angry. They won’t take any chances in crossing a pregnant Ginny.