Chapter Ten: A Vision in Circles

Lily walked down the path, fall leaves crunching under her boots while the wind blew her old Gryffindor scarf around her neck. The distinctive scent of autumn was on the air and she drew in a deep breath, inhaling the delicious crispness, enjoying the nipping wind.

Her two boys were running ahead of her, Harry and James both trying to catch leaves. James wore the goofy cap Remus had purchased for him last Christmas, probably at a second-hand store. It was made of multiple shades of yarn, and sported ridiculous ear caps, but James adored the thing. Lily had only smiled when she pulled on her own simple black beret. Harry was decked out in Gryffindor red for the outing – a red knit sweater with jeans and his favorite red shoes, even a red beanie with a knot on top.

A surprised shout drew Lily's attention. James swung Harry up in his arms and was tossing him in the air, while Harry tried to catch the leaves falling around him.

"Up!" Harry shouted, one of his favorite words, whenever James attempted to rest. It had once, and still did, stop her heart a bit to see her little boy flying through the air, but she knew James was careful with him, and she concentrated on soaking in the sounds of Harry's laughter. No one could laugh like her little boy, whose very eyes lit up with mirth.

James chuckled, a soothing counter-point to her boy's soprano cackle. There was no better sound in the world. Here, in the haven of their yard, away from the prying eyes of the world, and the scheming machinations of Dark Lords, she could truly believe that the world was perfect.

"Lils?" James voice interrupted her musings.

"Yes?"

"I'm starved. Do we have food?"

Lily snorted. James was always hungry, and there was always food. "Yes, of course."

"Let's bring Harry in before it gets dark and we get the first of the trick-or-treaters, yeah?"

"Sounds good to me."

Ginny clenched her pillow to her stomach and tried not to retch. It wasn't right that the day that had preceded Lily and James's awful death was so perfect. But then, if it had been horrible, would it be any more perfect? That sweet little boy who would grow to be her husband would still lose his parents, and he would gradually lose that openness to become a little more guarded under the neglectful care of the Dursleys. Not for the first time, Ginny wondered what Harry would be like if his parents had survived.

"Ginny, are you okay?" Harry's concerned voice was accompanied by his hand, who soothingly grasped her shoulder and kneaded a knot there.

"Bad dream," she managed, and rolled over so that she was pressed chest-to-chest with him.

"Bad dream? Or vision?" Harry asked, rubbing her back in small circles.

"I think I'm going to go with vision. Oh, Harry, if you could have seen yourself," she teased. "You had the cutest little red hat on."

Harry blushed. "I'm glad you think even that incarnation of me is cute."

"You're cute in all of your forms," Ginny said, and closed her eyes.

"Wait. You managed to distract me," Harry said, semi-accusingly, though amusement shined in his eyes. "It was a vision. That means something, doesn't it?"

"Honestly Harry, I don't know." Ginny sighed. "James is still so young I'm not getting any rest, visions or not."

"We might try some Dreamless Sleep potion," Harry suggested.

"Not while I'm nursing," Ginny said sternly. "I'm not taking any chances."

"You need to get some rest. You're fraying at the edges, my love, and everyone can see it. Listen. Why don't I take James and you can try to sleep in this morning?"

Ginny smiled. Harry tried so hard to help her, but every time she closed her eyes, she was assailed by images of her mother-in-law. Not unlike some of her girlfriends, Ginny thought with a smirk, who got tired of seeing their husbands' mothers.

"I think I'd rather be awake," Ginny said, and wrapped her hand in Harry's hair, drawing him close for a kiss.

"Hmm, good morning," Harry whispered. "How long did the midwife say?"

"Four more weeks, Harry." He groaned and she hooted with laughter. "It's going to be rough for me too, you know."

"I am not even going to dignify that with a response," Harry said, and flopped over on his back. Ginny crawled on his chest and was just starting to kiss his cheek when James howled.

"I'd better go feed the little one," Ginny muttered and flopped on her back. "I'm just so tired, Harry. I don't want to get up."

"You stay here. The little one can come to you for this feeding," Harry said, and got out of bed to walk the three feet over to wear the baby slept in his crib. "Good morning, Jamie," he whispered and picked the baby up in his arms. Although he'd originally been uncomfortable holding James, he'd quickly hit his stride and was now quite the daddy.

He handed James over to Ginny and crawled back in bed, lying with his head at the foot of the bed, propped up in one elbow, watching Ginny as she leaned back against the headboard while James nursed.

"What's so interesting?" Ginny asked absently, stroking the side of James's cheek.

"Do you suppose this is where the male fascination with breasts starts?" Harry asked. "I mean, how fantastic would it be if you could get all your nourishment from your favorite pastime?"

Ginny laughed. "Playing Quidditch does provide us with all our nourishment, dear."

"Not what I meant," Harry shot back.

"I know. But little seekers have big ears," Ginny said teasingly, laughing a little as Harry's face paled.

"I suppose I ought to get used to watching what I say, eh?"

"All the books Hermione gave me say that the tone is more important than the words at this point," Ginny said seriously. "But when he's older and picking up vocabulary, we're both going to have to watch ourselves. Neither one of us has a pure tongue."

