Chapter Text
Eternity
by hgseeker
(rated R)
Prologue
The young, red-haired woman dressed in black touched down light as a feather in front of the obsidian cross-shaped stone surrounded by many like stones in the wizarding cemetery just outside of Godric’s Hollow, carrying a bouquet of roses to place at the foot of said stone. However, this stone was the only one that mattered to her—for it marked the last resting place of the only man she had ever truly loved, the only man she would ever love, her late young husband, one Harry James Potter. She placed the flowers she carried at the foot of the stone, then knelt before it, the misty rain which fell around her mingling with her tears. She reached out and traced the name, his birth and death dates, then the smiling picture of him next to it. The stone read as follows:
HARRISON JAMES POTTER
1980-2000
BELOVED HUSBAND, SON, BROTHER AND FRIEND
SLAYER OF VOLDEMORT
CHAMPION IN THE CAUSE OF JUSTICE
“GREATER LOVE HATH NO MAN THAN THIS … THAT A MAN LAY DOWN HIS LIFE FOR HIS FRIENDS …” JOHN 15:13, KING JAMES BIBLE
Her tears fell even faster when she whispered, “Oh Harry, my love, I miss you so. Why couldn’t we have had even one night together? But no, bloody Voldemort couldn’t even allow me that much! My beloved, I ache for you, hunger for you—but it’s an ache and a hunger that will never be fulfilled, for you’re gone. Gone forever! Damn you, Voldemort, damn you to Hell for all eternity for taking the only one I’ve ever loved away from me!”
Harry had been martyred for the cause of Justice, having killed the most evil wizard who ever lived, Voldemort, but Voldemort had been ready for him and first weakened him with two Sectumsempra curses, then finished him off with the Killing Curse, which he no longer had any protection from, having lost it three years earlier, when he had turned seventeen. He had had the Prophecy hanging over him almost his entire life, a burden he had carried ever since he was old enough to understand what it meant, his nobility eventually having forced him to break both his own heart and hers in order to keep her safe by ending their romance only a few weeks after beginning it.
It was two years later that he had surprised her with his unexpected proposal, then their marriage … the happiest day of her life, which had rapidly turned into one of the saddest. Unfortunately, the way Ginny felt right now, she could have easily lain down beside him and died herself, seeing little point to living without Harry beside her. It wouldn’t be what he’d have wanted for her, but it was the way she felt.
His friends Ron and Hermione had seen the whole thing and were horrified, but could do nothing to help him. By the time they reached him, his pulse was already weakening, his life bleeding out onto the ground all around him. They each took a hand and Harry had opened his eyes for the last time, seeing the tears in his companions’ eyes but the pain inside him was for someone else entirely—his beloved wife, Ginny, whom he had married a year ago but with whom he had never been able to have a proper wedding night because he had had to leave almost immediately after the wedding to hunt down Voldemort because the latest word from the Order had given him his current location, a neighboring country bordering England. They had already destroyed all the other Horcruxes but the one inside Voldemort himself.
It had torn at his heart to see the tears in her eyes at his having to leave her, even though she had smiled bravely, said she understood and to do all he could to come back to her. He had promised to do his best to do so, and his final kiss had reinforced that promise--but now he never would. With the last of his strength, he whispered, “Ron … Mione … tell Ginny … I love her … and that … I’m sorry I … cannot … come back to her. Take care … of her for me. And give everyone else … my love and tell them … the world is … safe now. Voldemort … is … no more.” These were his last words; his head then fell back, limp, his eyes closing for the last time.
His grip on Ron’s and Hermione’s hands slackened, and that was when the nearest one of the Order, one Remus Lupin, sensed his godson’s death and even in his human form, sent up a long, keening howl of mourning. Still others of the Order, his wife, Nymphadora Tonks, Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt, to name just a few, stood silently with heads bowed in silent tribute to their fallen young hero. He had finally fulfilled the Prophecy made so long ago, killed the personification of evil, but in doing so, had paid the ultimate price himself.
Ron Weasley had never cried in his life, or at least not since reaching puberty, but he cried now … for the friend he had loved like another brother, all the good times they had shared, the laughter and the jokes, the Quidditch games, all the late-night snacks nicked from the Hogwarts kitchen after sneaking down under Harry’s Invisibility Cloak. All of these things were only sweet memories now, memories he would never forget as long as he lived. But even as sharp as his own pain was, Ron knew that there were at least two people whose pain would be even greater upon learning of Harry’s passing … his sister Ginny and mother Molly, the love of his life and the only mother he had ever known.
They left the Order to clear off the battlefield; they had better things to do. They cleaned their dead friend up as best they could, wrapping him tenderly in Ron’s robes, the latter carrying him as Hermione walked beside him after they had Disapparated back, tears still streaming down her own cheeks, knowing that what they had to do next would be the hardest thing they’d ever done, but it had to be done.
Ginny and the other family members in the area had stood anxiously outside the Burrow, waiting for news, and it was she who had seen them approach, one of them carrying what looked like a bundle of robes. Where was Harry? Once they got close enough, she could see that both Ron and Hermione were crying.
She had run out to embrace Hermione. “What’s wrong, ’Mione? What happened? Where’s Harry?”
