Ain't No River Wide Enough
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is NOT MINE…
For the next few weeks, Harry became painfully alert and aware of the workings of his heart; a hard thumping that made him put his hand to his chest.
As he spent more and more time with Ginny and her sons, he grew increasingly puzzled and overwhelmed by the feelings evoked in their presence, specifically Ginny's.
Like that one late afternoon, as he stood at the second story window with Ginny, looking down together at the boys playing Quidditch, watching Greg show his brothers a few tricks that Harry had taught him. It was at that moment that Harry experienced pride commingled with the purest sort of joy, and it seemed that day that Ginny smiled not only upon her sons, but upon him as well. So encouraged was he by that entirely spontaneous, beautiful smile that he almost blurted out his feelings for her.
Why, why, Harry often asked himself, was it this woman and not another? Why the curve of that particular cheek and not another? Why the gold of those eyes and not the blue of others? He had, in his lifetime, seen a hundred- no a thousand beautiful women – lifting skirts to step over piles of snow, fanning long necks in restaurants, undressing in the dim electric lights of his apartment in Florence – but none had ever had upon him the effect Ginny Weasley had: a sensation quite beyond that which can be explained by magic.
Even back at Hogwarts, it had never been this way. Yes, he had been mildly attracted to her back then but it was nothing like what he felt now; so profound; so gripping.
All this was running in his mind as he Apparated to the Lovegoods' place some distance beyond the village of Ottery St. Catchpole.
There was a huge tent on the field surrounding the house, people were already milling about inside, looking for seats, chatting, waiting for the wedding to start. Harry searched the crowd for any familiar face, bound to find at least one, since he was well acquainted with both the bride and bridegroom.
He remembered Ginny's response upon receiving the invitation to witness the wedlock of Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood – "It's about bloody time," she had muttered, shaking her head with a smile.
The long-standing relationship between Luna and Neville was legendary. There had been bets going around about when they would ever get married, what with Neville too shy to propose and Luna too dreamy and quirky to bother with something so ordinary.
Unable to find either Ginny or the boys, Harry managed to locate Hermione and Ron seated in one of the pews in front.
"Hello!" Harry grinned at his best friends.
"Hey!" Ron rose from his seat, enveloping Harry in a hearty embrace, followed by Hermione who hugged him and pecked him on the cheek affectionately.
"Gosh, we've barely seen you since you got back," Hermione chided him as he sat down beside her.
"I had dinner at your place two weeks ago," Harry protested.
"So? That's it? That's how you plan to keep in touch with your best friends? Just dinner fortnightly?" Hermione glared at him.
"Don't you have anything to say about this, Ron?" Hermione turned upon her husband who cleverly shifted the blame back to Harry with a smug smile and a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrow, "And we both know why we barely see much of him."
Harry managed to look nonplussed at the smirk Ron was throwing his way.
"A lot of people have been talking about you spending a lot of time with Ginny and the boys," Hermione informed him.
Harry shrugged. "So what if they do? People always want something to talk about."
"Don't think I haven't noticed that you spend more time with my sister than any other woman you've ever been with," Ron spoke up, a concerned frown replacing the smirk on his face.
"It's nothing, Ron, really, we're just friends," Harry reassured him. Ron nodded, his doubts and concerns for his younger sister's welfare not completely assuaged.
Hermione shot Ron a dirty look. "I think what Ron meant to say is that he just does not want his sister to get hurt, that Ginny's still in a vulnerable state," she explained benignly to Harry.
"You think I don't know that, Hermione? That family needs someone to be there for them," he told her, earnestly. Hermione fixed him with a scrutinizing gaze as if she was mulling over something.
"You're right, and you know what, you're probably the best person for the job," Ron admitted sheepishly.
Harry smiled at him, forgivingly.
"If you hurt her though, I'd have to break every bone in that body of yours," Ron told him sternly.
"Relax, mate; I'll be as a good a friend to her as you've been to me."
