We all found out we were expecting at the same time. Ron and Hermione had invited us over to dinner, which wasn't that unusual, since we did this at least once a month anyway. Ginny and I had just found out ourselves and decided that would be the perfect time to tell them our news. Come to find out, we weren't the only ones with that news. You would have been hard to find four happier people in this world that we all were on that night. That evening, Ron and I talked about how worried we were at our wives becoming hormonal wrecks and of course, Ginny and Hermione told us they were plotting to wake us up at insane hours of the night to go buy them ice cream.
We told the rest of the family all at once. Mrs. Weasley had a huge family dinners often, so it was easy to let the entire family know of our news. You can imagine Molly's reaction. She was overjoyed at the news of two new grandchildren. There were a lot of hugs and handshakes that night.
And so, our dinners with just the four of us continued, every month, to share news and compare morning sickness stories. Of course we saw each other much more often than that. Ron and I worked together every day, and Ginny and Hermione saw each other often. But work kept us busy and we had not yet shared the news with everyone just yet. The Daily Prophet still hounded after me for news and gossip. Hardly a week went by that my name didn't appear for some reason or other. Ron and Hermione didn't have it much better when it came to the press. It was hard to keep secrets at the best of times.
I always tried to be with Ginny when she had her appointments with the midwife. At Ginny's third meeting, the midwife was able to cast a spell that allowed us to hear the heartbeat of our little one. What a moment. It really became real. Oh I had known it was real. I had witnessed Ginny's mood chances and morning sickness, but hearing the heartbeat was an incredible moment.
I was surprised when one day Ron confided in me that he was worried about not being a good dad. I couldn't believe it! How could Ron not be a great dad? He was a great person to start with, but he also had the greatest role model. Mr. Weasley was one of the best men I had ever known. With a man like that as your father, how could you not be a great dad yourself? I worried too. Uncle Vernon was hardly the best role model and having almost no memories of my own father, I was afraid that I would be a rubbish dad. But I knew that for all of Uncle Vernon's bad traits, he was a very loving father. Not a great father, but he loved his son. If Uncle Vernon could be a dad, I knew I could be a great dad.
We got around to the fifth month of pregnancy. At our monthly dinner, the girls expressed how excited they were because they had both started to feel the baby move and get the hiccups. Their stomachs had rounded out. It was odd to see. Hermione and Ginny were very fit ladies and to see both of their normally flat stomachs filling out was a little strange. But it was a wonderful kind of strange as I thought about the tiny life that was growing in them. That dinner was a happy night, as all our dinners had been. You never know when you are having a great night that your world might be shaken to its core in only a few hours time.
After Ron and Hermione had left for the night, I helped Ginny clean up after dinner. We sat, cuddled together on the couch, in front of the fireplace, watching the flames and talking about possible names. My hand rested on Ginny's stomach. I was hoping to feel the baby move. I had not caught it yet and was eager to feel our little miracle. Just as we were getting ready to get up and go to bed, I felt it. The tiniest pressure against the palm of my hand. I practically jumped. Ginny had the biggest grin ever. I kept my hand in the same spot, hoping to feel the pressure again and after several moments, I was rewarded with another tiny kick. I kissed Ginny.
As we were changing for bed, an owl arrived and knocked on our bedroom window. I let the owl in and took it's note from its talons. On a good day, Ron's handwriting could be a challenge to read, this note was almost illegible.
Harry,
We were attacked. Hermione's in labour. Come to St. Mungo's - fast.
R
We didn't bother changing back into our clothes. We threw on our robes and a coat and immediately went to the wizarding hospital. One good thing about being Harry Potter, is that sometimes formalities, such a visitor's passes, could be ignored and we were taken immediately to Ron. He was standing in the hallway, just outside a room. He gave us the story.
He and Hermione had just left our house. They apparated back to their home, but just outside it's protective boundaries, as they planned on taking an evening walk. A Death Eater was there, waiting for them. He attacked them before either of them realized he was even there. Hermione got the first blow. It sent her flying and she landed on her side. Ron got a pretty nasty hex to the face and he was still sporting a bruised face and swollen eye. Ron was able to duel him and quickly knocked him unconscious. He bound the man, summoned the Auror who was on-call that night, and took Hermione to the hospital. She was in pain and bleeding. They did several tests and spells and discovered that the baby was dead. No heartbeat. No sign of life. They let her labour.
