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Chapter Thirty-One

His Eyes

24th December, 1998

The baby was born with blue eyes.

She didn't know until some time later, when the little bundle was thrust into her arms by a smiling Healer. She was half-delirious during the actual birth, or so Katie informed her afterwards. The pain was almost unbearable; the Healers said she was too thin to deal with the strain of childbirth. She was sedated at some point, during or after the birth she couldn't say. Then she fell asleep. When she woke up, three hours later, a Healer was holding the baby.

"A beautiful, healthy little girl," the Healer said, smiling widely and thrusting It into her arms. "What are you going to call her?"

She didn't reply, just stared at It. It had obviously been sleeping, and before that It had obviously cried. Now Its eyes were open and looking vaguely around, unfocused. They were blue. That didn't mean anything. Many babies were born with blue eyes. She had blue eyes herself, so it wasn't surprising that It would, too... But she could tell, from a single look, that this wasn't just any blue. It was lighter than her eye colour, softer. It was... it was... They were his eyes.

She gasped a little, and thought she might drop It. She didn't know what emotion flooded her then – relief, or grief, or desperation –, but it was stronger than any sedative and eliminated whatever grogginess remained in her.

"Your friends are waiting outside," the Healer said. "Would you like them to come in?"

She said nothing, but thought she might have nodded vaguely; at any rate, he did let them in. Katie rushed in immediately and sat down on the edge of her bed, cooing at It; Angelina, Lee and George hung back a little.

"She's beautiful," Katie said admiringly. "Oh, she looks just like you."

Aside from the eyes – how could she deal with having to face those eyes every day for the next seventeen years? –, It had her nose, her skin colour, and a surprising amount of dark curls that could only be hers.

"And what eyes," Katie said next. "She's going to be as beautiful as you, Al."

"I do like her eyes," Angelina agreed, drawing closer.

Alicia's heart tightened. Of course Angelina would say that. She had fallen in love with those same eyes. She drew It closer to her, as though to turn Its head away from Ange to keep her friend from realising just where she had seen this shade of blue before. But Angelina reached out and tickled Its chin, looking deep into Its eyes. An expression of wonder crossed her face as she looked at the little bundle of life...

"Uh-oh," she said suddenly, "I think she's going to cry." She backed away quickly, and It did screw Its face up as though to start bawling.

"Hush," Alicia said, and surprisingly, It shut up.

"And she's well-behaved to boot," Katie laughed. "She's not going to be much of a handful."

"It had better not," Alicia said. "I wouldn't know what to do with It."

Katie looked at her oddly. "It? She's not an object, Al. Look – she's a little girl."

Alicia looked. It didn't look like a girl, just like a baby. Slightly red-faced, Its eyes only half-open and unfocused peering out from under very dark eyebrows, Its mouth open in a sort of toothless smile as It tried to look at Katie.

"She's your little girl," Angelina added.

"She's yours, too," Alicia said. "All of you. She's going to need a whole lot of aunts and uncles, because her mother is pretty useless."

"I don't change nappies," Lee warned.

"Then get out of here," Alicia joked, then paused. "Oh, what time is it?"

Katie checked her watch. "Six-thirty."

Alicia gasped. "Six-thirty? But tonight's Christmas Eve – what are you still doing here?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just having a look around," George said. "I thought I'd fancy buying myself a newborn. What do you think we're doing?"

"You had us scared for a moment," Katie agreed. "The Healers said it would be a difficult birth."

"I don't care about that," Alicia said. "George Weasley, your mother will kill me if you're not home for supper on Christmas Eve!"

"She'll understand," George said. "She has a thing for babies. You know, had seven and all."

"Those were her babies," Alicia said. "And since you're one of them, she'll want you home for Christmas. Shoo. You, too," she told the others. "Go home to your families."

"Are you telling me you're going to spend Christmas with your mother?" Lee asked, arching an eyebrow.