"Oh, then we're in trouble, aren't we?" Hermione quipped teasingly, coming out of her reverie.
"Oh dear, oh dear, we're going to be so very late," Ginny murmured, buttoning Greg's suit jacket.
"Mum, I'm ready," Leo cried out triumphantly as he stood resplendent in his suit and polished shoes; except for one important thing.
"Where are your socks, darling?" Ginny asked. Leo stared at her, bewildered. "Wait right here," she told him. Having finished buttoning Greg's suit jacket, Ginny told him to go downstairs and wait.
"Warren!" Ginny called out, as she rummaged in Leo's closet for a pair of clean socks.
"Yes, Mum." Warren walked in.
"Are you ready?" she asked him as she pulled Leo into her lap, pulled off his shoes, and put his socks on for him.
"Yes," he said. She glanced at him.
"Your shirt, sweetheart, how does it always get untucked?" she muttered, setting Leo back on the floor and tended to Warren's untucked shirttails.
"When you get up after the wedding, don't forget to check if it's undone," she reminded him. He nodded obediently. "Leo, go downstairs and wait with your brothers-"
"Mum, I found the invitation." It was Raphael popping his head into the bedroom, waving the white wedding card in his hand.
"Wonderful." Ginny patted Warren's suit and smoothed down his hair, "Bring your brothers down with you. I need to grab my purse and earrings and I'll be down," she told him.
She went to her bedroom, and looked for her earrings in her jewellery box. She paused then, taking a deep breath, enjoying the brief moment of quiet, before facing the imminent chaos of Flooing to Luna's place.
It had been a while since she attended one of these formal functions, the last one having been Terry's own funeral. At the service they had said nice things about him but she had sat through it, numb. Leo kept squeezing her hand, but she did not even notice. She barely blinked. All the boys had been in their suits, which were freshly tailored for the occasion.
During the final hymn, as the entire family stood, someone standing inside the doorway of the hall caught her attention. Ginny thought she recognized him. Their eyes locked. Then she passed out - from exhaustion everyone had said but she knew what she saw – the last lingering vision of her husband, a figment of her longing for him.
She glanced at the framed picture of Terry on her dressing table – a studio portrait he had gotten done during the fall after they got married, for his job at Gringotts. She looked into the crystal blue eyes of the photograph. What did dead mean, Ginny wondered. It meant lost; it meant frozen; it meant gone. She knew that no one ever really looked the way they did in photos. She had come to realize over the months that it was not Terry in that photograph.
He was in the air around her, he was in the quiet time spent alone between work and tending to the children, he was in the summer afternoons and evenings she had now with Harry. He was the man she had chosen to spend her life with. Ginny wanted, somehow, to set him free. She did not want to burn his photo or toss it away, but she did not want to look at him anymore either.
She slipped the photograph out of the frame and placed it in one of the giant volumes of Greek poetry in which she had pressed dozens of fragile flowers that were slowly turning to dust.
"Mum." It was Warren, who had been sent upstairs to inform their mother that the carriage was ready. Ginny slid the book back on the shelf.
"The carriage is here," he told her.
"Great, let's go then," she said, smiling. She took his hand in hers and they made their way down the stairs together. There was, after all, no greater foundation to fall upon than family.
Harry finally caught sight of Ginny after the wedding ceremony, as they made their way to the patio where lunch was being served. He sensed her before he saw her. He turned and there she was walking towards the patio with her eldest brother Bill, moving at a slow and stately pace, the skirt of her ivory dress robes making a rippling brook behind her. She had plum colored beads threaded through the curls of her hair and knotted at the nape of her neck. Her pendant earrings quivered as she walked. The boys were trailing behind her, looking handsome in their suits.
It was Greg who caught his eye and waved at him vigorously, nudging his older brother who glanced his way and waved as well. Soon the whole bunch of boys was waving at him. Harry grinned, making his way towards them, touched by the enthusiasm they displayed at the sight of him.
"Hullo." Harry smiled at them. "How's everything?"
"I fell asleep." Leo smiled sleepily.