Hermione hugged her tightly, burying her face in her friend’s hair. “Oh, Ginny … Ginny … I’m so sorry, so very sorry …”
“What’s going on, ’Mione? Where’s Harry?”
Hermione was unable to speak, simply gestured to the bundle in Ron’s arms. Ginny’s questioning look turned to one of horror, then grief when she realised what the bundle was. “No! Harry! No! You’re not dead! You’re not dead!” she cried even as Molly stepped up to her daughter and gathered her into her arms. Her voice sharpened into hysteria as Molly’s arms tightened around her and pulled her head close to bury it in her reddish-grey hair. After a time, the hysteria died down, and Ginny simply sobbed and moaned in her mother’s arms. “No … no … he can’t be dead … he can’t be dead …”
By this time, virtually everyone present was either crying or had tears in their eyes, mourning for both the one who had died so young, but died a hero nonetheless, and the one who had just lost her husband, the love of her life. None save Molly were surprised when Ginny suddenly broke away and ran off.
“Ginny!” Molly called after her, but her call went unheard. The next thing they knew, Bill spotted her taking off on her broom, as did Molly.
“Bill, you’ve got to go after her! In her state of mind, she’s capable of anything!”
“She’ll be all right, Mum. She’s just got to be alone for a while,” Bill Weasley, Arthur and Molly’s first-born, visiting them with his pregnant wife, Fleur, assured her. “She’ll be back. We’ve got to … take care of … Harry now.”
Molly was still reluctant but knew Bill was right, finally turning to join the others as they headed sorrowfully back to the Burrow to prepare one of their own for his far too premature but nonetheless well-earned eternal rest.
* * * * *
By the time Ginny returned, having screamed and cried out her grief, if only for the moment, Harry had been laid out on what had always been his bed in Ron’s old room, dressed in only his soiled, blood-stained jeans. His equally soiled, blood-stained glasses sat on the bedside table, although she knew he would never need them again. She sat down beside him, taking his now-cold hand in hers and putting it to her cheek, then pressing it into his hand and once again beginning to cry.
She then put his limp hand down beside him and traced the places where he had obviously bled to death, scars she hated because they not only desecrated his beautiful body but had killed him, making her a widow before she’d ever had the chance to be a wife. The only marginally good thing was that the scar that had been on his forehead virtually his entire life was gone, the scar which had always been his connection to Voldemort, helping him survive the Killing Curse as a 15-month-old infant and giving them a psychic link, which had given Harry both horrific nightmares and helped them to know just what the Dark Lord was feeling at any given moment. She kissed his closed eyelids with their long, dark lashes, then stroked his dark fringe one last time before resuming her lonely vigil. What hurt most of all though was the fact that for a long time he looked like he was just asleep. Only the lack of chest movement and body warmth indicated otherwise.
She never heard the knock on the door; only when Hermione put a hand on her shoulder did Ginny look up. “Ginny, you need to sleep. Harry wouldn’t begrudge you the rest.”
“No, ‘Mione. I couldn’t sleep now,” Ginny returned quietly. “I haven’t been with him for a year, and in a few days, he’s going to be six feet under and I’ll never see him again. Please, let me stay with him.” Her voice almost broke, tear-filled eyes giving her a blurry vision of her wedding ring, the ring Harry had given her a year before. It was so beautiful, every bit as beautiful as the love they had once shared. Which reminded her …
Hermione left, and that was when Ginny moved to the other side of the bed and found Harry’s left hand, which thankfully still wore the ring she had given him. She both wanted and didn’t want to remove it, because a part of her wanted him to wear it for all eternity to show that he belonged to her … but at the same time, she wanted to have a memento of him, so she slid it from his finger. It was considerably larger than her own, of course, so she conjured a gold chain and slid the ring onto it, then kissed the ring before she put the chain around her neck.
“Goodbye, my love,” she whispered, bathing the same hand with her kisses and tears. Then the next thing she knew, she was being lifted and carried from the room in her father’s arms to be placed in her own and a blanket pulled over her. She resisted the sleeping potion, but his gentle but firm voice ordered her to take it.
“It’s the best thing for you right now, sweetheart. Take it.”
It took a few minutes to work, and for that time, Arthur held his daughter in his arms, stroking her hair and brushing away her latest tears. “I miss him so much, Daddy. Why did he have to die?”
“Some people are simply meant to die young,” Arthur replied.
“But why Harry? He had so much to live for … he had us—our love—to live for.”
“He’s in a much better place now, darling. He’s with his parents, Sirius and Dumbledore.”
“I know—and I’m glad for his sake … but with all due respect, the only place I want him to be is in my arms.”
“You’ll be with him again someday. Sleep now, love.” Arthur laid his daughter down on her pillow, stroked her cheek, then her hair, kissed it and waved his hand to douse the bedside candlelight as he prepared to leave the room. Even as he stood in her doorway, preparing to close her door, he heard Ginny begin to cry again in her sleep. He sighed sorrowfully and knew he had done all he could do; perhaps it was best to just let her have her grief.
