Disclaimer: Belongs to JKR. All hail her. Don't sue me whilst hailing, though.

A/N: Just a specialfull update before I leave for Europe.

It's More Like Poetry, Anyway.

I'm sure you've all read my husband's slightly ridiculous and exaggerated tale of how we fell in love, well, he left out quite a bit . I love him dearly, but Harry James Potter is still male, and well, testosterone and a talent for telling love stories have never gone together.

Love is much more like poetry than it is like geometry, anyway, I think. But then, Harry might say that's just hormones, well, they're all his fault anyway. I know, I know, it sounds like my life revolves around one Harry Potter, but really it revolves around a little girl named Lillian Molly Potter, though we just call her Lilly. Harry's does too, though, he swears it's me and Lilly, together, but I know that I take a second place to his little girl and I don't mind it at all, he's taken the backseat quite happily these past three years as well. Though, if you slogged all the way through to the end of that tedium he calls a love life (only the last two paragraphs are worthwhile reading, anyway) you'll see that our marriage had some sort of stubborn refusal to fizzle out.

Now, we'll start at Harry's first year, because up until then there had been no great love in my life, and when I saw Harry Potter my mindset switched from the "boys are icky" phase to the "I'm going to marry that boy" phase, strangely enough, I did marry him, but that doesn't happen for many people. I thought about him and talked about him that entire year. God, I was really insane about him, as he says in that thing, with full explanation of what the word means, at least I'm not too lazy to actually use a quill. Honestly, I think he's made up for the ten years that there wasn't any magic in his life at least ten times now! No one uses a quick- quotes quill when they don't work for the Prophet and have long, green nails.

Sorry about that, my husband had just gotten back from putting Lilly to bed and thought that I should pause for a moment to kiss him, and then that moment lasted all night. And I've been a little bit tired from being pregnant right now, so he got Lilly off to her aunt's for the day and flew on his (now vintage, but he likes it) Fire-Bolt to the school, he was kind enough to leave me a note. "-Sugar, went to work, sent the baby to your mum's, sweet dreams, left breakfast on the stove. Love you, Harry." Cold omelets, lovely, Potter, just lovely.

Well, asides from Tom taking me over, my first year at Hogwarts was mostly just about Harry, anything and everything that was Harry. Which, I think he'll admit, wasn't a whole heck of a lot at the time. But I did like him a lot, and I loved his eyes, I didn't know him as a person well enough to love him. Then he killed the thing that, to this day, he refers to as "That goddamned snake", or "That bloody great snake," I think he finds the word basilisk a bit unpronounceable or something. He'd probably say it's not nice to think about the thing that almost ate me, I don't think it almost ate me, I just prefer to think that I almost died but that, surprisingly, pulled a damsel-in-distress, or a DID as Harry calls them, and was rescued by a quite cute knight.

So I thought it might be a good idea to spend a year getting over him, but that year turned into two in which I am almost absent in the saga of Harry's life, and not a whole hell of a lot happened . Oh, there was Michael Corner in my third and fourth years, I did give up on Harry, but that's quite different than falling out of love with someone, if you really put some thought into it, as I am assured Hermione did.

My third year was dull, save for that ball to which Harry almost asked me but I went with Neville, met Michael Corner and had an all together wonderful time. Harry does it no justice in his piece, but I haven't to time to do it justice.

