On the first morning of May, Ginny wakes up with a start.
It takes her a moment. The sun's streaming in through the window in the dorm, making the wooden floorboards light up in golden patches, and she doesn't see any of it.
She's the only one awake, she realises. She sits up in her four-poster bed, tries to steady her breathing. She can hear the noises of steady breathing, an occasional snuffle: everyone's fast asleep.
She's looking at the wall opposite her, but she doesn't take any of it in. Not really. Her dream is still playing in her mind: bright lights, flashes of green, Fred in the Entrance Hall, lying down perfectly still as if he could be asleep. Which he is, in a way. Asleep, never to wake up again. The nightmare fades, but that's the reality of it. And that's not going to fade anytime soon.
It'll be a year tomorrow.
A year without Fred. A year with six Weasleys instead of seven.
She stands up. Starts to get dressed on autopilot. Once she's dressed, she doesn't think about where she's doing until she's out of the dorm, on the staircase.
She doesn't know where she's going, but she knows she's going somewhere. She has to go somewhere. She can't be indoors anymore. The walls are closing in on her. She has to get out.
"Hey."
She jumps at the sound. She'd expected the common room to be completely empty, given that it's still relatively early.
She isn't surprised, though, when she turns in the direction of the voice and sees Harry, slumped in one of the armchairs by the fire, glasses down on his nose. On the small sofa, Ron's lying down, snoring gently with a textbook lying open on his chest.
"Fell asleep revising?" she asks Harry.
He looks absolutely exhausted, but his eyes are bright as he smiles at her, the way he always does. He gets to his feet, pushing his glasses up his nose and brushing some spare parchment off his robes, and walks over to her.
"Yeah. Because we spent all day practicing our Defensive spells, we thought we'd study in the night," Harry says after a yawn and then, seeming to notice her expression, adds, "You alright?"
Ginny shrugs. "Bad dreams," she says.
Harry doesn't ask her anything else. He doesn't need to. They've both grown used to nightmares, the last few years. When she wakes up next to Harry, more often than not he has that slightly pale look on his face that she associates with nightmares. She supposes it's the same for him with her.
"It's going to be a year, tomorrow," she adds, letting herself rest her head against his shoulder.
Instead of saying anything, Harry slips his hand into hers. "Want a game of Quidditch?" he suggests.
Ginny thinks I fucking love you. She thinks I don't know how you always know what I want, but you always do, and I love you. She says, "Yeah, alright." She feels herself start to relax a little as they begin walking towards the portrait hole. There's something about the outdoors, about the prospect of feeling the sun on her skin, of being alone with Harry in the early morning, that makes her heart rate slow back down to a normal pace.
"Did you ever think it'd be like this?" she asks him, once they're out of the common room, walking down the corridor. Ginny could walk these paths in her sleep. It's strange to think that soon she won't be, soon she'll be out of Hogwarts for good.
"Like what?" Harry asks.
"I don't know. You and me. Back in Hogwarts, sneaking out, like how it was a few years ago. Except everything's different now, isn't it? It's not the same at all," Ginny says, and she can't suppress the heavy sigh that leaves her. "I can't stop thinking about Fred," she adds, very quietly.
"Yeah," Harry says, "I know. I keep thinking about Remus."
Ginny turns to look at him. His face is shadowed, and his gaze is cast downward. She gives his hand a squeeze, waits for him to keep talking.
"And Tonks. I haven't seen Teddy since we came back to Hogwarts, but I can't stop thinking about him. And Dobby. And Colin Creevey… And Fred, fuck… all of them. I don't want all of this to have been for nothing," Harry says. "And if I hadn't…" he trails off, but Ginny recognises the tell-tale signs of Harry starting to blame himself. Hermione likes to talk about Harry's Saving People thing, but Ginny's far more wary of Harry's self-blame spirals.
Ginny wonders about that, sometimes. She understands, theoretically, that Fred didn't die for anybody, that he knew the risks of fighting, just as they all did. But sometimes she thinks if I wasn't so keen to get to Hogwarts, would he have stayed with me? Would he have stayed safe? She hates herself for the thought. She's never liked the idea of being a coward. But, Merlin, sometimes she thinks about what would've happened if she hadn't fought, if none of them did.
She never thinks it too often. She knows that she wouldn't have thought of staying back, not for a second. And it's the same for Fred. When she thinks about Harry and the others fighting without her, it feels wrong. And she knows that Fred would've thought the same.