"The wedding was rather long," Raphael admitted.
"Are all weddings that long?" Greg asked.
"If they are, I'm not ever going to get married," Warren stated firmly. Harry choked back his laughter.
"Harry!" It was Ginny, who upon detaching herself from her beloved brother, turned to find her sons busy conversing with the one person she had been looking high and low for.
"I was looking all over for you. I thought you didn't turn up," she said as she approached him, a tender smile on her face. She leaned towards him and gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek.
"So have my sons been harassing you?" Ginny asked, mock sternly.
"Now, Gin, you should know better than to ask such a question." The four of them exchanged smug grins at Harry's comment but their smiles were instantly replaced by a unified indignant outcry at his next words: "That's something they always do," Harry said teasingly, a smirk on his face. Ginny laughed.
It was a sign of how much he had come to mean to all of them, even the boys, that such a comment was taken in pure jest and humor and there were no hurt feelings.
"I'm hungry, Mum," Leo whined.
"Let's go eat then," Ginny suggested.
"Shall we?" Harry asked her, holding his arm out, eyebrow arched in question, slightly bowing in mock courtesy, and a delightfully mischievous smile on his face.
The children laughed at the sight of Uncle Harry acting up with their mother. Ginny nodded, fluttering her eyelashes in an exaggerated fashion, slipping her arm through his before making their way to the patio, the boys at their heels, giggling and laughing.
All hell broke loose at the patio. "Darren! Daniel!" Raphael crowed at the sight of his older cousins, Charlie's two sons. They were shortly joined by most of the Weasley grandchildren, all shouting, laughing, and squealing.
"My goodness, you'd think the last time they saw each other was decades ago instead of last Sunday." Alicia Spinnet, Fred's wife, shook her head, sighing, as she joined Ginny and Harry at the buffet table.
"You telling me," Ginny laughed."Where's Leo?" She scanned the mostly red heads of noisy children, worriedly.
Harry caught sight of Leo tugging at Bill's daughter Amber's pigtails repeatedly. He nudged Ginny and pointed him out.
"Goodness," she murmured under her breath, "I thought he was hungry."
"Leo!" she called out; her loud voice got his attention. He trotted over towards them.
"Come on, you wanted to eat, didn't you?" Ginny asked him, taking a plate for him.
"But Mum…" Leo trailed off, glancing longingly in the direction of his cousins, brothers, and some other children from Luna and Neville's family.
"After some food, you can go play with them." Ginny told him. He still looked slightly miffed.
She leaned towards Harry and spoke out of the corner of her mouth so Leo would not notice. "Could you get the other boys to come and eat as well. They didn't have time for a proper breakfast and need to eat something. Besides, Leo'll pull a fuss if he sees his brothers with the other children."
Harry nodded, and, before he moved off, Ginny reached out and squeezed his hand, gratitude etched on her face. He smiled at her and shook his head, as if to say it was nothing; all this was nothing compared to what he felt being with them – contentment, bliss, and a sense of self-worth.
Harry returned a minute later, the boys in tow. They were all grumbling and had some sort of complaint.
"You'll need to eat. If not you won't be able to outrun your cousins when you play catching later." Ginny attempted to reason with them, but she might as well have been speaking Greek.
Only Leo looked happy now that he was not the only one being forced to eat.
"I love you, Warren," he said, in a sudden spirit of love inspired by the fact that his brother had to suffer the same fate as himself.
Warren smirked.
"He loves you," Ginny said. "Can't you be nice?"
"I love you, Leo," Warren said. "I don't want to eat, Mum."
"Let's look at it this way," Harry told him, passing plates to all of them as they stood waiting for their turn: "If you don't eat now, then when you get hungry later after playing with your cousins, you'll have nothing to eat, all the food will be gone." Harry pointed to the people queuing behind them to help themselves to the buffet to make his point.
