Written for QLFC Round 10 as the Falcons' Captain.
Prompt: One half of your OTP is constantly flaky and unreliable.
Word Count: 1024
Priorities
Harry shifted James on his hip, then stared up at the weeping sky as he waited for the door to open. He wished, for once, to just let go of responsibilities and let the rain soak him. He wished he could stand and cry, let the tears mingle with the falling drops, but he had a kid, and he didn't want James getting sick. The impervious charm he had cast when leaving the house was still keeping them dry.
"Harry!" Hermione moved to hug him, then noticed the toddler on his arm and held back. She gave him a look, and Harry shook his head. "Come in," she said after a long minute, chewing her lip but keeping her thoughts to herself. Harry felt thankful—he didn't need words right now.
Ron looked up from where he stood in the small kitchenette, his wand levitating some herbs. "Harry? What are you doing—" He then noticed James. "Oh." He frowned, then went back to putting the ingredients in the pot over the stove, wiped his hands on a towel, and came to sit across from where Harry had settled on the sofa.
Hermione still hung awkwardly nearby, hesitating, but when she moved to speak, Harry shushed her, pointing to a sleeping James in his lap. Hermione harrumphed and sat down next to Ron.
Harry closed his eyes and leaned back into the cushions, letting the quiet lull him to the brink of sleep, James a comfortable weight in his arms. Then, slowly, he opened his eyes. "I picked him up from the Burrow." His voice was hoarse.
"Gin was supposed to be at home this week, wasn't she?" Ron was the one who spoke. No one replied. They all knew.
James… had come as a surprise to Harry and Ginny, a little less than a year ago. Harry had been ecstatic, Ginny much less so. She'd lamented for the loss of her career. Harry understood that, he really did. Despite how much it broke his heart, he'd given her the choice to abort.
The decision to keep the baby had been mutual. The day Ginny got back to her feet after James was born, she'd hit the path of her career back in full sprint. While competitive Quidditch hadn't been an option, she went to write for the sports sections. Harry supported her, but James needed a mother, too.
Harry worked half his hours, Molly and Arthur tried to support as much as they could, but for her to completely vanish from both of their lives, even as her words said otherwise… it broke Harry.
She was supposed to be on a break this week, so Harry could go back and get his work back on track. This was the third night in a row where 'something came up.'
He could take it for himself, but his son deserved better.
"You can't go on like this, Harry." Hermione was finally speaking. Harry didn't want to hear it, but he listened as she put into words what he felt. Finally, as she ran out of breath, she said, "This is not okay."
"I agree." Harry looked up. While Ron was his best friend and had supported him through everything, he'd always stayed mum on this matter. Even Arthur and Molly had tried talking sense to Ginny, but Ron had kept away from all discussions. "I know I haven't said anything much, but you deserve better, Harry. Both of you do."
Harry knew it. He'd known this for a long time, but when it was Ron who spoke, Harry let himself believe it.
He conjured a patronus, then said, "Ginny, we need to talk."
It was still raining, but now that James was tucked away safely at Ron and Hermione's place, Harry let it soak him. It felt strangely freeing.
When Ginny finally appeared on the corner of the street, Harry moved to the inside of Leaky Cauldron and sat down on the table Hannah had reserved for him earlier. A moment later, Ginny sat across from him, completely dry, not a hair out of place.
"What is this about, Harry? I just have a quick break, I need to get back soon."
"Yeah, this will take just a minute." Harry closed his eyes. This, what he was feeling right now, wasn't anything new. He'd been thinking of it for many months now. Yet, it felt hard. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "We can't keep doing this, Ginny."
She didn't meet his eye. "Look, I'm sorry about James, okay? It's just, I have to take every opportunity I can grab, if I want to get big, and Mum said he wasn't a problem."
"Of course he isn't a problem, dammit!" Harry hadn't wanted to lose his temper, but he couldn't keep it in. He was glad he'd cast a muffliato earlier. He fisted his hands and let out a loud breath, then another. Feeling a little more calm, Harry spoke again. "Our son isn't a problem, Ginny. Neither is your career, to be honest. But you are."
"What do you mean?" She was getting angry, too, but Harry needed to do this.
"If you can't be a mother to James—"
Ginny let out a bitter laugh. "We both know I never wanted that. Not yet, anyway."
"You agreed—"
"Of course I did! Of course I did, Harry. I'm a horrible mother, I know I am, but I'm not heartless." She was sobbing now. "And, I knew, despite what you said, you'd never be okay with just… killing your unborn child."
Harry stared at her. He'd known this, hadn't he? "I don't know what to say."
"No, you're right."
"What do you mean?"
"I can't be a mother, Harry. I've tried, trust me I have. But I can't, not right now."
Harry took a moment to gather himself. Even if he knew all this, it still hurt to listen to the words. "It's not fair to James."
"Or to you," Ginny added quietly. She let out a soft sob. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."
Harry didn't need to say it. They both knew. "Goodbye, Ginny."
