They say that they only way for three people to keep a secret is if two of
them are dead.
I hope they're wrong.
***
I've been watching the clock for the last fifteen minutes, counting down the time until noon. I watch the seconds turn slowly into minutes. Watching the hand move from 11:52 to 11:53, I hope that my boss, Mr. Fuller, doesn't notice that I've been neglecting the customers.
A man in the back of the diner waves a hand at me, motioning me forward. I abandon the stool behind the counter and walk back to the booth.
The people here don't recognize me. They don't even know me as Ginny. To them, I'm the waitress whose nametag reads 'Julia.' To them, I'm not a widow. To them, I'm not important. I am simply the uniformed woman who brings their food.
This is how it should be, I remember. It's hard to be in hiding if everyone around you knows who you are. It's hard to be in hiding, period.
The man orders a sandwich. Making my way back to the kitchen, I clip the order to the pole and ring the bell for the cook. His name is David. He's been my friend the past years I've worked here. Or as much of a friend as I've had.
I look at the clock again. The second hand seems to have stopped. I watch it reluctantly pass from 11:59:30 to 11:59:31. It seems unwilling to let me leave. Perhaps it knows the hurt I'm in for. Perhaps it has already seen what I go through every year at this time.
I step through the hard wooden door to Mr. Fuller's office. He sits behind a large desk, the chair swiveling under him. Strewn across the desk are letters, forms and other various pieces of paper. He looks up from the sheet directly in front of him.
"Miss Carter?" he asks. I have a moment of panic when he seems as if he's forgotten that I'm to be let off at noon.
"Sir," I begin hesitantly. "It's noon."
He glances absently to the clock on a spare corner of his desk. "My, yes it is," he replies; he doesn't understand the importance of this time.
"Sir." I begin.
"Oh yes, yes, you may go," he says, waving an arm. He doesn't see the relief on my face when he relieves me of waitress duty.
I stop in the back room before I leave. The dry air stings my noise. I pick up my small purse and sling it over my shoulder. I take a breath, and head for the door.
The bright August sunlight mirrors my mood. It's one of the few days I can visit my. nephew. Ron has reminded me repeatedly that traveling the long distance too often would be suspicious.
I agree with him, but am unwilling to tell him so. True, I live too far upcountry from my brother and his wife to visit them often. And much as I want to live closer, there is no way to keep me safe. Not in London. Not with so many wizards.
I choose not to go home, and instead head directly to the bus station. I can already see that it's going to be a long, two-hour ride. I'm willing to take it, however. So long as I can see Daniel on his birthday.
I think on the ride. There's plenty of time for that. But not nearly enough time to make peace with the past.
It was almost five years ago that I became a widow.
I got married to Harry Potter three years after I graduated from Hogwarts. Four years after he had. We had become good friends, once I had gotten over my girlish crush, during our stay at Hogwarts, especially after Voldemort rose. After schooling, we spent most of our free time together. It would often be under the guise of working against a common enemy, but we soon came to realize that we were there because we wanted to spend more time together.
It was a small ceremony, with only my family and some friends. It was a dark time, though not as dark as it is now. Voldemort was only gaining back power then. Today, he rules.
Hermione and Ron had been married the year before, and I couldn't have thought of a better couple. As much as they had petty arguments, they eventually came to see what almost everyone else had known all along: they were meant to be together.
Harry had always been fighting against Voldemort. I knew Ron had been working on the inside of the operation, but I had never been in the inner- circle of our defenses. It was in November, a year after our wedding, that we got a huge break. We finally knew where Voldemort's base of operations was.
I had begged with Harry not to go. As much as my heart told me something was wrong, it also knew that it had to be Harry. No one but Gryffindor's heir would be able to take down Voldemort (We had long ago learned to speak his true name).
And that was Harry. The only one left directly descended from Godric himself. It was only Harry who had the ability to fight Salazar Slytherin's heir. And I knew I had to let him have the chance. If Harry could restore the wizarding world to peace, the peace it had been in after Voldemort's first defeat, wasn't that worth everything?
So I let him go.
It only confirmed my worst fears when he didn't come back.
I cried for days on end. The rest of our secret alliance against Voldemort was in mourning as well; we had lost our only hope; but none of them had loved him like I did. Like I still do.
I was alone in the world. I had only one brother who I kept in contact with. Father had been killed when the Ministry had been attacked. Mother had very little strength left after that, and soon followed Dad. Bill had been killed during the war. The war that had not ended, because Voldemort still reigns. No one had heard from Charlie in several years. We found out only a year ago about the accident that took his life. Fred and George are in America, last we heard, promoting their joke shop.
Percy? We don't talk about Percy. Everyone knew Percy was very much a power-seeker. No one ever thought he truly would do anything to gain power. He's not my brother anymore than he fights on the right side.
I had been asked to go into hiding before. As the wife of Harry Potter, I was very much at risk. Not that Voldemort needed any reason to kill me more than that I worked against him, but I could easily be used as a pawn. It was only two weeks after his death that I found out that I- That I agreed that it was best to go into hiding.
