Author's Note: Here we are, another chapter in our little adventure. I know that the updates are taking a little longer, but I think the quality of it is still strong, which is what counts. Thanks as always to a great group of betas. I couldn't do any of this without you guys. Please enjoy and please review, if you would be so kind!
Dear Insufferable Gits Whom I Call Brothers,
I have the same news to give to the lot of you so all of you are getting the same letter. Please bear in mind as you're reading this that I am a grown woman and I am more than capable of taking care of myself. I do not need any of you to come barreling in to try to fix things for me. It would be pigheaded, childish, and I'd have to wring the necks of anyone who tried. I love you all and while I know what are sure to be the rather, shall we say, intense reactions from you all comes from a good place, any meddling on your part will cause me nothing but grief and frustration. Which are things that I can do without now in my life.
Because I'm pregnant. The father is not involved and I'll be raising my baby as a single mother.
Sit down if you need to, pour a glass of Firewhiskey if you want one, and if you feel the irrepressible urge to scream, then please do so away from any of my nieces and nephews (Bill, Percy, and George, that was directed towards you three unless Charlie and Ron are keeping even more secrets than me).
I know this isn't easy for any of you to hear. It wasn't easy for me to accept when I first found out. And I know it wasn't what any of you wanted for me but it is what Fate has given to me. I'm happy, tremendously happy to know that I will become a mother, and I hope in time you will too.
There will be no more mention of the father on my part from this point on. I will not tell you his name and offer you no more information on him than what I am telling you now. I conceived during a one-night stand with a man not suited in any way for fatherhood. He will never be a part of my daughter's life and I do not wish to discuss him with anyone. That is final.
The pregnancy is the real reason why I'm no longer playing Quidditch. Obviously, it's no longer safe and I doubt very much if I'll go back after the baby is born. For now I'm working as a waitress in a pub with a great group of people. I'm earning enough to support myself so if I receive even one Galleon from any of one you, I'll take those Galleons and stick them in places none of you will appreciate!
Of course, it'll still be quite some time before I can see any of you again. I'm perfectly healthy, nothing is wrong with the baby that's preventing me from traveling; I just can't because of a stipulation in my living arrangements for about another three months or so.
Because I've chosen to become a citizen of Hastom and that requires me to remain in the village's borders during my trial phase of six months.
Please follow my earlier instructions as to sitting, drinking, and not shouting in front of small children.
I know all the same stories you know from growing up: Hastom makes Azkaban look like a stay on the enchanted Spanish island of Giama; trolls waged endless wars on the blood red fields of the village; practitioners of the darkest forms of magic would dare not even say its name out loud in fear of something far more evil than they could comprehend. Believe me, I know all the tales and I can assure you that they are just that: Tales dreamed up by silly, misguided people who could never understand what this place really means. Hastom is beautiful and filled with beautiful people and a wonderful energy of pure magic. There is nothing to fear here.
It's my home. It's the place in the world where I am truly at peace for the first time in longer than I care to remember. I hope you can all come here someday and see it for yourselves.
Mum and Dad already know all my news. I asked them not to say anything until I found the nerve to tell you all. I'm sorry I've kept such news from you for so long but I needed time to get used to everything myself. That, and I've been scared out of my bloody mind with how my big brothers would handle what my life has become.
Please, I beg all of you, don't let my fears come to fruition. I love you all desperately and I need your support now more than ever. I know I haven't always behaved as a sister should, especially these last few years, but I will spend every day of my life trying to make up for the distance I put between myself and my blood.
I hope to hear from you all soon and that all is well in your worlds.
With Love,
Gin
Before she could second guess herself for the twenty-fifth time, she handed the five sealed envelopes over to the expectant clerk behind the counter of the post office.
Mr. Geloff smiled at her, his wiry grey hair standing on end as if an electric current was running through him. "Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Absolutely?"
Ginny chewed her bottom lip. She reached her hand out to take the letters back from Mr. Geloff's grip but sanity claimed her in the nick of time and she tucked her hand back into her pocket.
"Yes. I'm sure."
"Very well then." With a nod, Mr. Geloff whistled sharply three times; a hoot answered him back from high above. A moment later, five tawny owls flew down to the desk through a small hole in the ceiling. They stood tall together on a wide perch as Mr. Geloff handed a letter to each of them before moving to open the small window. He turned to Ginny again with his eyebrows raised.
"Last chance, my dear."
She couldn't blame him for asking so many times. After all, she had come in here at least a dozen times in the last month or so (ever since she had heard back from her parents) to mail off the letters to her brothers, only to turn around or change her mind every single time. The poor post master had been very patient with her as she dealt with her indecision and fear. Ginny would never contradict him if he thought her to be completely off her rocker.
"Thank you, sir, but please send them," she replied, inching towards the door and turning to exit to the street as she heard the window open and the birds take flight.
There, she thought, wrapping her light shawl a little tighter around her shoulders as the cool wind of September brushed past her. It's done. Now…I'll just wait and see.
The news was so huge though that she couldn't help but feel like her heart would burst through her rib cage when she thought of sharing the news of her new home and the baby with her brothers. It wasn't as if they were a group of Neanderthals who believed that she still kept her virtue intact; clearly, that image had been obliterated during a Christmas dinner her last year home from school when Charlie had interrupted a rather heated (and partially unclothed) moment between her and Harry in the broom shed, nor did she believe that they would have any moral objections to her having a child out of wedlock. Her brothers were no angels after all; little Freddie had been nestled in Molly Weasley's arms, barely six weeks old, when George and Angelina had exchanged their vows. Of course, they'd be upset that Ginny was becoming a mother on her own, but she knew in their hearts they'd accept it.
Accepting the Hastom part of the equation was another thing entirely.