Harry cocked his eyebrow at her.

"Oh, for the love of Merlin," Ginny said, torn between exasperation and amusement. "Is everything about sex with you?"

"For at least the next four weeks," Harry said, very seriously.

Ginny had, she supposed, adjusted to motherhood as well as the next witch, given her circumstances. If sometimes she was so overwhelmed she wanted to cry and she wasn't getting any sleep at night that was par for the course, right?

She'd heard other witches talk of post-partum depression, but she didn't feel like that was her problem. She loved her child and could never imagine hurting James, but she worried sometimes that she was so tired she wasn't able to care for him properly.

The first time Harry left for an overnight game, Ginny had convinced herself that she could handle it. Most other women could handle their baby by themselves overnight. She was just as good as the next witch.

By ten-thirty, she was in tears. James wouldn't stop crying and she couldn't figure out what was wrong. They sat in the rocker together, both of them unable to stop the flood. Finally, Ginny did what every responsible new mother did in a desperation situation – she called her mother.

Molly Weasley wrapped herself up in her coat, kissed Arthur good-bye and Floo'd over to her daughter's in record time. She remembered the first time she'd had to watch Bill all by herself. It was a panicky feeling and everything had gone well with her. She hadn't been suffering from a lack of sleep brought on by something other than her child.

It was clear to Molly when she saw the state of Ginny's house and Ginny's person that her grasp on sanity and health was tenuous at best. Harry had expressed to her his concern, of course, but she hadn't expected things to be this bad.

When she walked into the nursery, she immediately took charge, walking over to kiss her daughter on the cheek and sooth back the hair from her flushed flesh.

"Why don't you give me my grandson, Ginny? I'll walk 'round with him a bit and you can go take a bath. Wash the tears and frustration right off. Put in some of those bath salts I'm sure you have somewhere."

Ginny nodded, sobs hitching her stomach. "I'm so sorry, Mum. I shouldn't have called. I shouldn't have woken you up. You raised me to be stronger than this."

"No, sweetie. Part of being a grown woman is realizing when you need help, especially when it comes to your children. You're in no state to help James now. You go soak in the tub. If you can't sleep, then at least you'll be able to rest."

Molly knew that Ginny would eventually learn to take every moment of self-indulgence granted to her as a means to maintain herself, but like all new moms, she needed to be reminded of the world outside her and her baby.

Like most of her children and her grandchildren, James enjoyed motion when he was in a tiff. After a half-hour of walking the Potter house, she'd soothed him back to sleep and sat him in his crib.

She settled herself into the rocker beside the crib and pulled out the knitting she'd brought along – a blanket for Andrew's bed, in Gryffindor gold and red. With a wave of her wand, she cast a fire in the fireplace, and knitted while she waited for her daughter.

A few moments later, Ginny emerged in fresh pajamas, the whiteness of her face making her freckles stand out. Her daughter looked, Molly thought, like she'd been hit full-on by the Hogwarts Express.

Molly rose to her feet and unceremoniously laid the back of her hand against her daughter's forehead, judging her temperature in the way that she had done since Ginny's childhood. After a moment, she drew her hand away and tsked.

"Into bed with you, Ginevra. You're running a fever. Makes sense when you can't get a moment's rest. You're not giving your body a chance to fight anything."

"Is that why I'm so tired?" Ginny asked, a yawn overtaking her words.

"I think that probably has more to do with the fact that you haven't been able to sleep since before James was born," Molly muttered, but shook her head. "Though the fever might have contributed to it, I suppose. There's nothing for it now. Just close your eyes and go to sleep."

"Mom. Where are you going to sleep?"

"I thought I'd sleep in the chair," Molly said honestly, then gestured to her knitting. "I've been up a bit late trying to get this finished in time for Christmas anyway."

"If you don't mind, you can sleep in here with me. I – I really don't want to be alone." Ginny remembered feeling the same way after she'd been invaded (there really was no other word) by Tom Riddle. "Every time I close my eyes I see her face. I can't sleep."

Molly nodded, and sat on the edge of the bed. "Let's try this, dear. You close your eyes, and I'll sit here with you for a bit, okay?"

"Okay."

Ginny closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Her mother ran a soothing hand through her hair and hummed the soft melody line to a lullabye she'd sung many times over the years.

Sleep my child, for morning comes

Sleep my baby, the one I love

Sleep my heart, my love, my all…

Sleep, sleep, sleep

In the arms of the angels

Rest ye well

Find in your dreams

Peace and health

Sleep my baby, the one I love.

Sleep, sleep, sleep.

The combination of the melody, and the scent of her mother, and the sounds of her baby breathing steadily in the distance finally soothed Ginny to sleep – real sleep, for the first time in a long time.

Molly woke the next morning with James and before he could howl and wake his mother up, she took him, heading down to the kitchen. She waved her wand and set about making a bottle for him from the breast milk Ginny pumped and froze for the few occasions she would have to leave James with a babysitter.