My fourth year can only be described as the year I became friends with Sirius Black, that was a very important part of my life to that date, it still is important. Harry didn't know at the time how close Sirius and I had become, but when Sirius left his letter for Harry, which Harry received at the beginning of his sixth year, I received one as well. That was what really instigated Harry and I getting closer, I can't imagine why Sirius liked me quite so much, but still, he did. When I was talking with Sirius, at the end of that year, just before he died, it must have been April or so, I let it slip that I was still in love with his godson, Sirius just laughed at me, that great, doglike, laugh he had. I still miss that laugh, I think Harry does as well, Sirius's cousin, Tonks's mother, has that same laugh and Harry used to have to leave the room whenever he thought she might laugh. I remember I followed him quite a few times, but I'm off the point quite entirely aren't I? Sirius told me that he never expected any different and that I needn't worry, Harry and I "had the makings". I thought he was quite mad at the time, Harry agrees that he was slightly off his rocker, or prophetic, he can't tell which. Sirius told me that my name came up at least once a letter, and even Hermione's didn't do that, in that ridiculous biography of Harry's, in which I play such a small role, it neglects to inform us that yes, I, Ginny Weasley, was friends with Harry that year. I didn't only go to the Ministry that night for Sirius and my brother, I didn't want Harry to do anything stupid, either, because I knew him well enough to love him by that time. Wasn't I supposed to be talking about Sirius at this point? Well, I became friends with that man and he was like an uncle to me, a very caring uncle, someone to look up to for treating adversity with a more sane manner than both Harry and I put together ever could. I certainly hope Lilly has better sense than her father and I when she grows up enough to have any sense at all.

Well, that was almost as tedious as the drivel my husband wrote wasn't it? And I didn't even manage to squish that horrid affair with Dean Thomas into the whole mess, ah, well, I suppose it doesn't matter that much. It was rather short and only served to prove to me that no other man could make me feel the way Harry could, when he kissed me. Yes, I knew how that felt. Harry didn't tell the prodigious Ms. Rowling about this whole mess. Once, when we were leaving visiting Ron and Hermione, we kissed, by accident. Yes, one can kiss by accident, and as we learned, one can practically kiss for half an hour and then not speak about it for two years, if not longer. It was rather odd, really. We kissed and it was as if there were wild flames running through my body, over those few days he held me in his arms so often and comforted me, even as he did last night when I woke up from a horrible nightmare, but we never said anything. But, I think there was an understanding between the two of us that someday, somehow we'd end up together again. Harry may or may not agree with that, I'd have to find out whether or not he does.

NOTE ADDED AT A LATER DATE: Harry thinks I'm off my rocker quite entirely, about that last statement, he said something about hormones in fact. They ARE his fault, though.

Well, my fifth year, Harry's sixth, an interesting year, to be sure, we dated essentially everything that moved, the two of us. In some sort of wild attempt to forget each other, because I was the baby sister of six overprotective brothers and he was THE Harry Potter. I used to love to repeat that to myself at least a thousand times a day. THE Harry James Potter, THAT Harry James Potter, MY Harry. Then I'd block out the last one and try to focus while he was on a date with Luna, and I'd only find myself at a window, watching them wander around the grounds in lazy circles, deep in conversations about Nargles and so on. I'll have you know that those two were never known to kiss under Mistletoe, though they never dated through Christmas. There was his Georgia, as well, a sweet girl, but she was widowed only a year later, there was a whirlwind romance with Oliver Wood and a wedding, then Oliver died during the final battle, leaving Georgia pregnant, seventeen and alone. Georgia Blanche-Wood is probably my hero, she had a baby at seventeen, who is now seven years old, and a very sweet little girl, and she took care of her while completing Healer training, to deal with all the trauma patients who resulted from the war. Georgia is now engaged to Seamus Finnegan, they've been dating since three years ago, but she still misses Oliver very much. There are many of those couples. Angelina, former Quidditch captain extraordinaire became an early widow due to my brother George, they were married when he was two years out of Hogwarts, three days before the final battle and he left, and died six months later due to a lingering curse. I miss George, and I don't think that Fred will ever get over it. They were so close, my twin brothers, and Mum, after loosing George, and with Bill, who lost his mind in a spat three weeks before the final battle to take care of, she can't enjoy being a grandmother the way she always thought's she'd be able too.

I'm off topic again, aren't I?

