January weather is always quite ugly at Hogwarts, but it never stops Quidditch practice from starting up again. The wind is biting cold and it has been sleeting off and on all day, but Harry is determined to have us practice.
So, I finish braiding my hair and slip my wand into my sleeve before heading down the hall and out the front door with my broom. As soon the door swings open, I see Hermione heading down the hallway toward me.
"Hermione? What are you doing here?" I call out.
"I came to walk you to practice." She falls in stride with me as we make our way through the frigid dungeons.
I roll my eyes. "Did Severus send you?" Even though Madame Pomfrey cleared me for practice, Severus felt I needed more time to rest.
She frowns and shakes her head. "Why would he send me?"
"Nevermind," I wave her off. "But you don't like Quidditch to begin with. It's probably thirty degrees, gusty, and rainy. Why on earth would you want watch practice in that kind of weather?"
Hermione lets out a cheerful laugh. "Well, I'm not really going to see you over the next few days, so I figured we could catch up on the walk to the pitch."
"Where are you going to be?"
"The Wizengamot is holding a session to hear arguments for extending the marriage law age to twenty instead of seventeen. I've been asked by the Minister to present the case, so I'll need to be in London," she explains.
"But you and I and most of our friends are already married," I point out. "Even if the extension passes, it won't matter for us."
"This isn't about us," she answers with a hint of irritation. "This is about the younger generations. Think about how many students here at Hogwarts will be coming of age in the next year alone. How many of them will be frantically searching for a spouse rather than focusing on their education? How many of them will be so terrified of being placed in the lottery, they will just be trying to find anyone rather than someone they are actually compatible with. Furthermore, our scope of searching is very limited to the people we know here in school. If we extend the age, it will give people more time to search for potential spouses from other schools or even in a different age range. And then there is the problem of magical blood lines being so muddled from a limited gene pool, that extending the age would give people a chance to possibly find a compatible spouse in the Muggle population. That would give us the potential to limit the number of squib births, magical defects, and-"
"Okay, okay, I get it," I cut her off. "You don't have to convince me, so save your speech for the Wizengamot."
"Sorry," she blushes. "You know Umbridge will be ready to exploit any weakness in my case, so I've been preparing for the last couple of days like a madwoman. I want to make sure that I cover every argument they could possibly throw my way."
"You'll be fine," I reassure her. "Kingsley wouldn't have asked if he didn't think you were the best, and let's face it, you are the 'brightest witch of your age'."
"Suck up," she elbows me playfully. We reach the front doors and head out into the bitter cold. Hermione casts a warming charm and water repellant charm, but the gloomy day still surrounds us as a reminder.
"This is going to be a miserable practice," I mutter under my breath, but Hermione hears.
"Harry said you didn't have to come," she reminds me. "You know he doesn't want to put you or the baby in harms way."
"Practice in cold weather isn't harmful."
"But pneumonia is."
"I'm not going to get pneumonia," I insist. "You and Harry need to stop worrying about me."
"I think Harry is more worried about what your husband will do to him if something happens to your baby," she explains. "Besides, Ginny, I think you forget that while you've already processed this, the rest of us are still trying to wrap our heads around you being pregnant. You have no idea how surreal everything became after you stormed out of your parent's house on Christmas Day. Your father didn't say anything the rest of the holiday, Bill and Fleur left almost as soon as you did, and Ron practically stopped eating. Even Celestina Warbeck couldn't shake us out of our shock."
"I already apologized for screwing up everyone's holiday," I huff back.
"You don't need to apologize, you just need to give us a little bit of time to get use to the thought of you and Professor Snape having a baby," she replies in a gentle tone. "We know you aren't some fragile china doll, but that doesn't mean that we don't want to protect you."
"Are you sure you haven't been talking to Severus?" I reply dryly.
"No," she smiles innocently, "but I must be saying something right if your own husband is agreeing with me." I roll my eyes again, but smile anyway. The thought of Severus and Hermione agreeing on anything strikes me as comical.
We reach the pitch and the wind dies down slightly. Harry stops talking with Ron momentarily as he spots me, but I can see his eyes drop to the ground almost immediately. They mount their brooms and the rest of the team follows.
"You going to walk me back after practice, too?" I ask playfully.
"Only so we can gossip some more," she winks. As I kick off, she moves up the stands to find a seat.
The wind whips around me, but I suddenly feel a peace wash over me. I missed flying. I missed Quidditch. I missed just being me.
Harry starts us running through a few drills and I can see we are a little rusty. Out of the ten plays we run, four are perfect, so Harry makes us run the whole set several more times. As much as I thought I would be irritate, I am actually enjoying being out here. Yes, my warming charm is wearing off and the rain is borderline miserable, but it feels good to be playing Quidditch again.
"Okay, it's still not great, but we're getting there," Harry yells above the wind. "Let's take a five minute and then start the formation over." Each member begins pulling their wand out to reapply warming and rain repelling charms. "Hey, Gin," Harry greets coming up alongside my broom.
"Hey, Harry," I say back, trying to sound casual. "I know the play isn't perfect, but I think we'll get there by the next match. It's in a couple of weeks, right?"