They seemed temporarily assuaged. Warren even had one of those flashes of egregious tenderness that he had only with Leo and Ginny, never with his older brothers. And never, ever with Terry because, like his two older brothers, Warren's love for his father never flickered between attachment and irritation; it was utter.
Warren reached out and clasped Leo around his belly and pretended to get one of his fingers stuck beneath Leo's arm. "Tickle, tickle, you old fuzzhead, Leo," he said, and Leo writhed in ecstasy.
Harry exchanged amused glances with Ginny. It was at that precise moment that Ginny finally noticed Harry; really saw him, and was reminded of how handsome he had grown over the years.
"What is it?" Harry asked as Ginny stared at him with an utterly disorientated expression on her face.
"Nothing," she murmured, looking away, an evident blush rising up from her neck, tinting her cheeks. Harry stared at her, his chest constricting momentarily. Did Ginny just blush at the mere sight of him?
After ensuring that the boys were well fed – with the help of Harry - and happily playing with the other children, congratulating and ragging the bride and bridegroom – with the aid of Harry - and catching up with all her friends from Hogwarts, Ginny finally found an opportunity to sit down for a bit.
Unfortunately, the seat happened to be beside her parents, specifically her mother. Now, Ginny adored her parents, but of late, her mother had been behaving rather alarmingly. She kept giving her these intent looks whenever Harry was by her side. Then she would make all these suggestive comments to Ginny when Harry was out of the earshot. Ginny could not count the number of times she had to remind her mother that they were just friends.
"Hello, Mum." Ginny smiled at her mother, a warning tone lacing her voice, as Harry was standing right behind her.
Mrs. Weasley smiled, hugging her daughter, and then moving on to embrace Harry, "Lovely wedding, eh?"
"Good food, too," Mr. Weasley added after kissing his daughter affectionately on the forehead.
"We haven't really eaten yet," Ginny told her father.
"How about I go get some drinks and food for us?" Harry offered.
Ginny nodded agreeably, sitting down with her parents while Harry walked off towards the buffet table.
"I should have told him to get the roasted chicken." Mr.Weasley shook his head regretfully.
"I'm sure he will," Ginny reassured her father, smiling.
"Never mind that," Mrs. Weasley frowned, somberly, "We have more important things to discuss."
"We?" Mr. Weasley's eyebrows raised a notch, questioningly. He shrugged his shoulders, giving his daughter a thoroughly baffled look.
Mrs. Weasley ignored him, plunging on. Ginny knew that look on her mother's face, the one with the purposeful gleam in her eyes.
"Ginny, darling," she grasped her hands in her own, "When am I going to see you married?"
Ginny gasped at her mother, her eyes widening in shock, her jaw going slack. Then as her mother's full intentions sank in, she steeled herself, fixing her mother with a death glare of some sort; "In case you haven't noticed, Mother, I was married," she snapped.
"Exactly my point, sweetheart." Molly persisted, despite the warning look from her husband, "When are you going to move on?"
Ginny however was no longer paying her mother any attention. She was sitting there, in complete astonishment, not with her mother but with herself. Had she just said that she was married? She had never done that before. All this while she had said it in the present tense, I am married; that was what she told people. It was one thing to put Terry's picture away but this was a whole other thing for her.
"Gin?" It was Harry, who had returned to the table. He instantly noticed something was off with Ginny, already attuned to her face, her emotions.
As he set the food-laden plates and drinks on the table, he saw the tremor, the inside shake off of her heart. She was so good at covering up the cracks and fissures that no one, not even her parents, could see her do it. She could shut the whole world out, including herself.
"I'm fine," she said.
But Harry knew she was not. He and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley watched her back as she departed.
"I was trying to advise her," Mrs. Weasley said weakly.
Harry did not say anything. Without hesitation, he decided to look for Ginny. He searched through the crowd and when he could not locate her, he went into the house. She was neither in the parlour nor in the powder room.
He climbed the stairs and heard a sound in one of the rooms. Since everyone else was out in the patio, Harry knew it had to be Ginny. Approaching the room, he hesitated just one second outside the doorway as the memory of coming upon Ginny on that summer day sometime ago pushed itself forward- the hollow and ravaged expression in her eyes.
