Harry sat silently watching the dingy door. He had been at this for hours. He desperately wanted to be at home where Ginny and his newborn son waited, but this was his job.

******************

Ginny gently laid James in to his bassinet. She gently brushed aside the shock of dark hair so like his fathers.

Making herself a cup of tea she gingerly climbed on their bed and settled in to the stack of pillows.

She meant to be reading the scouting reports but her mind kept wandering back to Harry and the baby.

She fell in to a fitful sleep.

*******************

Remaining focused during these long stakeouts was difficult. Sitting, watching a location was boring. Your mind wandered. Harry had to keep snapping his attention back from thoughts of his wife and son.

********************

Ginny was dreaming. Harry and she were flying. It was crisp and cold and the warming spell Harry had placed around the broom barely kept them from freezing. But neither cared. This was the day they had been destined for since birth.

The wedding ceremony was beautiful, all a woman want's on her big day, all except for those empty chairs. How Fred would have loved it when George dropped a snowball down Aunt Muriel's bosom!

*********************

Harry had to stop thinking of Ginny! His mind needed to be on his job 100%. Not remembering their wedding night!

He had been so nervous, laying, waiting for Ginny to come out of the bathroom. Kreacher had decked out the master suite in candles and rose petals.

Romantic music played softly in the background. Then Ginny had shyly entered the room. She had on a soft white gown, held up by the tiniest of straps. Her hair was down and lose, long ropes of rubies, thick upon her shoulders.

As she walked toward him the candle light lit her from behind, her hair took on a magical glow and the fabric of her gown had seemed to disappear.

Afterwards they lay, entwined in each other's arms, unwilling and unable to be apart.

*************************

James' soft mews woke Ginny from her restless sleep. After a nappy change, James was suckling at her breast. Her mind wandered to the day after her wedding.

Ginny woke, on her fist full day as Mrs. Harry Potter, wrapped in her husband's arms. Harry was sleeping, his mouth askew and a soft snore escaping with each inhale.

She carefully raised herself on one elbow to look lovingly at his naked body. The only naked male Ginny had ever seen was Teddy Lupin, and he didn't count. What you saw changing a nappy or giving your god-son a bath, was viewed through the eyes of a mother, not a lover.

Harry's chin was speckled with a shadow of whiskers. His neck was long and graceful, the chin square and manly.

The scar on his forehead was barely visible anymore.

Her eyes traveled to his chest. Gently she placed her fingers on the scar left by that cursed locket. Harry, Hermione and Ron all still bore scars from wearing it, but Harry's was the deepest and darkest.

Then she traced the starburst pattern directly over Harry's heart. That wound had been the hardest of the battle's scars to heal. That is where the killing curse had hit him.

Her hands ran down his sides feeling the healed ribs, and out his arms. Harry's childhood and life as a auror had left him with a collection of healed bones and a network of scars.

********************************************************

At last! Movement toward that cursed door! If Harry was lucky the Witch he had been waiting for would appear with the incriminating evidence on her. Then he could apprehend her, fill out the reams of paperwork and go home to his wife and son!