They had prepared the unfortunate boy a handsome, comfortable resting place, a casket of polished cherry wood lined with faux silk the same colour as his incredible eyes and a matching pillow covered with Golden Snitches, from the Quidditch game Harry had always loved and been equally proficient at playing. They had already heard from many in the Order, Remus being the current Head, saying that they would all be in attendance at the funeral this coming weekend.
It was just the day before the funeral when Ron remembered to give Ginny the last letter Harry had written her but hadn’t had the chance to send her. It was so full of love and hope for their future that it made her start crying all over again. He had even mentioned having children … “and just as soon as I come back, we’ll make up for lost time with a vengeance and have the wedding night we were denied a year ago, then a child,” he had finished. He was no doubt sincere, as always, but unfortunately it never happened, for red and green death had found him first. The red of blood and the green of the Avada Kedavra. Her only comfort was that Harry had managed to finish off the bastard who had killed him first.
* * * * *
Ginny had insisted on helping Molly dress Harry for the last time, in his favourite casual outfit of jeans, t-shirt and hooded sweatshirt jacket. Since dead people didn’t need shoes, they put only his favourite socks on his feet. But it had taken Arthur and Ron to place him in the casket because of the rigour mortis which had stiffened his body by this time, despite any means of stasis they could come up with.
Once they had managed, though, they had carried it out to where Bill and Charlie, who had come home from Romania for the funeral, had prepared a place for it to rest for the duration of the service. By the time Ginny had managed to seat herself nearest the casket, most of the attendees had arrived, Remus and Tonks among the first. Ginny lifted her head at a gentle touch on her shoulder to find the somber face of Remus Lupin gazing down at her.
“Good to see you, Gin, even under the circumstances. How are you doing?” he asked as he seated himself next to her and slid one arm around her for a comforting hug. She rested her head on his shoulder for a time, then lifted her head again as he released her.
“As well as can be expected,” Ginny returned quietly.
Tonks, on her other side, smiled sympathetically. “Guess what, Ginny. I’m pregnant!”
“Really? That’s wonderful,” Ginny returned, making herself smile. “Congratulations.” She then closed her eyes in pain. “Harry wanted us to have children …” Her voice trailed off, one hand finding its way to her flat belly, which she was now convinced would never know what it was like to carry Harry’s child. They had agreed to wait until marriage for sex, and because of this, hadn’t even been able to make love before he’d had to leave, and now they never would. And all because of bloody Voldemort!
What’s worse, Harry had still not wanted Ginny along, supposedly to keep her safe—and she had not fought him. But now she wished she had. If she’d been there, she might have been able to save him! He had told her he hadn’t wanted to be sitting at her funeral, knowing it was his fault. Well, the same applied to her—or at least she believed it did. And now here she was, sitting at his funeral!
“Oh, that’s right. You two were married. How long?”
“A year … but we never had the chance for a wedding night because he had to leave immediately after the wedding,” Ginny explained slowly, quietly, knowing that if she spoke normally she would just start crying again. “And now we’ll never have one.” Ginny bowed her head and closed her eyes in pain.
“I’m sorry, dear. Didn’t mean to remind you.”
“It’s all right. I understand.” Just the same, Ginny felt Tonks’ arm go around her and hug her, just as Remus’s had. As it turned out, she was glad they were there; she doubted she could have gotten through the funeral without them.
As it turned out, Arthur had been the one chosen to give the eulogy, since neither of Harry’s friends, Ron or Hermione, were up to giving it—and other than them, he and Molly had known Harry the longest. It wasn’t easy for Arthur either, since he had come to love Harry as another son, but someone had to do it … and Ginny certainly wasn’t up to it.
He swallowed hard and began to speak, looking around at the attendees, glad to see that Charlie had his arm around Molly, letting her rest her head on his shoulder even as she had her face buried in a large handkerchief and was sobbing quietly. Bill had his arm around a pregnant, sobbing Fleur, and Fred and George simply sat like wooden Indians, seeming to be in shock and certainly not up to doing any joking. When Arthur began speaking, Remus and Tonks both put their arms around Ginny as emotional support for her, and a few seats down, Ron had his arms around a sobbing Hermione even as his own tears fell unashamedly.
Ginny only heard the first paragraph, which went as follows: “We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of one of our own, whom even though he was not related by blood, was loved every bit as though he was, one Harry James Potter. He had a tragically short and difficult life, but we may take comfort in the knowledge that we, by giving him that love, helped to bring him a measure of happiness in the last few years of that life.”
It was a few days later that Molly had brought Ginny a transcript of all that Arthur had said about Harry at the funeral, if only as another memento. By this time she had been contacted by Remus, who was the executor of Harry’s will, and who had set up the reading for a week after the funeral service. She was in for a surprise, although she didn’t know it yet. But whether or not she would consider it a good surprise remained to be seen.
* * * * *
They Apparated to the Ministry at nine a.m. the morning of November 10th, 2000, a week after Harry’s funeral and ten days after his death, Ginny and the others filing into Remus’s office, gathered before his desk, waiting for him to enter so he could read the will and find out just what Harry had bequeathed to whom.
This time Ron and Hermione were sitting on either side of Ginny, each holding a hand. Molly and Arthur were in the second row, Fred and George beside them. Bill, Fleur and Charlie were behind them. Just when they didn’t think they could stand it any longer, Remus walked in, a thick sheaf of parchment in his hand, then sat down at his desk, sighed and looked up at the group before him.