Two weeks later, Hermione announced that she was pregnant. She went into hiding then as well. Perhaps, a better phrase is 'deeper into hiding' since all who are allied against Voldemort are in hiding from the rest of the wizarding world.
Nine months later, a baby boy was born. He was named Daniel.
Three years of pretending to be a Muggle later, and the bus is pulling up to the London station. I step off the bus, and I begin to feel the sadness pulling at my heart again. London holds far too many memories for me.
I hail a taxi, and set the wrapped box next to me in the back seat. It seems like forever since I've seen Daniel, Ron, and Hermione. But I remember them all as if it were yesterday.
The taxi drives away, leaving me standing at the doorstep of a small flat. I can turn back now, not dredge up the memories, but I can't leave. I said I would be here. And I have to keep that promise to Daniel.
Ron opens the door, and pulls me quickly inside, where I'm wrapped in a hug. Hermione joins Ron in the hugging. It's really great to see them after all this time, but they realize that there's more I'm here for.
The just-turned-four-years-old boy in the living room turns to smile at me. I notice that he's inherited the trademark Weasley hair.
"Aunt Ginny!" he shouts as he runs toward me. I sense the eyes of Ron and Hermione on me as these two words are spoken. I can feel their concern. They know what this means to me.
I have no time to ponder this, as I kneel down to hug Daniel. "Daniel, you've grown so much!"
"What's in the box?" he asks
"You'll have to find out." I tease him, shaking the present lightly in my free arm.
He rips open the wrapping paper of his present. He pulls out the fake potions set (I wouldn't trust a four year-old with a real one) and runs to his room to set it up.
***
Daniel is probably the most well guarded child since Harry Potter. There are spells protecting the Weasley house. Both Ron and Hermione keep close watch on everything that happens. They are the only two that are there, because no one else can know the truth. It is because of our fear for Daniel's safety that our trip to the zoo is a very cautious one.
I sit in the back of the car with Daniel. I ask him questions about how he's been since Easter, when I last saw him. I also ask him about how his birthday has been so far. I realize just how much of his life has been lived while I'm not around.
As we walk through the zoo, I can't help but wonder if this is the same one where Harry learned that he was a Parseltongue. I wonder if he saw the primate house, the African grasslands; if he walked the same pavement so many years ago.
Daniel asks to ride the carousel.
"Do you really think he should go alone? What if something happens?" I whisper.
"He won't go alone. I'll take him," Hermione says.
"Can't Aunt Ginny take me?" Daniel asks, looking up at me with pleading eyes.
Tears form as I look down into those big green eyes. His father's eyes.
***
They say that they only way for three people to keep a secret is if two of them are dead.
I hope they're wrong. For all our sakes.
I hope they're wrong.
***
I've been watching the clock for the last fifteen minutes, counting down the time until noon. I watch the seconds turn slowly into minutes. Watching the hand move from 11:52 to 11:53, I hope that my boss, Mr. Fuller, doesn't notice that I've been neglecting the customers.
A man in the back of the diner waves a hand at me, motioning me forward. I abandon the stool behind the counter and walk back to the booth.
The people here don't recognize me. They don't even know me as Ginny. To them, I'm the waitress whose nametag reads 'Julia.' To them, I'm not a widow. To them, I'm not important. I am simply the uniformed woman who brings their food.
This is how it should be, I remember. It's hard to be in hiding if everyone around you knows who you are. It's hard to be in hiding, period.
The man orders a sandwich. Making my way back to the kitchen, I clip the order to the pole and ring the bell for the cook. His name is David. He's been my friend the past years I've worked here. Or as much of a friend as I've had.
I look at the clock again. The second hand seems to have stopped. I watch it reluctantly pass from 11:59:30 to 11:59:31. It seems unwilling to let me leave. Perhaps it knows the hurt I'm in for. Perhaps it has already seen what I go through every year at this time.
I step through the hard wooden door to Mr. Fuller's office. He sits behind a large desk, the chair swiveling under him. Strewn across the desk are letters, forms and other various pieces of paper. He looks up from the sheet directly in front of him.
"Miss Carter?" he asks. I have a moment of panic when he seems as if he's forgotten that I'm to be let off at noon.
"Sir," I begin hesitantly. "It's noon."
He glances absently to the clock on a spare corner of his desk. "My, yes it is," he replies; he doesn't understand the importance of this time.
"Sir." I begin.
"Oh yes, yes, you may go," he says, waving an arm. He doesn't see the relief on my face when he relieves me of waitress duty.
I stop in the back room before I leave. The dry air stings my noise. I pick up my small purse and sling it over my shoulder. I take a breath, and head for the door.
The bright August sunlight mirrors my mood. It's one of the few days I can visit my. nephew. Ron has reminded me repeatedly that traveling the long distance too often would be suspicious.
I agree with him, but am unwilling to tell him so. True, I live too far upcountry from my brother and his wife to visit them often. And much as I want to live closer, there is no way to keep me safe. Not in London. Not with so many wizards.
I choose not to go home, and instead head directly to the bus station. I can already see that it's going to be a long, two-hour ride. I'm willing to take it, however. So long as I can see Daniel on his birthday.
I think on the ride. There's plenty of time for that. But not nearly enough time to make peace with the past.
