A/N: This is the final chapter of When Angels Cry… I hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it!
Chapter 8: Ginevra Potter – His father's son:
The sun broke lazily through the clouds, and it's rays streamed gently down to touch the earth, where they fell upon a pretty, young, red-haired girl, who was holding a baby boy in her arms.
The lady was crying as she stood looking down at the grave in front of her, which was blanketed in beautiful red roses.
Ginevra, more commonly known as Ginny, stood slowly rocked her sleeping 4-month-old son back and forth, her eyes blurred with tears, her face pale and her heart broken.
Ginny was 16 when she'd married, and barely 17 when she'd given birth.
Her late husband, Harry James Potter had died to save the world, as was his destiny, Ginny knew that. But it hadn't made his passing any easier.
It broke her heart that Harry hadn't even been given the chance to see his son; especially since he'd been so excited when Ginny had told him they were pregnant.
Sirius Harold James Potter had opened his eyes the day after his father had closed his; the shock of her beloved husband's death had sent Ginny into labour a week or so earlier than expected.
As Ginny stood gazing absently at Harry's tombstone, Sirius woke, and his sudden, intense cry shattered her reverie. She wiped uselessly at her own tears as she attempted to console her baby.
"My darling! No, please don't cry… baby, please don't cry… hush now darling don't cry… don't cry Siri, don't cry…."
She looked up wildly from her son to Harry's tombstone, and, as a sudden urge of anger swept over her, she screamed, "Do you here this Harry! Do you hear your son crying! You know why he's crying Harry? It's because he wants his daddy! He wants his daddy to come back…."
She collapsed slowly to her knees and clutched her baby nearer to her.
"Do you hear your son screaming for you?" she whispered, and fresh tears swelled in her eyes, "Do you hear me screaming for you?"
She sobbed weakly for a long time before she managed to look down at her boy.
Sirius was watching her, his green eyes still filled with tears, but with a deadly serious look upon his face.
She calmed down entirely, as she sat and watched her baby. She smiled slowly as he gazed up at her, then he smiled back and suddenly he giggled. She laughed, also, as she watched his brilliant green eyes, inherited from his grandmother and father, crinkle up with laughter.
She reached out one hand and softly ran it over his head. His hair was a curious shade of red-black, as if it couldn't decide which of the two colours it wanted to be.
She picked up one of the red rose petals next to her and handed it to Sirius. He regarded it with interest, before his hand shot out and he tried to put it in his mouth. She laughed softly and took it off him, "No, baby, don't eat it."
She then turned back to her husband's tombstone, "See your son, Harry. Your beautiful baby?" she murmured.
A sudden breeze rushed around her. She closed her eyes and felt it sweep over her skin, and she smiled again, this time a slow sad smile.
After a long time of sitting and staring at Harry's grave, Ginny stood, feeling at peace.
Harry loved her and he loved his son. She knew that. She'd known it all along, but before now she'd been too inconsolable to feel it.
But she still knew what it was to know what angels sounded like when the cried: It was the one single moment when your world falls apart, you lose everything in one second, and your heart breaks, never to heal again.
She would love Harry until the day she died and longer, but she hadn't lost everything.
She still had their son.
And she would raise Sirius as best as she possibly could, and she would keep Harry's spirit alive in his son's radiant emerald eyes. She owed him that much, at least.
But, at night, just as she was drifting off to sleep, she would listen to the angels cry, and she would let her tears fall, also. Because her heart was still broken, her world was still in pieces, and she had lost everything, save the tiny scrap of human in the next room, with bright eyes and hair that couldn't decide between flaming red and midnight black.
Sirius Harold James Potter; his father's son.
Rejoice! It's finally completed, after many months of broken computers and writer's block! Yay!
I was going to come up with something to put on Harry's gravestone, like I did with Dumbledore's quote on Cedric Diggory's, but in the end I couldn't create anything that I felt was good enough for the Boy-Who-Lived-Then-Died-Cos-Voldemort's –A-Bastard.
I figured, in the end, that it would be better to leave you all with your own view on what it should have read, and to leave me with mine.
Long lives Harry James Potter!
R&R… Adios, Starsight52.