Champagne

Married, married, married…

Harry felt weddings were all he heard about these days. Ron and Hermione, Kingsley and Hestia, George and Angelina… It was nice, he supposed, but the newly-wed atmosphere prevalent at the Ministry was starting to get in the way of efficient case management. Paperwork was hard enough without the distraction of celebratory champagne.

Still, he had to admit that he would be relieved to exchange paperwork for champagne that night. If only this one case hadn't monopolized his time this week of all weeks… He'd been forced to postpone his wedding anniversary for this case. Bad-Breath Bennie had a lot to answer for.

December 16, 2000. Harry and Ginny Potter had been married for exactly one year and eight days.

Harry was taking his wife out to eat in order to celebrate, just the two of them. He'd wanted to do it last weekend, but what with one thing, another, and Bad-Breath Bennie, he'd had to abandon that scheme.

Giftwise, he felt himself in something of a quandary. He remembered something about paper as a traditional Muggle first anniversary gift, but somehow he doubted his pureblood wife would appreciate that. In the end, he decided to go with a classic, and purchased a stunning pearl necklace set in gold. Pearls were supposed to have a soothing effect, according to many respected Wizarding authorities. Lately, Ginny had seemed a little tense.

When he got home, he found a note from Bill, excusing him and Fleur from this year's Weasley Christmas celebrations. Harry didn't know why Bill was writing to him about it, but the reason for their absence wasn't far to seek—didn't even have to do with Celestina Warbeck this time. Fleur was pregnant again, and this time things seemed to be even harder than with Victoire. She probably wasn't feeling up to an extended party with her in-laws.

Which reminded Harry he really ought to get a move on in terms of Christmas gifts. He faced a daunting task, in purchasing sufficient gifts for the extended family the Weasleys were to him, but he couldn't help smiling about it. Gone were the days when he expected no gifts for holidays, and he'd take hard-to-shop-for people like the Weasleys and Luna and Neville any day. He considered them, humming absentmindedly. Ron, Hermione, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, Bill, Fleur, Victoire, George…George was going to be difficult. It had to be something that celebrated George as an individual without being the sort of thing he would have given the twins while still being something George would like and find interesting…and, of course, Angelina was pregnant, too—the two of them had had a very quiet, small ceremony in an old and tiny Muggle sanctuary a few months previously. Harry wondered how long it would be before Percy and Audrey had their first kid. He grinned at the thought of all the cousins and companions his godson Teddy and his niece Victoire would soon be getting. There was so much joy in all their lives now, sometimes it was hard to believe that only a year and a half ago…

"Hey," said Ginny suddenly from the top of the stairs. Harry glanced up. She stood, partly obscured by the dark hallway, her eyes shadowed heavily and her long red hair pulled back in an elegant twist at the nape of her neck. She wore a sophisticated black dress and a few stray pieces of gold jewelry around her wrists and throat. His eyes widened in appreciation. "Ready to go?" Ginny asked flatly.

"Of course," Harry said, recovering himself. He put down the mail and surreptitiously touched his anniversary gift, buried in his pocket. "Shall we?"

Ginny came down the stairs, and their elegant moment of well-dressed anticipation was only marred by Mrs. Black, who woke and scowled at them. She still shrieked usually, but something about Ginny's fierce glare seemed to warn her that this wasn't the time. Harry felt cheered—perhaps Ginny was finally settling down to living at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

Dinner was good—Harry couldn't help contrasting the elegant Lauralee Arayna (Witch Weekly's choice for best couples restaurant in London) to the sappy Madame Puddifoot's, where he'd spent his very first date. Lauralee Arayna won out every time.

Ginny didn't say much until dessert. In fact, it was mostly a silent meal. Harry would have talked more, but it really had been an exhausting week. He ordered champagne, and handed Ginny her present. "Happy anniversary, sweetheart."

She took it, looked down as though she'd never heard of exchanging gifts before, pulled out a small box from her purse and handed it to him, and blinked.

Harry took the box, but said, "You go first."

"I—" Ginny paused, took a breath, then started again: "There's something we—I really need to tell you—I mean—well, I'm just—Godric, I don't know how to say this—"

Harry raised his eyebrows, concerned, and waited.

"Harry," said Ginny, looking up at him. She still held her anniversary gift, but seemed to have forgotten it. Her eyes looked even more shadowed and bloodshot now, and Harry briefly wondered if she might be sick. "Harry, I'm pregnant," said Ginny shakily.

Before Harry could speak, or fully process what he'd heard, the waiter arrived with their champagne. "Here you are, sir," he said smoothly. Smugly, he opened the bottle with a wave of his wand and sent it pouring carefully into two glasses. Then he set the bottle gently on the table, and set a few celebratory sparks into the air. "You are welcome here anytime, sir," he said reverently, and at last departed.

It occurred to Harry that he might, just might, have been recognized.

Ginny wouldn't look at him, and the sight of the champagne seemed to be making her ill.

"Ginny," Harry said softly, reaching out to hold her hand on the table. "You're pregnant? That's great!"

She looked up at him, saw the champagne, and shoved it aside with a small noise of disgust. It clattered to the floor and the glass shattered. Harry repaired it surreptitiously with a quick charm, but left it on the floor.

"Is it, though?" Ginny asked as though nothing glass-shattering had happened. "I mean, I'm only nineteen! I'm not ready for this! I don't even know how it happened—I mean, I've been drinking the potion! I must have made it wrong—how embarrassing! If Snape could see me now—which just proves how upset I am! I mean, seriously!" She looked imploringly at Harry.

"It's fine," he soothed, unwilling and unable not to come to her assistance after that look. "It's going to be fine. We may not be ready to be parents, but I'm not sure anyone is ever ready—and besides, we've got nine months. We can do this. Ginny, you're going to be a great mother. Don't you see? This is a blessing, a miracle! We're starting our own family, and I for one couldn't be happier." He was thinking what a wonderful thing this was. A new and powerful feeling seemed to race through him, revealing all his worries and petty insecurities and washing them away on a tide of shocking awareness and joyful acceptance. He was going to be a father

Ginny wiped her eyes with her napkin, and Harry came back to himself a little. She still looked upset, but at least she seemed calmer now. "Sorry," she said shakily. "It sounds wonderful when you say it like that. I don't know why I'm worried. Except I do, though—so many things could go wrong, even now. I don't know if…What if things don't work out?"

Harry frowned. They were both young and healthy, so he couldn't see why things wouldn't work out. There were always risks, of course, but it was hard to imagine anything puncturing his happiness now. They would be a proper family, him and Ginny and the baby. He could feel it. "We'll see a Healer tomorrow," he said reassuringly. "And you shouldn't worry so much—that can't be good for the baby. You won't be alone in this, Ginny. I want to be there every step of the way."

"Yeah," she said, still shaky. "Yeah," she repeated, voice stronger. "I forgot. Angelina and Fleur are pregnant, too, aren't they? And then there's Victoire…I suppose my due date will be after theirs…and we'll have to talk about names at some point…and then a nursery—let's go for a gender-neutral color, like orange, okay? And before you start, I am not putting my baby in any room that has even the slightest vestige of Black family what-you-call-'ems, including Phineas Nigellus's portrait…"

Pleased that Ginny seemed to be recovered from the shock, Harry sipped his champagne, watching her and thinking how beautiful she was. Here they were, starting their lives together…baby on the way…good house, good jobs…Things were good, and he could almost forget about all the pain they'd suffered. People around him always suffered, but maybe that had finally changed…

He grinned suddenly. He was going to be a father…He couldn't wait to tell Ron and Hermione.