Well, that pretty much sums up my fifth year, so my sixth would logically come next. And that entire year can be summed up in a single moment; when I was told that Harry was dead. It was a secretarial mistake, and the most horrible moment of my life. For the past three weeks on that dreadful battlefield, that was once the Hogwarts grounds and is again now, I had been sneaking into his tent every night because the only thing that made either of us feel better was the other, but we still hadn't said anything, or even kissed. And I was told he was dead, and I thought that he would never know that I loved him and I started running, I don't know where I was going. I just started running, and I was caught in a pair of familiar arms, but I continued to struggle because I thought they couldn't be those arms- because those arms were supposedly splattered over the Forbidden Forest. I kicked and punched, but Harry is stronger than I am, and he just pulled me in a restraining embrace, rubbing my back soothingly, still not sure what was wrong, but knowing that he should calm me before trying to talk to me. When I had stopped crying I tried to force the words out of my mouth, 'I love you,' how hard is that to say? Very hard, I'll tell you. So I kissed him, and he kissed back, in front of a line of Aurors, over eighteen percent of whom would die in the next sixteen hours, we kissed for what we consider the first time. And then he held me, and whispered into my ear, sweet nothings that I can barely remember and won't repeat. Then he left, and he wanted me to stay safe. But I wouldn't leave him then, or let him leave me. So I followed him, and I won't talk about that day, but let's just say that twenty-seven percent of our forces died, thirty-eight percent were wounded, but we won. I am thankful that I didn't lose more to that twenty-seven. But a list of the dead is only respectful; George, Oliver Wood, Bill, Arthur Weasley, Flitwick, Trelawney, Sinistra and last, but never least, Fleur Weasley. Some say that Fleur would have died without Bill, anyway, but I personally hold the rather romanticized belief that Fleur Delacour was the only thing that could have brought my brother back from the edge he'd managed to tumble over. She left a baby named Thomas, who my Mother took in, and is raising, though Harry and I have volunteered more than once to take the six year old as our charge.

After that, I didn't really see much of a point in continuing, I wanted to leave school, but Mum and Harry wouldn't let me. I wanted to kill myself, too, for a little while, and I almost did, once. I threatened to throw myself off the Astronomy Tower, near Christmas of my Seventh year, and I wouldn't have been the first to do so. But Hermione and Luna knew what to do with me, they called Harry from Auror Training and he stopped me. But neither of us wanted to be separated after that, and Dumbledore gave me permission to complete my NEWT year from Harry's London flat by correspondence. I can't describe how strange it was too live with Harry, we were just kids, but the war had made us grow up much faster than we would have, had we been anyone else at all, in any other time. We lived much like a married couple, I suppose, though we didn't have sex, not until I graduated from Hogwarts, but you don't want the details, do you? I still remember the first time I laughed in those long months, though, it was almost August, and I was preparing to start school, which was in London, so I would be able to stay with Harry, and Harry and I had been doing things together every day in anticipation of the fact that in a few weeks we'd be spending our days apart again, we'd gone out for a picnic, along with Ron and Hermione. I was sitting between Harry's legs and he was leaning up against a tree with his arms casually thrown around me, Ron and Hermione were running around throwing a ball and laughing their heads off together, Harry was watching them and eating, occasionally stopping to give me a bite of something, he's always seen it as his personal responsibility to make sure I'm well fed. Finally, Hermione and Ron returned, totally out of breath from where they'd been a few minutes ago, just out of our sight. And for no particular reason that I can remember they were still laughing, Ron said something, it's odd but I can't even remember what, and Harry laughed deeply behind me, then I let out a laugh. Harry was shocked, at first I think they thought I was hysterical, it was a sound they hadn't heard in so long, but then Harry realized that he knew my hysterical laugh and this wasn't it. He kissed the top of my head and squeezed me tighter to him, when I had stopped laughing he turned my head towards him and said, "That's my girl, your dad and George would have been proud of you, they both loved to laugh. And I love your laugh," he kissed me on the lips and squeezed me again.

The year I got out of school, I began training as a Healer, that lasts three years, normally, but I only studied for two, because war measure were still in act at the time. Harry was pushed through Auror training in two years as well, and at the end of those two years, when I was nineteen, we were married. I think that the five years of our marriage deserve better treatment than Harry gave them though.