It was almost five years ago that I became a widow.
I got married to Harry Potter three years after I graduated from Hogwarts. Four years after he had. We had become good friends, once I had gotten over my girlish crush, during our stay at Hogwarts, especially after Voldemort rose. After schooling, we spent most of our free time together. It would often be under the guise of working against a common enemy, but we soon came to realize that we were there because we wanted to spend more time together.
It was a small ceremony, with only my family and some friends. It was a dark time, though not as dark as it is now. Voldemort was only gaining back power then. Today, he rules.
Hermione and Ron had been married the year before, and I couldn't have thought of a better couple. As much as they had petty arguments, they eventually came to see what almost everyone else had known all along: they were meant to be together.
Harry had always been fighting against Voldemort. I knew Ron had been working on the inside of the operation, but I had never been in the inner- circle of our defenses. It was in November, a year after our wedding, that we got a huge break. We finally knew where Voldemort's base of operations was.
I had begged with Harry not to go. As much as my heart told me something was wrong, it also knew that it had to be Harry. No one but Gryffindor's heir would be able to take down Voldemort (We had long ago learned to speak his true name).
And that was Harry. The only one left directly descended from Godric himself. It was only Harry who had the ability to fight Salazar Slytherin's heir. And I knew I had to let him have the chance. If Harry could restore the wizarding world to peace, the peace it had been in after Voldemort's first defeat, wasn't that worth everything?
So I let him go.
It only confirmed my worst fears when he didn't come back.
I cried for days on end. The rest of our secret alliance against Voldemort was in mourning as well; we had lost our only hope; but none of them had loved him like I did. Like I still do.
I was alone in the world. I had only one brother who I kept in contact with. Father had been killed when the Ministry had been attacked. Mother had very little strength left after that, and soon followed Dad. Bill had been killed during the war. The war that had not ended, because Voldemort still reigns. No one had heard from Charlie in several years. We found out only a year ago about the accident that took his life. Fred and George are in America, last we heard, promoting their joke shop.
Percy? We don't talk about Percy. Everyone knew Percy was very much a power-seeker. No one ever thought he truly would do anything to gain power. He's not my brother anymore than he fights on the right side.
I had been asked to go into hiding before. As the wife of Harry Potter, I was very much at risk. Not that Voldemort needed any reason to kill me more than that I worked against him, but I could easily be used as a pawn. It was only two weeks after his death that I found out that I- That I agreed that it was best to go into hiding.
Two weeks later, Hermione announced that she was pregnant. She went into hiding then as well. Perhaps, a better phrase is 'deeper into hiding' since all who are allied against Voldemort are in hiding from the rest of the wizarding world.
Nine months later, a baby boy was born. He was named Daniel.
Three years of pretending to be a Muggle later, and the bus is pulling up to the London station. I step off the bus, and I begin to feel the sadness pulling at my heart again. London holds far too many memories for me.
I hail a taxi, and set the wrapped box next to me in the back seat. It seems like forever since I've seen Daniel, Ron, and Hermione. But I remember them all as if it were yesterday.
The taxi drives away, leaving me standing at the doorstep of a small flat. I can turn back now, not dredge up the memories, but I can't leave. I said I would be here. And I have to keep that promise to Daniel.
Ron opens the door, and pulls me quickly inside, where I'm wrapped in a hug. Hermione joins Ron in the hugging. It's really great to see them after all this time, but they realize that there's more I'm here for.
The just-turned-four-years-old boy in the living room turns to smile at me. I notice that he's inherited the trademark Weasley hair.
"Aunt Ginny!" he shouts as he runs toward me. I sense the eyes of Ron and Hermione on me as these two words are spoken. I can feel their concern. They know what this means to me.
I have no time to ponder this, as I kneel down to hug Daniel. "Daniel, you've grown so much!"
"What's in the box?" he asks
"You'll have to find out." I tease him, shaking the present lightly in my free arm.
He rips open the wrapping paper of his present. He pulls out the fake potions set (I wouldn't trust a four year-old with a real one) and runs to his room to set it up.
***
Daniel is probably the most well guarded child since Harry Potter. There are spells protecting the Weasley house. Both Ron and Hermione keep close watch on everything that happens. They are the only two that are there, because no one else can know the truth. It is because of our fear for Daniel's safety that our trip to the zoo is a very cautious one.
I sit in the back of the car with Daniel. I ask him questions about how he's been since Easter, when I last saw him. I also ask him about how his birthday has been so far. I realize just how much of his life has been lived while I'm not around.
As we walk through the zoo, I can't help but wonder if this is the same one where Harry learned that he was a Parseltongue. I wonder if he saw the primate house, the African grasslands; if he walked the same pavement so many years ago.
Daniel asks to ride the carousel.
"Do you really think he should go alone? What if something happens?" I whisper.
"He won't go alone. I'll take him," Hermione says.
"Can't Aunt Ginny take me?" Daniel asks, looking up at me with pleading eyes.
Tears form as I look down into those big green eyes. His father's eyes.
***
They say that they only way for three people to keep a secret is if two of them are dead.
I hope they're wrong. For all our sakes.