Thanks so much for the lovely reviews last chapter. Expect the next one on Wednesday. As ever – JKR's toys. I'm just playing!
Christmas Conversations
"Feels rapture, but not such true joy are reaping
As they who watch over who they love while sleeping."
~ George Gordon, Lord Byron: "Don Juan"
Harry stifled the yawn that was threatening to burst from within him, and stretched out luxuriously the full length of the bed. His feet encountered the soft warmth of Ginny beside him, and a sleepy grin spread across his face. Eyes still closed, he hovered in the blissful state of semi-consciousness, reluctant to shake himself into life for the day. Wisps of dreams drifted across his mind, happy images shimmered into focus then faded into the mists once more. The scarlet visions of Ginny's hair blurred, shifting and swaying into a new form: the glowing redness of slit-like eyes staring, penetrating through his skull. The merciless glare of hatred burned through him. His pulse quickened. This was no idle dream. Someone was watching him; he was sure of it. His breath caught in his throat. He could feel it. They were there. Watching.
He leapt into instant action; arm instinctively reaching out to protect Ginny. There was a squeak of surprise, and as his eyes frantically searched the haziness of the room for signs of danger, he became aware of her casually propped up on one elbow, smiling in bemusement down at him.
"W-what?" he stammered, trying to catch his breath.
"Nothing," her smile widened, before she leant forward to kiss him. "I was just watching you sleeping, that's all. I've never really done that before, and it's rather nice."
Harry collapsed backwards onto his pillow, and exhaled slowly, trying to calm the racing thud of his heart.
"Ginny," he protested weakly.
"Mmm?" she responded, gently brushing his hair back of his forehead.
"Don't do that," he gasped. "I thought it was…"
"Oh, Harry," she chuckled. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you like that, but I just couldn't resist. You're incredibly cute when you're sleeping, you know. I think it's the way your nose twitches when you're waking up that does it."
"It does not," he retorted grumpily, rubbing his hand across the offending item.
"It does too," her eyes sparkled lovingly at him in the early morning light, making his bad mood begin to evaporate. After all, it wasn't exactly her fault that he'd leapt to the wrong conclusion about who was watching him.
"Maybe it does," he admitted with some reluctance. "But you make those little incoherent muttering noises and cuddle into me when you're half-awake, and that's really sweet."
"Harry!" She pulled a face at him.
"Nice though," he grinned, sitting up and shivering in the cold morning air. He hugged his knees towards him, and pointed his wand towards the fireplace.
"Incendio," he murmured, and at once a bright and lively set of amber flames quivered to life in the burnt out grate, radiating heat throughout the dormitory. It was then that his eyes fell on a brightly coloured array of objects scattered across the foot of their bed, and he turned to Ginny. "Christmas presents," he smiled, seeing her face light up and an exclamation of excitement escape from her lips. She knelt on the bedspread, reaching forwards to examine the labels on the assorted gifts.
"Yours are here too," she said in surprise, throwing him a squashy red package.
"Best not to ask how that happened," Harry chuckled. "Although I have to say, it's quite nice opening these with you for a change, rather than Ron."
"Quite nice?" she raised an eyebrow.
"All right. Very nice," he grinned, leaning over and draping his dressing gown over her shoulders. She looked quizzically up at him. "It's cold," he explained hastily, "and that nightdress of yours seems pretty flimsy."
"You're fussing," she said warningly.
"I probably am," he said ruefully, half-laughing at himself. "Gin, I'm sorry, I know you hate it, but it's going to take me a while to get used to this. It's not just you getting cold across there now, it's our baby as well. I suppose this is some sort of medieval throwback in me, like clapping women and children under the hatches at the first sign of trouble. I dunno. I'll try not to get you mad with this, but it's not easy."
"I don't suppose it is," she said softly, smiling at him, and wriggling her way into the warmth of his dressing gown. "You don't need to worry, you know. I will be careful with the baby."
"True," he admitted slowly. "It's just… well, it's just that this is so… so incredible. It matters so much, Ginny, and I don't want the risk of anything going wrong with either of you. I couldn't bear it." She regarded him thoughtfully for a while, before beginning to speak again.
"A compromise?" she suggested, smiling up at him, and reaching for his hand. "You can get away with some minor fussing without having your head ripped off, as long as you let me do whatever I think is right at the end of the day. I promise I won't do anything stupid."