“Before we start, would any of you like some refreshment? Butterbeer? Firewhiskey?” Most of those present took Firewhiskey, except for Fleur, who had to think of her baby’s health, so she took butterbeer. Once everyone was relaxed as they could get, Remus picked up the sheaf of parchment and began.
“We are gathered here to hear the last will and testament of one Harry James Potter, late of Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, who died ten days ago in what history will term ‘The Final Battle’ between him and the Dark Lord, Voldemort. I will read the largest bequests first.” The ones closest to Harry, who sat in the front row, sat up straight and held their breaths, ready as they could possibly be.
I, Harry James Potter, resident of Ottery St. Catchpole, Devonshire, being of sound mind and endangered body, hereby declare this to be my last will and testament. I also hereby appoint my surrogate godfather, one Remus John Lupin, to be executor and give him full authority to distribute any and all bequests herein.
First and foremost, I hereby bequeath to my beloved wife, the former Ginevra Molly Weasley, the entire contents of my personal and family vaults, as well as title to the house I have had built in Godric’s Hollow for us to live in. And because we were unable to have a proper wedding night, I have left some DNA with the Healers at St. Mungo’s in London in order that she have the choice of implanting herself and thus bear a child or children to carry my name, as many or as few as she chooses. I also wish her to have ownership of my beloved snowy owl, Hedwig, my first and oldest friend in the wizarding world.
Ginny looked surprised upon hearing this, but in spite of herself felt better. It wouldn’t be quite the same, but at least she would now be able to have Harry’s child, or children, if she so chose.
Second, I leave an ongoing bequest of one thousand Galleons per month to my two dearest friends, Ron and Hermione, who gave me their love and loyalty just when I needed it most. I love you, mates, and feel lucky to have known and been associated with you.
Third, I leave another ongoing bequest of one thousand Galleons per month to the closest things I ever had to parents, Arthur and Molly Weasley. I appreciate your welcoming me into your family, giving me the love and support I’ve never gotten anywhere else. I could never truly repay you for all you’ve done for me, but let this be my attempt to begin to do so.
Fourth, I leave yet another thousand-Galleon bequest, this one not ongoing, since their business is going so well, to my other mates Fred and George Weasley, to expand their store by 25% as they’ve been wanting to do. I have never regretted giving you the money for your start; it was the best investment I ever made. I am now helping you again. I only ask that you screen your customers more carefully in order that you don’t inadvertently assist those on the Dark side again.
Fifth, I leave still another ongoing thousand-Galleon-per-month bequest to my surrogate godfather, Remus John Lupin, and his wife, Nymphadora Tonks, to do with as they wish. I only ask that they use at least part of that money to make their lives easier, get themselves new clothing, new furniture, things like that.
“Sixth, I leave an ongoing bequest for the perpetual upkeep of both my gravesite and that of my parents, Lily and James Potter, to be managed by my wife, Ginevra Molly Weasley-Potter.
“Lastly, I leave another bequest of one thousand Galleons per month to Bill Weasley and his wife, Fleur, to help them set up for their coming child and any child they may choose to have in the future. The same for Charlie Weasley, to make his life training dragons easier. Thank you all for everything you’ve done for me. I couldn’t ask for better friends or a more loving family.
This concludes my last will and testament. Signed this 24th day of October, 2000 A.D., at the Ministry of Magic, London, England, and witnessed by Neville Longbottom and Alastor Moody, both of Edinburgh, Scotland.
Harry James Potter
Most of those present were surprised, albeit pleased at the bequests they were given, and although they were generally very proud people and didn’t take charity, they didn’t even think of refusing Harry’s generosity, if only to honour his memory in the only way they could.
Once they were finished and Remus told everyone to expect the necessary legal papers to make sure that everything bequeathed to them became theirs, Molly approached Ginny and asked her if she intended to become implanted with some of Harry’s DNA in order that she could bear him a child, albeit posthumously.
“I haven’t decided yet, Mum. It’s still sinking in, frankly. I’ll let you know when I do.”
“Very well. Let us know if you need anything. We’ve got to get back home.” Molly hugged her daughter and said basically the same thing to her sons and their wives/companions; then she and Arthur Disapparated.
* * * * *
That very night, in fact, Ginny made her decision … but not before she had a very intense dream about herself and Harry. She had dreamed he had come home alive and victorious and they were preparing to make up for lost time with a vengeance, particularly for the wedding night they had been denied a year ago.
It was late at night; they had just arrived home after a party at the Burrow celebrating both his victory and his safe return. No sooner did the door close and lock behind them than Harry gathered Ginny into his arms and kissed her passionately, his tongue licking her lips so that she would open her mouth. When she did, she moaned and shivered at the unexpected but most welcome contact … the sweetest thing she had tasted since treacle tart—and second only to his lips.
“Gin, I’ve missed you so much. You’re all I dreamed about every night,” Harry purred into her ear as his hands began to wander deliciously over her body, finally settling for a time on her sweetly rounded bum and pressing her close to his obvious arousal. He moved sensuously against her even as his hungry lips found her throat and the pulse point there, indicating her heart pounding and racing with her increasing desire for him.