We were married, and living in London, while he worked and I studied for the first year, and it was hectic. We barely saw each other, except on the weekends, in the final year, which should really have been two years, I was studying hard with friends who had gone through Hogwarts with me and I knew very well by that time. One of those friends was Ryan Thornton, and he was the thing that almost served Harry and I a divorce on a golden platter. Neither Harry nor I fell in love easily. We had problems trusting others, we had been betrayed in the past, our lives hadn't been easy, nor did we trust each other to remain faithful. Harry hated Ryan, because Ryan was in love with me, I won't lie, he was. But I wasn't in love with Ryan, Harry didn't see that though, well, he knew that, but he didn't... I'm sure you get my point. Harry and I had a huge fight towards June of that year, which ended with his storming out of the room in a fit, and leaving for three days. Those were the worst three days of our marriage, I spent them in bed, Hermione came over to say that Harry was staying with she and Ron, and as far as she could see he still loved me. Then she rolled her eyes and muttered 'men,' and left me with some chicken soup and clean sheets. Harry came back at the end of those three days, found me in bed and lay down with his arms around me as if nothing had ever happened. The next day I finally asked him why he had come back, if he'd thought I would cheat on him, 'I never said I though that,' he told me, 'I realized that I'd much rather you be happy without me than unhappy with me.' You'll have noticed the incoherency of that statement, so I looked at him and he explained himself, 'Hermione told me you were unhappy at it just struck me so hard in the heart that you were sad that I had left, and I realized that I loved you too much to see you unhappy; that I'd do whatever was best for you, no matter how angry I was.' I asked him if that meant he'd never wanted to come back, 'I'd never wanted anything more.' He responded, laughing and pecking me on the lips, then he sent me off to study for my finals, apologizing for having upset my studying. Harry treated me like his Queen for the next few months, then we settled back into our normal routine of constant domestic spats that always end six minutes later with a kiss and an apology.

The second year of our marriage was certainly interesting, Harry was more or less constantly on assignment, so that when I realized I was pregnant I couldn't tell him for three weeks, because he was in Canada on assignment, nosing around for Tom's American supporters under the guise of being a school teacher and I couldn't write to him, he was ostensibly a single orphan. I was so angry. He tried to be home as much as possible while I was pregnant, but that just didn't work out, all in all, he was there for five months of a nine-month event, and when I gave birth to Lilly he was there five minutes before she was born. And that little girl stole his heart in thirty seconds flat. Lilly is my husband's baby, definitely, that girl is a daddy's girl. That day was also our second anniversary, Harry had forgotten to get me anything, but I told him that Lilly was the best gift anyone could ever give.

I took the entire next year off work, and Harry quietly began to process of phasing out of the Auror department of the ministry, he wanted to see his little girl grow up, but he didn't want to leave the world in bad hands. He was home much more that year, and we were together much more. We spent a lot of our time at the Burrow, to all purposes, Mum had two people totally dependent on her, Bill and Thomas. We tried to ease her burden however we could, I've become Thomas' favorite aunt (even though I'm the only one, by blood) and that little boy has eyes only for his hero, Harry Potter. I think that getting to play with the baby was just an added benefit. Fred spent time with us, as well, Harry is a surprisingly easy person to confide in, and he understands loss if anyone does. Fred has a wife, Alicia Spinnet, but neither of them was ready to start a family, maybe less for their own benefits than for Angelina, who remained very close to them, since George's half of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes went to her, automatically. It might have been hard for her to see them living the life she dreamed of having with George, they thought, that was only until Angelina approached Alicia to ask her if she was having trouble getting pregnant or something. I don't think Angelina will ever really move on, and no one has bothered to pressure her to do so, we all love her like a sister and we understand that she doesn't want a new husband. She wants George back, and if she can't have him, she won't have anyone. Harry and I even took care of Bill once or twice that year, no, let me amend that statement quite a bit, Harry and Lilly took care of Bill, I curled up in my old bedroom, or Apparated home, and cried until Harry put Lilly down for her nap and came to help me. Harry can deal with almost any crisis, now, before he'd get angry and throw things, but with a lot of work he got himself out of that, and he can act perfectly normal around Thomas, Angelina and even Bill. It would scare me if I wasn't the only one who got to see him cry when something bad has happened, or when Bill has had a bad day, hallucinations and so on. In the newspapers Harry has been described as emotionless, I'll assure you here that he isn't. We celebrated our anniversary and Lilly's first birthday at the Burrow that year, once Lilly was asleep with the four cousins she had been provided with after the war (Charlie and Deborah's daughter Chrissie, Percy and Penny's Clarisse, Thomas and Fred and Alicia's newborn, George), in Charlie's old room, Harry took me out. It was another one of those days where it was proved to me yet again that I had married the right man, he had set out a picnic ('I don't think we'll get an anniversary alone for the next seventeen years, Sugar, so I'm doing my best' he said) and candles, and a beautiful song by a muggle band I had always loved was playing. It's called "I love you" or something like that, and it's by the Bare Naked Ladies. I can never remember the titles of songs and I'm much to fat and lazy to go get the CD box just now.