The mysterious village had been a source of fright in the Weasley household, for as long as Ginny could remember. Charlie had been particularly relentless with his wild tales, told underneath blanket forts late at night, his eyes steely and probing as his siblings hung on his every word about the vile creatures and treacherous beasts that roamed Hastom. Nearly every child in the magical world was similarly brought up to believe Hastom to be a land of horrors. As Ginny and her brothers grew older, the tales faded into childhood, but the irrational fear that came along with them did not. She knew firsthand that when George and Fred first opened the shop they had chosen not to hire someone because the young man had been born in Hastom. Bill would walk into ancient crypts and tombs to search for treasures, but upon the offer to examine some pieces that had (supposedly) come from Hastom, he turned down the offer flat. And for all his bravado, Ginny was certain that Charlie would sooner take a wife—something he considered to be a sentence in Azkaban—than set foot in Hastom.
With all that though, Ginny knew that Ron would have the hardest time of all.
Ron had always been the one in the family who took the stories about Hastom to heart, especially when it came to Bill or Charlie telling them. But it was more than that. Ron was always someone who carried fear in his heart. It never stopped him from being a wonderful man who loved with everything inside him or from running into danger and risking his own life if the cause called for it, but that fear left a mark on him. One of the strongest marks was about Hastom. Having been told his whole life that Hastom was the embodiment of darkness, he carried such prejudice for Ginny's new home that she was fairly certain he would not—could not—overcome it.
"There is no goodness in Hastom," he had once famously argued with Hermione during a family dinner when the subject came up as a joke in conversation at the table. Hermione, having been raised Muggle, had no concept of the place and wondered out loud whether there really could be somewhere that was entirely evil. Ron finally cut her off her questions, throwing his fork down on the table and pushing his plate away from him. That drew the table's attention. For one, Ron had pushed away a plate with food still on it. The look in his eyes convinced his family that the situation was not humorous. It was the quiet, calm way he spoke that kept everyone silent.
"That place," he began, speaking directly to Hermione's wide eyes, "is darkness personified. It's hidden away from everyone else in the world and no one from there speaks of it, if they even have the backbone to tell you that that's where they're from. Why would they go to all that trouble if Hastom is nothing more than a quaint little magical village? You're a smart girl, 'Mione. You know that the only reason could possibly be that Hastom is decidedly not a quaint little village but something much more sinister."
"They didn't side with Voldermort in the war," Hermione tried to argue gently, visibly thrown for a loop by Ron's reaction. "That has to count for something."
"And they didn't fight for us which tells me that they are not on the side of the Light. Anyone who's not for that, I want nothing to do with. That includes anyone or anything to do with Hastom." He resumed his dinner then, saying nothing more on the subject as everyone exchanged quick glances and went back to their meal.
His words that day had stamped themselves onto Ginny's heart and she hoped with all her soul that choosing to live here would not cost her a brother. To lose another one would be unbearable.
Walking slowly through the village, she took in the sights and sounds of the peaceful Friday afternoon. Many of the children had begun school, either at home with their parents or at the small schoolhouse, so the streets were filled with adults as autumn was making her presence known: The leaves were beginning to turn a rich cornucopia of oranges and reds, a few already billowing down to the ground at her feet. She carefully squatted low and picked one up, turning the stem over and over in her hand.
This time next year, Iris would be in her arms. The baby would be able to smile and laugh by then, according to the books Ginny was reading. She may even be getting ready to crawl. Ginny could take the baby outside, bundled up nice and warm, and let her roam through piles of leaves, watching with wonder as Iris found the sound of their crinkling and cracking to be the funniest noise she had ever heard before they went back inside the warmth of their little house.
Unconsciously, Ginny found herself in front of a tiny patch of land nestled between the bakery and the edge of the market street, close to the western part of village square.
Her home. Or rather where her home would stand.
New citizens, unless they could afford more spacious land (like Harry), where given the smallest plots of land in the village to build their homes on until they could afford to move to a larger plot. The house would be erected with magic after—rather, if—the town voted to approve her citizenship at the end of January. With her pay at the pub, she wouldn't be able to afford to move for quite some time. She smiled sadly to herself at the thought that her daughter wouldn't have her own trees to climb or rocks to hide her trinkets under like Ginny had growing up.
We don't need that much space. It'll only be the two of us after all. She and I will make do, Ginny tried to reassure herself.
Why was that particular thought less than a comfort?
"Hey Coach Weasley!" Ginny broke free of her sudden pensiveness to look down at the small round face of Norea Alverez. The little girl's long raven hair was wind swept and her dark eyes were alight with glee. "Are you going down to the pitch now? Are we having practice early today? Can I go with you?"
Ginny smiled easily and put her hand on Norea's shoulders to stop her bouncing. "Practice is at three o'clock today and what you need to do is go home and grab something to eat so you have enough energy to pass the Quaffle around." Turning her around, Ginny started leading her back to the Alverez home.
"But I want to go now!" The impish grin on the child's face brought forth a sudden burst of laughter from Ginny. "Quidditch is the best game in the whole wide world! I just want to play it all the time, even when I'm sleeping!"
"Well if you really feel that way, you need to keep working hard during practice so when you get older, you can try out with a professional team someday. Like I did."
"Do you miss playing Quidditch at all?" Norea asked innocently.
Ginny thought of how the wind felt whipping past her cheeks; the weight of the Quaffle in her hand or tucked carefully into her side; the dull roar of the crowd that seemed hardly noticeable during the game but that the minute the Snitch was caught roared like cannon fire in her ears. She was silent for a moment. The baby fluttered gently and Ginny laid her free hand on her belly.
"Do you know how you just said that you wanted to play Quidditch all the time?"
"Uh-huh."
"That means that you love it very much, maybe even with your whole heart."
"I do. Even more than my Enchantress Esmeralda doll and peppermint ice cream put together!"
"And that's wonderful. But when you get older—much, much older—you may find that there are things or people that you love even more than playing Quidditch. There's always probably going to be a part of you that wants to be up in the sky, but hopefully you'll find things in this world that make you want to keep your feet on the ground more often than not." They arrived at Norea's home and Ginny nudged her towards the smiling woman waiting in the open door. "Now go have some of your Mum's oatmeal and be ready to fly the next time I see you. We've got a lot to do to get ready for the game on Saturday."
"Okay," the child replied, scampering forward to her house. "Bye Coach Weasley!"