Ginny was in her own personal Heaven having Harry close to her, touching her and loving her so beautifully; it was all she could do to wait for him to undress her, then carry her to bed and possess her. She gasped upon feeling his inquisitive hand move under her jumper and unhook her bra, then flick off her coat and move the jumper out of the way before the bra was vanished. “Harry …”
“Shhh …” he whispered before his lips found her nearest breast and began to gently suck while his other hand moved to cradle the other. She realised he was pressing her against the door and once again found herself softly moaning with pleasure, wanting to hold his head right where it was even as it warred with her desire to feel his lips and hands all over her, not to mention his large, delicious-feeling hardness inside her.
“Harry …” Her voice became more urgent.
“What?” he almost snapped, reluctant to release her breast. “I’ve waited a year to do this, Gin.”
“I’ve waited a year for you to do it, Harry … which is precisely my point. I can’t wait any longer. You’ve got to take me—now!”
Once he realised what she meant, he smiled wickedly. “A lady after my own heart.”
“Your heart, your lips, your body … all of you. Do it … now!”
“The lady commands, I obey.” With that, he reached for her jeans, then opened them, sliding them and her knickers down to her ankles, then vanished them as well. Just the same, she had no intention of letting him have all the fun; she basically vanished his clothes as well so that they were both naked. With that, he parted her legs, and she wrapped them around his slender hips, her arms locked around his neck. She knew it was going to hurt when he penetrated her, but wanted him so much that she didn’t care.
For a while, her moans were of pain, but they were mixed with pleasure … until finally, there was only pleasure. “Dear God, Harry … Harry …"
By this time she was convinced he was beyond speech; all he seemed capable of were husky moans as he moved faster and faster inside her until he was almost battering her against the wall. Her back was going to be sore by the time this was over, but again, she didn’t care. All she’d wanted for a year was to feel Harry inside her, and now that it was happening, she never wanted it to end.
The next thing she knew was the softness of the couch beneath them; she had no idea how they’d gotten there, but again, didn’t care, as long as Harry continued to move inside her, continued to kiss and caress her. Not long after he’d lowered her to the couch, he seemed to become incredibly hard inside her and tensed up for a time, then cried out softly and she felt something hot fill her body, holding him even tighter against her, inside her …
He then seemed to go limp against her, one hand brushing her sweaty hair out of her face before sharing a deep, sweetly passionate kiss. “Dear God, Gin, that was effing bloody incredible! What would you care to wager that we’re going to find out that you’re pregnant because of this?”
“I think that’s a distinct possibility, since I didn’t use any Contraceptive Charm. What about you?”
Harry laughed and shook his head. “Bloody hell, no. I wanted you too much. That’s what being denied a wedding night and being apart for a year does to you.”
“And you know what happens when a Weasley female gets pregnant,” she playfully warned.
“Don’t worry, luv. I’m prepared,” he assured her.
“Financially, maybe, but what about emotionally? Can you say you’re emotionally ready for parenthood?”
He was silent for a time, then reluctantly admitted, “Probably not—but since pregnancy takes months, that should give me at least some time to get ready.”
“That should also give me time to get some tips from Mum on how to handle pregnancy, as well as actually having the baby. If anyone knows, it’s her. I’ll owl her as soon as I know for sure.”
“Fine. But I’m finding that … I want you again.” The last words were whispered and laced with passion. “Are you game?”
“You need to ask?” she threw back, drawing him down to kiss him deeply once again and wrap her arms and legs around him again. Harry could only moan, bury his face in her throat, and begin to move sensuously inside her once again.
Ginny awoke at this point, half-expecting to find Harry beside her, the dream had been so intense. She would have sworn she had felt his lips, his hands, his body … even the texture of both the front door of their home, then the couch in their living room. Her disappointment at finding herself alone provoked her to tears once again, but once she had composed herself, she remembered the last bit of conversation she and Harry had had in the dream, about having children, and decided to contact St. Mungo’s, then take the necessary steps to become implanted with his DNA so she could have his child.
In fact she got up and grabbed a Self-Inking Quill and a piece of parchment from the pile she customarily kept by her bed to write Harry, which she would never be able to do anymore, then got up and sat at her desk to write a note to the Chief Healer.
To the Chief Healer …
My late husband’s will said that he had left some of his DNA with you so I could choose to become implanted and bear him a child, albeit posthumously. I would like to come in at your earliest convenience and discuss the possibility of implantation with you. Please get back to me with a date and time of the earliest possible appointment.
Sincerely,
(Mrs.) Ginevra Weasley-Potter
She still had Harry’s snowy-white owl Hedwig to use, so she went to find her and thrust the letter under her beak. She stroked the owl’s head and apologised for disturbing her (the owl had been asleep), but promised her a nice treat and some water upon her return. Once the owl had gone, Ginny got up and showered, dressed and went downstairs because she smelled breakfast, intending to ask her father to see what help he could recruit in order to move her into the Godric’s Hollow house (upon receiving title to it) in time for the baby, since she fully intended to be pregnant before the month was out, if she could possibly manage it.
* * * * *
“Don’t you think you should be here a while longer, dear?” Molly tried to wheedle Ginny into staying longer at the Burrow, but she was having none of it.