Sorry, Harry had just stepped into the room with Lilly in his arms, being 'quite' and I hadn't noticed that the entire time he was reading over my shoulder, he interrupted to say I wasn't fat, I was pregnant, then he handed me Lilly and took over the desk to grade papers, he says he can't believe how stupid this year's fifth year class is, he asked for an assurance that he wasn't that stupid at fifteen. I just sort of made a noncommittal noise in the back of my throat from where I was making dinner in the kitchen.

Well, the third year we were married, only two years ago, Harry and I began to talk about having other children. I don't think that was the most important thing that happened that year, but it was mildly important, it just didn't come into effect for a couple years. Mum was ill for a month, she was almost sixty and under a lot of stress, and we took over care of Thomas for that month and a little while afterward. He loved having a 'little sister' and Lilly just adores him, Harry played Daddy to him, and since the only Daddy he's ever known isn't in any shape to be a proper father, he liked having someone to fall into the lake with (how they managed to do that while sledding I'll never know). Harry has kept that role, though the one time that Thomas called him Daddy, he explained very patiently and with great firmness that he was very honored, but he wasn't Tommy's daddy and he wanted Thomas to remember that he had his own father. It hasn't happened again, and Harry and Mum are happy that they don't have to stress the message very much, they would both feel better if Thomas always remembered his true roots. I don't know why Harry's so good at things like that, he just is. Lilly was growing so quickly that year, and she spent every day with her Auntie Angelina, who didn't really have much to do during the day, because she couldn't, or wouldn't, work at the place where George had spent so much of his time and there were little traces of him everywhere. Sometimes Angelina even has trouble looking at Fred, though they've become quite close, and in her role as everybody's favorite aunt she's taken a special amount of time for Fred and Alicia's three kids, George, Alyssa and Ella. Alyssa's a lot like George, you can tell, even though she's only two, sometimes she'll make a particular expression that only George every made, or she'll make a joke so daring (for a two year old, she's a real talker, I must say) that even Fred wouldn't have told it at that age. I went back to work in Healing Pediatrics, which I love, though the number of war orphans that have gone through my hands is getting too high, and the number of times I've thought about adopting one of them is much too high as well. Harry wouldn't say no if I asked him, I know that, so the decision not to do so is always mine. I can't believe how much this is beginning to sound like my mum, but I suppose I'm turning into her, yesterday I had all my nieces and nephews over (there are six now, George, Alyssa, Ella, Thomas, Chrissie, Clarisse, her new brother, Anthony and two months after Harry and I had our second anniversary, Hermione and Ron had their first son, Allan). Anyway, all six of them were there and I was acting just like Mum, I was feeding people, bouncing babies and carrying on a conversation with Harry (who was tossing a Frisbee around with Thomas, Clarisse and Lilly out back) through the window. That year Harry also submitted his official resignation, though it would take until the next August for it to go through. For our anniversary and Lilly's birthday Harry took us to the Caribbean and it was like a second honeymoon, only with the baby, for Harry and I. It was a lot of fun, and it's when we first started to actually try for another baby, Harry and I both want a big family and we've spent a lot of time trying to make that happen, it just took longer the second time.

