Chapter Five: Memorial Day

Three days later, Ron knew that there was something important he had forgotten from the minute he woke up, but it wasn't until after he broke up Chloe and Adam's attempt to see who could throw an intact handful of scrambled eggs the furthest that he remembered what it was. It was the seventh anniversary of Fred and George's deaths. He found himself thanking God that Hermione wasn't there. She always went even weirder than normal when that particular anniversary rolled around every year. Besides, he knew that he was going to have more than enough to put up with without Hermione making things even worse.

He wasn't altogether surprised when Ginny came sauntering in without so much as a by-your-leave, though he was slightly disappointed. Percy had almost nothing to do with the family, Charlie never left Romania at all these days, Bill was in Sweden on bank business and couldn't get off, Fleur was suffering from a summer cold, Harry probably wouldn't feel comfortable with showing up, Amelia rarely left her house, Hermione wasn't likely to come where he was, and Ron had hoped Ginny would stay wherever she had been so he wouldn't have to observe what she had dubbed 'Memorial Day', where they all gathered at the graves of their parents and brothers. No such luck. She was carrying a suitcase in one manicured hand, leading a little boy by the other, and looking around the kitchen of her old home curiously, as if she had never been there before in her life and found the house interesting. Oddly enough, it was Chloe who recognized her first.

"Aunt Ginny!" she exclaimed. Helena, who had not recognized her immediately, looked mortified. Adam and Nicky looked curious. Chloe herself looked devilish. "That's a pretty dress you're wearing, Aunt Ginny," she said, and Ron moved faster than he thought he ever could to snatch the bowl of oatmeal in front of her away before she threw some of it straight at Ginny's pretty dress and set off an explosion of Ginny's not-so-pretty temper.

Ginny looked down at her dress appreciatevely. It was long, vivid blue, sequined, and obviously expensive. Ron privately thought she looked like a hooker in it, but decided it was better to leave that opinion unvoiced. "Thank you, darling," she said. "But don't call me Aunt Ginny. My name is Ginevra."

"Ginmembra?" Adam said, and Chloe went into a spell of laughter that only ended when Adam punched her. The two would have begun fighting, but Helena stopped them with a look. Lena had been taking too much on herself since Hermione left. He would have to do something about that. He was about to force himself to welcome his sister when Nicky got up from the table and walked over to the little boy still holding on to Ginny's hand, who appeared to be about the same age.

"I'm Nicky," he said. "Want to play?"

The other boy, who had ducked behind Ginny as soon as he registered that Nicky was in fact talking to him, stuck his head back around her knees. "Are you one of my cousins?" he asked shyly.

Nicky looked as if he were puzzling over the strange new word cousin and then shrugged. " I dunno." He tugged on Ginny's skirt. "Am I one of his cousins?"

Ginny laughed. "Of course you are," she said. "Do you know what a cousin is, Nicky?"

"No," Nicky admitted promptly.

"Well, your daddy is my brother and I'm his sister, just like Adam is your brother and Helena and Chloe are your sisters. That makes me your aunt and it makes my son your cousin. Arthur, come around and meet your cousin Nicky." Ginny smiled kindly at Nicky. "Arthur is just your age, so I'm hoping the two of you can be very good friends," she said. "He doesn't have any brothers and sisters."

Ginny's son came finally emerged from behind her, and Ron had to bite his tongue hard to keep from yelling aloud with shock.

Arthur's eyes were the same pale blue as Ginny's, a color that could look either crystal or stone depending on the light and his mood. Other than that, he bore no obvious resemblance to his mother. Nor did he look at all like Colin Creevey. As a matter of fact, there was only one person Ron knew who Arthur Creevey did look like, and Arthur's face could have been a portrait of that man when he was much younger. Arthur looked exactly like Harry.

Dimly, Ron remembered what Harry had said while they were discussing Ginny the day of the Cannons match: I've been waiting on her to come out with her little secret for four years. Her dirty secret, you might say. He hadn't known what Harry was talking about then, but he knew now. This shy little boy clinging to Ginny's hand as Nicky tried to be friendly was Harry's son. There was no other explination. No child produced by Ginny and Colin would look like Arthur. There were very few other Potters left for Ginny to sleep with. The pieces all added up. Arthur Creevey was Harry Potter's son. He tore his eyes away from the boy's face and looked at his sister in disbelief.

Ginny knew immediately that the game was up. She flushed angrily, looking defensive, and called Helena, who had been staring at Arthur with the same shocked expression Ron knew had to be on his own face, over to her. A few murmured words, and Lena took over monitoring the two little boys while Ginny marched over to Ron and pulled him into the sitting room. "So," she said. "My deep dark secret is finally out." The look in her eyes was challenging; her whole manner suggested she was ready for a fight. She was not happy with him. "I was hoping for a few more years, but I couldn't find a sitter and Colin had to work. As long as my ex-husband doesn't find out, it'll still be all right. You're going to keep your mouth shut." It was not a request.

