Chapter 15

Escape and the Rain

"Ron, I've — "

"Shh!" Ron quieted Harry, waving toward the sleeping Brandon in his crib.

"I think you'll want to hear this . . . "

"Well, come on downstairs then, you wouldn't believe how hard it is to get that one to sleep."

"I think I know where Ginny is," Harry burst out with once they were at last far enough away from the slumbering boy.

"Of course you do, she's at Hogwarts," responded Ron, looking at Harry as though he'd lost his marbles.

"No, she's not. Michael's got her."

"WHAT!"

"Shh, I thought you didn't want to wake Brandon!"

Ron's face turned a beet red and Harry swore that if he were a cartoon character, smoke would be coming from his ears. "Brandon's going to be awake soon enough, anyway . . . I can't believe he has my sister! Was she back with him? Is that why you're sulking around all the time? Why the hell didn't you tell anyone about it?"

"I — I wasn't sure if she really was with him or not — "

"Even if you suspected it, you really should have said something," charged Ron.

"Said something about what?" investigated Hermione, walking downstairs. "And you'd better keep your mouths shut because the next person who wakes Brandon up is in for it!"

"Michael's gone off and kidnapped Ginny," Ron informed her, causing her face to pale considerably.

"Oh, I was afraid something like this was going to happen . . . "

"You knew too?" Ron directed toward her furiously, causing Brandon to start crying at all the angry voices. Hermione dashed upstairs yet again, this time grateful to her son for providing her with an excuse to elude Ron's condemning stare.

"Listen, Ron, I'm going to find her. The only issue is that I don't know where Michael lives, or even if he's keeping her at his house."

"Well, that's as good as any other place to start, I suppose," Ron managed to say, though he was trying enormously hard to contain the sheer amount of fury building inside of him. When he came face to face with Michael, there would definitely be hell to pay.

Cillian and Michael Corner were standing off to the side while Ginny was being examined by a Mediwitch employed by the Corner family, someone Cillian knew could be trusted.

"How is she?" questioned Michael.

"Oh, she's fine. She's about two centimeters dilated, but as she insists she's felt no contractions as of yet, I'm going to say it'll be about a day or so until the baby puts in an appearance," answered the Mediwitch, a short, plump woman who rather resembled Dolores Umbridge.

"Well, then, that will be all," dismissed Cillian, waving a hand toward the door. After glancing once at Ginny lying languidly on the bed in the center of the room, he himself followed suit, giving his son a hard rap on the shoulder when he seemed rather unwilling to leave Ginny behind.

The truth was, Ginny had been having contractions since the early morning, but she'd swore to herself she wouldn't tell anyone, even if it meant having the baby in complete silence. She gripped the stark white sheets that covered the bed as another pain coursed through her body. True to her word, she made no sound. The only evidence of her pain was the grimace on her otherwise ghastly pale face.

"Harry, I'm sorry," she sobbed to herself. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you when I had the chance."

"Where in the hell is she?" growled Harry menacingly, the usual emerald of his eyes now darkened to forest green in anger.

"I — I don't know what you're talking about," stuttered the Mediwitch that had in fact examined Ginny not half an hour earlier. Ron and Harry had just arrived at Corner Manor (as they'd discovered it was called) when they'd noticed the woman exiting the front door with a less than subtle Mediwitch uniform and a bag bearing the emblem of St. Mungo's. They had taken this to mean that Ginny was indeed inside and, in all likelihood, in labor.

"You bloody well do know what I'm talking about," threatened Harry, his wand pointing directly at her chest. "And if you still can't manage to remember, than I fear that I just may have to use this."

"O — Okay. Young woman, red hair, brown eyes? About to have a baby?"

"Yes, not stop your stalling and tell me how to get inside!"

With a last look of pleading desperation, the woman rolled her eyes and let out a huffy breath. "Fine, but I hope you know I'm as good as forfeiting my life. If you can get inside the house — which isn't likely anyway — you have to go straight down the main hallway upstairs. There's a painting of Michael's late mother, Clarice, on the left once you go about ten feet down. Lift it up and say Flames of Red. Don't ask about the password, it's what I heard him say. Now will you please let me go?"

"Obliviate," muttered Ron, as Harry didn't even have time to answer her question. He'd taken off at a run toward the house the second he found out directions and the password. Glancing back at the dazed Mediwitch, Ron cast a body-bind on her — just in case.

Ron was at long last able to catch up with Harry, who was concealed in some bushes on the side of the house. Silencing Ron by holding his index finger in the air, Harry waved toward a window, illuminated by a single light. Ron's eyes expanded as he saw Cillian Corner, or who he supposed to be Cillian, sitting reclined in a comfortable looking chair, head on his chest. By the apparent evenness of his breathing, he was sleeping. Harry looked at Ron in shock; surely such an important man wouldn't be asleep during the birth of someone he coveted as much as his granddaughter. Therefore, Harry pieced together, Ginny must not be having the baby yet . . . or more likely, putting on that she's not.