"We're just going to let Mummy sleep for a while," Molly whispered to James. "Hopefully before she wakes up Daddy will be home, and we can give him what-for."

James blinked at her and let out a resounding burp.

"I quite agree," Molly said, grasping the bottle in one hand as she found a comfortable chair to feed him in.

The backdoor creaked open and in staggered the man she regarded as more than a son-in-law. Harry Potter had always been the child of her heart, but children, sometimes, needed to be told they were being dense.

Before she could open her mouth, Molly glanced over Harry. He didn't look to be doing much better than Ginny. Pale and worn, he smiled tiredly at her.

"Hello," he whispered. "I didn't know you were going to be here."

"Neither did I," Molly responded, rocking James in her arms slightly as she tilted the bottle at an angle. "Ginny called me."

Harry collapsed at the kitchen table. "I knew I shouldn't have gone. They would have let me take personal leave."

"From what I can see, Harry, you're not in much better shape than Ginny."

Harry snorted. "You try to sleep while she cries through the night." Harry shook his head. "That seemed insensitive of me."

"It was truthful," Molly countered, and wiped some stray milk from James's mouth. "You're both a mess. Come here."

Obediently, Harry rose to his feet and headed over to Molly's chair. She soothed the hair away from his forehead as he bent down, and like she had done to Ginny, carefully checked his temperature.

"Sick as dogs, the both of you," Molly said, shaking her head. "Go up to bed. Ginny's asleep. Don't wake her up."

"How'd you get her to – I mean…"

"I don't know. We'll work it out later. Go up to bed, young man. I can watch your son while you two get better. I'll come get you at lunch. Surely my daughter has the makings for chicken soup in this house."

Harry shrugged. He honestly had no idea. He was halfway up the stairs before he remembered his manners. "Thank you, Molly. For taking care of us."

"That's what mothers are supposed to do," Molly said dismissively and shooed him up the stairs. "Go on."

When he was safely out of earshot, she Floo'd Arthur, who got in touch with Bill, who talked to Percy, who stopped by the twins, who took Ron out to lunch. Within six hours, every Weasley knew that Ginny's visions hadn't stopped. And they all decided that it was time to do something about it.

"I called this meeting," Bill began pompously, before he was interrupted by the twins.

"The only thing you ever called in your life was a Quidditch match," George began.

"And that was only because you were the only one pissed enough not to be able to tell the Bludgers were cursed," Fred finished.

"All right then," Bill said with a sigh. "We all think something ought to be done about this."

"I saw Harry at the match," Ron said. "He looked like complete shite."

"…and played like it, too," Fred muttered.

"Hear, hear," George agreed.

"Oh, for heaven's sake. We need to help them for more reasons than Harry's Quidditch performance. Molly is more than happy to help take care of James, but she is by no means a young woman," Hermione interjected. "I think I'll take over for her this afternoon."

"I'll pop in to relieve you this evening, Hermione," Alicia, George's longtime girlfriend, said.

"I'll cover ze morning," Fleur offered.

"And then I'll come in again during the afternoon," Hermione said. "We can cycle in and out, for as long as they need us to."

"Now the question becomes… who is attacking Ginny? And what can we do to stop the attacks immediately?" Bill turned to look at Ron, resident Defense expert, but he was staring off into space, visibly distracted.

"Molly was able to get her to go to sleep by singing that old lullaby she used to hum to you kids," Arthur offered.

"There's a lot of love in that song," Charlie said, tugging on his earring thoughtfully. "Do you think whoever it is might be vulnerable to the ancient magic based on love that protected Harry?"

"It's entirely possible," Bill agreed. "Unless there's something about that lullaby we don't know. Dad?"

Arthur shrugged. "To the best of my knowledge, it was passed down in your mother's family. If there's anything extraordinary about it, Molly would be the one to ask."

"I'll ask her when I send her home," Hermione said.

"Divination is usually hindered by water," Ron said, tapping the table as he concentrated.

The room paused. "What did you say?" Percy asked.

"I said that divination is usually hindered by water." At the blank looks, Ron sighed. "Look, what I remember from class is this. There's a reason you scry in water, and that Hogwarts is bordered by a large lake. The waves disrupt any other psychic interference. Someone trying to cast a long-distance 'eye' would not be able to if they were separated from their object by something like a very impressive body of water."

"Like… an ocean?" Hermione guessed, her eyes sharpening on Ron, who shrugged.

"Who would think to look for Harry Potter in… oh, Japan for instance?" George asked.

"How do we get them there? They can hardly do international Apparition with a newborn," Percy asked, and the discussion flew from there.

Arthur set back in his chair. Some people thought he was insane, having so many children, and some days he vaguely suspected they were right. Other times… he knew he had created a perfect, protective circle. They would figure out a way to save Harry and Ginny. If the Weasleys couldn't, no one could.

Author's Note: Molly's lullaby is mine. I will provide full lyrics… somewhere. I will let you know where, if anyone is interested.

It's amazing, how quickly I can write when I just put on my big girl pants and do it. Thanks go to Kat Morning and Daily Prophet Reporting for all their help in polishing this fic to as close to perfection as I can get.