"Yeah," he replies, "we are playing against Ravenclaw. Their keeper is out for the rest of the year, so they are using their backup seeker. What he lacks in keeping skill, he makes up for in speed, so we definitely need to get this play down."
"I see. What happened to their keeper? Injury?"
Harry blushes and shakes his head. "She's pregnant." An awkward silence fills the space between us, but he tries to reassure me by saying, "But she's a lot further along than you. Our season should be over before you are too pregnant to play anymore. Sorry that was a stupid thing to say. I mean, the season will be over before you aren't allowed to play anymore. Or at least until Madame Pomfrey says you can't play? I-" He flounders and his face burns red despite the cold weather.
"It's fine," I say loudly, trying to save him from babbling. "You're right though. The season should be over before I'm not able to play anymore." Those words alone make my stomach flip. I still have months to play, but it suddenly seems too close. "Break over?"
Harry looks at his watch and calls the team to line up in formation. I focus on the practice as best I can, but something at the back of my mind nags on as my churning stomach slowly becomes a dull throb of uneasiness.
I know that eventually the baby will be here and things are going to change, but saying it over and over to myself doesn't make it any better. With my original fears of marriage starting to ease, the thought of having a baby brings back all that anxiety. In fact, having a baby with Severus isn't even the problem anymore. I just wish I didn't have to have one at all right now. I wish I wasn't pregnant.
We continue running drills for another hour, working on our passing, and practicing our shots on goal. With Ron doing a pretty good job blocking my shots, I make a mental note to work on my shooting skills between official practices.
Finally, Harry decides practice is over and not a minute too soon as the throb in my side turns into a stabbing pain. I didn't eat much for breakfast, so I can only assume my hunger is getting the better of me as I land next to Hermione.
"You okay?" she asks. While she is relatively dry and warm, I can see she her patience is wearing thin. She's a good friend for watching, but I know she was bored out of her mind since the rain kept her from reading or studying.
"I think I'm just starving." I'm also ready for some dry clothes and a warm bath, but I'm not going to complain.
"Come on," she grabs my arm and pulls me towards the castle as the wind starts to pick up again. We get inside just as a heavy sheet of rain cuts through our charms and soaks me to the bone. As I stop to catch my breath, a sharp pain hits me again.
"Ginny?" Hermione hesitates. I start to reassure her that I am fine, but then I follow her eyes to the puddle forming around my dripping robe and soaked shoes.
"What?" I ask, but stop as I watch red droplets turn the pink against the tan marble. Panic overtakes me as I look up helplessly at her.
Her wide eyes betray her calm voice as she says, "I think we need to go to the Hospital Wing."
...properties include a substantial precipitant of alkaline residue. Other qualities may include the presence of monolithium particles to balance the volatile base.
I roll my eyes in annoyance at the homework I'm marking. The student obviously copied the text word for word, so I scribble a big red "T" across the top with a note to see me after class. Seems the fifth years think that getting bitten by a deadly snake means my intelligence has been sucked out of my brain.
Tossing the offending paper, I reach for the next in my pile when a knock echoes through my office. "Enter," I bark without looking up.
"Good day, Severus. Busy?"
I try my best to stifle a groan as I answer, "Hello, Minerva. Something I can help you with?"
She smiles brightly and practically skips into my office. "I was just passing through the dungeons-" to which I snort in disbelief "-and thought I'd drop in to see you."
"Passing through to where? My chambers perhaps?"
She laughs. "Yes. Can't an old woman visit an old friend to wish him happy birthday?" I look up to glare and watch her pull a bottle of Ogden's finest Scotch with a big green bow from her robe pocket.
"Scotch from a Scott," I muse as she transfigures two inkwells into a set of tumblers. "Tsk, tsk, Headmistress," I drawl. "Trying to get your employees drunk so early in the day? One might think you are... up to something."
"I know very well you don't get drunk off one drink," she smirks, pouring a generous amount in both. "What you do after we share a single drink is not my business. But stop being so snotty and toast with me." I take the proffered tumbler as she says, "To you, Severus. May you continue to cheat death the way your students try to cheat on exams, so that you may have many more birthdays to come."
A snort escapes me. "With a toast like that, I'll make sure to come up with an extra special one for your next birthday. Maybe something along the lines of, 'May your next three hundred birthdays be as wonderful as the last three hundred.'"
Minerva chokes a cough down. "Severus! Really?" She scowls for a moment, but then breaks into a hearty laugh. "I suppose if anyone knows about aging gracefully, it would be you. Tell me, what was it like to have Merlin as a dorm mate?"
We both chuckle at our back and forth banter before easing into a comfortable chat.
"So, it seems you've had a pleasant holiday," she comments casually. "I noticed you and your wife spent New Year's Eve at the Malfoy's."
"Is there a supposed to be a question somewhere in there?"
"How are the two of you doing?"
"You sure are nosey," I retort. "It'll take far more than one drink for me to spill my secrets to you." She gives me a pointed look, so I relent. "We are fine. Things seem to be working better. I just hope-"
Before I can finish my thought a silvery imitation of a hawk swoops through the door. Minerva and I exchange curious looks as it opens its mouth to emulate the voice of Poppy Pomfrey.