"What do you plan on doing?" Ron asked quietly.

"I'm going to save her, that's what I plan on doing."

"As if that weren't obvious — "

"Ron, will you shut up already?" hissed Harry impatiently, trying to consider something. He reached forward and eased open the window, flinching when a small squeaking noise sounded out into the otherwise placid night.

"Oh, is that your master plan? To let everyone know we've turned up?"

"Ron! Shut your loud, gigantic mouth right this second!"

Ron scowled and mouthed silently: "Shut your loud, gigantic mouth right this second!"

"Here's the plan: I'm going through this window. You stay here and keep watch; I know Ginny's in here and I know she's in pain. I think she's in labor already."

"So I'm only here to be the sentinel?"

"Right."

"Very well," Ron agreed, not at all eager to encounter Michael's loathsome father, and especially not Michael himself. Then, surely he would be sent to Azkaban for homicide.

Harry sent a skeptical look back at Ron before cautiously launching himself inside the house. He was surprised to find himself in the room and not expelled back fifty feet by some sort of protective charm. Perhaps the Corners felt so superior to everyone that Cillian thought no one would dare intrude upon their home.

The first thing he noticed when he did enter the room that he was in a library of some sort. There were shelves upon shelves of books, most of which bore titles such as Dangerous Dilemmas for Dummies and Extreme Evilness for Everybody.

"Dad — "

Harry rapidly ducked in back of a shelf as he saw Michael enter the room. The fury that coursed through his veins at the sight of the impudent little bastard was enough to make him want to blow his cover and strangle him with his bare hands.

Cillian started awake, making a snort of some kind as he heard his son's voice. "What is it, Michael? Don't tell me that stupid Weasley girl has managed to escape from right under your nose?"

"No, father . . . but I think she's lying to us. I think she's about to have the baby," answered Michael obediently.

"Really?" Harry heard Cillian ask excitedly, and he could picture him standing there, rubbing his hands with glee.

"Yes, Father, I just came from seeing her. She's a lot paler than the last time I saw her, and every five minutes she clenched her fists as if she were in pain."

"At last, I'll have an adequate child to bring up to the Dark Side," Cillian wheezed, apparently beside himself with happiness.

Harry listened with bated breath as two pairs of footfalls were heard leaving the room, and stepped from behind the bookshelf. He gave a small wave to Ron to let him know he was okay, then walked out the door, following the directions given to him by the Mediwitch. Once he reached the portrait of whom he knew must be Michael's mother (she looked precisely like him) he glanced around him warily before raising up the painting and noticing a small box that looked like those he'd remembered from Muggle drive-throughs at fast food restaurants.

"Er . . . Flames of Red?" he stammered softly, still alert so that he wouldn't be taken by surprise if he was caught.

Much as the brick wall in Diagon Alley, the solid wall seemed to melt in front of Harry's eyes. Behind it he saw Ginny stretched out on a bed, breathing very heavily. She wasn't facing the door as he entered, and he heard her say, "So you fools have finally wizened up to the fact that I was lying?"

"Took them long enough. Good job."

Harry could see Ginny's body stiffen at the sound of his voice, and slowly she turned around, tears apparent in her dull brown eyes that had once shone so lovingly at him. "Harry, is . . . is that really — " She was cut off as another pain ripped through her, and she could barely catch her breath.

"Come on, we've got to get you out of here," urged Harry, walking over to her and helping her stand up. She gripped the long-sleeved black shirt he was wearing as the contraction got to the point where she couldn't stand the pain anymore.

"Please," she panted. "Please make it stop."

Harry's heart almost broke at the vision of her in such an phenomenal amount of agony. "Come on, Ron's outside. We're taking you home."

Ginny practically started to cry at the far away prospect of "home," but she knew that like as not, she wouldn't be able to make it home before delivering the baby.

"And just where do you think you're going with my granddaughter, young lady?" asked a slick voice from their left as Harry tried to make it outside with Ginny, who still hadn't let go of his shirt.

"I'll take care of this," Harry whispered in her ear, drawing his wand and aiming it directly at Cillian's chest.

"Oh, Mr. Potter's angry now, is he? Too bad, sir, but I believe that Miss Weasley is going to need to stay here until the baby is born, at which point well, in all likelihood . . . I'll kill her."

"Is that so?" asked Ginny furiously, tentatively letting go of Harry's shirt. Contraction free at the moment, Ginny decided to take things into her own hands.