Last year was amazing, it was the first year that the tolls of the war weren't part of my personal life in such a big way. Nobody gets over the death of their father, ever, or their brother, but I began to move on in a bigger way. I almost never had nightmares any more, except when Harry was on assignment and that is the worst time to have a nightmare, because Lilly mostly sleeps in our bed when her father isn't at home, partially, I think, because she doesn't want me to leave as well. I can't have Lilly wake up to see her mother sobbing her eyes out, it would be horrible for her. Lilly has seen me cry before, but that's not when I'm the only person in charge, she gets scared to see mummy cry and she goes to Harry, if I'm not already with him, he'll just take us both in his lap and quickly explain to Lilly that 'Mummy's just having a bad day, baby girl,' and she'll be quite happy, knowing that her daddy can make everything better, and then Harry will move on to the most difficult task of all, me. Harry is, as I'm sure I've mentioned, my rock, he can always make it better, for me and Lilly. If we ever lost Harry I don't think either of us could go on, in fact, I know I couldn't, and I don't think Lilly would ever be the same cheerful little girl again. For Lilly, daddy's tops, I might just be a close second though. Anyway, back to last year, I began to have fun in my life, a lot of fun. I laughed again, it was strange to think that all throughout Lilly's short life my laughter had been in short commodities, and mostly reserved only for times when we were just the three of us at home. I got up the nerve to crack a few jokes- I even pulled a prank on Harry, once, but it made me cry to hard when I realized that it was something George had done to me in my third year. But I think it was a big step, doing things I would have done with George, going places I would have gone with Dad. Like on the day Harry asked Angelina if she could keep Lilly overnight and came to collect me early at work (he'd cleared the whole thing with my superior all of an hour earlier). He took me on a walk around Muggle London, a tour, literally, seeing as I kept myself as separated from Muggle things as was possible, it made me sad to try to learn about them. When I protested Harry just said, quite simply, "I'm sorry, Gin, but its time. I had to go back to Godric's Hollow, Fred had to go back to work, and your mum and Angelina had to go back home you have to subject yourself to Muggle things." I will admit that he knows me altogether too well. He took me on a walk through London, pointing out landmarks and taking me to do little things, we went to go see a movie, and we did a bit of shopping. Then he took me home, I was ready to fall apart, actually I had been ready to fall apart the first time I saw a plug. Harry had already made dinner and he quickly heated it with a touch of his wand, he set it out, and instructed me to eat and then wouldn't let me cry, He actually told me, quite strictly not to cry, I never really knew why. The next day, when I hadn't had nightmares or cried, he told me that it was time to stop mourning them and start remembering them. "What is your happiest memory of George," he asked me, I told him about the memories of George on his wedding day, with Angelina on his arm and a perpetual smile that didn't let me think that in less than a year he'd be dead. He asked me about my best memory of my father, it was when my father had taken me to the Muggle town near us and shown me different objects that I had never been exposed too, he had been so enthusiastic. Harry told me that it was time to stop thinking about their deaths and start thinking about their lives, that with an outlook like that life would be a whole hell of a lot easier, that started the road to recovery for me. For our anniversary, I had news for Harry; I was pregnant, we had both been thinking about having another child for a long time, and the reality was a dream come true for both of us. I've said that we both wanted a big family before, but we were glad that our dream was actually coming through.

This year has been even more frenzied than all the others thrown together, but Harry and I have finally figured out how to make life easier; screw sharing household responsibilities. When Harry's home from work in time he'll make dinner, clean up Lilly's room and give her a bath. When I'm home from work in time I'll do the same, we don't really keep a tally of whose done more recently. Harry has, I'm sure, because he treats me like a porcelain doll these days- delicate yet loved enough to be played with.

Harry is holding Lilly just now, they are sitting in the leather chair in front of the fire, talking. I love to listen to their conversations, they're talking about Harry's day at work. Harry is trying to explain to her why she can't go to Hogwarts yet, but he isn't having a great deal of success, Lilly is just like I was, she wants to be a big girl- NOW! Harry has noticed that I'm watching them and has just winked at me, I'll smile back at him but try to restrain myself from laughing. Lilly has turned around to see what her father's is looking at and his now toddling over to me.