"Harry already knows," Ron managed. All the color drained from Ginny's face, and it was a mark of how shocked she was that her heavy makeup couldn't disguise how pale she had become.

"What?" She gave him no time to answer. "It can't be! He can't know! I took every precaution. This is the first time in Arthur's life anyone who could possibly know Harry had come into contact with him, besides Colin and I know Colin wouldn't betray me. He loves Arthur as if he really were his father. I've kept him hidden since he was born, because even then you could tell whose son he was. How? How?" Her voice had risen almost to a shriek by the end.

"Shhh. You'll upset the kids." Ginny threw him a murderous look and began pacing up and down. "Harry's been keeping some kind of surveillance on you for years, Gin," he said. "He knows."

"How do you know that?" Ginny asked.

"I know because he told me." Harry hadn't actually said that he was watching Ginny, and he hadn't said that he knew about Arthur, but Ron thought he could be forgiven the technicality. "Said he had been waiting for you to come out with your secret for four years. He didn't say this part, but I think he's about to get tired of waiting. I think he's about to try to force your hand."

"I won't lose my boy!" she snapped. "Arthur and Colin are all I've got in the world. I won't lose Arthur! I won't! I'll kill Harry first, I swear to God I will!" She was starting to sound hysterical again. "Arthur is mine," she said. "Mine. I carried him for nine months. I went through fourteen hours of hell to bring him into the world. I nursed him and taught him to walk and talk and-" she broke off, choking on a sob she tried to suppress.

"I don't think Harry would try to take Arthur away from you," Ron began, but Ginny cut him off.

"Use your head for once, Ron," she said. "Harry would never do something like that to me. Harry Potter would. Do you understand? The private man wouldn't want to hurt me and Arthur by separating us. The politician won't give a damn." She hesitated, looking troubled. "Something happened, Ron," she said. "Years ago. Something terrible. Harry doesn't really remember it, but he remembers enough to be a threat to me. He never trusted me again, at any rate. Any court in the world would take his side over mine if he tried to take Arthur, and if what happened isn't enough,well, paying off a judge isn't that hard to do. If you've got the money and the connections. He does. I don't. " Her eyes went from pale blue crystal to pale blue stone, and her dark lashes lowered to screen them. "I may kill him anyway," she said musingly, not really talking to Ron. "He made use of the strategy in the War, so he can hardly blame me for learning my lessons too well. Catch the enemy off-guard, before the enemy can rally its defenses. Only this time, there wouldn't be another battle. This time, it would all be over in a heartbeat, and I would be safe." She expelled a long breath. "Safe." Ron didn't think she was talking about the possiblity of losing Arthur anymore.

"Ginny, have you lost your mind?" he asked, not quite sure if he meant literally or not. "You're worried about losing Arthur. I understand that better than you think. But if you try kill Harry, you're sure to lose him, because you'll be in prison if you even survive the attempt. You know as well as I do that people who attack Harry usually don't come out of it in one piece." He was hoping to talk her out of whatever she was planning to do, because even if she didn't actually intend murder, she was definitely up to something that wouldn't go over well in a court of law. "I don't know what's going on, but-"

"That's right," she interrupted. "You don't. You know nothing about what's been going on under your nose for all these years, Ron. It started before the twins died, but you never saw it. It's still going on, and you still don't see it. You have no idea what you're dealing with, so I would advise you to keep your head down and your mouth shut. If you still can." She glanced out the window. "Let's get Memorial Day over with. I'm thinking of staying for a while, but first we have to get this over with."

Hermione's friend Cynthia arrived faithfully to watch the kids at the same time every year, so it was no surprise to either of them that she was already there when they emerged from the sitting room. She had all five kids gathered around her and was telling them a story. Arthur was sitting very close to Helena, as if afraid to move away from her, and her dark hair and his black made them stand out from the varying shades of red around them. For some reason, it frightened him that Helena and Arthur stood out from the others. Harry had said years earlier that, as his eldest godchild, Helena was first in line to inherit if he didn't have children and second if he did. Arthur was his semi-legitimate son, apparently born nine months after Harry and Ginny's divorce. Ginny started to move towards the door, but he touched her arm and she turned impatiently.

"What?"

"I'm going to take care of my kids no matter what happens," he said flatly. "You know that. I'll look out for Arthur as well, where I can. That boy's going to have enough troubles on his own without getting caught up in whatever the hell is going on."