Alicia fell silent. Her mother? She hadn't even seen her parents in months. They didn't even know she had been knocked up, for Merlin's sake. She wrote regularly and replied to their every owl, but she had said no to her mother's invitation for Christmas. She wasn't about to have them see It. Her mother would probably be delighted for approximately one point two milliseconds before she realised she was now a grandmother, and both her parents would be disapproving once the initial shock had passed. She was only twenty and hadn't ever been able to keep a steady boyfriend for over two months. Her mother was fine with that – "It's all right to take your time to settle, Alicia" –, but she wouldn't be fine with her celibate, unemployed little girl having a child of her own. And the fact that Alicia couldn't tell her who the father was wouldn't help things at all.

"They probably won't let me out of here in time for Christmas," she said evasively when she realised everyone was looking at her. "It's tomorrow. But that's all right. I am with family. I have..." She looked down at It, cradled in her arms. "The baby."

"Doesn't look like it's going to be much company," George remarked. "I mean, apart from bawling, I'm not sure she can do anything much."

"Probably It can't," Alicia agreed. "But It's family anyway. Go home, George. All of you, go home. I mean... Thank you for having been here, but you shouldn't have, not on Christmas Eve."

"What, is Christmas Eve the day you're allowed to be selfish, then?" Lee asked dryly.

"I thought that was your birthday," George said.

"Stop fooling around," Alicia said tersely. She looked at the girls pleadingly. "Go on, please. And take them with you."

"We can't leave you here –"

"You haven't seen your brother in three months," Alicia interrupted. "He's just come back from Saudi Arabia and he's looking forward to spending Christmas Eve with you."

Katie looked stricken. "I know, but –"

"Your family," Alicia continued, "thought they might never talk to you again after the Battle and want to spend as much time as possible with you."

"All right, all right," Katie said, looking angry for the first time in months. "Fine."

Lee mouthed a reproachful Now you've done it at Alicia.

"But don't forget that your family hasn't seen you in months, either," Katie said flatly. "And that because we're your friends, we wanted to make sure you didn't spend Christmas alone. But if that's the way you see it, then we'll leave. Merry Christmas, Alicia."

And she marched out of the room.

"Damn," Lee said. "I should probably go after her, shouldn't I? She'll be moody all week."

Alicia nodded. "You should all go after her."

"Oh, Al," Angelina said, "you're so stubborn. All right, then. If you really want us to, then we'll leave."

"Tell Katie I'm sorry, okay?"

Angelina smiled understandingly. "She's sorry, too." She leaned over and kissed Alicia on the forehead. "Take care. And Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Lee echoed.

The three made to leave the room, but only Lee and Angelina made it past the door. George remained inside and closed the door behind them. He turned around and retraced his steps. Alicia's blood froze in her veins.

"A baby is a gift," he said quietly, lightly touching her child's dark hair. "Don't forget that, Alicia."

"I would never." It was his gift.

His eyes flicked to her for a second before he focused again on the baby. "I remember when Ginny was a baby... Our mum was always fussing over her. Babies need that kind of attention, Alicia. You're going to have to always be there for her."

Alicia felt her stomach clench. She could have sworn, from the strange cast of his head as he focused entirely on the baby, avoiding her gaze as surely as she was avoiding his, that he knew.

"She's going to grow up in a better world than we did," George said, his voice growing even softer. "You'll tell her stories about us, won't you?"

She said nothing. Us. Was that us, you and I, or us, our friends, or us, Fred and I? Would she tell It about her past?

Would she tell It about Its father?

"What are you going to call her?" George asked finally, tracing the baby's closed eyelids with his thumb. It seemed to have gone to sleep; at his touch, It wriggled a little in Alicia's arms.

When she remained silent, his blue eyes turned to look at her, and though he meant nothing by it – he doesn't know, he can't know –, she found herself flinching beneath his stare. Fred's stare, just as the baby had Fred's blue eyes.

Alicia found her voice. "Merry," she heard herself say. "Her name is Merry Grace... Spinnet."

"Mary?" George said. "As in Jesus' mother Mary?"

"No, Merry. As in happy. As in, Merry Christmas."

Merry Christmas, she thought, looking at her daughter – their daughter – in her arms. Fred's last gift to her she would always cherish.

Yeah... I managed to give birth to an OC... And I have no excuse. :-) Or remorse, for that matter.

Next chapter up as soon as it's proofread.