"I think you may have a deal there, Mrs Potter," he grinned, wrapping his arms around her and relaxing in the warmth and security of the embrace.
"Good." She shifted sideways, and her hair tickled against his chin. "Now, how about these presents?"
"I reckon I know what this is," Harry chuckled, retrieving the red parcel from where he'd abandoned it.
"Large, squashy parcel?" Ginny smiled. "Mum's handwriting on the card? I hate to tell you this, Harry, but I think you're doomed to sweaters every Christmas for the next fifty years or something."
"Probably," he laughed, ripping away the wrapping to reveal the soft red wool, patterned with Snitches. "At least it's not another one to match my eyes," he said, shaking it out. Something tumbled from where it had been wrapped inside his sweater onto the blankets. He gazed down curiously and heard Ginny catch her breath.
"Looks like Mum's been knitting for the whole family," she whispered, retrieving the tiny white cardigan from the bed and spreading it thoughtfully over her knee. "How did she know?"
"No idea," Harry said, examining the gift closely. "Are babies ever that small?"
"I hope so," she chuckled suddenly. "That looks quite big enough, thank you very much." She leaned back, and placed the tiny cardigan across her stomach. "What do you reckon?" she giggled. "Does it suit him?"
"I still can hardly believe this is happening," Harry shook his head, smiling across at her. "Are you sure you're OK with this?"
"I'm fine," she sat back up, and folded the cardigan carefully in two. "I'd better hide this in my trunk somewhere, so no one sees it."
Harry watched her bury beneath various robes in her trunk for a safe hiding place. He gave a sudden yell and reached into her trunk himself. "I can see I'm not going to be short of socks whilst I'm living up here," he teased, lifting out a large handful of balled-up socks.
"They're not all yours," she giggled. "That tartan pair are Bill's. I think he's forgotten I've got them, to tell you the truth."
"Maybe I'll have to steal them all back," he teased.
"You dare!" she laughed. She looked up at him soulfully, her dark brown eyes tearing at his heart. "You wouldn't want me to get cold feet in my condition, would you? Just think of all those Care of Magical Creatures lessons where I could be freezing to death in the snow and icy wind."
"Nice try," he chuckled, stuffing the socks into his bag, knowing full well they'd have disappeared again next time he checked. He looked curiously at her.
"What?" she said, clambering back onto the bed and surveying the parcels. "Have I got a smudge on my nose or something?" She rubbed vaguely at it.
"No," Harry smiled. "I was just wondering what it actually felt like."
"Stealing socks?" she asked innocently.
"No, being pregnant," Harry laughed.
"It doesn't feel much different, to be honest," Ginny said slowly. "Not yet, anyway. I reckon I'll notice it a lot more when the baby gets bigger. The main problem now is not falling asleep every ten minutes." She laughed. "You know, I'd put that down to working too hard before I saw Madam Pomfrey."
"Just be careful," he said gently, shoving some parcels over to her.
"I will," she grinned back, and settled down to the serious business of unwrapping her presents.
Harry worked his way through his own parcels; a Chudley Canons scarf from Ron, sweets and a magical notebook from Hermione, in which he could record his diagrams of Quidditch strategies and then replay them to the team. Hagrid had sent a large assortment of toffee, and with a mischievous grin, he offered the box to Ginny. She unsuspectingly accepted a fragment, and chewed away happily. He saw her reach for a final rectangular purple parcel and held his breath. He knew what this was.
Opening the package, her face glowed pink, eyes shining with pleasure as she looked over at him.
"Grnnn," she uttered with considerable effort, jaws firmly glued together with Hagrid's toffee. Harry collapsed into fits of laughter, as she regarded him in amusement. "Aggd?" she queried, raising her eyebrows.
"Yeah," he spluttered. "He makes it himself. It dissolves eventually, but it means I get to do all the talking for a while. Nice change really!" Her eyes narrowed, and then sparkled with entertainment as she reached over to slap him. "You like your present, then?"
"Mmm," she agreed emphatically, spreading the three volumes of love poetry out before her. The golden lettering on the uppermost copy caught the watery sunshine of the morning, glittering across the name of John Donne.
She beamed at him, and struggled, rather unsuccessfully, to free her jaw. She gesticulated at an upright, elongated package by her feet, and smiled sweetly up at him, before her face returned to a form of grotesque aerobics. Harry touched the parcel, and recoiled swiftly as it writhed beneath his touch.