"Bye sweetheart." Glancing down at her watch, she found it was a little later than she had thought and hurried back to Harry's house to change. As much as she didn't want to, her steps began to slow as the lake came into view and the prospect of seeing Harry started to come to fruition.
Seeing Harry hadn't been an issue lately given how much he went of his way to avoid her.
It was almost like her first weeks in Hastom all over again. No, not exactly.
It was worse.
Because this time, she knew how good things could be between them and had been before Harry retreated back into himself after Meredith had ended their relationship. He worked longer hours at the Ministry and when he was in Hastom, he was off with Bart or barricaded in his office. Interaction between the two them was kept to a minimum. It was maddening at times. Their situation hadn't been ideal since her arrival; it could be downright challenging at times, but they had moments of peace and most of them took place in their—Harry's—house. It used to be a place, the one place, where they really made sense. Not lately. And as much as she'd like to, she couldn't lay all of the blame at Harry's feet.
Did she seek out his company when he was in the house with her? No.
Did she suggest to Bart or Nell that the four of them get together for dinner? No.
Did she leave polite, friendly notes for him when she knew she'd leave the house before him? No.
Did she avoid him as much as possible because she felt extremely guilty for the role she had unwittingly played in ending a relationship that was so important him?
No…comment.
When she'd made her way back to the house the night Meredith broke up with Harry, she had been fully prepared to be supportive and to even try to help him find a way to win Meredith back, if that was what Harry wanted to do and if that wasn't what he was in the mood for, she'd nicked a bottle of over two-hundred-year-old Ogdens from the bar for him to drown his sorrows in. But he had already been up in his room when Ginny had arrived. He hadn't been at breakfast the next morning or lunch or dinner. It was the same the next day as well. When she finally caught a glimpse of him two days later, his eyes were bloodshot and haggard and didn't hold hers for longer than a few seconds before he hastily left the room for work. The message in his haunted eyes was quite clear, though:
If you care about me at all, please stay away. I can't be around you right now.
When they did manage to find themselves in the same place at the same time (like at Quidditch practice) they were careful to maintain distance. They spoke in as few sentences as possible and always gave the other a wide berth. It was lonely, no doubt, but Ginny understood the necessity of it for the moment. He needed time to heal from this latest in a long line of losses and she needed time to reflect as well.
Truth be told, as much as she despised the silence between her and Harry, she was simultaneously a little bit relieved at the distance he put back between them in recent weeks.
If she didn't have to be around him all the time, she didn't have to hear Meredith's words from that night over and over again in the back of her mind.
Of course that theory was a bit flawed seeing as how Ginny wasn't around him much anymore and she still heard Meredith's words over and over again in the back of her mind.
Just because she said them doesn't make them true, Ginny tried to convince herself as she walked gingerly up the stone pathway to the house. Meredith was probably just…just…just gripped in a bout of insanity, that's all. I mean, for Merlin's sake, she broke up with Harry! Who in their right mind would—okay, fine! Pot calling the kettle black, I know. But seriously, for her to think that he actually…that there was even the slightest chance that he…She really didn't know him at all, did she?
After all, Meredith had only dated him for nearly three years, talked to him almost every day, and had been on the verge of marrying him when Ginny reentered his life.
Merlin's beard, she and Harry had practically been strangers! As long as the definition of "strangers" had been dramatically altered since Ginny last opened up a dictionary.
"Yup. Total strangers. The woman didn't know what on Earth she was talking about when it came to how Harry feels about you. Just keep saying that enough and it'll be true," Ginny whispered out loud, her hand on the doorknob. Taking a moment to compose her features in case Harry was in the house, she slowly pushed the door open. Silence greeted her. The dull quiet had grown quite hospitable lately. It was a little surprising today, though. This was their last Quidditch practice before their team's first match and she would have thought he would have made it home by now.
There was a small pile of mail on the front table. One letter was open and Ginny glanced at it to find it was from Andromeda Tonks. There was no emergency, but poor Teddy had come down with dragon pox and as such would be unable to come to Hastom this month to visit with Harry.
Poor boy, she thought, putting the letter back down. And poor Harry. He'll be disappointed.
Not to mention herself. She'd been looking forward to seeing Teddy. Harry had visited with him outside of Hastom in July and last month here had been Meredith's untimely visit. Pulling herself up the stairs, she went to her room to change into something more comfortable for practice, hoping (and not hoping) that Harry would be downstairs when she was ready.
Maybe he doesn't know what to say around her anymore. He had to know on some level that Meredith left because she felt threatened by Ginny and now he was angry because he would still have a girlfriend—probably a fiancé by now—if the Council hadn't forced their current living arrangement on him in the name of Hastom's precious rules and traditions. Or maybe he was just going through a period of mourning. Maybe he just has the worst case of laryngitis in recorded history.
Or maybe he was just waiting for Ginny to say something first.
That gave her pause. What could she say that could end this silence between them?
Harry, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that I cost you a chance to have a happy life with the woman you love. I'm sorry that you have to look at me every day and see what you lost. But most of all, I'm sorry that there was nothing I could say that night to Meredith to dissuade her of the notion that you feel anything for me other than friendship. If she hadn't felt so misguidedly threatened by me, she'd still be with you.
Catching sight of herself in the bedroom mirror as she pulled a long shirt over her head, she sighed a little at the image. Her stomach seemed to grow larger with each passing day; no longer an adorable, barely-noticeable bump,it was now quite obvious what was growing beneath her taut skin. Thin white lines spread from her belly button (now turned out as opposed to the small innie that it had been) all the way to her hips. Her breasts, once a novelty of pregnancy that she reveled in, were quickly becoming something of a nuisance. They kept growing along with her belly and she was over a full cup size larger than she had been before she was pregnant. Her skin was dryer now and even her hair, something she had never had to put much effort into making lovely, needed more work in the morning to make sure it didn't look stringy and lifeless.