My knees were weak and I felt like all the life had just been knocked out of me as well. Ginny was as white as a sheet. Ron led us into Hermione's room. She laid in bed, tears streaming down her face. I went to her and kissed her cheek. She cried. Ginny stood back in the corner. I think she was afraid to go near Hermione, but Hermione called to her and told her she wanted Ginny to hold her hand. I pulled up Ginny a chair so she could sit with Hermione. Ron stood on her other side and held her hand and I stood next to Ron, to support him. Hardly were any words spoken, just a lot of tears shed.
The midwife said that if they wanted, she could just take the baby away as soon as it was born, but Hermione wouldn't hear of such a thing. She announced it was her child and she wanted to hold it when it was born. Hermione quickly gave birth to the tiniest thing I had ever seen. It fit into one of the midwife's hands. She took it off to the side and Hermione protested, but she assured Hermione that she was simply going to clean him up and wrap him in a blanket. It was a boy.
I was surprised with Ron. He was very calm. He and I stood next to the midwife as she cleaned up the baby. Ginny helped Hermione to get more comfortable and sit up. When the midwife was done, she handed the tiny baby, wrapped in a blue blanket to Ron. He held the baby for a moment, looking at him and then turned and gave him over to Hermione. I expected her to burst into tears. It's what I wanted to do, but she didn't. She gently unwrapped the blanket and looked at the tiny, tiny baby. He was perfect in every way. He had arms and legs and the most minute fingers and toes. He had eyes, a nose, a mouth and ears. It was a baby. A tiny baby, to be sure, but a baby. I realized that is what my own child looked like at that moment. Tucked away inside Ginny was a baby that looked very much like the one that was being held in front of me.
Hermione re-wrapped the baby and held him tightly to her chest. Tears streamed down her face and she sobbed. We all did. I don't know when, but the midwife had slipped out of the room at some point, leaving the four of us together with the baby, and we cried. Finally, Hermione looked at me and offered me her baby to hold. I took him. He weighed almost nothing and he was as long as my hand. I held my nephew and looked at his face in wonder. A large tear landed right on his head and soaked it. I wiped the tear away from his face.
"Harry," Ron said to me. "We were going to ask you and Ginny to be his godparents."
I was touched and told Ron so.
"We had decided on a name a few weeks ago. I'm glad we did," Ron said. "If it's alright with you, we wanted to name him Harry. Harry Ronald Weasley."
I couldn't believe my ears. Really? I cried harder and could only nod my approval. Little Harry. I was so honored. Ginny had asked me at one point, after we found out we were expecting, if I wanted to name one of our children Harry. I had quickly put away that idea. Our little child didn't need to be saddled with the name Harry Potter. But Harry Weasley... it was an honor.
Hermione offered the baby to Ginny. Ginny wasn't looking to good. Later, when I talked with her, privately, she told me the feelings she was experiencing at that time. She was horrified that Hermione and Ron had been attacked, and it had killed their baby. She felt vulnerable herself. She was in awe of the baby, realizing that that was what was growing within her at that moment. It was an actual, true baby. She was also embarrassed and ashamed at still being pregnant when Hermione had just lost hers. She was afraid of being there with Hermione. What if Hermione held Ginny a grudge? What if Hermione was disgusted by Ginny? What if Hermione was angry with Ginny for still having her baby? I didn't know all of this at the time, so I took the baby to Ginny and placed him into her arms. She stared at him for several moments and couldn't say anything. She handed the baby back to Hermione.
The midwife returned. I offered to Ron that I could tell the rest of the family the news. He asked that I wait until tomorrow and if I wouldn't mind telling just his parents and then letting the office know he was taking some time off work, but to not say why just yet. I was happy to follow his request.