"Um… Ginny?" he said hesitantly. She glanced across at him, with the most angelic of expressions, which only succeeded in making Harry not trust her an inch. He tugged gingerly at the wrapping, and a snarling snapping noise erupted from within, as the paper fell away, revealing a tall leafy plant, with a shining cherry-red bloom. "It's a plant," he remarked in total astonishment. He reached out to pick a shred of loose paper off the leaves, and snatched his hand away as the blossom made a savage snap at his fingers, missing them by millimetres.
"Floreus Barbarus," Ginny explained, through rather sticky giggles. The flower swayed furiously, and Harry retreated hastily back across the bed.
"Er… why did you get me a plant?" he asked cautiously.
"Oh it's only angry because it's been parcelled up," Ginny said dismissively. "They're really friendly plants usually. I thought it might calm you down a bit about the baby." She grinned mischievously at him. "It's going to give you something to take care of. I mean, if you can look after the plant, then maybe you won't be so scared when the baby arrives."
"I don't think watering a plant is in quite the same league as looking after a baby," he pointed out.
"Oh, I don't know," she chuckled. "This is no ordinary plant. I think you'll have your work cut out for you. There's a book around here somewhere that tells you what you have to do, how often you have to feed it and that sort of thing."
"Feed it?" Harry echoed.
"Yes," she chuckled. "From what I can remember when Charlie had one, it loves eating things like spiders. It's probably hungry, and that's why it's snapping at your fingers."
"So that's all right then," Harry said with a trace of sarcasm, at which point the red blossom twitched, and curled some petals back to bare razor sharp white teeth nastily in his direction. "Your adoring husband's going to end his days as plant fodder."
"Don't be soft!" she laughed.
"Ginny, just look at the bloke on the cover of the book," Harry thrust the small volume at her. She regarded the picture of the wizard in midnight-blue robes carefully for a few seconds and burst out laughing again. "He's got three fingers missing," Harry said severely.
"So you'll need to be careful," she teased, ruffling his hair affectionately.
"You're worse than Hagrid," Harry shook his head in amusement, causing his hair to settle back into its usual dishevelled state. "At least I can get away from his Manticores at the end of his lesson."
"Just think of it as a trial run," she smiled and kissed him. "It's a good excuse for me to sneak up to your dormitory every now and then to see how you're getting on."
"I suppose so," he said, regarding the plant balefully. The plant glared back. "It's certainly one of the more… er… interesting things you've ever given me."
"Let's just hope it likes hot milk," she chuckled.
Harry got to his feet, and crumpled up the used envelope the Dursleys had sent him for Christmas this year, throwing it into the fireplace. The edges curled, before bursting into bright and energetic flames, charring and crumbling the past into dust before his very eyes. He leaned against the mantelpiece, watching until it had disappeared from view, hoping with every ounce of his being that somehow his current happiness with Ginny wouldn't be shattered; that life would be like this forever.
"We'd better get sorted out," Harry said at last, turning to face Ginny again. "We've missed breakfast, and it's not too far off lunch time. I think if we leave it much longer Ron and Hermione will be wondering what we're getting up to."
"They've probably got a fair idea," Ginny grinned impishly at him, and dodged as he dived across the bed in a vain attempt to grab and tickle her. "Bathroom's mine," she giggled, grabbing her towel and disappearing around the door in a whirlwind of red hair.
Harry grinned to himself, and began to get dressed, revelling in the novelty of actually having access to his own socks for once. Pulling his new Weasley sweater over his head, he glanced around the room. In many ways this was an exact replica of his own dormitory, although Ginny's bed was placed where Dean's would have been. The red velvet hangings round the four-poster beds, the dark oak wooden flooring and stone fireplace were all the same; yet this room was somehow incredibly different.
He padded over to Ginny's chest of drawers beside her bed and examined the items littering the surface. Framed photographs perched haphazardly on top of stacks of her Muggle books; a fairly recent picture crammed with the entire Weasley family, caught his attention first. He watched, with an ever widening grin as Fred and George nudged each other and dropped something down the neck of Percy's robes, causing him to lose his ministerial poise and writhe around, fumbling frantically to extract it. The picture beside it was one that made him catch his breath. He hadn't seen that picture since… since… Colin Creevey had taken it down by the lake back in his fifth year, when they hadn't even realised he'd been there. The image was so quiet and peaceful, with barely a single movement; simply Ginny leaning back against him, wrapped in his embrace, content just to be. Harry could almost sense her there now. Yet he felt the ache of knowledge. So soon after that photograph had been taken he had almost lost her.