"What Mama writing?" she wants to know. Harry is stretching behind her, and picking up the remnants of their before-bedtime snack. I notice that Lilly is still in her clothes, a situation I'll have to remedy sooner or later, if Harry doesn't first. It's almost eight-thirty and she should be in bed in ten minutes, so that Harry and I can read her a story.

"Mama's writing about her life, Lilly," I explain, "maybe I'll read it to you someday."

"Good story?" she asks curiously, Harry answers for me, coming up behind me and resting his hands on the side of my chair, barely touching my arms.

"A very good story, baby girl," he chuckles, "I know because I'M in it!" Lilly laughs at this.

"You being silly, Daddy," she complains.

"I always wanted to be a silly Daddy," he replies, "what do you say we go put on your pajamas? Then Mommy will come in and we can read a bedtime story for you."

"It's not bedtime." She argues, obviously quite put out by this turn of events. Harry looks to me, Lilly sometimes won't listen to him, but if I back him up she basically has too, in our house there's no higher authority than Mommy.

"Daddy's telling the truth, honeybunch," I say, then I kiss the top of her head, and she stomps off after her father. As I'm watching them trudge down the hallway, I notice that they have the same walk, they swing their legs the same way or something like that.

Two hours later I'm in bed and Harry is reading a favorite novel of his, The Lord of The Rings, written by a wizard with a thing for exploiting other wizards, I uphold that Gandalf could ONLY by Dumbledore. Harry thinks I'm absolutely ridiculous, but sweet, he'll add when I shoot a glance at him. Harry lies on the side of the bed nearest to the bathroom that connects us to Lilly, in a few months we'll move Lilly to another bedroom, slightly farther away, and put the baby in the closer one. Night calls are Harry's job, of course, who else? When he was in training he simply taught himself not to sleep for long periods of time, and it just sort of stuck with him. Between my depression, his work, Fred, Bill (who I haven't mentioned Harry spends a lot of time with, Bill adores Harry) and training he really didn't have much time for sleep back then.

"Can we turn the light out soon, love?" he wants to know, we only have one large overhead light, and no one can sleep while it's on, it's a situation we should sort out soon.

"In a minute, Harry, I'm not quite done," I reply quietly, I want to think about how to finish this whole thing properly, if there's one thing I'm not good at it's rounding everything up into an interesting ending that ties up any loose strings I've just left hanging. Harry has just wrapped his arms around me from behind and mumbled that I need to sleep more. I just laugh at him, he's the one who needs more sleep, we're almost never in bed at the same time, I normally wake up at midnight to hear him coming in from marking papers. I take a minute to watch him, while he ostensibly has his eyes closed, he's curled up to me, actually, he's on my pillow, but I don't mind. His hair is wild, and he isn't wearing a shirt, he never does to bed, he's wearing plaid pajama bottoms and grey socks (I don't think they started out grey- but I don't really want to know how they got that way).

"Gin," he moans, "go to sleep. I'm sleepy, the baby's asleep, Lilly's asleep, please don't play insomniac tonight- the first night in forever that I'm actually home on time."

"Forever only lasts two weeks?" I ask sarcastically.

"Yes, it does- what did you think I meant when I promised to be with you forever?" he teases.

"It's been almost seven years," I reply with a laugh.

"That' s because I made a very big mistake at some point towards the very second I kissed you,' he says with that characteristic Potter smirk that Lilly can imitate perfectly, I certainly hope this baby doesn't have it- or his sense of humor, two of him is more than I can handle without pulling my hair out, thanks all the same.

"And what was that?" I ask, still thinking about my appropriate ending, but playing along with joy, I always wanted to still be able to joke with my husband, and surprisingly I can. Everything's fallen into place.

"I let myself fall in love with you," he says, still wearing that smirk and pulling himself up to kiss me on the lips. This lay forgotten on the floor the rest of the night, and I won't continue, I think that was a pretty good ending right there.