Ginny and I went home soon after, promising to return to visit later in the day. There wasn't much night time left by the time we got home. Neither of us could speak and neither of us slept well. We held each other, our hands laid protectively over Ginny's stomach. We finally managed to catch a few hours. After waking, I left Ginny at home. I promised her I wasn't going to be gone long. I was going to go to work, and let them know Ron would not be in for a few days and that I would be taking the day off myself. The Auror who had been the one to arrive at the scene after they were called in by Ron was very understanding, but the rest were not. I guessed they would all get filled in on the events soon enough, but they didn't need to know the entire outcome, not just yet anyway.
Then I went to the Weasley's house. Only Molly was home, but she summoned Arthur and he arrived at the house moments later. I told them what had happened. Molly was horrified and Arthur sunk to the couch without a word. We all had a cry over the loss. I told them I needed to get home, back to Ginny, but we would go back to the hospital later in the day to visit. I had a feeling they left immediately to go see Ron and Hermione. I went home and found Ginny. She was just sitting on the couch.
She didn't want to talk, but I convinced her too. That was when she opened up on all she had been feeling at the hospital. She told me she was afraid to go back that afternoon. What if Hermione didn't want to ever see her again? I told her that was highly unlikely. If they held a grudge in any way, they wouldn't have allowed us to be with them last night for the birth of their son.
We managed some more sleep and then went to St. Mungo's in the mid-afternoon. Molly was still there and Hermione sat holding her son. There were no more tears at that moment. Arthur and Ron had gone to make some arrangements for a funeral. The Weasley's, being an old wizarding family, had their own cemetery. Hermione told us she was going to be released tomorrow and if possible, the funeral would be tomorrow evening. While we were there, Ron and his father returned, informing us that everything was arranged for the funeral. Molly and Arthur left to go inform the rest of the family, but at Ron and Hermione's wishes, no one else but family. Only family for the funeral.
Ginny and I stayed with them the rest of the day. We took turns holding the baby. Hermione answered Ginny's unexpressed thoughts by letting her know that she in no way, was angry with Ginny. She promised she was still just as excited for the birth of our child and would be the world's greatest aunt to it. As long as we promised to make sure they were the first to know when our child was born. Ginny smiled and we agreed.
The next twenty four hours were agonizing. Hermione was released and brought to the Burrow, where the rest of the family was gathered. Conversation was strained. It was finally at the funeral that everyone broke down in tears. There was no anger or wailing, just tears, crying for the life that never had the chance.
Ron didn't return to work for several weeks. With his permission, I was able to finally tell the others what had happened. The proper forms were filled out to add the murder of Harry Weasley to the list of charges against the Death Eater. Ron was there for the trial. I wasn't sure what to expect of him, but Ron was calm and professional. There were tears, to be sure, but he was calm. I was struck with how much Ron had matured in these last few weeks. The entire ordeal aged him. It aged us all, but I think it was most apparent in Ron.
The next several months were a strange mixture of sadness and joy. We weren't sure how much Ron and Hermione wanted to talk about their son, if at all, so we let them take the lead. We talked about him more than I thought we would and I was surprised by that, but then I realized, he was their son. Of course they wanted to talk about him. He had been perfect and beautiful and they were very proud of him.
Ginny became more and more uncomfortable as her stomach became larger and rounder. She also became more nervous. She felt more vulnerable than ever because she was so slow to move. She was understandably nervous about the entire process of childbirth. I was too.
When Ginny did go into labour, we called the midwife, who came right away. After checking on Ginny, she was told that we had a long way to go. The midwife left us and we called up Ron and Hermione, who were happy to come and be with us. There was no talk about little Harry that day. It was all about Ginny and her baby. We laughed together for the first few hours, playing games and telling funny stories as Ginny slowly progressed in labour.
When she finally got to the point where she didn't want to talk anymore, we quieted down and waited. Hermione had a book and read. Ron and I chatted quietly in between contractions. I tried my best to be of any help to Ginny, but she got to the point where she didn't want me to touch her at all. She said it was too uncomfortable to be touched during contractions. I obliged her and merely sat by her side, concerned for her and wishing I could take the pain away from her. When the contractions were closer together, we called the midwife again. She applauded Ginny for doing so well. We walked around the house together, pausing for the contractions, until Ginny couldn't walk anymore. By the time she laid down on the bed, the pains were almost one on top of the other. I expected her to scream, but she never did. She moaned and cried out, but never screamed. Ron sat in the corner of the room, with rather a white face. His baby sister was in pain, after all. Hermione was on Ginny's left and I was on her right. Finally the moment we had all been waiting for arrived and Ginny pushed with all the energy she had left. The baby was a little stubborn, but the midwife said that wasn't unusual for first time moms. With one last great push, our child was born and gave his first cries.
