Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me.

Warning: There is a birth scene in this chapter, but it's not graphic by any means.

Chapter Eleven: Little James

Neville hated going to work now that Ginny was due to give birth at any time. He knew Molly was there with her, but it still made him nervous. Everything was ready – he and Ron had finished painting the house, they had all the necessary baby supplies and he had even scheduled some time off. He had nothing to worry about, really.

Except for the fact that he was terrified the arrival of Harry Potter's child would destroy the tenuous relationship he and Ginny had managed to build.

"Neville? There's a Floo call for you up front," the Research Department secretary said, poking her head inside the greenhouse. Neville dropped his trowel and rushed out of the room.

"There you are, Neville," Molly said, her face smiling in the fire. "Ginny's gone into labor – no rush, she still has several hours to go, but if you could get out of work early that would be great."

"Okay. I'll go talk to my supervisor, and…I'll be there. I will. Okay. Bye," Neville said, his hands shaking. He was so distracted as he ran back to the greenhouse he actually collided with his supervisor.

"Is something wrong, Longbottom?"

"Sir…Mr. Marks…my wife is in labor, and I need to – I mean, if I could –" he stammered.

Mr. Marks laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Go, Longbottom. And congratulations."

Neville figured he was too nervous to Apparate, so he took the Floo to the Burrow. He quickly shed his work robes and tripped up the stairs.

Ginny was propped up in the center of the bed, the expression on her face halfway between a smile and a grimace. Molly held a washcloth and was gently mopping Ginny's brow. Madam Greenfield stood nearby unpacking her bag. She turned when Neville walked in and smiled.

"Good, Neville, you're here. Now, did you want to stay in the room during delivery or wait outside?"

Neville looked at Ginny, feeling it was more her decision than his. "I want you to stay," she said through clenched teeth.

"Here you go, dear," Molly said, handing him the washcloth. "I should go contact the rest of the family."

Gulping, Neville sat down on the edge of the bed. He wasn't sure how he felt about staying the whole time, and this uneasiness doubled when Madam Greenfield lifted Ginny's gown to check her progress. He averted his eyes, his cheeks pink.

"Everything looks fine, Ginny, but you're progressing rather slowly. Best be prepared for a long night, okay?" Madam Greenfield said kindly.

Ginny just sort of nodded. Neville, feeling slightly queasy, looked out the window.

Molly returned a few minutes later. "Everyone knows now; I've sent out owls. How much longer, do you think?" she asked, turning towards the midwife.

Madam Greenfield rattled off some numbers and terms Neville didn't understand. He supposed he should have paid more attention to the books Hermione had found.

Ginny suddenly cried out and dug her fingernails into Neville's arm. He felt completely useless as the hours dragged on. Molly was there most of the time, and Hermione came in for awhile, and both of them knew a lot more than he did.

"Talk to me, Neville," Ginny said weakly about five hours in.

"About what?" he asked, feeling stupid.

"Anything, dear. Just distract her for awhile," Molly said gently as Madam Greenfield nodded her approval.

"Okay, well…I could talk about the house, I suppose. You know when Ron and I were painting we had a hard time with the wallpaper – the ugly stuff had been tacked to the wall with a Permanent Sticking Charm, we had to get Hermione to Transfigure it white and then we painted over it. We actually decided to just have Hermione Transfigure some of the wallpaper into, uh, less flowered wallpaper, at least the stuff in the kitchen and the bathroom. Your dad originally wanted to try painting the Muggle way, but after he fell off the ladder and nearly broke his neck he agreed using magic was better."

Molly laughed at this, and Ginny even had a small smile on her face. "Go on," she said, sounding strained.

So Neville continued to talk about the house, and his job, and Quidditch, until he felt himself going hoarse. By then it was completely dark outside, and from the attitudes of Molly and Madam Greenfield he could tell it was getting close. Ginny looked exhausted, and she was in a lot of pain if her screams were any indication. He mopped her forehead and allowed her to crush his hand, feeling very distanced from the action – almost like an intruder.