He shook the vision from his thoughts and allowed forward momentum to propel him across the threshold, where he beheld no more harrowing a sight that that of Ginny sitting on the bed, her eyes red rimmed and swollen. She took a breath of air and raised her head.
"Gin," he said, "you got your parents all worried about you."
"They're always worried about me." She sighed. "They never think I can do anything by myself."
"That's not fair, Ginny. They love you and they've seen you go through so much. They just want you to be happy, that's all."
Ginny glared at Harry. "Do you know what my mother said?" At Harry's perplexed shrug, she continued: "She wants me to get married."
Harry bit back a smirk. "But she's been implying that for some time now, hasn't she?"
"Yes, she's mad, I tell you. I have four sons and enough emotional baggage to send any wizard running in the other direction. Who'd want to marry me!" Ginny scoffed.
Harry had to resist every impulse to get down on his knee and offer himself to her. Instead, he sat down on the bed beside her. "That's not what's upsetting you, is it?" He asked, perceptively.
Ginny nodded, used to Harry's emotional astuteness. Sometimes he knew her better than she knew herself. A red strand of hair fell from her face where she had tucked it behind her ear. Harry could not help but notice how it softened her face.
"It's just that…I'm scared…scared of letting go of Terry..." She trailed off, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I'm scared that if I let him go, I'll forget him, I'll never feel him..."
Harry touched her shoulder. "Do you think the dead we love ever truly leave us? You think we do not recall them more clearly in times of trouble and need?"
Ginny glanced at Harry, and felt that flash of emotion she had experienced earlier at the buffet table. She studied his face, his green eyes shone with intelligence, his eyebrows knitted together in an earnest frown.
"You have loved Terry with all your heart," he told her.
"Yes, I have."
"It is a treasure, to be able to love someone in that way, so thoroughly, so freely, and to be loved back just as much. Do you understand? Do you know how much that is worth? I envy you, Ginny!" Harry said.
She was stunned by the ferocity of his statement. This was so unlike him. For a long moment neither of them moved, Harry mulling over all the people he had loved and cherished who had been robbed from his life by death.
Ginny thought about what she and Terry had shared, how she had come to take it for granted, even after his death, assuming that letting go of Terry and moving on would meantrivialising the love they had shared. Harry was right – what she and Terry had was beyond that – they had been wholly and deeply in love. It was not a crime to put it in the past and move on. She did not have to feel guilty about telling people that she was married rather than she is. It would not tarnish their love, their marriage, or their years together.
Ginny remembered then when she first noticed Terry. It was his last year at Hogwarts. In just a few short years, Terry Boot had grown so handsome that a spell radiated from him when he walked through the hallways. His adult face had still not settled on him, but, now that he was seventeen, it was just around the corner. He exuded a dreamy asexuality that made him attractive to both men and women, with his long lashes and hooded eyelids, his thick black hair, and the same delicate features that were still a boy's.
By then, he had noticed her as well. They started dating during spring. They were shy about their affection for each other. They did not hold hands in the hallways at school; they did not pass notes. They sat together at lunch; Terry walked her to the Gryffindor tower every night. On her sixteenth birthday, he brought her a cupcake with a candle in it.
But with the heat of the summer, something grew in them like weeds. It was lust, desire, longing. Ginny had never felt it so purely or seen it move so hotly in someone she knew. They set up little meetings at the village near The Burrow, or by a certain tree in the field nearby that they had marked up high with their initials. They kissed. They wanted to do more but could not. Terry wanted it to be special. He was aware that it should be perfect; Ginny just wanted to get it over with. Have it behind her so she could achieve adulthood – transcend the place and the time.
The day before the battles began he came to see her. It was the end of the summer. They went down to the lake near The Burrow. Under a rowboat that was too old and worn to float, Ginny lay down on the earth with Terry, and he held her.