It was a boy. We all cried, but this time, they were tears of joy. The midwife snuck out of the room again and left the four of us alone with the baby. How different this picture was. Here was a full grown newborn and while he was still tiny, he was so much larger than Harry had been. He had lots of thick black hair and Ron congratulated me with having powered over the Weasley genetics and produced a non-ginger haired child. We named him James.
James had powerful lungs. I was thankful for that, but also realized very quickly how loud those lungs could be. He could wail but I wouldn't have traded a single wail for all the treasures in the world. Molly moved in with us for the next week. I was so glad she did. Ginny and I really didn't know what we were doing. Every time I held James, I was sure Molly would swoop in on me and tell me I was doing it all wrong and that I was going to kill him. But she never did. She complimented me on how well I was doing with him. Despite my lack of experience with children, caring for James came surprisingly natural.
James was a wailer. That boy cried and cried. I knew babies cried, but I didn't think they cried all of the time. Molly told me that Bill and Charlie had been criers like that. She said she never figured out why, they just cried and so did James.
We were exhausted. I had to go to work at all hours of the day or night and I had several missions I had to leave on for days and weeks at a time. Ron and I were always assigned to go together on these missions. We worked well together and could anticipate what the other was doing. We had an unspoken way of communicating, giving us an advantage. During these times, Hermione would stay with Ginny. Ginny was thankful for the company and help. Hermione was like a second mum to James. We were grateful for Ron and Hermione. They were ever my best friends.
When James was six months old, Hermione and Ron gave us the news they were expecting again. We were all so happy. They were a little more nervous and cautious, but everything went very smoothly. Hermione's morning sickness wasn't so bad this time as it had been with Harry. She hoped it meant that she was having a girl.
When James was nine months old, Ginny found out she was pregnant again. Ginny was not so happy. She cried. It wasn't that she didn't want another one, but she was so exhausted. James was so much work. I had spent time around Ginny's other brothers and their families. I didn't recall any of their children being so difficult as James was. Even Molly admitted that he was certainly the most loud and intense baby of all of her grandchildren. This didn't help Ginny. She was equally sick as she had been with James, but now she also had James to care for. We were excited about another baby, but we hadn't planned on one so soon after James, especially with his personality draining all the life from his parents.
Still, everyone was excited with two more Weasley/Potters to join the family. Ron and Hermione's child was born on her due date, three weeks after James's first birthday. This pleased Hermione to no end. Such a punctual child. They had a girl. A girl with the pinkest skin and the thinnest layer of ginger hair. Appropriately enough, they named her Rose. Ginny was with them when Rose was born. I had been sent on another mission, but without Ron. He would not leave Hermione for anything and I didn't blame him. Thankfully I was home again two days after Rose was born. I was able to go and meet her right away. She was beautiful. I had never seen anyone so pink. Ron was insanely proud. He walked about in something of a stupor half of the time, proclaiming how he couldn't believe that he was a dad. And he was a brilliant dad.
Rose was not a screamer. When she cried, it was a quiet cry and just enough of a cry to let you know she was in need of something - food, burping or a changing. The rest of the time she either slept or was quietly alert. She looked at the world with her dark blue eyes. This made Ginny all the more emotional. She was an absolute wreck. James ran her into the ground during the day and hardly slept at night. I did everything I could. I got up with James every time he woke up during the night. He had no real reason for waking and I couldn't figure out why anyone would want to wake up four times a night. Sometimes he woke up just to cry. Sometimes he needed food or a change. Usually he woke up because he wanted to play. He started walking when he was ten months old. He was running when he was ten and a half months old. During the night, his favorite activity, after crying, was jumping off the couch. Some nights, I just let him. I laid on the ground, in front of the fireplace, so he couldn't hurt himself, and I just let him climb up onto the couch and jump off until he had worn himself out and fell asleep on the floor besides me. Hard to believe, but waking up, on the floor, stiff and tired, with James curled up to me were some of my favorite moments. I didn't like being on the floor or having spent half of the night there, but I loved feeling James's tiny body pressed against mine. His dark hair would tickle my face. He had gotten Ginny's chocolate brown eyes and I loved looking into them.
