They took the bus back to their flat in silence. It was a normal muggle bus, not the Knight Bus, as any mode of transport which involved magically moving from one location to another (including apparition, portkeys and Floo) was dangerous for a pregnant woman: the likelihood of birth defects increased dramatically if a pregnant woman used such modes of transport.
Harry was watching Ginny. Her lips were pressed tightly together; her hand resting protectively on her abdomen. Ginny almost never cried – something that attracted him immensely after his disaster romance with Cho Chang – which told Harry that she really was feeling as shocked and terrified as he was.
Five babies. Five. There weren't words for Harry's emotions. Five babies. The thought of one child had scared him to death: how was he meant to deal with five? How was he supposed to be a father to five children? How was he supposed to balance his time between them all? How was he meant to love each one without the others feeling left out?
Five babies. Five teenagers. Five simultaneous puberties. Merlin, how were they going to do this?
They got off the bus at a stop near Notting Hill Gate subway station, and turned south, into Kensington, where their flat was. Ginny at first had been uncomfortable living in such an upmarket area, but, as Harry pointed out, there were not many wizards in the local area, so they wouldn't be constantly bothered by people lining up to see The-Chosen-One-who-lived-and-died-and-lived-again- and-defeated-he-who-must-not-be-named. Plus, it they could afford it: Harry's inheritance, his wages from his job at the ministry and Ginny's wages from her place on Harpies team had meant they weren't exactly short of money.
Ginny's face turned a violent shade of green when the elevator jerked to a start; hands on her knees, she vomited. Harry pulled back her hair and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, which were shaking. He vanished the mess with a quick "evanesco" while Ginny mopped at her mouth with her handkerchief. With a ping the elevator doors opened, revealing an off-white hallway and a few nondescript paintings of places Harry had never seen.
Their home was several doors down with a shiny bronze number and letter box. Unlocking the door, Harry lead Ginny through the living room and the kitchen to the bathroom, where he wet a flannel and cleaned her face and handed her a glass of water. She drank and cleaned her teeth thoroughly, before sitting on the edge of the bath and started to cry. Harry sat himself next to her and hugged her tightly.
"How are we going to do this, Harry?" she choked out. "How in Merlin's name are we going to do this?"
"Easy, Gin, easy," he said, rubbing her back. "You need to stay calm, remember? For the baby-" he stopped suddenly. "For the babies."
"Babies. There are babies," she said hysterically, but tried to calm her breathing all the same. For a few, long moments, they sat together, slowing their breathing (Harry had almost been as hysterical as Ginny).
"Come on," Harry said eventually. "I'll put the kettle on. Are you hungry?" She turned a faint shade of green again, and shook her head. Together, they walked back into the kitchen. Ginny went on into their living room, curling herself into a ball on their loveseat. Harry remained in the kitchen, bustling to and fro with tea bags (divination had put him off leaves for life), sugar and milk. Within five minutes he had joined Ginny on the sofa. She sat up and accepted the cup from him. An easy silence fell between them as they sat and drank their tea, curled up together on their sofa, a blanket spread across their laps.
"What do you think they'll think of... of this all?" Harry asked suddenly. 'They' was a collective term for the entire Weasley family, Hermione and generally Neville and Luna too.
"George will be thrilled. He'll think you'll have no excuse to ever touch me again!" They both laughed. "Though, seriously, I think they will be worried. They were worried about how we would manage one baby; how do you think they'll react to five?"
"Probably take back their babysitting offers." Harry said, visualising Ron surrounded by five screaming babies and having a spectacular panic attack. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea that Ron took back his offer.
"Hermione wouldn't. She'd want to prove she could do it, and prove to Ron they could manage parenting. He's a little doubtful."
"Hermione wants kids? Now? I thought she was focusing on her career."
"She's considering children, but Ron doesn't feel confident enough yet. I don't know why: he's fantastic with Teddy, Victoire and Molly."
"He's just a little nervous around really little kids." It was something about how small newborns were; after all that time dropping the Quaffle in their 6th year, Ron was scared of dropping a baby. It was easier with older children – they could hold on.
"He'll have plenty of practice," Ginny said. "I was thinking... Before we knew there were five, I was going to ask you: What do you think about asking Ron and Hermione to be godparents?"
Harry smiled, thinking nostalgically of Sirius and how he had loved having a godfather. "I think there is no better choice. Ron and Hermione would be perfect, but... do you think they would want to be godparents to five?"