Madam Greenfield instructed Ginny to push, and Neville heard himself and Molly speaking words of encouragement. He didn't know what had prompted him to say anything, and he felt strange. All of a sudden, this seemed completely wrong – he shouldn't be the one sitting here getting his hand crushed, and he had no idea what to do with a baby, anyway.

"Ooh, I can see the head! That's a good girl, Ginny, you're almost there!" Molly said, nearly squealing with excitement. Neville decided it was better not to look; he was already feeling rather green and figured his fainting would not help matters any.

Suddenly, he heard a small cry. Madam Greenfield held up the squalling baby and laid him on Ginny's stomach. All Neville could tell was that he was small, red, and wrinkly as Ginny held her son for the first time. She was smiling widely through her tears, and Neville thought his heart would burst. On impulse, he leaned down and kissed her. To his surprise, Ginny kissed him back.

Madam Greenfield quickly cleaned off the baby and wrapped him in clean linen. Then, since Molly was still tending to Ginny, she handed the small bundle to Neville.

"Here you go, Dad," Madam Greenfield said, smiling.

Neville thought he would drop the baby, he was shaking so badly. He leaned down so Ginny could get a better look at her son. She laughed as the baby waved his little arm, and suddenly, Neville felt like a father.

"So, what's his name?" Arthur asked as he took a turn holding his grandson.

Ginny glanced at Neville, who nodded. "James," she said. "James Albus Longbottom."

Molly burst into tears (of happiness, Neville hoped). Arthur nodded approvingly and caught Neville's eye as he handed the baby back to Ginny. His expression conveyed what Neville knew he couldn't say aloud.

"So," Fred said, bounding into the room. "George and I have a bet going – was he born on the eleventh or the twelfth?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "The twelfth. Twelve-oh-seven." George held out his hand, grinning widely.

"Move aside, eldest brother coming through," Bill announced as he entered the room with Fleur in tow. He stared down at James, who was now sleeping in his mother's arms. "He's beautiful, Gin." Fleur nodded her agreement eagerly and said something in French Neville didn't understand. Ginny, however, looked pleased.

Ron came into the room then holding a piece of parchment. "Your gran sent this, Neville – she said she'll stop by tomorrow."

"Thanks, Ron," Neville said, relieved. He was too tired to deal with her at the moment. Ron nodded and stood next to Bill, both looking at the baby in admiration.

Ginny yawned hugely, which Molly took as her cue to shoo everyone out of the room. Soon, it was just Ginny, Neville and James left.

"Well, I fed him," Ginny said thoughtfully. Neville's face flushed at the memory of that. "Maybe we could try putting him in the bassinet for awhile."

Nodding, Neville placed James gently in the bassinet, where he immediately began to wail loudly.

"Okay, maybe not," Ginny said, sighing.

"No, wait," Neville said as he stared into the bassinet. James's wails slowly stopped and his breathing became regular. "See? He's asleep…must know Mummy is tired."

Ginny laughed, then winced at the strain. "Neville, you are too sweet for words."

Neville was awakened a few hours later by a crying baby. It took him a moment to remember that this was Ginny's baby – his baby. This would take some getting used to.

By the time Neville was fully awake, Ginny was already sitting up in the bed next to him nursing James. "Good morning," she said pleasantly. "Go shower, we'll have lots of visitors today."

When Neville returned from the shower, Ginny had already managed to dress James in a soft blue sleeper. "Here you go," she said, dumping the baby in his arms. "I'm going to take a nice long bath."

Neville was surprised to see Ginny up and about. Granted, her walk was stiff and pained, but he would have expected her to stay in bed a bit longer. He stared down at James uneasily, feeling suddenly vulnerable and alone.

"Hello, Neville," Molly said sweetly as she entered the room with a breakfast tray. "Is something wrong? You're just…standing there."

"Ginny gave him to me when she went to the bath, and I didn't want to move and hurt him or something…he's so small…and I don't know what to do," Neville mumbled.

To his horror, Molly laughed. "Oh, you're just like Arthur was with Bill. You're doing fine, dear, he won't break."

Neville sat down carefully in Ginny's desk chair. Molly set down a plate of eggs and toast and a glass of pumpkin juice before taking James. "Eat," she ordered. Feeling suddenly starved, Neville obeyed immediately.