"You know I'm okay," she said, her eyes dry. "I'll miss you like crazy though."
"It'll be fine. After the war, we'll get married." At that moment, Ginny could think of nothing else she would want more.
Terry's back was flush against the ground, and he brought her close into his body to protect her from the dampness of the quick summer rain. Their breath began to heat the small space beneath the boat, and he could not stop it – he went hard inside his pants.
Ginny reached her hand over.
"I'm sorry…" he began.
"I'm ready," she told him.
They made love for the first of a thousand more times, the last time being five months before his death. On that summer evening, Terry turned to her and said, "Have you ever made love in the ocean?"
And she had said, "No."
"Neither have I," he said. "Let's pretend it is the ocean and that I am going away and we might never see each other again."
Ginny cried when she came that night.
Now, she smiled; a bittersweet smile at the recollection of all those memories. She leaned towards Harry and rested her head on his shoulder. He slipped his arm around her waist, comfortingly.
"You've been such a great friend, Harry. You've come to mean so much to the boys…and me."
Harry smiled, looking down as Ginny titled her face upwards to smile at him. Harry wanted to place his hand on her cheek, smooth her hair back from her face and kiss her, but he did not.
As they stood to leave the room and join everyone else downstairs, Ginny slipped her hand in his. "Thank you," she murmured, knowing fully well that those two words could not encompass what Harry's friendship had done for all of them.
Harry knew then that he was completely done for, that even if he wanted to leave Ginny and the boys and go on with his own life, he could not; it would be an impossible feat. His heart was here, with them, in each and every one of their hands.
When Raphael woke up at about six a.m., the house was quiet. Leo lay in the bed nearest to him, lightly snoring. Leo was like a rock with a sheet pulled over him. Raphael marveled at what a sound sleeper he was – just like Warren. When they were younger, Greg and Raphael had had fun with that, clapping, dropping books, and even banging pot lids to see if Leo and Warren would wake up.
He crept into his mother's room to check on her – to make sure, to feel the warm breath against his palm as she slept. Raphael's greatest fear was the one person who meant so much to him would go away. He loved his brothers and had respected and admired his father, but his mother kept him stepping lightly, son gingerly monitoring mother every morning and every evening, as if, without such a vigilance, he would lose her, the way he lost his father.
He wondered what would happen when he went away to Hogwarts next year. He could not even bring himself to think of it.
Then he went downstairs to the kitchen for a drink of water. Raphael was not scared of the dark. He had been never been scared of the dark, even when he was small.
He remembered those summer nights when he would sometimes stand at the open window in the front hall and would feel a breeze. Then the breeze would begin to smell of earth and air and a mossy scent that meant only one thing: a thunderstorm.
There would be a wonderful temporary hush then, as Greg sat in the den with their father, reading or discussing Quidditch strategy, his mother in the kitchen instructing the house elves, Warren and Leo in their beds asleep.
He would go out to the back porch in his cotton pajamas, as the rain began falling in heavy drops against the roof, breezes came in the screens from all sides and swept against him. It was warm and wonderful and the lightning would come, and a few moments later, the thunder.
Then his mother would come and stand at the open porch door, and, after she said her standard warning, "You're going to catch your death of cold," she grew quiet. They both would listen together to the rain pour down and the thunderclap and smell the earth rising to greet them.
"You look invincible," his father said one night, when he joined them.
Raphael loved those times, when they seemed to feel the same thing. He turned to his parents, wrapped in his thin pajamas, and said: "I am."
Raphael went back up to his room and tried to go back to sleep. He did not notice the lack of snores coming from the bed on his other side, where Greg lay awake preoccupied with nerve wrecking thoughts of returning to school that day, now that the summer holidays were over.
While Raphael got good grades and impressed the teachers, Warren got up to mischief and charmed his peers; Greg was a mediocre student who lately did not like talking to his friends much and kept mostly to himself. This made him susceptible to teasing and even bullying.
