April 2008

"Harry?"

"Uh." Ginny had turned the lights off several minutes ago, and he was almost asleep.

"I know who I want for the baby's godfather."

He grunted, then flinched when a sharp finger poked between his spine and shoulder blade. "What?" he said irritably, rolling onto his back and looking towards his wife in the darkness. "Can't we talk about this tomorrow?"

"It is tomorrow," Ginny said, apparently wide awake.

"Which is why I want to talk about it tomorrow," Harry grumbled. "When it's light outside," he added for clarification.

Ginny lit the bedside lamp, and Harry turned away from her with a groan, throwing one arm over his eyes.

"Now it's light inside," she said brightly.

Pregnancy did strange things to women, Harry had learned, and the worst part of it was, those strange things were different every time. Despite being only two months away from the birth of his third child, he had yet to find a better strategy for dealing with a pregnant Ginny than "just do whatever the hell she wants."

So he lowered his arm a fraction, gathered his patience, and said, "Who?"

Choosing godparents for their first child had been easy. Even the second set had been relatively smooth. But this time … barring any surprises, this would be their last baby, and both Harry and Ginny were struggling with the finality of knowing that whoever they chose left everyone else out for good.

"Percy," Ginny said with satisfaction.

Harry dropped his arm completely.

"I know he's not your favorite of my brothers, and I know there was that thing during your fifth year, but he is my brother, and no one has chosen him yet."

"What?" Harry didn't know if it was the time of night—or morning—or Al's recent shrieking, but Ginny's words didn't make sense.

"Percy," she said. "No one has chosen him for godfather."

Given the plethora of Weasley grandchildren, it seemed implausible that any of the brothers had been left out, but as Harry ran down the list in his head, he realized it was true.

"Oliver did, and Audrey's sister chose both of them, but Percy hasn't been chosen by anyone in the family. He was always good to me, and I know it would mean a lot to him coming from you."

Harry hesitated. This was a touchy subject, but it had to be addressed. "He wasn't always good to you."

Ginny crossed her arms over her ample bosom. "That wasn't about me, that was about—other stuff. And it wasn't just me, either, it was all of us. When we were growing up, Percy had time for me when the others told me to go away, and he's good with Molly and Lucy. You know he is."

That Percy was a doting and involved father could not be denied. If Harry, as the father of two boys, considered him rather overprotective and paranoid, well … that wasn't such a bad quality in a godfather, he reckoned.

"How long have you been thinking about this?" Because if it was a one a.m. brainwave, he was going back to sleep.

"Almost a week," Ginny said triumphantly. She knew Harry's lack of actual disagreement meant she had already won. Usually she was tactful enough to hide her glee, but unusual behavior for pregnant women was … well, usual.

Harry rolled the idea around in his brain, looking for flaws Ginny would care about.

"What about George? You don't think it will hurt his feelings?"

"George didn't expect any of us to choose him. He told Ron ages ago."

Harry didn't question the veracity of this statement. Ginny had an uncanny knack for knowing exactly how to weasel information from each of her brothers, and Ron was the easiest.

"I thought you wanted Luna to be godmother."

"I do."

"But—" He stared at Ginny's blurry shape sitting up beside him. Percy and Luna—Harry's brain screeched to a halt again, refusing to process further. This was a strangeness that could not be explained, not even by the sizable baby bump at eye level. Harry groped for his glasses.

Ginny sat up in bed with her legs crossed, an old Gryffindor t-shirt forced up by the curve of her abdomen. He looked up past the strip of creamy, freckled skin, past the swollen bust stretching the faded fabric, past a playful smile into dancing eyes, and understood. His mischievous wife wasn't being as thoughtful of her big brother as it seemed.

"Percy and Luna?" Harry repeated, just to be sure.

"They'll balance each other nicely, don't you think?"

"I don't think nicely is the word I would use," Harry said, and Ginny laughed.