“With all due respect, Mum, Harry left me the Godric’s Hollow house, and I feel a moral obligation to move in there and live as he wished.”
“You should at least stay here until you officially obtain title to it,” Arthur pointed out. “I’ll be glad to help you move in there after that.”
“And you’ll be alone there,” Molly reminded her.
“But I’ll be close to Harry and his parents,” Ginny countered. “And I want to be able to visit him … so to speak.”
Molly had just opened her mouth to speak again when Hedwig flew in the kitchen window, carrying an envelope with the St. Mungo’s seal on it. Hedwig landed on Ginny’s shoulder, and she reached up to take the envelope from the owl’s beak, then opened it and scanned it. Her face was expressionless for a while; then she smiled for the first time in days.
“Good news, dear?” the older woman asked as she came to offer Ginny more treacle tart and milk.
“I couldn’t say one way or the other right now,” Ginny returned enigmatically. “Once I know for sure, I’ll tell you. No, thanks, Mum. I’m full. Would you excuse me now? I’ve got to answer this letter.” With that, she pushed her chair back, stood up and left the room, still smiling. A moment later she stuck her head back in and said, “Oh, yes, could you give Hedwig a treat and some water? I promised her she’d get some on her return.”
Molly nodded, and Ginny ducked out again.
The older couple looked at each other with questioning glances.
“What do you think was in that letter? Must be something good, for Ginny smiled for the first time in days.”
“I’m sure she’ll tell us when she’s ready,” the other said. “What matters is that she’s in good spirits again.”
* * * * *
Upstairs in her room with the most recent picture of Harry she had on her bedside table, taken shortly before their wedding day, showing his smiling at her and blowing her a kiss facing her, Ginny sat on the bed with her legs crossed and the pad of parchment in her lap, the Self-Inking Quill once again in her hand and the letter she had received lying slightly to her right on the bed. She smiled at the tender sentiment on the picture, written in Harry’s unmistakable hand: To My Darling Ginny, With This Picture, I Give You All My Love … Harry.
She was sure that Harry would be pleased at what she intended to do; perhaps he had even come to her in her dream, beyond the grave, as it were, to give her his approval for doing so. In fact she would almost swear that his eyes in the picture were twinkling conspiratorially as she wrote her reply to the Chief Healer.
The reply basically read as follows:
Dear Mrs. Potter:
Your information was true, and we are indeed willing to implant you with some of your late husband’s DNA in order that you may bear his child as he wished. It is a routine procedure, but has to be done on the same day you ovulate, in order that your egg be in the right place at the right time for the implantation to have the greatest chance of successfully fertilising you. I suggest you carefully monitor your next two periods, then contact me immediately after you ovulate the second month so that we may arrange an emergency appointment for you to come in and have the implantation done that day.
It is generally best to be implanted several times on the day of ovulation for the greatest chance of fertilisation. Let me know if this is what you want to do. It may even be necessary for you to come in several times, since there is only a 5-25% chance of fertilisation on the first try. Think it over and get back to me with your decision at your earliest convenience. I will be waiting to hear from you.
Sincerely,
Araminta Higgenbottom
Chief Healer
Obstetrics-Gynecology Department
St. Mungo’s Hospital
The next two months were truly the longest of Ginny’s life, being so careful and watchful of her periods and her time of ovulation. She had always been as regular as clockwork, and saw no reason to believe that would change any time soon. Even at that, she had had to get advice from her mother as to how to determine her time of ovulation after being obliged to tell her what she planned to do.
As it turned out, that was part of the reason the Weasleys had had so many children fairly close together. Molly had timed the lovemaking with her husband at just the proper time, when she was most likely to get pregnant—a revelation which didn’t really surprise Ginny, not one bit.
The older woman was naturally thrilled and hoped everything worked out; the only thing missing would be Harry … and unfortunately he was a very big part of the whole picture. Ginny had also recently gotten a wedding picture of Harry and herself taken by his friend and photography buff Colin Creevey, and it now held an honoured spot on her nightstand next to the last regular picture she had of Harry, taken before their marriage.
It was around the middle of April 2001, in fact, that Ginny ovulated again, and once she realised this, she immediately sent an owl to the Chief Healer. The latter owled her back within the hour and told her to come to the Obstetrics/Gynecology floor, the sixth, and see her, and she would take steps to see that Ginny was implanted with Harry’s DNA. She scribbled a quick note to her mother and Apparated to the hospital, directly to the sixth floor. Fortunately the Chief Healer had told her in her reply to meet her at the main desk on that floor so as not to waste any time.
She found the desk within ten minutes and spotted the kindly, motherly-looking middle-aged witch with lime-green robes and a shimmering golden medical caduceus, which designated her as the Chief Healer. “Healer Higgenbottom?” Ginny asked as she approached.
“Mrs. Potter?” the Healer asked in return.
After the women had acknowledged each other, Araminta Higgenbottom gestured to Ginny to follow her to a treatment room. Upon the door closing behind them, she said, “If you would kindly disrobe and lie down on the treatment table, I will prepare myself and be back with the catheter of DNA. Don’t be surprised if you experience a degree of discomfort during the procedure; however, there should be no pain.”
