hufflepuffronstan

She was tired - just so very tired. She hadn’t slept for more than forty-five minutes since the day she became a mother. Every movement felt difficult, as though her limbs weighed twice as much as they should, and all her thoughts were muddy and indecisive. She felt utterly helpless, unable to stop her eyes flicking to the clock on the wall - almost six o’clock. Surely Harry would be home from work soon? She was certain that she had never needed her husband more than she did right that very second.

In her arms, James unleashed a roar of torment that would have done a mandrake proud, and instinctively, she held him a little tighter - but that only seemed to make James wail even more loudly. A little flash of anger burned in her chest. What the hell was wrong with him? Didn’t he know she was doing her best? As quickly as it arrived, the irritation was gone, replaced by an acute sense of shame in her own reaction. How could she possibly be angry with her own baby? It made Ginny stop still in the middle of the room, screwing her eyes tightly closed. Her own tears mixed with James’s as she cradled him, paralysed by a potent mix of guilt, frustration and the sort of bone deep exhaustion familiar only to the parents of new born babies. 

From down the hallway, Ginny heard the front door open and close, then the soft pad of Harry’s footsteps towards the kitchen.

“Ginny?” He put his hand on her shoulder, and without opening her eyes, she tilted her head to rest her cheek on his fingers. The breath that she released was half sigh of relief, half whimper. “Gin, what’s going on?”

“He won’t stop fretting, Harry,” she told him, through the sobs. “He’s been like this for hours. Nothing I do makes any difference. I… I’m a horrible mum!” 

Gently, Harry turned her around, and put his arms around both of them. “Hey, hey, hey,” he comforted her, dropping a kiss onto the top of her head. “You are not a horrible mum. You’re exhausted, and he’s got himself worked up. That’s all. Give him to me, and you go and have a lie down upstairs. It will be fine. I promise.”

“You’re sure?” she asked, oddly reluctant to be parted from James even now. “You’ve only just got home. You must be knackered too.”

“I’m sure. We'll have some father-son bonding time,” confirmed Harry, taking his son into his arms and guiding her towards the stairs as he spoke. Ginny’s feet took her towards their bedroom as though she was on auto-pilot. She collapsed onto the bed and was asleep before her head hit the pillow. 

Four blissful hours later, she woke to a quiet house. Feeling not exactly refreshed but certainly improved, she headed down the stairs to find… nothing. The house was empty. But, before panic could set in, the back door opened, and Harry slipped through it, with James strapped to his chest in the baby carrier, snug under Harry’s winter travelling cloak.

As soon as he saw her, Harry shot her one of his lop-sided grins and put his finger to his lips. “He’s sleeping,” he whispered.

“Where have you been?” she asked, keeping her voice soft. 

“We went for a little fly,” admitted Harry, looking sheepish

Ginny’s eyebrows shot up. “You took him up on a broomstick?”

“Yeah. Hermione was telling me Muggles sometimes take their babies out in the car to calm down, and, well, I couldn’t do that, so I thought this might help,” he explained.

Ginny laughed softly. “I guess it did.”

“Yeah. And I’m not going to lie, his dad enjoyed it too,” he smirked. Then his expression softened. “How are you feeling now?”

“Better for some sleep,” she sighed. “I just don’t know what was going on with him today.”

“I don’t think he knew what was going on with him. But a change of scenery and a nap is good, no matter how old you are,” he said, looking at her pointedly.

“True,” she conceded, taking a step closer to him and slipping her arms around his waist, careful not to jostle their son. “Thanks for rescuing me today. I really needed it.”

“Hey!” Harry put his finger under her chin, tilting her head up so that she could look directly into those gorgeous green eyes. “You don’t ever need to thank me for doing my share. We’re a team, remember?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “Team Potter.”

There was something subdued that Christmas at the Weasley household. Ginny was excited to come home and escape the Carrow’s regime even for a short while, but leaving the castle did little to ease the gnawing uneasiness that clenched her heart these days.

Whereas holidays of the past had been exuberant affairs, this year was anything but. Worry settled around the Burrow like a thick blanket of snow. 