He shook himself. He couldn't afford to keep thinking like that. The future was what mattered now, and they had to make sure that was secure. Somehow. There was no way he was going to let their child grow up without them, the way he had been forced to. He frowned. He had to talk to Dumbledore, especially now that they knew the baby was on the way. There had to be something he could do.
A clutter of assorted bottles and jars covered the remainder of the surface, and Harry looked curiously at them. A silvery cylinder bore the label Perfect Polish for Natural Nails, a squatter lavender container informed him it was Potion of Abriette ~ for a magical complexion. Before he had a chance to investigate further, the door creaked open, and Ginny wandered back in, towelling her hair dry, her face breaking into a smile when she saw what he was up to.
"Oh no!" she exclaimed in mock-horror. "All my beauty secrets are out. You might have guessed all this gorgeousness had to come from somewhere. Now you'll never look at me in the same light again."
"Yeah, right," Harry chuckled, pulling her into his arms and stealing a kiss. "You'll be suddenly confessing you've got three heads next."
"No," she giggled. "There's not a potion to disguise a blemish as big as that yet, otherwise I'd have used it to conceal my brothers."
*****
Christmas lunch was a grand affair, even though there were only a few staff and students remaining within the castle. The House Elves had prepared course after course of sumptuous dishes, served up along the staff table, laden with elaborate decorations. Swathes of holly hung between the stone pillars of the Great Hall, the berries bright against the dark green foliage, and laughter rang out from the table, as crackers exploded with the ferocity on canons, engulfing them all in strands of tinsel, glitter and clouds of smoke. The Christmas pudding finally appeared in the middle of the table, lilac-blue flames eagerly licking the sides, and was soon demolished to leave only a few crumbs and raisins on the platter.
As they struggled to their feet after the meal had ended, Harry glanced across at Dumbledore, to find the venerable wizard looking steadily at him. Dumbledore smiled and nodded in a sort of approving way, stroking slow fingers down his beard by his chin. The bright blue eyes twinkled knowingly, although he said nothing. Harry grinned back, resolving to see the headmaster before many more days passed, and hurried out of the hall to catch up with the others.
Collapsing in a heap on the chair beside the fire in the Gryffindor common room, Ron let out a huge sigh of relief.
"Too much Christmas pudding," he complained, looking rather too satisfied to be really grumbling.
"You didn't need to have that second helping," Hermione laughed, settling in the chair beside him and retrieving her book from the table.
"Yes I did," he grinned. "You can never have too much Christmas pudding."
"He's always thought that," Ginny chuckled, curling up on the sofa opposite them. "I remember one year at home… How old were you then Ron?"
"You dare!" he exclaimed, groaning with the effort of sitting up.
"What's it worth?" she teased, eyes twinkling mischievously.
"Depends on what you want Harry to know about the hideous stuff you did when you were little," he chuckled. "There are some tales to be told there."
"Try it at your peril," she chuckled, snuggling down with her head on Harry's lap, watching her brother with interest. Harry's arm stole round her, gently caressing her stomach, unable to tear his hand away.
"Let me see," Ron began thoughtfully, lying back in the chair, a slow grin spreading over his features. "Oh yes! There was that thing with Charlie, wasn't there?"
"Sounds interesting," Harry laughed.
"Yeah, he wasn't very impressed," Ron sniggered. "He'd come home for the holidays. I think that must've been before Percy had started at Hogwarts, so Ginny couldn't have even been four by then, and she was following him everywhere. Charlie was going nuts about it. He was Quidditch Captain that year, and couldn't be bothered with much else, apart from his girlfriend of the time. Anyway, Ginny got all upset about being ignored by him and we caught her glaring at him one afternoon when he was flying in the orchard. We found out what had happened when Charlie came storming back into the house."
"What?" Harry prompted.
"She'd turned his broomstick bright pink," Ron spluttered. "And no amount of magic or scrubbing would turn it back again, so poor old Charlie had to fly for the rest of the season on a broomstick about the same colour as his face."
