AN: So this is the only fic I am working on at the moment. Those who have subscribed to me will note that there has been a large gap between my last fic and this one. That's because I have both this and another much larger fic in the works.
This fic is special to me and I've been wanting to write it for about a year, but I need to get my notes/half chapters off of my computer! This is a WIP, I'm hoping that by posting this chapter it gives me the focus to get it down. I know exactly what is going to happen and how it's just a matter of getting it out of my head and onto paper.
Enjoy xx
Prologue
The whole thing took forever and no time at all. The day was exhilarating and terrifying. It was both the absolute best and worst day of his life. It was a day he felt bigger, more powerful than anyone who had ever lived. It was the day he flew the highest and the day he fell the hardest. It was the day he sank lower than he ever had before. For a man like Harry Potter all of that said an awful lot.
He had been escorted out of the room, there had been some sort of complication. The healers either hadn't explained anything or he just didn't understand, it was most likely the latter. He heard words like, distress and heart rate. They escorted him to a tiny adjoining room, filled with healing potions and bandages. A cupboard, he could understand a cupboard. He was told to wait and stay calm. There was a tiny window in the door in which he could watch it all unfold.
Hermione had argued her way into the room, because of course she did. She put a hand on his shoulder and tried to turn him around, but he couldn't understand why. Why was she trying to comfort him? Why were the healers yelling? Why was everyone running around? Why wasn't he allowed to be with his wife? Why was there so much blood?
There were alarms going off in the other room, lights were flashing red. Why were they doing that? Five more healers in green robes ran in from the far door. What was happening? The blonde one was yelling at the medi-witch. What was going on? One of the healers, an older witch, tried talking to the blonde man but he just shook his head and climbed onto the bed. Why did he do that? Why was he pushing down on her chest? The older witch pulled on his arm again. The blonde man bent forward before bowing slowly and climbing off. Why did everyone stop?
The door with the tiny window opened and a short man said, 'I'm sorry Mister Potter.' Why was he sorry? Another, a witch, came up and said, 'We did everything we could.' The blonde man came up to him, Malfoy, Harry recognised him now. He said, 'Potter, I'm so sorry I tried, I promise, I tried.' That's when he had his answers, that's when he knew. His knees gave way when the healers stepped aside.
Lying there in front of him, on white sheets, in a pool of red, was his beautiful wife. The woman he came back from the forest for. The woman who saved him. The woman who held him through the nightmares. The woman who laughed with him. The woman who loved him. The woman who made everything alright again. The woman who gave him a reason to live. Ginny was dead.
Hermione's arms wrapped around him, but he could barely feel them. He couldn't look away, he was transfixed. Standing on shaking legs, he walked towards the still body. Never again would he hear her laugh. Never again would she complain about his abysmal tea. Never again would she hold his hand. He climbed onto the bed, laid down in what he knew was her blood and held her. He needed her to smile again. He needed her to yell at him again. He needed her to hold him again. He needed her again.
As his body shook with sobs he was aware of nothing else. Nothing else, until that noise. That noise that is universal. That noise that makes everyone pay attention. That one sign of life. That one cry. He lifted his head in confusion. Why was there a baby crying?
Ginevra Molly Potter nee' Weasley was pronounced dead at 11:17pm September 29th 2005.
James Sirius Potter was born 7 pounds 9 ounces at 11:13pm September 29th 2005.