Ginny almost smiled. "Thank you," she said. "There's not much you can do at this point, but...thanks, Ron."

They didn't speak again as they went outside and towards the hilltop that, in better days, had served as a makeshift Quidditch pitch. Now it served as a family burial plot since the old one had filled up. Molly, Arthur, Fred, and George were all buried there beneath the trees, within walking distance of the house they had once called home. Ron made it a practice to come up at least once a week, but he realized that he hadn't been in almost two weeks. It only mattered to him-Hermione had even been inclined to call him a nutter for walking all that way to look at some headstones- but he always felt guilty when he didn't.

Ginny, thanks to her two-inch heels and narrow-skirted dress, had a much harder time making her way up the hill than Ron did. He offered her a hand, but she shook her head and pushed on doggedly. They still didn't speak out of a sense of solemnity and tradition. There should have been a small crowd making its way towards the hill-Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ron, Ginny, Harry, Fleur, Amelia, and Hermione- but instead there was only Ron and Ginny. They were in for a surprise when they finally reached the small row of lost relatives. Three members of the family had already beaten them to it.

"I'm sorry," Amelia said in a choked voice to the other two, her mascara running down her cheeks as she cried. "It's very hard for me-"

"We understand, Emmie," Harry said soothingly, offering her a handkerchief. Hermione put her arm around Amelia's shoulders.

"What in the hell are you three doing here?" Ginny demanded. Ron knew her thoughts had just flown to Arthur, because his had just flown to Helena, Chloe, Adam, and Nicky. He should have known she would be here. It was always Hermione who told Cynthia to come. Why hadn't he thought of that? All three of them were staring at him and Ginny, and he found himself thinking again of the scene in the kitchen where Helena and Arthur stood out because there were two of them and three redheads. Now there were two redheads and three dark-haired people. Oddly appropriate.

Amelia dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief. "We have as much of a right to be here as you do, Ginny," she said, and the look she gave Ginny was far from sisterly.

"She has a point," Ron muttered to Ginny. "They're family, too."

Ginny, however, wasn't looking at Amelia. "I'm surprised you'd show up here," she said to Harry, not pleasantly.

"Molly and Arthur were the closest thing I ever had to parents," Harry said, unaffected by his ex-wife's unfriendly demeanor. "Of course I came. I always do. I'm normally just more careful, that's all. You're looking well."

"I am well. It seems being thousands of miles away from you suits me." Ginny smiled sweetly. Harry might have flinched; Ron couldn't tell, given that he was trying to watch Harry, Amelia, and especially Hermione all at the same time. Hermione sighed.

"Look, we're not here to fight," she said, sounding tired. She was staring at a neutral point to her right that was just far enough off that she could plausibly say she hadn't noticed Ron standing there. "We're here to remember Molly and Arthur and Fred and George. Can we just do that, for now?" She still wasn't looking at anyone.

They all stood in silence for a few minutes, looking at the headstones and remembering the four people beneath them. Amelia was shaking with sobs, but she didn't make a sound. It was Hermione who broke the quiet, finally. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry." She was staring at the single headstone Fred and George were buried beneath. The twins had been born on the same day and had died on the same day and had been buried together. Ron looked up and realized that everyone seemed to have different views on what they were to be doing. He was standing between the two plots, where everyone had once stood. Harry was standing more or less near Molly and Arthur, a little apart from everyone, apparently praying or something. The three women were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, all looking at Fred and George's grave with looks of physical pain on their faces. Even when they were gathered together to mourn, they were divided these days.

There wasn't much talking or remembering this year, though that was normally nine-tenths of Memorial Day. No one felt like dealing with the others. Hermione started to sweep off without a word after they disbanded, but Ron grabbed her arm without thinking it out first. "What do you want?" she asked coldly, as if they were strangers.

"Hermione-" What could he say to her? He knew it was useless to try to convince her to come back, but they had to talk. He knew that, and he was willing to bet she did, too. She didn't let him search for words very long.

"You don't have to worry about Cynthia," she said. "I don't have any choice but to leave the kids here, for now. Otherwise, I can reassure you that they wouldn't be there when you got back.I'm sleeping on my attorney's couch,though, so you get to keep them for a little longer."

"You know you're always welcome at my place, you know," Amelia chimed in. Hermione gave her a shallow smile.

"I know, Amy, but I'd rather stay where I can't be found." The look she gave Ron was considerably less friendly. "Kate should be approaching you with my offers soon. Mary wants to do most of this through Kate instead of her getting mixed up in it. Good evening." She Disapparated, leaving Ron standing there staring at where she had been a moment before. He stood there for a long time before someone-he wasn't sure who-shook him back into reality and he went back to the house.