There were many missing places around the table that year. Percy was off being the world’s greatest prat; Harry, Ron and Hermione were all off fighting in the war effort; Remus had gone underground doing work for the Order, and the whole holiday fell rather flat. It turns out that the war followed Ginny wherever she went these days, and the only constant thing was uncertainty. 

And more than anything, Ginny missed Harry. She missed his crooked smile, his easy laugh, his sharp wit, and most of all just talking to him. It felt like a part of herself was missing and she found herself pining for him. She wrote letters, so many letters in invisible ink in the margins of her textbook, and hoped fervently that wherever he was he was safe. 

Harry chuckles as he watches Teddy trudge along, struggling to walk through the deep snow in his puffy snowsuit. He crouches down, showing Teddy how to pack a small ball in his tiny gloved hand, and begins rolling the ball along until the snowball is the size of a small boulder. Ginny works beside them on her own snowball, Teddy flitting between them giggling, chattering away as they work.  Soon they are ready to stack the snowballs, making a tall snowman. Harry lifts Teddy on his shoulders so he can add the carrot nose, a hat, a scarf, and a mouth. 

“Wait,” Ginny says, stepping up and drawing on the snowman’s face. Harry rolls his eyes when she steps away, revealing a lightning bolt scar on his forehead. 

“He needs glasses!” Teddy exclaims excitedly, pointing wildly at Harry’s snow scar.  Ginny charms some of the sticks they gathered for arms, the sticks form in midair, bending into a pair of glasses and gently sets them on with a sticking charm. 

“Much better,” Ginny laughs.  

“What about me?” Teddy asks, “And you too Ginny!” So they roll more balls of snow, packing them together.

When they finish, Harry dashes back in the house to grab more scarves, hats, and carrot noses. He rushes back outside, holding up various items, yelling across the yard, “I got more–”

But as he draws near, Harry stops in his tracks as he looks at a fourth snowman next to their little family, a small snowman with the smallest Gryffindor Hat Harry has ever seen. He looks at Ginny. She has that familiar twinkle in her eye, that blazing look dancing across her face that he loves so much. Harry swallows roughly, speechless.

“I thought we could add one to grow on,” Ginny said, as she walked closer to him. 

“Ginny, are you…” Harry mutters.

“Pregnant?” Ginny asks. A huge smile lights up her whole face as she nods. Excitement blooms in Harry’s chest, strong and fierce. His joy is so encompassing, the feeling choking him as tears run down his face. Harry took a minute to compose himself, crushing Ginny into a hug. With a shuddering breath he murmured, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Ginny said. “Just think, next year we’ll have a baby added to our own little family.”

The tree stood illuminated, twinkling next to a warm fire. It was covered in homemade ornaments and a vibrant paper chain that filled Harry with a strong sense of nostalgia. For as long as he had known Ginny, she had been decorating the Burrow and then their cottage with her colorful chains that covered every surface.

Harry sank into an armchair near the fire, sighing as he put his feet up on the ottoman. 

The firelight caught an old ornament with a tiny handprint the kids had made into reindeer ornaments years ago.  Harry enjoyed a small trip down memory lane, to that day that he had unwrapped his gift from his kids. There was no greater gift than time with his family, than gifts from his kids; he loved everything about being a Dad.

Over the years, Christmas had become his favorite time of year. The kids would come home from Hogwarts, the Weasleys would gather together, and it meant family time. Something about the holiday traditions of making Christmas cookies together, snow forts and snowball fights, decorating the house, and opening presents from Father Christmas, amidst the chaos and noise, that filled him with so much joy. 

Harry had spent many of his first Christmases wishing for a long lost relative to come and rescue from his miserable life at the Dursleys. When the Weasleys had taken him in, and Harry had experienced his first feelings of family, his first happy Christmas memories. 

Ginny came in with a cup of tea, sitting down in the armchair beside him. 

“Hey you,” Ginny said. “Nargals got you?”

Harry chuckled at that. “Not quite. I was just thinking of all of our Christmases through the years.”

“We’ve had a lot of good memories, haven’t we?” She asked wistfully.