Circa 2004, Harry Potter universe… might not be entirely canon, but this is how it happened in my mind.

..:..

Harry peeled himself from the bed sheets, groggy, unfocused. A quick fumble for his glasses - despite the offers of eye-correction spells and contact lenses he still clung to this fragment of his childhood - and the room snapped into focus.

The sheets and pillow beside him bore the light imprint of a slight figure, but there was no such figure to be seen. Pulling on a jeans and shirt, Harry wandered through to the kitchen, where dirty plates lay untouched on the table, still containing leftovers which had been deserted last night abruptly for other pursuits. Harry couldn't resist a grin. He may be 24, but the 16 year boy inside him was holding his hand out in admiration for a high-five. The more mature Harry frowned instead, wishing that it didn't have to be like this. Flying between London and Wales constantly, juggling his work at the Ministry and making time to see Ginny in her homely cottage here. It felt just the Burrow; a far cry from his grotty flat in London, which was, as Harry reasoned, purely for eating and sleeping, thus required no cleaning. Ginny may reject all her mother's motherly traits, but she made even this run down cottage feel like home.

He'd asked her to marry him, several times. He'd understated it, just as he knew she would have liked, but she had yet to give a satisfactory answer. She would merely bite her lip, and look down in shame, mumbling something along the lines of "not yet" or "we'll see." He could put up with it, because he loved her. But he wished… he wished it could be simple. He wanted to just belong to her, and it wasn't much to ask.

She had ambitions - that was her problem. Not that he begrudged her them, of course. He just hoped she would realise that Harry and her Quidditch aspirations were not as incompatible as she liked to profess.

Harry didn't bother with shoes, making his way through the fields surrounding the cottage, his ankles soaked with morning dew. She was always gone in the morning, but unlike everyone else, Harry knew where to find her.

She was perched on the fence, as usual, broom propped up besides her, frown on her face. Harry leapt up besides her, no greeting required. Her red hair was blowing across her face, but beneath it, she was biting her lip. Nervous. Harry reached over to tuck it behind her ear.

"What's up?"

Ginny looked down. "I don't want it."

"Want what?"

Ginny sighed. "I feel so awful, sometimes, Harry, because I know exactly what you think. You think I don't care about you."

"I don't think that."

"You do, and I can see it. I do care, I really do."

"I know." Harry was lost. He reached for her hand. "I know you do."

"I just really don't want to look back at me now and think I never quite did all I could while I was young enough."

"With the Harpies?"

"Yeah. I mean. No room for older players in this sport, is there? You've got to stay on your toes."

"You're barely 23, Gin. You've got years ahead of you." Harry pulled her towards him. "The world is your oyster."

Unexpectedly, she started to cry. "I don't want to miss any of it. I don't want to feel like I gave it up because of gender stereotypes-"

"Shh." Harry couldn't fathom the reason for this outburst, but he took it as it came. "You won't have to, Ginny, it's ok. I don't need you to be… a wifely figure. You shouldn't feel that I do."

She shot him a look of disappointment. "Not wifely. Motherly."

"Well," Harry grinned, trying to cheer her up. "I sincerely hope not, as that would raise one hell of a lot of problems…" Not even the merest hint of a smile. "Ginny? What's up?"

"Motherly." She repeated, unsmiling. "No better way to ruin a career than bloody motherhood."

"Well, don't have kids then." Harry said, trying to keep his voice light, but a tone of annoyance was definitely creeping in. "Don't mind me. I can't do it on my bloody own, can I?"

Ginny looked immediately remorseful and miserable.

"Oh Harry, I'm sorry. You're going to hate me." She looked up at him, teary. "But I can't do it."

"Do what?"

"Have this baby."

"Have this… hang on." Harry's head reeled, and he grasped the fence for support. "Ginny?" His turned to her, bewildered. "Ginny? You're… you're-"

"Don't say it, please." She whispered, clutching his hand. "Don't let's make it real."

"How long?"

"A while."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because," Ginny said quietly, "I was going to just get rid of it without telling you."

"Ginny-"

"Don't start. I knew you'd start."