Harry burst out laughing. He could just see Ginny doing something like that, and he glanced down at her to tease, only to find that she'd fallen asleep again. She looked beautiful like that in the firelight, tinsel still entangled through her fiery hair, and the smallest of smiles playing across her lips as she dreamed.
"Not again." Ron sounded worried as he noticed his little sister slumbering. His brows knitted together in concern. "Harry, she is OK, isn't she?"
"She's just been overdoing it," Hermione said patiently. "I told you that the other night."
"It's not just that," Harry said quietly, feeling nerves quiver inside him and then tighten into an unpleasant knot, twisting around like some instrument of torture. He looked straight at Ron, fought back the feeling of panic and continued speaking as steadily as he could manage. "She's pregnant."
Hermione's book clattered to the floor. There was a sharp intake of breath; a hushed pause. Ron's eyes widened, and his face paled before colour flooded through it. He bit his lip and looked down at his sister, nodding shakily.
"Right," he breathed. He swallowed hard, and looked back at Harry. "You sure?" His voice was barely a whisper. Hermione reached for Ron's hand and he gripped it, his knuckles whitening under the pressure.
"Yes," Harry nodded, never taking his eyes off his best friend. "She saw Madam Pomfrey a couple of days ago."
"OK," Ron said unsteadily.
"We knew it was going to happen," Hermione reminded him softly. "It's always been a case of when it happened, not if."
"Yeah, but it's still a shock," Harry said.
There was a slightly awkward lull in the conversation.
"So… when? Do Mum and Dad know?" Ron asked, running his hand distractedly through his hair.
"The baby's due on my birthday, believe it or not," Harry explained. "We couldn't send Hedwig on this message, she's too distinctive, so your parents don't know yet. If we can borrow Pig, then maybe we could…?"
"Yeah," Ron muttered vaguely, staring at his sleeping sister once more. "No problem."
"It's good timing at least," Hermione said comfortingly. "It's well after the end of term, and you'll be finished school, Harry, and Ginny'll be pleased to be home."
"I suppose so," Harry said. "I'd not really thought of that side of things much. I'm more worried about getting them through the next few months, to tell you the truth."
"Them?" Ron echoed, burying his head in his hands.
"Ginny and the baby," Harry said quietly. "This is going to be difficult."
"Are you all right about all this, Harry?" Hermione asked suddenly.
"I'm fine," he said, feeling half surprised to discover that this was actually true. "Scared to death about Voldemort finding out, but apart from that, I'm… It's amazing." His face cracked into a stunned grin.
"He can't find out," Ron said grimly, looking straight back at Harry. "What he's done in the past will be nothing compared with what he'll do if he finds out about this."
"I know," Harry said, holding Ginny more tightly. "We've been lucky so far, but with this baby, we know he would have no hesitation in…" Harry broke off, feeling quite sick at the thought. His hand gently caressed Ginny's stomach, reassuring himself that all was still well.
"Ginny's going to keep to the castle, isn't she?" Hermione asked seriously. "I know that's no guarantee of being safe, but it doesn't get much worse than what happened last March, does it?"
"No," Harry said soberly. He had barely spoken of the events of the previous year with Hermione or Ron, and Ginny had only learned the truth through the dreams that regularly tormented him, even now. "At least he didn't succeed. That matters more than anything."
"Harry, what he put you through was inhumane," Hermione cried, eyes shining with unshed tears. "I could only hear it. I honestly thought you were dead."
"It's OK," Ron reassured her, hugging her tightly. "It's over with."
"Yes, but for how long?" Hermione swung round to face him. "You've read the Daily Prophet reports, Ron. It's getting worse out there. How long before the whole world as we know it shatters? How long before even Hogwarts falls?"
"At least Voldemort's still mortal," Harry said grimly. "Gives us a fighting chance, even if his power is growing."
"You're telling me that's what he wanted to achieve last March?" Ron's tones were horrified, his eyes wide. "Immortality?" Harry nodded slowly.
"And I was stupid enough to act as bait," Hermione reproached herself angrily. "If I hadn't gone down to Hogsmeade…"
"He'd have found another way to do it," Harry interrupted firmly. "Don't even think that, Hermione."