Neither of them says anything as they step outside. Without another word, Ginny starts to lead them to the Black Lake, instead of the Quidditch Pitch.
"Thought we were going to have a fly," says Harry.
"I dunno. Changed my mind," Ginny says. She doesn't feel like flying. She flies when she wants to concentrate on something other than how she's feeling, when she wants to focus on her grip on the broomstick and the feeling of the wind in her hair. She doesn't feel up to it, though. Not today.
It's a sunny day, even though the sun hasn't been up for long. She sits down beneath the beech tree, cross-legged, and, after a moment, Harry sits down behind her. When she turns to look up at him, she sees the early morning sun glinting off his hair, making his dark skin seem almost golden. His brow is furrowed in worry, but he wraps his arms around her as always, and she leans back against him, resting her head back against his shoulder and closing her eyes.
"I don't think it was all for nothing," she says after a moment.
Harry brings his hand up to her shoulder. His thumb traces over the scar on her shoulder over her robes, and she shivers. "Yeah?" he asks.
She nods. "We're safe now, aren't we?"
"Yeah," Harry says again. She hears him sigh, and then he tugs her a bit closer to his chest.
"Tonks and Lupin and… and Fred," she says, and the name hurts to say, even after all this time, "they all knew what they were doing. They were prepared. I… you and me and were prepared, too. We knew the risks. We could have died. You did die," she adds.
"Only for a bit, though," Harry says.
Ginny has to open her eyes so she can roll them. "Yes, but you know what I mean," she says, turning to give him an impatient look.
After a moment, Harry nods. "I do, yeah."
"I just don't want to forget him," she says. "I don't want to forget any of them."
"We won't," Harry says, just as quiet as her voice.
She settles back against him, closes her eyes again. The nightmares hurt, and she's sadder than she can express some days. But she supposes it's better than the alternative. He went down fighting, they all did.
He brings his hand up, starts to play with her hair. She loses track of time, and she thinks maybe she's about to drift into a light doze now, against his shoulder, in the warmth of the morning sun.
"Ginny! Harry!"
She jumps at the sudden noise, opening her eyes. Behind her, she feels the motion of Harry getting his wand out, but the both of them relax when they see it's only Ron. Ron looks frantic, though. His cheeks are flushed, and his hair is windblown, as if he's run all the way down to the lake from the castle.
"What is it?" Ginny asks, sitting up.
"Is something wrong?" Harry puts in.
"No, nothing's wrong," Ron says, panting a little. "It's Bill. And Fleur. They just sent us an owl. They're in St. Mungo's. We've got to go! The baby's coming."
Despite their excitement, waiting for a baby to be born feels a lot like waiting for any other thing.
It's been hours. Everyone in the family's here, except for Charlie, who's sent word that he'll be here next week. They've had lunch and now dinner at the little tea shop in St. Mungo, and now it's late enough that Ginny has to force her eyes open.
"Maybe something's wrong, if it's taking this long," Ron says.
George waves his wand lazily, and the napkin he'd used with dinner a few hours ago flies towards Ron and hits him in the face. "Maybe the baby will turn out purple, or something."
"That makes no sense, George," Percy says, leaning back in the uncomfortable chair.
George shrugs. "It'd be funny to see a purple baby, though."
Ginny thinks about her fourth year, waiting in Grimmauld Place to hear about her father. This is probably the opposite of that, but it feels familiar enough that it gets her on edge.
"Or an orange baby," she puts in. "Since they'll probably have Weasley hair, it'd be fun if the baby had orange hair to match."
"Or a yellow baby, if the baby has Fleur's hair," Harry says.
"That's not yellow," Ron says. "More like… silvery, you know?"
"Yeah," Harry agrees.
Ginny turns to glare at Harry. "Spend a lot of time looking at Fleur's hair, do you?"
"Oh, yeah," says Harry, unfazed. "It's all I do. I go kill a Dark Lord and then stare at Fleur Delacour's hair. It's my favourite pastime."
Ginny laughs despite herself, and then leans her head onto his shoulder. It's just them outside, her and Harry and George and Percy and Ron and Hermione; her parents are inside the room with Bill and Fleur, only emerging for updates every so often.
"It's almost midnight, you know," Hermione says, speaking up for the first time in a bit. Ginny had assumed she'd fallen asleep.
"So it means the baby will be born… tomorrow?" Ginny asks. Maybe there's a better way to phrase that, but she's delirious with exhaustion.
"I think it means it's already almost tomorrow, Gin," Harry says.