Ginny stayed in the bath a long time, but she eventually settled back in the bed to eat her own breakfast. He mother fussed over her incessantly, which Ginny hated, of course. James had fallen asleep again, and Molly had returned him to his bassinet. Molly alternated between fluffing Ginny's pillows and looking in on her grandson, and Neville was forced to choke down a laugh – she was every inch the overbearing mother hen.

Around mid-morning there was a loud crash downstairs. Molly flew out of the room, much to Ginny's relief. James, however, hadn't appreciated the noise and was now bawling. Neville picked him up warily and hurriedly handed him to Ginny.

"I'm so sorry! I crashed into a chair downstairs," Tonks explained apologetically. Her hair was a conservative auburn, and Neville remembered after a moment that she was a Metamorphmagus. She smiled at him before turning to Ginny.

"Oh, he's adorable! Look at that red hair!" she squealed. James did, indeed, have a soft patch of orange fuzz on his head.

"Nymphadora will look and not touch," Lupin remarked with a laugh as he entered the room. He and Tonks were regular dinner guests at the Burrow, and Neville was glad Molly had invited them over. "What did you name him?" he asked.

"James Albus Longbottom," Ginny said proudly. Lupin's lip quivered for just a moment as he gazed down at the baby. "You can hold him, if you like."

"Oh, I see how it is," Tonks inserted with a grin. Lupin held James tenderly, the expression on his face one of awe and pride.

"I have the birth certificate; Madam Greenfield left it downstairs," Molly said as she entered the room again. "I filled out most of it, but it needs both your signatures."

Ginny only looked at the sturdy square of parchment briefly before signing it. Neville studied it a bit more closely, still a little shocked to see his own name in the box marked "Father." He knew this was how it had to be…but it seemed wrong. His hand shook slightly as he signed.

"Now that that's done," Ginny said, handing the card and quill back to her mother, "Neville and I have something to ask the two of you. We want you to serve as James's godparents."

Lupin looked down at the baby in his arms, then at Tonks, who had tears in her eyes. "Why us?" he whispered.

Neville caught Ginny's eye, and she nodded, unable to speak for her emotion. "You've both been so supportive of us, and it's what Harry would have wanted," Neville said quietly. "And Tonks is an Auror…like my parents." He spoke the last words almost to himself, but judging by the gobsmacked look on Tonks's face she had heard them.

Lupin finally smiled and glanced up at Ginny. "I would be honored."

"Me, too," Tonks replied.

"You know," Lupin said as he returned James to Ginny's arms, "I think his eyes are going to be green."

"I think so, too," Molly said, sighing slightly. Neville shifted uncomfortably. He knew they all wanted him to come clean with his gran, but he was still terrified of her reaction.

"Hello? Where is everyone?" a gruff voice called from downstairs, breaking the tension.

"Gran," Neville mumbled. "She'll have Flooed; she hates to Apparate." He bolted down the stairs.

His gran wore her trademark vulture hat paired with a fur cape and dark red winter cloak that sort of matched her handbag. "Hello, Neville. So do I get to see this baby?"

With a deep breath, Neville took the plunge. "Gran, there's something you should know."

"You're not the baby's biological father. I know."

Neville stared at her, his mouth slightly open.

"Close your mouth, Neville, you look a fool," his gran admonished. "I suspected it all along – nothing really fit together. Then, over Christmas, I noticed Ginevra's reaction when I told your parents about You-Know-Who's defeat. The child is Harry Potter's, unless I am much mistaken."

"N-no, you've got it right. I'm sorry I didn't tell you; I was afraid – "

"Afraid I wouldn't approve? Neville, now that I understand the truth of the situation – it is a noble thing you have done, with the extent you've gone to in order to protect Ginevra and the child. I am proud of you," his gran said, pulling him into an uncharacteristic hug. "And I'm sorry for my insults before."

"You can't tell anyone. Legally, and everything…I mean…I'm his father. I signed his birth certificate."

His gran simply nodded. "So, can I meet my great-grandson now?"

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! Reviews make my day!