Thus it was no surprise that morning as Ginny rushed around the house trying to get the children awake and ready for school and herself ready for work, she found her son curled up in bed complaining about a cough. Ginny willing told him that she would drop him off at The Burrow with Leo.
It was while she was in the breakfast room, having breakfast that, Harry dropped by as he had done almost everyday during the summer holidays, breakfast at The Blue Creek Manor a habit for him.
"Good morning." He beamed at Ginny, squeezing her shoulder affectionately before taking his seat between a sleepy Leo and a slightly bleary eyed Raphael.
"Good morning," they mumbled back.
"My, aren't we enthusiastic this morning." He commented, dryly.
"First day of school," Raphael said by way of explanation.
"I'm still asleep," Leo explained. Harry reached across and ruffled his hair affectionately. Leo scrunched up his face and yawned.
"Where are your brothers? They should be down by now," Ginny told Raphael, who shrugged. As far as he was concerned, it was still too early in the morning to be responsible.
"I could drop Leo off at The Burrow, if you want, so you wouldn't have to rush." Harry volunteered.
"Oh, would you?" Ginny looked extremely relieved. "That would be wonderful. You'll have to take Greg as well."
"He's not going to school?" Harry asked.
Ginny shook her head. "He's got a cough."
Harry frowned. "He seemed fine at the wedding two days ago."
"He's pretending." Raphael stated, matter-of-factly, not to snitch on his brother so much as to help him deal with his fears. "He hates school."
Ginny gawked at her eldest son but had no time to respond because Greg and Warren had walked into the room.
After a round of 'Good Morning's, Harry decided to settle the matter and ask Greg himself. "Greg, are you ill?"
He opened his mouth to reply but something in Harry's voice or perhaps in his face gave him pause. He had entered the room with a wan demeanor imperfectly masking the bloom of good health. Now he seemed more confused than sickening from a cough.
"Dear boy," Harry said, softening his tone, "do you think you might try to make it to school today because it's the first day and it might not be as bad as you think?"
He pondered this request and glanced at his mother.
"I agree with Harry," Ginny said. "Perhaps you're feeling better now."
Greg coughed once feebly, but even he could see the game was lost and it being lost, there was no reason to pretend to no appetite. He gazed longingly at the spread on the table. "Is there jam today with bread?" he asked.
Harry, however, was not satisfied. He hoped to have a word sometime soon with Greg alone about hisloathing for school. He had to have a good reason for that.
After breakfast, Harry got ready to Floo to the Burrow with Leo.
"We can't go yet," Leo told Harry, "Mummy hasn't kissed me goodbye."
Harry agreed to wait while Ginny tended to her other sons, adjusting their school uniform, making sure they had their lunch boxes.
"Warren, you have show-and-tell today. Please, honey, remember body parts do not count." She reminded him. He pouted dismally before going off to fetch his pet owl.
"Now, you," Ginny turned to Leo, smoothing his hair and leaning down to kiss him on the cheek. "You be a good boy and have fun at The Burrow."
Leo nodded, smiling, "I love you, Mummy."
"Love you too, darling. Now, off you go."
After a peck on the cheek from Ginny, Harry held Leo's hand and Flooed to The Burrow.
The Weasley Matriarch was out in the garden, tending to her tomatoes and cabbages in the plot of vegetables she kept growing in her garden ever since her children had left home, to give her something to while away her time.
Leo let of Harry's hand and ran out to join his grandmother. One of his favorite activities at The Burrow was to chase the garden gnomes around while his grandmother weeded and cultivated her plants nearby.
"Good morning, darling!" she cried out as Leo threw his little arms around her from behind her.
"Good morning, grandma," he muttered, before running towards a garden gnome he had spotted hiding behind a rather large cabbage.
"Hullo, Mrs. Weasley," Harry greeted her.
Mrs. Weasley stood up, startled. "Why, Harry, I wasn't expecting you."
He shook his head. "I came to drop off Leo," he explained nonchalantly. He felt rather underfoot with the scrutinizing look Mrs. Weasley bestowed upon him.