"Oh yes," Ginny drawled to her reflection, caressing her belly, "every man's dream woman. Lock up your boyfriends and husbands, ladies. They wouldn't be able to resist all of this." Chuckling, she finished dressing and made her way downstairs. She stopped at the front door, listening for Harry, either in the house or outside, but she neither saw nor heard anything.
He's at the pitch already, setting up and talking with the kids that came early. That's where he is, she thought to herself as she crossed the bridge.
But Harry wasn't there yet. Three of the older children where there, tossing a Quaffle back and forth between them, but there was no sign of Harry anywhere. Ginny walked ahead, trying to keep her worry nestled inside her heart and off her features.
"Hey guys," she said with as much enthusiasm as she could.
They turned and smiled at her. Lewis McKinney gave her a devilish smile before launching the Quaffle right at her with all his might. She easily caught it with both hands as it veered to her left side.
"You're still bending your elbow too much before you release," Ginny told him, tossing the ball back. "Straighten it out and you'll have much better control. Don't want you taking out any innocent bystanders during the game."
"Got it. Where's Coach Potter?"
"Oh, uh, I'm sure he's on his way here right now," she said with a huge smile. "Probably just putting the finishing touches on a few trick plays for the game."
Forty-five minutes later, the rest of the team had arrived, milling around the field, talking and laughing with each other at first before they realized how late it was getting and they were short one coach; more importantly, they were short the coach who could go up in the air and fly with them, a safety requirement for playing Quidditch with children under the age of eleven.
Damn it, Harry, this is taking it too far. For your sake, you better be in a hospital bed, perfectly safe but terribly unconscious.
Glancing one last time at her watch, she whistled loudly and gathered all the kids together. With the whole group of them staring at her with wide eyes and crestfallen looks, her heart sank somewhere around her knees.
"Okay," she began slowly. "So I'm sorry to say, but it looks like we won't have Coach Potter with us today. I'm…I'm sure he's just held up with something very, very important at work and that he wishes he could be here with you guys right now. Without him, it won't be possible to get you guys up in the air today."
Ramona Restin's hand immediately shot into the air. "Coach Weasley, I can run the air drills. I've seen Coach Potter do it a hundred times and it's really easy. Trevor can take my spot as Beater for practice."
"That's wonderful of you to offer, Ramona, but it's no use. The Council is very clear on the matter of having an adult present in the air with you at all times when you kids are playing Quidditch. Not to mention I don't think your parents would be pleased with it either."
The lanky blonde ran a frustrated hand through her spikey blonde hair while her teammates around her grumbled their agreement. "That's rubbish! We could play all by ourselves if we were at Hogwarts, this isn't fair!"
Ginny nodded in sympathy. She went up to Ramona and placed her hands on the girl's shoulders until the thirteen-year-old met her eyes. "You're right," she said honestly. "You all came here ready to play and through no fault of your own, you can't. I wish I could get up there with you, but that's not possible. What I can do is help you with your conditioning here on the ground. We can stretch and do some jogging. Chasers can work on passing and Calvin, Trevor, and Anna, you can toss Quaffles at Paddy to help him practice blocking. Ramona, you can lead the team in the exercises and we can all go over our playbooks together." She released Ramona and turned to all of the kids, her team. "You can never overlook the little things in preparation. Maybe your counterpoint on the opposing team has more flying ability than you, but if they lack basic conditioning and an understanding of their own plays, you have the advantage over them every single time. Quidditch isn't won by the Seeker alone or a great team of Chasers scoring left and right; it's the group of you working together, pushing each other to be better. If you do that, there's no team in this whole village that can beat you. Do you all believe that?"
"Yes," they said.
"I'm sorry, what was that?"
"Yes!"
"Are you sure you believe that?"
"YES!"
"Are we going to work hard today to get ready for tomorrow?"
"YES!"
"Are we going to give it our all out here tomorrow?"
"YES!"
"Who's the best Quidditch team in all of Hastom?"
"THE SNOW OWLS!"
"Who is it?"
"THE SNOW OWLS!"
"I can't hear you!"
"THE SNOW OWLS!"
All of the kids started jumping up and down excitedly before they converged on Ginny for a massive group hug. She laughed and even cried a little as the mass of bodies wrapped around her and one another. Wiping her eyes quickly as they broke apart, she clapped her hands loudly to get their attention again.
"Okay, Ramona, you are the assistant coach today. I want you to lead the team in a warm up jog and then we'll meet in the middle of the field to do our exercises." The teenager beamed and nodded, rounding up the group and beginning an easy pace around the pitch. Ginny stayed in the middle of the field, the smile slowly slipping from her face as her disappointment in Harry came to her mind.
Safe, but unconscious, Potter. If you're anything else…
Two hours later, she pushed herself through the door of the mostly-empty Falcon, too tired to try to cobble together a meal without magic. Hefting her weight onto one of the bar stools, she folded her arms on the tabletop and laid her head on them. The crinkle of paper next her and the aroma of freshly fried cod was the only thing strong enough to break through her weariness.
She lifted her head to see Bart, wrapped in an apron, smiling down at her and pouring her a glass of cold milk. "You look like you need this."
"Oh, you have no idea." Her mouth practically watering, she pulled the basket to her and inhaled deeply. "My word, that is better than sex." She furrowed her brow in thought. "At least I think so. Can't really remember at this point."
"Ouch. Thankfully, I cannot relate to that trouble..." Bart smirked and placed a tall glass of apple juice in front of her, grinning the grin of a man well-satisfied. It was almost enough to curb Ginny's appetite.
Almost.
"That's pathetic," she said around a full bite of fish. "Women outnumber in terms of the population, we're responsible for reproducing the human species, we have a higher life expectancy than men, and all we have to do to turn you lot into salivating, monosyllabic grubs is flash our girly parts at you. And yet its men, according to my friend Hermione, that have a near global control over the Muggle resources and governments of the entire planet. Men, who equate having sex with life fulfillment." She shook her head in dismay. "Pathetic."
"What can I say?" Bart shrugged, leaning against the back wall. "I am a very fulfilled individual. In fact, I was very fulfilled just a few hours ago when I went to see my wife for lunch…"
"Please don't," Ginny begged, shutting her eyes, utterly disgusted.