"Severus! I need you in the infirmary now! It's your wife!"
The hawks flapped fervently before swooping out from whence it came. Minerva frowns and raises a single eyebrow at me.
I feel my heart drop to my bowels as I down the last of my drink.
"Severus? You look like you are about to faint-"
"She's pregnant," I blurt out. I stand so quickly, papers fly off my desk in every direction. As I start out the door, Minerva grabs my arm. I try to pull my arm out of hand, but she holds firmly.
"Trust me," she interrupts as I start to argue. The pull of apparition pulls me so quickly, it takes me a second to remember the Headmaster or Headmistress has that power on the grounds. We land in Poppy's office without a single crack, but she still flinches in surprise of our sudden appearance.
"What happened?" I blurt out.
"That was quick. Why don't you take a seat-"
"WHAT HAPPENED?"
"Severus! Sit!" Minerva barks. I start to push past her, but she gives me a warning look.
"What happened?" I repeat in a calmer voice, still refusing to sit. Poppy presses her lips together as she looks cautiously between Minerva and I. "The Headmistress already knows," I state irritably, "Now, if I have to ask again, Poppy, I will hex you into-"
"She miscarried," Poppy cuts me off in a loud voice. Minerva lets out a small gasp and I'm sure my mouth hangs open like a gaping codfish.
The silence in the room is stifling as my mouth goes dry and my knees go weak. I knew from moment I saw her patronus, but hearing her say the words made it all real. Minerva places a comforting hand on my shoulder, but I shrug it off.
"What do you mean she miscarried?" I demand. "You said she was perfectly fine two days ago! You said the baby was perfectly healthy! How did this happen?"
"And she was healthy," Poppy agrees, "But you know as well as I do that magical pregnancies are unpredictable and unstable in every sense of the word. She was taking her prenatal potions and gaining her weight and her strength back. There is no reason this should have happened, except that it was just not meant to be this time."
A deep sigh escapes me as I rub my face. It sounds stupid, but all I can ask is, "So, what now?"
"I would advise she stay here overnight so I can monitor her vitals. She was extremely distraught over the news, so I gave her a calming potion. Her friend, the former Miss Granger, is with her now."
Minerva lets out a heavy sigh as I finally sink into the chair. "Take a minute," Minerva suggests. "Then go to your wife. She needs you right now more than ever, but she needs you calm and collected."
I look at Poppy for confirmation, but she just shrugs. "As a medical professional, I am bound by law to inform you of her situation. But as your friend, I agree with Minerva that you should be with her. Even if she tries to throw you out," she adds wryly.
Nodding absently, I stand and start for the door. Minerva stops me short and in a low voice whispers, "I'm so sorry." She places her hand on my shoulder again, but I don't attempt to shrug it off this time. For some reason, it is comforting now. With a gentle squeeze, she exits ahead of me and leaves the hospital wing in silent reverence.
The hospital wing is empty, save for the single curtained off section at the end of the room. Knowing Ginevra and her friend are there, I take a deep breath and start the longest walk of my life.
My breathing has finally calmed into the slow rise and fall of exhaustion. Even though, I am facing the wall, I know Hermione is sitting behind me running a brush through my tangled locks.
"When I was little," she had said as soon as we were alone, "my mom use to brush my hair when I was having a terrible day. I don't know why it helps, but just tell me if you want me to stop." Of course, I didn't want to start crying again, so I just didn't answer. She transfigured a brush and hasn't stopped yet.
I don't know if it is the brushing or the calming draught, but I do feel better. No, not really better. Just empty. And tired. Numb. Like nothingness.
There is a rustle of the curtain and Hermione stops for a moment. My heart stops as I hear my husband ask, "Ginevra?"
The tears well up in my eyes, so I pull the blankets over my face, hoping he won't force me to face him. From behind me, I can feel the Hermione move away.
"Professor," she greets. He must have nodded because she just continues on, "I'll give you two some space." I want to stop her, but I can't find the strength to roll over. I also know that if I roll over, the tears will start all over again, so I stay put.
The curtain rustles again and I know I'm alone with him as Hermione's footsteps fade away. I strain my ears to figure out where he is, but his stealth movements don't give away his position. I have no idea if he is standing or sitting, scowling or blank faced, angry or expressionless.
The silence stretches on and I wait for something. Anything to give me hint about what is coming next. Just when I am about to give up, there is another rustle of fabric. I start to believe he left, but then the bed dips behind me as he gently pulls the sheet off my face to just beneath my chin.
Instead of just sitting next to me, I feel his body stretch the length of mine over the covers as his arm slips around my waist and places his hand over my own balled up fist next to my chest. I've hardly hugged him, but him spooning my backside feels like the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of his body wraps me like a soothing cocoon and his heartbeat on my back releases the tension in my shoulders.
All the tears I have been holding back since he walked in finally release in a single, painful sob. He doesn't ask anything. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't even try to whisper false reassurances to me. He just holds me and lets me cry until sleep finally consumes my exhausted mind and body.