“I understand,” Ginny returned, heading for the nearby cubbyhole to undress and don the medical gown provided. She waited for fifteen minutes before Araminta Higgenbottom returned, in surgical garb, minus the gloves for the moment, and carrying a small, clear plastic catheter filled with a golden brown substance, which she assumed was the DNA in question. A younger assistant, also in surgical garb, including gloves, stood by with a tray containing other necessary medical paraphernalia, such as alcohol to sterilise everything that was to touch Ginny’s body, up to and including the plastic catheter of DNA.
She placed the catheter of DNA on the tray temporarily and examined Ginny’s abdominal area briefly after donning her gloves to confirm that ovulation had begun, before asking her to place her feet in stirrups and part her legs sufficiently so she would be able to insert the catheter of DNA in the proper place. The DNA had been previously prepared and refrigerated until Ginny arrived; therefore it was fresh, motile and ready to fertilise her.
Ginny hardly felt a thing until the catheter was actually in the area where the DNA would be released. Then she felt strong cramps for a time as Healer Higgenbottom manoevred the catheter into just the right position for the DNA to meet the egg on its journey to the uterus, then released it into the proper Fallopian tube. The whole thing took less than an hour, and the discomfort was only momentary.
Not long after the insertion was completed, Healer Higgenbottom said, “I’m finished. You may dress now, Mrs. Potter, then please meet with me in my office for a discussion as to follow-up procedures.”
Ginny smiled and nodded; upon her dressing, the assistant, who was cleaning up in the treatment room, directed her to the Healer’s office. Ginny left the room and turned to her right, then down a short hall until she saw a sign reading: Araminta Higgenbottom, Chief Healer, St. Mungo’s Hospital, Obstetrics/Gynecology. She peeked in, and Araminta looked up, smiled and beckoned her to come in.
“Sit down, Mrs. Potter,” she directed; Ginny did so.
“How long do I have to wait for results?” she asked almost as soon as she had seated herself.
“Until your next period is due,” came the answer. “If it doesn’t come, there is a very strong likelihood that the implantation took and that you have become pregnant. If that is the case, I can start you on proper prenatal care and give you a diet to follow to make sure you have a healthy child and textbook delivery. If it doesn’t, you’ll have your regular period, and you’ll have to wait at least another month in order to properly determine your next ovulation date before we can make another attempt.”
“Thank you, Healer. I’ll contact you next month this time.”
“Good luck.” Araminta Higgenbottom smiled at her potential patient and hopeful mother-to-be.
“Thanks. I’ll need it,” Ginny replied, then Disapparated back home and told her mother how things had gone.
“I hope it works the first time, dear. At least that way you’ll have something to live for.”
“Not to mention the fact that you’ll have another grandchild—or at least two, since I was implanted several times today. The Healer said that’s done routinely because it usually takes several simultaneous implantations of DNA for even just one or two eggs to be fertilised.”
Molly wasn’t surprised to hear that and nodded in acknowledgment. “Whatever happens, you know I’m here to help you all I can, darling.”
“Yes, I know, Mum, and I’m thankful for that. Now I just hope it takes.”
“We’ll see in a month.”
* * * * *
By that time, matters were well along into moving Ginny into the Godric’s Hollow house. She had also been feeling nauseated, bloated and irritable of late and didn’t want anyone to be around her, snapping at and threatening to hex virtually everyone who even attempted to speak to her. Once she calmed down and thought about it, Ginny met with her mother, and Molly agreed that there was a distinct possibility that she was pregnant—but neither could be sure until and unless the Healer confirmed it.
Molly advised her to owl her right away, tell her the symptoms and see what she said. It took a bit over two hours, since the Healer had been in the midst of treating another patient when her post arrived, but told her to come in right away for an examination. Ginny dressed and Apparated to the hospital, this time taking the lift to the sixth floor and directly to Healer Higgenbottom’s office.
After half an hour’s examination, Araminta looked up at her patient with a smile on her face.
“Does that smile mean what I think it does?” Ginny asked hopefully.
“If you think it means that I just diagnosed the fact that you’re pregnant, it does.” Araminta smiled. “By the way, when did you start feeling sick?”
“About two weeks ago,” Ginny said after thinking for a bit.
“That’s how long it usually takes for the implantation to take … if it works the first time, that is,” the Healer remarked. “Well, it did. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” Ginny smiled, then sobered.
“Anything wrong?” the Healer asked.
“No; just that I wish my husband were here so I could tell him. He’d be so happy.”
“That’s right, your husband was Harry Potter, killed in the Final Battle.” Ginny bowed her head even further, and at the mention of Harry’s name, tears filled her eyes.
“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to remind you. How long were you married?”
“A year, but he left right after the wedding. We never had a chance for a wedding night—then I heard he was killed just after our first anniversary. As you know, he left me some of his DNA in his will. Just a few months ago I decided to become implanted. I had a … rather intense dream about Harry and we—talked about children near the last. That’s what prompted my decision. I can’t help thinking that it was his way of telling me he approved.”
“Quite possibly,” Araminta returned quietly. “Are you saying that the two of you never had a chance for … making love at all?”
Ginny shook her head sadly. “We decided to wait until marriage for sex.”
