A/N: OK, if this weren't a last chapter I normally wouldn't post it today, with only one review, but, anyway, here's Ginny. It's not very good, because I wanted it to be longer! But ah well, you can't have everything. So, here's Ginny and the end of the story, thanks and hugs to all of my reviewers, you guys have been great and I hope you like this chapter more than I do!
Emutet: Thanks for the review. I like that idea too, it's been floating around in my head for a while and I finally got to use it! I'm really sad to be posting this chapter, actually, this has been fun to write!
Ginny is firmly in her husbands arms on the couch, he's rested his head just below her neck and I believe they're deeply into conversation, he having settled down from chasing his children about the room to give his wife her gift, which I think is the emerald ring she's wearing on the middle finger of her left hand as she gestures around the room to emphasize a point- a typical Ginny movement. As she swats him across the head in one particularly wide sweep, he pulls her hand into his and kisses her palm softly.
Ginny once told me that she wanted to have a fairytale, and on her second wedding day, just as they were leaving the reception, she pulled me aside from the hub of family wishing she and Harry luck, "Mum, I've got my fairytale," she told me before hugging me tightly and going off to join her husband. Now, you may wonder why I say second wedding day? Ginny was seventeen, but just, the day that the final battle took place, her first decision as an adult witch was not to go out and get drunk, like most of my other children. No, fiery little Ginevra had to go get married, to a man in his own words 'destined to die'. But, I think mostly through her persuasion and the pouting that he can't resist in her or any of their children, he did what he wanted to do and got married to her. Then he was in a coma for six weeks, and she didn't leave his bedside for more than an hour that entire time, she slept beside him and got ferociously defensive whenever anyone told her to go away. I was newly a widow, and therefore know this mostly from hearsay, I was secluded for at least a month of that time. Anyway, six months after Harry woke up, the world needed glitz and glamour, and with, I believe, a great deal of begging and pleading on Ginny's part, Harry agreed to throw a paparazzi wedding, personally, I think Ginny just wanted the dress.
They had their son after being married for the better part of eight years, none of us expected him to be named anything other than Sirius or James. They didn't disappoint us with Sirius James Potter, a long, thin little baby with freckles and dancing green eyes hidden beneath perpetually messy tufts of red hair. What Harry might have looked like as a Weasley, we all say. Sirius, however is much the way I remember his namesake when I knew him in his first year of Hogwarts, he loves a good joke and hates being alone, it's a large group of people or nothing for Sirius. He's also amazing at Quidditch, and handsome in his own, quirky, way, though I still say he gets by in this life on pure charm. He's in his fourth year at Hogwarts, Gryffindor through and through, of course, being a Weasley and a Potter, I'll be shocked if any of them get anything else.
Molly, my namesake, is their next child, she's twelve, and one of the most daring children I have ever met. Her father taught her to do barrel rolls on a broomstick when she was five, and she's just gone from there, last I heard Harry was taking her bungee jumping next week as a special treat. Now, I do not approve of this, because I think Molly's going to give my daughter a heart attack one of these days, just as a review Molly has had eight concussions, thirteen broken bones (not counting toes and fingers) and of course, there was the memorable time she set her hair on fire at the age of four when she was supposed to be helping her father make dinner, and the equally memorable time when she decided to see how long it would take us to notice she was lying flat on her back on the bottom of the pool, and then fainted, if her father didn't watch his children like a hawk near water she'd be dead. But, of course, neither of her parents would deny anyone an adventure, so I suppose it's well enough that I'm only her grandmother.
Twins do run in my family, and the Potters are no exception, James and Faith are seven and, currently, I believe they hate each other. Mostly because they haven't spoken since last night when James called all girls stupid and Faith ran crying to find her father. Faith, with her dark black hair, green eyes and tendency to bottle up her emotions about anyone other than James and her father, is most like Harry of their children. James is like his mother, spunky, quick-witted and eager to stick up for his spot in the family pecking order. With six kids there certainly is one, and with a total devotion to Sirius at the moment, as well as being something of a Momma's boy according to his siblings (and what on earth is wrong with that, I ask you? All I asked for was one child to spend time with and no... But I love them all really) he's somewhere closer to the bottom at the moment.
Then Arthur, I remember Ginny thinking it was a bit odd to name two children after people who had been married, but Harry insisted, and red- haired, brown-eyed, freckled timid Arthur Harry Potter came into the world. He is timid, even among his cousins, who rarely daunt each other, he prefers to stay sitting calmly beside his father, occasionally pulling on Harry or Ginny's hands to tell them something, than joining in with the general ruckus of my home. Currently, though, he's been swept up in the flurry of activity that is Najwa and Fleur making Christmas breakfast (though no one need worry, I've stocked up on everything I'll need to feed the family properly after they burn it).
Petite, redheaded sleepy Abigail is in the terrible-twos and has just come down from spending two hours ripping around the room in a flurry of fuzzy, frizzy red hair and babbled baby words. She's decided to settle by her mother's feet , absentmindedly playing with the rag doll George gave her for Christmas. Her parents are completely wrapped up in each other at the moment though, and I doubt they've seen her, Ginny's point apparently made as she kisses Harry with passion I remember well from my own marriage.
I suppose, thinking about my family, it all comes down to a lot of love stories- Arthur and I had a love story that lead to seven children, and they had seven other love stories, that lead to thirty-four children, and I suppose they, in turn will have thirty-four love stories that will lead to more children. And I'm glad that I'm telling love stories, fairytales in some cases, horror 'what-not-to-do' stories in others, but at the root of it all- I think I'm telling the same story again and again. Beginning with Once Upon A Time and ending with Happily Ever After. So, I'll say it and hope to Merlin that I'm right.