Albus was born three weeks early. We were worried for him. The midwife said this would probably not be a problem. Three weeks wasn't too early, but we still were concerned. Ginny's labour and delivery were problem free, thankfully. Albus was much, much smaller than James had been, but the midwife declared him to be very healthy. We kept a close eye on him, though, as he had a tendency to quit breathing sometimes while he slept. Albus also had my dark hair and it stuck up in all directions. His eyes were a deep blue, but we had learned from all the nieces and nephews that this was common for newborns. We knew his eyes would change by the time he was three months old. Rose's had. Hers were now the same shade as Hermione's.
Right away we could tell that Albus was very different from James. We weren't sure if it was because he was three weeks early or if because he simply had an entirely different personality. Perhaps it was both. He didn't wail or scream. Well, not much. He was a good sleeper and spent much of his awake time watching his crazy older brother run about the house. James gave Albus a great deal of attention, constantly trying to 'feed' Albus and dropping toys on his baby brother's head to play with. Thankfully Albus was a patient baby, and we quickly discovered that babies are very resilient creatures who could withstand quite a bit of abuse or attention from a one year old brother. Ginny had to keep an eye on James. One day she caught him trying to drag Albus to his room to play. He was too big for James to carry, so he very gently pulled Albus by the leg to his room. Ginny laughed, but told James he was not to do that again.
I realized at one point during this first month, that James was at the age I was when my parents had been killed. The idea about killed me. I couldn't imagine leaving James at this age. How difficult and terrifying the situation must have been for my parents when they went into hiding. I tried not to think about it too much, but I guess I did one day. Ginny came and put her arms around me one evening and asked what was wrong. I told her what I had been thinking and she cried with me for the loss of my parents. She was sure they would be so proud of me and of our handsome sons. Those few remaining people who had known my dad often commented to me about how much they looked like him. Albus's eyes did change and we were surprised when they turned the same green as mine. The same green as my mother's. While I love all my children very, very much, I always had a bit of a soft spot for Albus and his quiet, friendly demeanor and green eyes. He was very much my double in looks.
As Albus grew older, James became much more manageable. He needed a sibling, we guessed. A playmate. I told Ginny that James should have had a twin. That maybe he would have been a better baby if he had had a brother from the start. Ginny was glad he did not. She knew she never would have survived the first year if there had been two James's.
Two years passed before our third child was born. Ron and Hermione had another one that year too. Their son, Hugo, was younger than our daughter, Lily, but not by much. Four weeks. We couldn't believe that three times we had all gotten pregnant at the same time, without knowing the others were too. Ginny and Hermione went through the same uncomfortable experiences, but their complaints were given with smiles. They were happy to have another baby.
Lily's birth had some difficulties. Nothing too major, thank goodness, but difficulties all the same. Ginny declared she could not go through pregnancy and delivery again. Deep down I was disappointed. I loved our kids and I loved being a dad and I had hoped for a family as large as Ginny's, but I understood. I was the father of three amazing children. It was more than I could have ever hoped for.
I grew up thinking I would never live to see my eighteenth birthday. I died when I was seventeen, only to be given life once again. It was a life I fully intended to live. I had achieved my dream job and despite it's crazy hours and hard work, I loved it. I worked my job with my best friend. I married the girl of my dreams and became a legal, official member of the Weasley family, who had really, already adopted me as one of their own. I had an entire clan of brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews to be proud of. My beautiful wife and I had three perfect children. Well, I say perfect, but kids are kids. They made me mad, they made me sad, and they worried me to death. But they also made me happy beyond anything I had ever known. I found a love and a joy I didn't know existed before I had children. Two incredible sons and one daughter, as red-headed and beautiful as her mother.
For the boy who lived and died and lived again, I had a pretty fantastic life.