Her Reminder
Disclaimer: I still own nothing.
Summary: What happens next.
A/N: I wasn't going to do it. I suppose it's somewhat of a sequel to The Days Without Him, which was a one-shot, but people told me to continue. I can't exactly, so I supply this. There's one more after this that I just couldn't push aside.
They're in an emtpy park. The sky was gray and cloudy, it didn't help the mood any. Not that it could have. Bare trees surrounded them and dead leaves were on the ground. It's the dead of autumn.
Here she stands. Crying. For him.
Here he stands. Watching. Unable to move.
She won't listen to him. He has tried talking, he has tried screaming, and now, he whispers to her. Whispers all the secrets that she already knows and finally, her body can't hold the weight. She falls onto her knees, sitting on her feet.
All the events of the past rush back to her when she hears his words. Tears fall at the memories and she pains to make more memories, but it's useless. He's leaving. This will be the last memory, and what a memory it is. He stands an arm's reach away and they only look at each other. Both afraid to get too close, both afraid that if they do hold each other, touch each other, they won't let go. She should have known. She should have known it wouldn't last. It was only a matter of time. He tells her only the best secrets, the ones that absolutely must be remembered. It seems mere moments, but then he tells her, 'Good-bye.' She looks up and her eyes are terribly bloodshot and begging him not to leave. He can only shake his head and she can take it no longer. She springs up to throw her arms around him and beg him to stay and remind him why he can't leave, but he's Disapparated before she could possibly touch him and she falls to the ground where he once stood, only moments before.
The pain is unbearable, inside not out. She can't even feel the physical pain, even as she bangs her fists on the pebbles and twigs and dry leaves. She's on her knees ranting like a child, all screams and sobs and tears. Sometime later she gathers herself and walks about the streets in the city.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()
Hours later, she arrives home. The sun has set and the moon is big and full. She vaguely wonders how Lupin is doing, before a sharp voice enters her thoughts.
"Where have you been?" a voice demands.
She glares at the man who holds a part of her heart. She really does love him. Even if she's mad at him for being the cause her other love leaving.
"You've been with him, haven't you?"
"We said good-bye." He looks suspicious. She sighs. "We didn't touch each other. Wizard's honor," and she holds up three fingers, the ones that weren't the thumb and pinky. He always finds that cute and this time is no different. He loves her is all. And he wants her all to himself. Is that really so much to ask? Sometimes she thinks it is. Then he smiles and she loves him even more, because that smile can never age and she remembers the first time she saw it. Always. He takes her by her hands and leads her to the bedroom. He wants to celebrate the other man's departure, and she wants to try to forget. For a time she does, as she cries out her husband's name, she does forget the other, but it's not nearly long enough and it's terribly too long and it's terribly too painful to know she can forget him so easily.
The next morning, she decides to disclose the news. She turns to him and takes his hand, putting on her best smile. He sees her and can't help, but do the same.
"I'm pregnant." she declares. His smile falters for a moment in doubt and she knows he wonders who the father is, but he doesn't voice this. Instead, he jumps out of bed and tells her that there will be a celebration tonight, and everybody is invited. She joins in his sentiment.
A brilliant celebration it was. The Weasley clan, a good lot of the surviving members of the Order, even old Mrs. Figgs, not to mention some of the close friends they've made since. It was grand and happy, but Ginny still had to escape for a time to grieve.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()
In nine months, she is rushed to the hospital to give birth to a bouncing baby boy, no big surprise when you're a Weasley – well, Potter now, but a Weasley first and foremost. What did come as a surprise, however, was that the baby had auburn hair and grey eyes.
They always knew the truth, but he has tried to deny it. Now he can't, but he can't leave. He loves her too much, and so, he must love this child. Months later he'll find that he really can, but at the present moment the baby stands as a reminder of a past well forgotten. This he loathes.
Now, he looks at her and sees all the love in her eyes, for him, for the baby, and he suspects Draco, as well. He has a suspicion that she's happy that the child is really the son of Malfoy's, and – though he brushes it away as false and he believes himself – his suspicions are true. For now she has a tangible reminder of him, living and breathing for her.