George makes a face. "Listen to you both. Gin. Makes me sick."
"All of you call me Gin, idiot," Ginny says.
"Still," George says. "The point stands."
"Besides," Ginny adds, "have you ever heard Ron call Hermione baby?"
The tip of Ron's ears go red. "Why bring me into it?" he demands.
"Well, no one brought you up and I thought someone should—"
"Stop arguing," Percy scolds, but it sounds half-hearted. "Maybe something is wrong, if it's taking so long," he adds.
"Nothing's wrong. This sort of thing takes time," Hermione puts in. "It takes hours. Sometimes it even takes longer than a day. My mum said when she had me, it took about sixteen hours, start to finish…"
She goes on talking, and Ginny rests her head back down on Harry's shoulder, letting the sounds of everyone talking around her lull her to sleep. Just a small nap. It won't hurt, right? She's been awake for what feels like years…
What feels like two seconds later, there's a loud thump that shocks her back awake. "Mmph?" she mumbles. Forcing her eyes open, she sees her dad, looking slightly manic. George is on the ground, which she thinks accounts for the noise.
"What is it?" she asks, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "What time is it?" she adds, leaning over to peer at the watch on Harry's wrist.
"It's time," Percy says, and Ginny thinks it's nonsensical, until she realises.
"The baby's here?" she whispers.
"The baby's here," Dad confirms, and holds his hand out to her. Ginny gets to her feet, taking her dad's hand and letting him lead her and the others into the room.
At two am on the second morning of May, Ginny's ushered into a tiny room to meet her niece.
The first thing Ginny notices is how very small she is. She's tiny, wrapped up in a little yellow blanket in Bill's arms. Next to Bill, Fleur looks exhausted, but she's absolutely glowing. Ginny, who heard some of the highlights of the past few hours, thinks that only Fleur would be able to look so graceful even after going through the ordeal of childbirth. She doesn't resent her for it, though. After looking down at her niece, she doesn't think she can resent Fleur for anything, ever again.
"Isn't she perfect?" Mum says. Her cheeks are streaked with tears.
"Absolutely perfect," Dad agrees.
Ginny steps a bit closer to them.
"Do you want to hold her?" Bill asks her softly.
Ginny nods. She'll deny it until her dying day, but she feels quite tearful herself as she accepts the baby into her arms. "She's so small," she whispers. She looks down at the baby, who peers at her and then closes her eyes. Her big brother, with a small baby.
"Have you thought about names yet?" Ron asks, peering at the baby over Ginny's shoulder. This is the softest she can ever recall hearing him speak.
"We have, yes," Fleur says.
"We're thinking… Victoire," Bill says, proud smile on his face. "We wanted something French, and we thought… it's been a year. Since we won. Her birthday is the anniversary."
Ginny has to pass the baby to her mum, because her hands are suddenly shaking.
"Victory," Hermione whispers.
"So that we don't forget," George says. He exchanges a glance at Ginny, and she feels even closer to tears than before.
"That's a great name," Percy says. He sounds close to tears, too, and Ginny has to look away.
Harry glances at Ginny, and she knows they're both thinking the same thing, about their conversation at the Great Lake this morning – technically yesterday morning. It feels a million years ago now. She doesn't think she'll ever forget Fred, or the others, or everything they lost, but it doesn't feel overwhelming now, the way it did this morning. They'll grow together, all of them, and they won't forget.
"We were thinking Fred, if it was a boy," Bill's saying, but Ginny, suddenly, is too distracted to listen to him. Victoire has all her attention, a tiny snuffly baby in her mum's arms.
She takes a small step back, until she's right next to Harry. She wonders if it'd be the same for her, if everything will be as exhausting and happy and rewarding as it seems to be for Bill and Fleur.
If she and Harry ever… if they ever… Of course, it's a long time away. A few years, at the very least, and they haven't so much as discussed it, but…
She turns to look at him. He must see something in her expression, because he leans in closer, until no one can hear him but her, and says, "What are you thinking about?" he asks, very softly.
Ginny gives him a little smile. "I'm thinking… someday."
"What?" Harry says, sounding confused.
"Someday. It'll be you and me in that room, and everyone else waiting out here," she tells him.
She sees the exact second he understands what she's implying, because his eyes light up, despite his sleepiness. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," she confirms.
Harry doesn't say anything, but he looks overcome with emotion. "Someday," he whispers, and Ginny cuddles up into his side.
Someday.