"Not to mention all the fulfillment I receive on a daily basis at home…"
"I'm trying to enjoy a meal, here. I'm a paying customer!"
"You're right. Forgive me," Bart apologized, holding his hands up. "For your sake, I will refrain from speaking aloud the number of times this week I have been fulfilled." However, he deliberately lowered one of his thumbs so he was holding up nine digits.
Ginny glared at him. "I hope your willy falls off."
Bart's smile grew even wider, if that was possible. "It might, given how much I've been using it lately." Laughing to himself, he reached under the bar to place a small dipping cup by Ginny; using his wand, he filled it with a bright red liquid.
"What's that?"
"Cherry juice. Harry mentioned you liked it with fish. Or was he just having fun with me?"
Ginny's lip curled bitterly; not at the sight of the sweet juice (which frankly, looked and smelled delicious) but at the sound of Harry's name. "Don't suppose you know where he is now, do you?"
"Uh, no. Wasn't he with you at practice?"
"No, he wasn't. The kids couldn't fly today because he wasn't there and the first match is tomorrow. When I find him again, unless he has an astronomically good explanation, I will throw something heavy right straight between his eyes."
"Again, ouch," Bart winced. He took a cloth and began wiping the counter around Ginny's meal. "What did you end up doing with the team?"
"I had them run passing drills and jog and dodge Quaffles. It just wasn't the same; it wasn't enough. They all tried their best, but they should have been flying. I mean I gave them the good speech about conditioning and preparing mentally, which is all true, but they're going to be going be flying tomorrow against a bunch of players in their mid-twenties. Some of my kids don't even have all of their adult teeth yet. I just don't think that it's going to be enough."
"Well, then having Harry there today probably wouldn't have made much difference," Bart concluded as he moved down the bar away from her.
Ginny said nothing in reply, only turned back to her food. Breaking off a piece of fish, she dunked it liberally in the cherry juice and stared at it thoughtfully as she held it over the cup, watching the liquid drip down from the flakey cod. She was surprised that Harry remembered on of her random cravings, let alone went out of his way to mention them to Bart. She wondered what other quirks of hers he talked about when she wasn't there; what other things about her he noticed lately?
He lives with me, sees (well, did see me) every day. He's bound to notice some things about me and talk about those things with his friends. It doesn't mean anything.
No matter how much she wanted it to.
In her heart, she knew that Meredith's thoughts regarding her and Harry were nothing more than illusions. Ginny had wronged him in such a way that it was inconceivable to her that he could ever feel anything for her again. That he could even offer her friendship—close friendship at that—confounded her to the core.
Love? Romantic love? The cards would never deal her that hand. She had played it once and folded it before the pot grew too large.
So why couldn't she control where her thoughts had been trying to lead her lately?
Ever since Meredith's departure, Ginny recalled nearly every moment she had shared with Harry in the past few months : the night in New York when he had gone out of his way to offer her shelter, even after she revealed the news about the baby…his willingness to help her stay in Hastom, despite the inconvenience it would cause him…the stories of her honor and bravery that he had told the village the night they had convened to hear her petition…the meals he cooked her in their kitchen…his laugh whenever she went into a cleaning spell…the soft smile he wore sometimes when she'd catch him watching her stroke her belly…
It was friendship, just Harry happy to have her in his life again. That's all it was, Meredith's imagination had just morphed it into something it wasn't.
Right?
Ninety-nine percent of her brain was rooted firmly in reality. The blasted one percent just had a very loud voice these days.
She was so lost in thought, staring down at her empty basket that she didn't hear Bart approach her again until he was in front of her.
"Uh, Ginny?"
"Yes?" She picked up her head and found him going quickly back and forth from her face to something behind her.
"Before you turn around, I want you to remember one thing," Bart began nervously. "This is a place of business, my business, and this place of business employs you and provides you with financial stability."
"Okay…"
"So just keep all that in mind before you start throwing things," Bart said, backing away slowly from her, keeping his eyes behind her. She thought she could see him trying to blink in Morse code at whatever he was staring at and she instantly knew what—or rather whom—she'd find when she turned around.
The green eyes that met hers were guarded but not bruised. There were no cuts or scraps or casts on his body that she could see and he didn't appear in pain as he stood there studying her.
Her fury over his absence, forgotten in her latest ruminations, reignited upon seeing him healthy.
I told you, Potter, if you were anything else but unconscious…
"Where have you been? Did you remember there was practice today?" Ginny asked immediately. Climbing off the stool, she went to stand in front of him, all hints of awkwardness and guilt gone. Her only thoughts were the faces of those kids today when Harry hadn't been there. He was their coach and he had a responsibility to be there for them.
She had no patience for men who shirked their responsibilities, especially when they involved children.
Harry looked at her as if he hadn't seen in her in…in weeks. Which, of course, he hadn't.
"Something came up at work," he explained quietly, avoiding her eyes and keeping a few steps of distance between them. "I didn't have a chance to send out a letter or a Patronus. I'm sorry."
"You're sorry?" His words made her see red. "What good does that do now, to me or to those kids? What was more important at work than being there for your team?"
His eyes narrowed sharply and his mouth tightened to a thin line. "My job is important because unlike here, where you're bad day is spilling a drink on someone, mine might consist of having to interrogate a wizard who sells poisons to innocent Muggles or witches who force young girls into slavery." He moved around her to go take a seat at the bar, turning his back on her.
That would not do, not today.
"Is that what your day consisted of?" she asked him as she went to stand next to him. "Truly awful things like that? Or was it a mountain of paperwork that you could have put off until Monday? Because I have a feeling that if I were to check the inbox in your office…"
"I said I was sorry, Ginny." Harry rubbed over his face. "I had a meeting with Robards and it ran long. I couldn't get away. What more do you want from me?"
"I want to know what's going on. You are not the kind of person who lets kids down the way you did today."
He shifted until he was facing her, no longer avoiding her gaze but meeting it head on with his own. It was magnetic and Ginny was helpless to look away.