"Of course I will - Ginny, this isn't - " Harry stopped, took a deep breath, and clenched his teeth. "Look," he began again, making the effort to remain calm. "Ginny - " The words lost themselves on his lips, as he stared at her in bewildered love and disappointment.

He slid from the fence and pulled her down with him into his arms. She was still crying. He didn't trust himself to speak. There was his child in his arms, as well as Ginny, and one wrong word could take that away from him. What could he possibly say to change her mind?

"We could make it work." He whispered. "I don't need to stay in London. I know you like your space, but I could move in with you. Look after you. I could cut down my hours so you could still play all your matches, and apparate to the Ministry-"

Still, she sobbed into his shoulder.

" - you wouldn't need even miss much of the season. Think about the timing - it'd all be happening off-peak. Ginny, please. Ginny?"

She was silent, huddled close to him. Having doubts. Feeling sick to her stomach with decisions and nervousness.

"I feel so sick and awful." She said quietly, clutching at his shirt.

"I've heard tell that's part of the experience. " Harry said teasingly, stroking her back. "How long did you say it had been?"

"I didn't. I don't know. But-"

"But what?"

"I can feel it." She bit her lip, which threatened to betray her. "Him."

"Him?" Harry clutched for the fence, his legs determined to turn to jelly. "It's a he?" His voice was hoarse.

"I think." Ginny whispered, closing her eyes. " I can just sort of… tell."

"Ginny, please." Harry said urgently, holding her arms tightly. "If you never do another thing for me, please, please, I swear to God, I need you to do this… please…"

Ginny turned away, to Harry's bitter disappointment.

He pulled her unresponding body closer, finding her stomach. Her pushed her protesting arms away, his palm finding its place on her bare stomach, now that he knew to look, he could tell it was distended. Warm and rounded, and full of promise.

He couldn't help it. He couldn't stop himself.

"We could call it James." He said suddenly, causing Ginny to look up at him, her eyes wet and wide. He held his breath, and a barely perceptible smile spread across her face, and for once, she looked peaceful.

"Well," She murmured, "When are you going to ask me?"

"Huh?" Harry said nervously, as Ginny smiled properly.

"When are you going to ask me?" She grinned, wriggling closer. "If we wait much longer, I don't reckon I'd fit into the dress, right?"

Harry wrapped his arms around her and smothered her in delighted kisses, one hand still resting on her stomach. Ginny smiled softly, clutching at him.

"Just promise me…" She began.

"I promise you won't regret this. I promise I'll be as helpful as-"

"Promise me," She added softly, "You'll ditch those ridiculous glasses, once and for all."

"Hey-"

"No arguing." She grinned. "I can take it all back just like that."

Harry didn't reply, but merely threw his glasses from his head into the dew filled grass.

"There." He said, repressing a grin. " I can't see a damn thing now. You happy?"

"Actually…" Ginny mused, smiling. "Yes."

"In that case," Harry added, reaching out for the blurry, red-haired outline that was Ginny. "Ginny Weasley, will you marry me?"

She pretended to consider it for a moment, arms around his neck.

She smiled shyly.

"Alright." She said.

..:..

I enjoyed writing this. I hated Harry/Ginny at first but it really grew on me. Hope you liked it!

Any criticism or suggestions gratefully received.

xox

Just as a quick reply to those such as bones2009 (I'm not getting at you at all, I really appreciated your review) who thought Ginny wouldn't say no to Harry, the love of her life - firstly, she didn't specifically say "no", and secondly, you can love someone and not want to marry them. I don't doubt she loves Harry and wants to be a mother and wife, but I always saw Ginny as a strong, independent character who would rather make a name for herself than live in the shadow of Harry. This is fanfiction, and we all have different spins on characters! I wrote this fic originally to reconcile these two sides of Ginny's personality as I saw it - her independence and her want for family. Note - she didn't really want to not have the baby, or she wouldn't have told Harry. I do sppreciate your views - we are all entitled to them - but just thought I'd let mine be known!

Thanks again for your reviews, hope this clears up my thinking behind this. xox