"That's nice, honey. Ginny needs a hand now and then. She's too stubborn to admit it though," Mrs. Weasley told him, taking off her gardening gloves.
"Let's have a seat." She pointed to the two garden chairs at the porch where they could sit and talk and keep an eye on Leo at the same time.
Molly had wanted to speak with Harry ever since the wedding. Arthur had advised her against it, saying that it was not their business anymore what Ginny did with her life. Molly felt otherwise – her children's' lives were always her business.
She had seen, with the same laser beam eyes that sought out any mischief by the twins, something beneath the surface of her daughter's smile; in her placated, contented movements and in how her body responded whenever Harry was around her. She was quite sure Ginny herself was unaware of this.
Harry was a different story - Molly had never seen a man quite so capable and alert as when in the service of a woman he hoped to please: helping Ginny with the boys, bringing her food, consoling her, looking out for her.
"I've been meaning to talk to you for some time now," Molly began hesitantly.
Harry slumped back in his seat, knowing immediately where this was going to go. "Is this about Ginny?" he asked, not wanting to beat around the bush.
Mrs. Weasley nodded and before she could open her mouth and speak, Harry beat her to it. "Then I want to assure you, with my utmost confidence, that we are simply friends, good friends and nothing more and-"
"That's just it, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley cut him off, a tad exasperated, "My daughter cannot have you as just a friend. She may not know it, but she needs you as something more."
Harry swallowed hard, staring at Mrs. Weasley, completely flabbergasted. Was she saying what he thought she was saying?
"She has four children whom you mean the world to. The past few weeks all I've been hearing is 'Uncle Harry this' and 'Uncle Harry that'. It takes quite a lot to make an impression on those boys, who are mostly unwilling to let anyone in their lives at the moment, and you've done it," Mrs. Weasley continued, already on a roll to get her point across.
Harry finally managed to find his voice to speak. "That's why I'll be there for them; for a while, at least." It was not that he could possibly leave them, but he had his Quidditch career to think about, his own life. Even ifit was a painful possibility, he had to consider it, as his agent so often reminded him the past summer.
"A while won't work," Mrs. Weasley told him firmly. "You have to be there for them, long term."
Harry sat back in his seat, astounded by what Mrs. Weasley was telling him. He knew Mrs. Weasley wanted Ginny to move on, find someone and get married, but it never dawned on him that she would want that someone to be him.
"And not just as a friend. They deserve more than that, Harry, and you know it," she added, somberly.
She patted his knee affectionately, "Think about it, Harry." Then she rose from her seat, beckoned Leo and made her way back into the house, leaving Harry to sit on the porch alone, contemplating her words and his own revelations.
TBC
Author's note
Thanks goes to my wonderful beta reader: 'Don'tletmegetme'
Thank you for the overwhelming flood of wonderful reviews..
Thanks a lot for your vote of confidence in my writing – you must really be my guardian angel.lol. You should ask the reviewer who made that remark if they're smoking anything. Lol.
No killing off Ginny in this story and turning Mrs. Weasley into a meanie. Witch's honour.
As for my other HG story 'Your Body's A wonderland', it got deleted in case you didn't notice by the fanfiction people for reasons I have yet to fathom. I'm glad you think it's my best story. I personally beg to differ – I think my best is the DG story 'You're the Only One'. I love that one.
I have been in love with Johnny Depp ever since Astronaut's Wife – he was so hot and acted really well as the dark and dangerous alien in disguise.
Glad you spotted the extended metaphor and thanks for the tip – I'll just have to live with the risk. Besides two of my other fics without song lyrics in them got deleted for no reason already. Glad you liked Mrs. Weasley as well. I was afraid she might be a tad OOC.
Any fear of this being an incomplete fic can be put aside for I have all chapters of this story finished, ready to betaed and uploaded..never fear..unless I don't get enough reviews and get discouraged..hehe..i LOVE emotional blackmail..
REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW ADDICT NEEDS ANOTHER FIX!