"You," he said slowly, "have absolutely no right to say who or what I am anymore. You've done nothing this past month but go out of your way to avoid speaking to me or seeing me."
"Excuse me? When have I seen you this past month hanging around here waiting for me to get off my shift? How many conversations have you started after practice? How dare you try to-!"
"Guys!" Bart's hand was suddenly between them. He coughed loudly and raised his eyebrows. "Maybe you, uh, want to take this back to your house? Not so much in public perhaps?"
Ginny's nostril flared. Logic and manners were becoming a stretch for her at this point. "Actually I don't think I can wait that long. We'll use your office, okay Bart?" She smiled venomously at Harry and asked him sweetly, "Does that work for you?"
He was already off the stool and leading the way out back. "That sounds fine to me."
"We'll be awhile," she threw out to Bart.
The other man grimaced a little, twisting a rag between his hands. "That may not be the best-"
"What?" Ginny rounded on him. "What might not be best about that?"
Bart cowered back two steps and swallowed. "No-Nothing. Nothing at all. P-Please don't set anything on fire."
"I'll try," she said, stalking back to the office. Under her breath, she muttered, "Pathetic."
Harry was waiting for with the door open. As soon as she crossed the threshold, he slammed it shut, shaking a few of the frames on the dark green wall with the force of it. She was sure, in that instant, that the row they were about to have would shake up from more than just wall hangings.
"Do not," he began as he walked towards her, "ever question the importance of my work like that again!"
"Well don't ever make my work sound insignificant again! I work damn hard at my job and you know it!"
"You wait tables, wipe up spilled liquor, and flirt with the old men at the bar. You're not saving the world here."
"Of course I'm not, that's your job! Who better to do it than Harry Potter?"
Harry turned away with a disgusted look on his face. "That's not what I meant and you know it!"
"Bloody hell, I don't know what half of what you say even means anymore! Explain it to me like I'm Frankie First Year!"
"There are other jobs where you can contribute more, that's all I was saying."
"Where are they, Harry? Where? Making chocolate at the sweet shop? Cleaning rooms for Mrs. Nettles? Darning socks and taking in loads of wash for five Sickles a basket? This is the only place in Hastom I can find work!"
"Well, who the hell told you that you had to move here in the first place?"
"You did!" Ginny shrieked, jabbing him in the shoulder with her forefinger. The urge to burst into tears was fast becoming unavoidable. "You said that you were fine with me staying here! That whatever happened, we could work through it as friends and start all over! Damn it, you told the whole bloody village that you were happy to have me here!"
"I didn't know then!" Harry cried out, edging away and kicking at the bottom of the bookshelf in frustration.
"Know what?"
"What you being here was going to do to me!" All the anger physically faded as soon as he spoke and he slumped forward, resting his hands on his knees. He said his next words to the floor. "I had no earthly idea what it would do to me."
Watching him open up like that, be that vulnerable with her when she knew how much his insides must be rebelling against it, stopped her in her tracks.
"I'm sorry," she whispered to him after a moment. He picked his head up and stared at her quizzically. "I'm sorry that you lost Meredith because I'm here."
"What makes you think you were why she and I broke up?"
"She told me." Harry straightened and stared at her, blinking. "The night…The night she ended things with you, she came to see me. To tell me why she was leaving."
Slowly, Harry circled around her, his eyes raking over her as he silently sorted through his thoughts. Ginny turned with him, pulling her arms across her chest and not pulling her own eyes away from him as they danced together.
"Wha-What did she tell you?" Harry asked quietly. "What reason did she give you for leaving?"
That I love you and you love me and she didn't want to be around us anymore while we were so in love with each other.
"It doesn't matter," Ginny said out loud, shaking her head. "Just a pile of rubbish not even fit for the bin." Harry stopped moving. He squinted his eyes slightly, like he was trying hard to see something in her eyes. He must have found what he was searching for because he looked away an instant later. Ginny gripped her elbows tightly. "Why did Meredith tell you she ended it?"
She hoped with all her heart it wasn't along the lines of anything she herself had been told. Ginny didn't think she'd have much success denying to Harry's face that she was in love with him. Merlin knows what would become of their friendship if that little detail became known.
Harry simply smiled humorously. "It doesn't matter."
It might kill her a little to have to listen to how heartbroken he was over losing the woman he loved, but it clearly wasn't doing him any good keeping it inside like this. Undaunted, Ginny pressed on. "Tell me, please."
"Why?"
"Because I want to help you with this. If you tell me, I might be able to help you."
Harry nodded and slinked over to the desk, sitting on the corner of it. He picked up a small white ball with red stitching all around and tossed it up in the air, catching it before repeating the motion.
"Who's the father of your baby?" he finally asked.
Iris started moving then, more sharply than Ginny could ever remember feeling. Her mouth went dry as she tried to picture how the conversation had ended up here. "Um, I, uh, I told you I wasn't discussing that with you," she managed to say.
"But I want you to tell me."
"I've already said that I would never tell you that!" Her anger flickered, his words and the casual way he spoke them acting kindling to the flame. "Why would you bring this up again? You said you wouldn't when I made it clear I didn't want this brought up again!"
"Because I want to help you with this," he parroted back, never taking his eyes off the ball. "If you tell me, I might be able to help you."
"Harry-"
"I mean, if you're allowed to want to know my personal thoughts and feelings on subjects I have no intention of talking to you about, then I think that the knife should cut both ways. Just my opinion, though. One friend to another."
Fuming, she stepped in front of him and snatched the ball out of midair, slamming it back onto the desk.
"Fine," Ginny said through clenched teeth, "if you want to be a complete tosser because you're pissed at the world right now, that's fine. Be mean to me. Ignore me. Make me feel like the worst person that has ever existed." The tears stung her eyes but she was determined to get this out. "If that's what you need to do to get over losing the woman you love, that's fine. I'm a big girl and I can take it." His eyes dropped and he opened his mouth to speak. She didn't let him. "What I cannot take, what I will not take, is you thinking that just because your life has taken a bad turn that you can let down a group of kids that idolize you! And not because you're Harry Potter, but because you're Coach Potter! So you will be there for that first match tomorrow and if you're not I…I…I will tell my mother on you!" Turning away, she left the office, slamming the door just as hard as Harry had behind her.