"What happened?" Ron asked cautiously. "I mean, don't talk about it if you'd rather not, but you were in a real mess when you made it back here, and judging by some of the stuff you yell about at night, it was a lot worse than bruises and a few broken ribs."
"Voldemort wasn't content with getting his own body back," Harry said bitterly, staring into the fire. "He had to try for more. You know what he's like. And because he'd used my blood in his first resurrection, he needed me again."
Ron swore, but for once Hermione did not reproach him. Vivid images flashed across Harry's mind, the bright light penetrating deeper and deeper as voices chanted with nightmarish regularity. He took a steadying breath.
"They'd worked out that Ginny had survived the Avada Kedavra curse by then," he explained, "and they wanted to know how. They were desperate to know how." He lifted his eyes from the blaze, and met Ron's gaze. "As long as they don't know exactly how that bit of magic works, Ginny's safe. I wouldn't tell them what it was. Things got pretty nasty."
He stared back into the flickering flames, not seeing what was before him, but the looming, leering hooded figures, the agonising eruption of pain storming through every inch of him and his own screams tearing through the darkness. Pulling against the invisible bonds with all of his might, fighting against the final act as the knife descended, showing no mercy, slicing savagely through his flesh and sinew to obtain what they needed to make their master immortal.
"I'd given up," he said quietly. "The thing I wanted most was death; an end to it all. No hope. No light. Nothing." He rocked his sleeping wife gently in his arms, conflicting emotions battling within him. "Wormtail… Wormtail, of all people, was the one who got me out of there." He shook his head and gave a disbelieving laugh. "The immortality potion hadn't worked. Maybe he was scared because the potion mistake was somehow his fault, maybe he was trying to repay me for saving his skin from Sirius that time, maybe Voldemort would have killed him anyway. I don't know. The sound of that door clanging open…" He closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. "It's over," he said, swallowing hard, "but it won't be long before Voldemort attacks again. I've just got to make sure nothing like that could ever happen to Ginny or the baby."
"Does she know about all this?" Ron's voice was far gentler than normal.
"Most of it," Harry said with a wry smile. "Dumbledore's setting up a port key to get her out of here if there's any trouble."
"Good," Hermione said, looking very shaken. "Harry, you're not on your own with all this. You do know that, don't you?" She reached across and grasped his hand. "Ginny's going to need all the support she can get in the next few months."
"Yeah," Ron nodded, grinning at Harry. "As I appear to be an expectant uncle, I have every intention of interfering at every possible opportunity and driving my sister nuts by telling her what to do."
"She's going to love you for that," Harry laughed, his sudden movement, making Ginny stir, and yawn. She blinked sleepily, and a flicker of confusion crossed her face as she pulled herself upright again.
"Sorry," she rubbed her face. "Too much Christmas dinner, I suppose."
"Gin," Harry said gently, wrapping his arm back around her. "I told them."
"You did?" Her eyes lifted to his, the dark brown pools seemed to ebb and then flow with emotion. He nodded. Tears brimmed in her eyes, spilling over and splashing silently down her face. Rivulets of salt water coursed into new tributaries, and sobs shuddered through her.
"Ginny," Ron exclaimed, looking anxiously at her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she wailed, crying harder than ever into Harry's new sweater.
"It's OK," Harry murmured, rubbing her back reassuringly. "Everything's fine. Ron didn't even storm out of the room when I told him."
"Really?" she choked back some tears, and hiccupped noisily.
"Really," Ron said, leaning over and ruffling her hair. "Now stop upsetting my nephew or niece in there."
"I didn't mean to," she sniffled, accepting a clean handkerchief gratefully from Hermione and scrubbing at her eyes. She gave a small smile. "Thanks," she whispered.
"It's wonderful news, Ginny," Hermione said warmly. "Look, why don't we go upstairs for a while. You can lie down for a bit, and we can look at that book your mum gave you in the summer. Leave these two to talk about Quidditch or something."
"Yeah," she giggled slightly, gulping back more tears that threatened to fall. "That's a good idea. I'd like that."
Harry watched the two girls disappearing up the dormitory stairs and turned to face Ron.
"What was all that about?" Ron asked incredulously. "Ginny doesn't cry much at the best of times."
"Mood swings," Harry said dismally. "Apparently they're normal in pregnancy."
"That's normal?" Ron's eyes widened.
"Look on the bright side," Harry had to laugh. "We've only got about another seven months to go."