And They All Lived Happily Ever After.
Emutet: Thanks for the review. I like that idea too, it's been floating around in my head for a while and I finally got to use it! I'm really sad to be posting this chapter, actually, this has been fun to write!
Ginny is firmly in her husbands arms on the couch, he's rested his head just below her neck and I believe they're deeply into conversation, he having settled down from chasing his children about the room to give his wife her gift, which I think is the emerald ring she's wearing on the middle finger of her left hand as she gestures around the room to emphasize a point- a typical Ginny movement. As she swats him across the head in one particularly wide sweep, he pulls her hand into his and kisses her palm softly.
Ginny once told me that she wanted to have a fairytale, and on her second wedding day, just as they were leaving the reception, she pulled me aside from the hub of family wishing she and Harry luck, "Mum, I've got my fairytale," she told me before hugging me tightly and going off to join her husband. Now, you may wonder why I say second wedding day? Ginny was seventeen, but just, the day that the final battle took place, her first decision as an adult witch was not to go out and get drunk, like most of my other children. No, fiery little Ginevra had to go get married, to a man in his own words 'destined to die'. But, I think mostly through her persuasion and the pouting that he can't resist in her or any of their children, he did what he wanted to do and got married to her. Then he was in a coma for six weeks, and she didn't leave his bedside for more than an hour that entire time, she slept beside him and got ferociously defensive whenever anyone told her to go away. I was newly a widow, and therefore know this mostly from hearsay, I was secluded for at least a month of that time. Anyway, six months after Harry woke up, the world needed glitz and glamour, and with, I believe, a great deal of begging and pleading on Ginny's part, Harry agreed to throw a paparazzi wedding, personally, I think Ginny just wanted the dress.
They had their son after being married for the better part of eight years, none of us expected him to be named anything other than Sirius or James. They didn't disappoint us with Sirius James Potter, a long, thin little baby with freckles and dancing green eyes hidden beneath perpetually messy tufts of red hair. What Harry might have looked like as a Weasley, we all say. Sirius, however is much the way I remember his namesake when I knew him in his first year of Hogwarts, he loves a good joke and hates being alone, it's a large group of people or nothing for Sirius. He's also amazing at Quidditch, and handsome in his own, quirky, way, though I still say he gets by in this life on pure charm. He's in his fourth year at Hogwarts, Gryffindor through and through, of course, being a Weasley and a Potter, I'll be shocked if any of them get anything else.
Molly, my namesake, is their next child, she's twelve, and one of the most daring children I have ever met. Her father taught her to do barrel rolls on a broomstick when she was five, and she's just gone from there, last I heard Harry was taking her bungee jumping next week as a special treat. Now, I do not approve of this, because I think Molly's going to give my daughter a heart attack one of these days, just as a review Molly has had eight concussions, thirteen broken bones (not counting toes and fingers) and of course, there was the memorable time she set her hair on fire at the age of four when she was supposed to be helping her father make dinner, and the equally memorable time when she decided to see how long it would take us to notice she was lying flat on her back on the bottom of the pool, and then fainted, if her father didn't watch his children like a hawk near water she'd be dead. But, of course, neither of her parents would deny anyone an adventure, so I suppose it's well enough that I'm only her grandmother.
Twins do run in my family, and the Potters are no exception, James and Faith are seven and, currently, I believe they hate each other. Mostly because they haven't spoken since last night when James called all girls stupid and Faith ran crying to find her father. Faith, with her dark black hair, green eyes and tendency to bottle up her emotions about anyone other than James and her father, is most like Harry of their children. James is like his mother, spunky, quick-witted and eager to stick up for his spot in the family pecking order. With six kids there certainly is one, and with a total devotion to Sirius at the moment, as well as being something of a Momma's boy according to his siblings (and what on earth is wrong with that, I ask you? All I asked for was one child to spend time with and no... But I love them all really) he's somewhere closer to the bottom at the moment.
Then Arthur, I remember Ginny thinking it was a bit odd to name two children after people who had been married, but Harry insisted, and red- haired, brown-eyed, freckled timid Arthur Harry Potter came into the world. He is timid, even among his cousins, who rarely daunt each other, he prefers to stay sitting calmly beside his father, occasionally pulling on Harry or Ginny's hands to tell them something, than joining in with the general ruckus of my home. Currently, though, he's been swept up in the flurry of activity that is Najwa and Fleur making Christmas breakfast (though no one need worry, I've stocked up on everything I'll need to feed the family properly after they burn it).
Petite, redheaded sleepy Abigail is in the terrible-twos and has just come down from spending two hours ripping around the room in a flurry of fuzzy, frizzy red hair and babbled baby words. She's decided to settle by her mother's feet , absentmindedly playing with the rag doll George gave her for Christmas. Her parents are completely wrapped up in each other at the moment though, and I doubt they've seen her, Ginny's point apparently made as she kisses Harry with passion I remember well from my own marriage.
I suppose, thinking about my family, it all comes down to a lot of love stories- Arthur and I had a love story that lead to seven children, and they had seven other love stories, that lead to thirty-four children, and I suppose they, in turn will have thirty-four love stories that will lead to more children. And I'm glad that I'm telling love stories, fairytales in some cases, horror 'what-not-to-do' stories in others, but at the root of it all- I think I'm telling the same story again and again. Beginning with Once Upon A Time and ending with Happily Ever After. So, I'll say it and hope to Merlin that I'm right.
And They All Lived Happily Ever After.