Nell was sitting at the bar, leaning in close to talk to her husband. They both looked her way as she stomped past them.
"Ginny, is everything…?" Nell started to ask.
"Do me a favor; don't be nice to Harry when he comes out of the office!" Ginny ordered her friend. At the door, she whirled around again, pointing accusingly at Nell. "And stop fulfilling your husband so much! You're going to hurt something and your husband is starting to get very annoying! Stand strong and make him work for it once in a while, don't just give it away like it's a Christmas gift two sizes too big!" She wrenched the door open and huffed out into the evening.
The next day began as any other had lately, with no sign of Harry anywhere. Ginny went through the rituals and motions of her shift at the pub, there physically but unable to recall anything she had done in the entire seven hours, only that she had spent the day in equal parts worry over how her team would perform and disappointed in Harry.
It didn't feel good to feel that way about Harry.
She played their fight back in her mind and while she could wish all she wanted that it hadn't come to that, it had and she didn't regret anything that she had said to him last night. It'd be easier if she could any fault in her actions or words; the truth was she knew that no matter the effect losing Meredith was having on him, Harry owed it to himself and the people around him to get his life back together.
Bart finally dismissed her for the day, with a quick kiss on the cheek after she had changed out of her waitressing uniform for the game.
"What's that for?"
"Wishing the assistant coach good luck on her first game, despite her callous wishes that I get less fulfillment at home," he replied before presenting her with a pin that morphed from a picture of a white owl to a smiling group shot of her young team. "I know we're not as flashy as the Harpies here, but we're glad to have you."
"Thanks."
"Just coach those kids straight to first place because," he made sure no one was eavesdropping, "I really don't want to give away more free drinks if one of the adult teams win again."
With the utmost pride, she pinned her gift onto her shirt. "Go Snow Owls," she said with a small smile.
"Go Snow Owls!"
Making her way down to the pitch among the groups of spectators going down to enjoy the game, she mentally prepared herself for the task ahead. The most important thing was to keep the kids motivated and engaged. Hopefully it wouldn't get too out of hand before the Snitch was caught; Ginny didn't think that the older team would make the kids suffer through a four or five hour-long match, not here in Hastom. She knew her kids would put in a good effort, would give it everything they had in them, but a win seemed to be hoping for too much.
Especially when their own coach doesn't even-
"Oi!" She blinked against the voice calling to her amid the hum of the crowd in disbelief, picking up her pace until she was greeted by the sight of Harry standing with the kids near the stairs that would lead them to their team perch, clipboard in hand and shiny whistle around his neck. When she was close to standing in front of him, she could see the shy smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He looked good, very good, especially when compared to last night. "We've been waiting for you."
Mindful of the impressionable faces and ears around them, Ginny followed Harry's lead and kept it simple. "Sorry to keep you waiting. You guys," she took in all of the kids lined up together, their robes spotless white and looks of fierce determination and giddiness on all of their faces, "look like you're ready to play."
"I hate to disagree with you there, Coach Weasley," Harry said, "but to me, they look a team that's ready to win. What do you lot say? You ready to win?"
"YEAH!"
"Okay then, first string on the center of the field with me to meet the competition. Reserves go with Coach Weasley up to the perch."
Ginny wished the seven players starting the game good luck, passing on last minute bits of information and advice along the way, her adrenaline kicking in as the opening whistle was only a few minutes away. She was going to the stairs when a hand clamped around her wrist and tugged her around.
"I'm sorry," Harry apologized in her ear, "for the past few weeks. It wasn't anything you did, it was all on me. And I was out of line with you last night."
"Yes you were," she agreed simply, "but I pushed you to it. I can admit that much, at least. As for the last few weeks, we all know that two people are needed to have a conversation. Let's just say we both could have handled things better and go forwarded from there."
"That sounds good to me." He smiled brightly at her and the world seemed a better place. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go get this match started."
"I hope our little Owls can hold their own."
"I think they are going to dramatically exceed your expectations." He gave her a wink and joined the kids at the center of the pitch; Ginny was already about five steps up the stairs when she realized that Harry hadn't let go of her wrist once during their apology. Touching it gently with her other hand, she smiled to herself.
The match itself was an absolute slaughtering, just as Ginny had feared it would be; however, it was her Snow Owls that were doing the slaughtering. The Keeper, Paddy, looked as on point as any professional in the English League that she could remember playing against; she was almost tempted to ask Harry if he had slipped some "Felix Felicis" into the boy's pumpkin juice that morning. All three Chasers flew as an indestructible unit and the Beaters kept anyone not wearing white off target the whole game. And Calvin, little Calvin! His perfect Wronski Feint nearly brought tears to her eyes, it was so beautiful. The moment that bugger emerged to the crowd with the gold ball trapped in his hand, Ginny could honestly say she took more pride in that sight than in winning the League Cup her first year with the Harpies.
It was a magical day.
The victory party at Harry's house was a boisterous affair, filled with games of Exploding Snap on the living room floor to a marathon game of Hide and Seek. Bart provided enough Butterbeer and pumpkin juice to last a week and Madame Lemount brought over half a dozen pies and cakes. The children were beside themselves, bouncing back and forth between Harry and Ginny throughout the evening.
She finally managed to slip away for a quiet moment on the dock, with the moon and stars high above her, swinging her feet in and out of the cool water as she held her belly.
"That was quite a match, wasn't it sweetheart?" Ginny said to Iris. "I mean, there was no logical way that they should have won that match. None at all. They were the only ones who didn't know that and I think that's what did the trick in the end. They didn't know they were supposed to lose so they played liked they wouldn't.