"Ginny — "

"No, I'm putting this bastard in his place. You listen to me now, Mr. Corner," she spat his name indignantly. "I am not about to let you take my daughter away from me. She may technically be parented by your son, but she's no more his daughter than that plant over there is! She is my daughter . . . and Harry's, and you'd best keep your foul hands off of her!" With her last condemnation, Ginny smirked in triumph as she saw Harry's wand point over her shoulder unexpectedly and hit Cillian fair and square in the chest with a blinding white light.

"We should get out here, NOW!" prodded Harry, grabbing Ginny's hand and pulling her in the direction of the front entrance.

He could scarcely believe it when they were finally outside in the fresh air, but he soon came down from his sense of exhilaration when he noticed that Ginny was standing still, both hands wrapped around her stomach. He looked at her in question, and she declared, "My water just broke."

"Oh, umm . . . that's not very good, is it?"

"What the hell do you think?" she asked harshly. She moaned as a pain stronger than all of the others put together took over her body.

"Ron! Thank God! I didn't see you — I thought you'd been caught!" exclaimed Harry as he saw the tall red-head hurrying toward them from the bushes where he'd last seen him. "Pay attention: I need you to go to the Burrow and let everyone know where we are and what's going on. We don't have time to get there, Ginny's about to have the baby."

As Ron nodded in compliance, eyes wide, an ominous clap of thunder boomed in the distance. As if that weren't good enough, a downpour of freezing rain was on its heels. "Harry," Ginny gasped, "she's coming . . . "

"Go, Ron! I can't Apparate Ginny anywhere like this!"

Ron disappeared with a faint pop and Ginny sunk to the ground on her knees, groaning in protest at the unbearable pain. It was like nothing she'd ever felt before — she'd never been under Cruciatus, but she figured that it must be less pain that what she was feeling at the moment.

Harry lifted her up gently, and walked her over toward a tall oak tree nearby. She gratefully leaned back against it, lifting her face to the sky. The icy torrent of rain cooled her burning skin, running down her face and neck. Her comfort didn't last long, however, as she felt a sudden upsurge of pressure, followed by the fierce urge to push.

"Harry! I — I need to — "

"Umm . . . okay, Ginny. Just push when you need to — "

"Now!" she yelled, grabbing hold of his shirt collar.

" . . . come on just a little bit more . . . that's it, breathe, she's almost here — "

Over Harry's muffled words of encouragement, Ginny could hear the cry of her daughter. And despite everything that had happened over the past nine months — the rape, the pregnancy, running away — she knew, at last, that she was right where she belonged.

"I – Is she okay?" she stuttered, shivering. Glancing down at the red, wrinkly thing that was her child, Ginny couldn't believe that after all the drama, she was finally here. Safe and sound, in the arms of the people that wanted to love and protect her.

"Well, she seems fine to me," answered Harry quietly. He was no Healer, but he assumed that when a baby was born crying and squirmy, she was doing just fine. He swallowed hard, amazed at what he'd just witnessed.

"Would you like to know her name?"

"What's that?"

"Her name," Ginny repeated. "It's Amaya Bridget. Amaya means "night rain" in Japanese. Fitting, don't you think?" She watched the man before her, and a fresh wave of hot tears came to her eyes. Harry's dark hair was plastered wet over his forehead, and he was looking down at the baby in his arms. It was obvious that he'd already fallen in love with her, and she was barely three minutes old.

"I see them! Over there!" voices were shouting. Ron and a team of Aurors, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and a Mediwitch, were running toward Harry and Ginny. They'd Apparated a bit off their mark, thanks to Ron's memory skills — or rather, lack thereof. Harry shrugged off his jacket, and though it was slightly water-logged, wrapped Amaya in it and handed her over to Ron.

The Mediwitch walked over to Ginny, giving her a cursory exam before helping her to stand carefully. After getting permission from her parents to take her to St. Mungo's, the woman pulled out a small roll of gauze. Harry soon realized that it was a Portkey, one that all Mediwitches and Healers that worked at the Wizard hospital were required to keep on them at all times.

Harry still stood in a daze, not even caring that his clothes were completely soaked through and he was shivering uncontrollably. He Apparated to the Burrow and answered all of Hermione's anxious questions before walking in a stupor up the stairs. Still soaking wet, he sat clumsily on Ginny's bed. He couldn't help but remember the day he'd first arrived; it was in this very room that he'd first found out — where he'd first made the promise to protect Ginny no matter what was to come.

All he could think about was that he was going to be a father . . . a bloody father. He loved Amaya more than life itself already. He knew that no matter what happened, he couldn't accept it again if Ginny thought it right for him to be out of her life. He simply had to get Ginny to accept his proposal.