Araminta sighed. “Most unfortunate.”
“You’re telling me. Even as happy as I am to be pregnant, I really wish it could have been done the old-fashioned way, where my husband and I actually joined physically and had some fun doing it.”
“Unfortunately, we can’t have everything,” the Healer observed.
Ginny sighed. “That’s for sure.” Then she asked, “Can I have some idea of when I’m supposed to deliver?”
“If it’s a single pregnancy, probably January or February of next year. If it’s a double pregnancy, of which there is at least a 50% chance, it’ll likely be anywhere from mid-December to mid-January.”
“It’d be great if I had the baby on Valentine’s Day; then it would truly be a posthumous gift of love,” Ginny speculated hopefully.
“Time will tell. Now be sure to keep me informed of any and all changes in both your physical and emotional makeup, if only to be on the safe side. And I want to see you for a checkup every three months until the baby’s born. Congratulations, dear.”
“Thank you. I’d better get home now and tell my family.” With that, the Healer left. Then Ginny dressed and Disapparated back to the Burrow just long enough to tell her folks the good news.
Molly hugged her tightly and reiterated her offer of help. Ginny willingly accepted it, then left again for the Godric’s Hollow house that was her home now—or as much a home as it could be without the one she loved living there with her. In a few months, she wouldn’t be alone in it; she would have Harry’s baby … or babies, with any luck.
It would help to have Hedwig around for posts, but Ginny was thinking of getting another pet, since Hermione’s half-cat, half-kneazle Crookshanks had finally caught her little purple Pygmy Puff, Arnold, and made a meal of him. Hermione had apologised profusely and offered to replace him, but Ginny shook her head. “I’ll get another pet,” she assured her. “I just don’t know what kind yet.” Even at that, if she hadn’t found another pet by the time of the holidays or her birthday, Hermione made a mental note to get Ginny one herself.
She had even Flooed Hermione to tell her what the Healer had said. “Congratulations. I was hoping the implantation would work the first time. Just wait till I tell Ron. He’s going to be thrilled to be an uncle!”
Ginny sighed sadly. “Just the same, I wish Harry could be here. What’s more, I wish I could have gotten pregnant the old-fashioned way and had a chance to … actually join with him and have some enjoyment out of it.”
“I know, but I’m sure that the dream you mentioned—or more specifically, Harry’s reaction in it—indicates that he’s pleased with your decision. Do you think you’ll have any more dreams like it?”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t mind if I do, though.”
“Well, you know that I’m as close as your fireplace, or failing that, the owl post,” Hermione assured her. “And I’ll make sure that Ron and I give you a big hug next time we see you. Would you like us to come visit at the Godric’s Hollow house? Remember, we haven’t had a chance to see it since you finished fixing it up.”
“That would be great. Just either Floo or owl me when you intend to come so I can be ready—or take a raincheck if I’m not feeling up to visitors. I’ve also told Mum to feel free to tell the Order about my pregnancy. Which reminds me, Remus is supposed to drop by with Tonks. Did you know she’s pregnant? She told me at … Harry’s funeral.”
“Yes. That’s great. She can help you, too.”
“But she’s lucky. At least she was able to get pregnant the regular way and will have her husband with her when her baby’s born.”
“I know we can’t replace Harry, Gin, but we’ll be there for you, you know that.”
“I know, and I’m glad of that. I’d better go now and get some sleep. The Healer said I should get all possible rest.”
‘Good idea. You make sure to do all she says to do now. After all, you want a healthy baby, if only for Harry’s sake.” Hermione’s voice at the last was quieter than normal, and Ginny understood why.
“I still miss him so much, ’Mione.” Ginny’s eyes filled with tears, her heart aching at the fact that Harry would never see their child, that she would never be able to feel him stroking her belly, resting his cheek on it or kissing it … nor would they know the joy of discussing names for their child. She would have to do all these things alone. Of course, Harry would always be in her heart and never far from her mind, but it wasn’t the same as having him beside her or in her arms.
“I know. So do I. It just doesn’t seem fair. You two were so happy, so much in love.” Just then Hermione said, “Ron just Apparated in. I’d better go. See you later, Gin. Take care. We’ll be by as soon as we can.”
“Thanks. I’ll be expecting you.” With that, Ginny pulled her head out of the fireplace, then got to her feet and went upstairs to the master bedroom. Of course, once she got bigger, she would have to move downstairs to the sofa bed, since her mother had told her it wasn’t good for a pregnant woman to climb stairs after the sixth month.
She lay down, covering herself up with the green comforter, the exact same shade of Harry’s incredible eyes, then buried her face in her pillow, which she had covered with one of Harry’s old T-shirts, which still had his scent in it, even after it being over a year since he had last worn it, one arm around it and the other on her belly. She closed her eyes and smiled, albeit sadly. “Well, I’m going to have a baby, my love,” she told the Harry in her bedside pictures. “I’m doing what you wanted, and it’ll give me something to live for. Just the same, I wish with all my heart that you were here to share it with me. I still miss you so very much. You belong here, with me, in my arms, not six feet under.” Tears soon filled her eyes, then overflowed onto the old T-shirt even as Ginny breathed in the lingering scent of her beloved.