"I hope you like to play Quidditch when you come out of me and get big enough to play. Of course I'll still adore you if you don't, it'll just limit our bonding activities a bit. I will have to insist though that you play Chaser. No bobbing between hoops or hitting things with bats, just lots and lots of goal scoring." Iris fluttered in reply and Ginny giggled. "However, if your heart is really set on it, I suppose I could live with you playing Seeker. But only after you give the position of Chaser its fair consideration."
She jumped a little when she felt something drape over her shoulders. Harry slid down to sit next to her and her heart relaxed as she wrapped the blanket more snuggly around her.
"Do you mind a little company? I, uh, can't look at the kitchen anymore without thinking about how long it's going to take to clean. Which I will, by the way. Don't go near it."
"For once, I'll happily leave it to you." They were quiet for a few moments, listening to the muted chaos going on behind them. "That was nice of you, to turn the house over to the barbarian hordes for the night."
"They earned it in my book. I've never seen them fly so confidently. According to Ramona, a lot of that was due to you." He nudged her side with his elbow. "Apparently, you gave them the mother of all pep talks yesterday in my absence."
"You trained them for months before I came into their world," she countered, giving him her own nudge. "Whatever I managed to unearth from them yesterday was what you've been steadily putting in for a long time. You're a great coach, Harry."
"So are you," he told her, taking a sip of his Butterbeer. "Maybe it's something you want to look into when you're trial is over."
"What? Coaching Quidditch? Professionally?" Ginny laughed, shaking her head. "Don't be silly."
"What's silly about it?" Harry argued. "You'd be fantastic at it. You know the game better than anyone I've ever met. I think any team would be lucky to have you on their staff. Have you really never given it any thought?"
"Sure, when I found out I was pregnant and I knew I couldn't play anymore. It only took me about five minutes to realize that it'll never happen. Quidditch teams are notorious for keeping their staffs in house. It's rare that they hire from the outside. Gwenog might be willing to take me on, but that would mean starting at the lowest pay grade possible with no assurance that I'll ever get the top job. Not to mention all the travel involved and the long hours…that's not the kind of mother I want to be. I want to be with this little one," she patted her stomach affectionately, "as much as I can. There are always going to be jobs out there but I'll only have a few precious years of my daughter's childhood. No amount of money is worth missing that."
"No, you're right," Harry told her softly. "That's a good way to think of it."
"A little extra money would be nice, though," she said with a shrug. "It'd be nice to afford a place with a yard and a tree, somewhere with a little more space. Room for the baby to grow."
"Yeah?" Harry took another long sip of his drink. "You know," he finally said, smiling slowly, "there may be a rather easy solution to your dilemma." Before she could speak, he turned to her, tucking a leg underneath him. "Do you have a Knut on you?"
"I think so," she said, searching through her pockets until she pulled out the small coin. Harry took it from her hand and flicked it in the air with his thumb. "Why?"
Still playing with the coin, Harry jerked his head past Ginny's until she turned and he pointed out at a huge oak tree about four hundred yards away from them. "Down there, if you look closely, there's another dock. It's hard to see at night, but trust me, it's there. The dock is part of a separate plot of land from the one we're on now. It's unused, waiting for someone to build on it."
Rolling her eyes, she looked back at Harry, wanting to wipe his little smile off his face. "I can't afford something like that, Harry, not even if I got tipped twenty Galleons a day for the next ten years. Private land, on a lake? That's not something in my budget to buy."
"Really?" His eyes widened in mock surprise. "That's strange. Because you just did." He flicked the coin up in the air again, catching it seamlessly in the palm of his hand.
He didn't! Ginny thought as she realized what had just happened. Her mouth fell open in shock. He absolutely did not just do that!
"You…You…I…That can't…" Overwhelmed, she punched him square in the shoulder.
"OW!" he cried, reeling back while his smile morphed into full on laughter. "That's not how one traditionally celebrates buying their own land."
"I didn't buy it! You tricked me!"
"Only because I knew you wouldn't accept it any other way," he argued. He looked simply delighted at the war she was waging with herself; half of her was flabbergasted beyond belief and the other part was steaming over the fact that he had managed to pull one over on her. "And it wasn't a trick; it was me, a land owner, selling off some of my property to you, a buyer, for a sum that I thought was more than fair."
"The Council…the village will never go for this! I'm new, I'm supposed to start off small and grow from there!"
Sitting at her side again, he took her rigid hand and squeezed it gently. "Relax, Ginny. The land was mine free and clear. As long as it stayed with a citizen of Hastom, I was well within my rights to do with it what I pleased and what would please me most is for you and…and the baby to have a nice home." His hand gripped hers again and she looked over in a daze to see him smiling happily at her. "It would please me more than I could ever say."
"It's…too much," Ginny whispered, her Weasley pride trying to squash the warm feeling of peace spreading out from her heart. "It's far too much. I cannot accept something this big."
Harry nodded carefully. "Then don't accept it on your behalf. Accept it on hers." With the softest touch, he laid his free hand on her stomach. The feelings inside her at the sight of it, of him willingly reaching out to her daughter, threatened to rip her open from the inside out. "Give her a good home where she has lots of room to run and play and make a mess in. I think…I think that would be a good thing for a child to have." He smiled down at her stomach and Ginny pressed her eyes shut tightly against the bittersweet pain in her chest.
Why did he have to be so wonderful with the things like this? Why did he have to be so easy to love?
Pushing down her sadness at such thoughts, she did her best to ease the tension on her face as she opened her eyes.
"It would be nice," Ginny said, proud that her voice was only shaking a little, "to have something like that to lord over her when she's a teenager." Harry laughed throatily and his merriment allowed her to have some of her own. Before she could question where the urge came from, she laid her head down on his shoulder and wrapper her arms around him. "Thank you," she said into his chest, trembling a little as she heard the fast thumping of his heart against her ear.
"You're very welcome."
It would be the wise thing, the proper thing, to tell him now what a dear friend he was to hear. Try as she might, the words wouldn't move up from her throat to enter the world. Instead, she sat there with Harry for who knows how long, enjoying the peacefulness that was her life at the moment and yet unable to help herself from thinking how much happier she could have been if she was braver and if Harry was willing to give her his love.
Still, there were worse places in the world to be.