"Maybe not... We could ask Neville and Luna," she suggested. "Two for each baby."
"What would you... what would you think about asking Dudley?" Harry had been on steadily better terms with his cousin, becoming almost friends in the past six years. His relationship with his Aunt and, surprisingly, Uncle, had also become better (though he suspected it was his removal from his Uncle's everyday life which made their relationship easier).
"Well..." Ginny hesitated. She had maintained a steady dislike of Vernon and Petunia from the first time she had met them, which darkened into bouts of hatred when Harry mentioned his life before Hogwarts. "I would like to meet him again, just to make sure he's not a... a bad person. His was quite happy to leave you in a cupboard for ten years, Harry! Do we really want to trust one of our children to him?" Harry felt a quiet thrill at the word 'children'. He was going to have children, have a real family!
"He was a different person back then, Gin. He's changed. I'll organise a get-together, if you want. I was thinking of planning one anyway, if I'm honest. Uncle Vernon would be annoyed if we didn't inform his of his grand-nephews in person. If you like Dudley, we could ask him then."
"Yes, that sounds like a good idea. But remember: you can't organise it next weekend. Mum's throwing you a birthday dinner."
Harry grinned. It was just like Mrs Weasley to make a huge deal of his birthday. Well, the weekend after his birthday; the 31st fell on a Thursday, which meant half the family were working that day. He would have a birthday dinner with Hermione and Ron on Thursday, though.
"Should we tell Ron and Hermione on Thursday at dinner?" Harry asked Ginny.
"Yeah. They should know first and besides, Hermione asks so many questions! We won't be able hide anything; due date, genders, paint colours, names... Its going to be the inquisition."
"We don't even know the answers to half of these! I mean..." Harry trailed off, slightly desperately. "Should I bring up S.P.E.W to take her mind off it all?"
"You know, I think I'd rather take the inquisition. Hermione might be regarded as a beacon of hope for magical creatures, but her job is very, very boring." The pair laughed together, then laughed once more as Ginny's stomach rumbled loudly.
"Guess I'm hungry after all," she said.
"Guess they're wondering when they'll get some food!" Harry said, gently prodding Ginny's abdomen and wondering if they could feel it.
"Demanding little snitches, aren't they?" Ginny murmured, moving Harry's hand so it was cupping her stomach and covering it with her own. Harry raised his eyebrow.
"Little snitches?" He asked, gently caressing her abdomen.
"Mum says when a baby starts moving, it feels like a snitch beating its wings inside you." Ginny replied with a smile.
"Snitch. Now that would be a name! What d'ya think, Ginny? Snitch Potter!"
Ginny's eyebrows travelled further and further up her face as her husband dissolved into a fit of laughter. "Snitch Potter! And... and Quaffle Potter! And Bludger and Bat! And... and Firebolt Potter!" Harry's laugher echoed around their cosy living room.
"Snitch, Quaffle, Bludger, Bat and Firebolt," she said, struggling to contain her own amusement. "Which are girls and which are boys?"
"Snitch is a boy; he'd be just like me-"
"Skinny with knobbly knees?" Ginny asked innocently.
"Devastatingly handsome and a fantastic flyer. Quaffle would be a girl and she would be just like you!"
"Watch what you say here," she warned.
"Independent and unafraid to speak her mind," he said. "Bludger and Bat would be trouble makers, just like George and my Dad."
"Are they boys? Girls?"
"Bludger is a girl, Bat is a boy. Bat would be shorter but more outgoing. Bludger would be taller than I am and really thoughtful."
"Who would she inherit that from?" Ginny laughed, eyes slightly glazed as she considered the future Harry was describing. Since they had discovered their bundle of joy was actually five bundles, Ginny had worried over how they would manage raising five children: the finances, the flat which obviously wasn't big enough, the fear she would fail at loving all her children equally. But here Harry was, painting a future were her children all had names and personalities, and Ginny found her longing for the little babies growing in her womb increase.
"Somewhere," Harry said airily, waving his hand in the air. "And last but not least, Firebolt. She would be a mix between the both of us: your red hair, my green eyes, your nose, my lips and our love of flying."
"They sound... amazing," Ginny said, "Absolutely amazing." She met Harry smile for smile, and for a long moment they sat together, curled up in their daydream of their babies. The moment broke when Ginny's stomach released another, insistent rumble. They laughed, and Harry pressed a tender kiss to Ginny's lips.
"I'll cook," he offered.
"You cooked last night, and you paid for lunch today," she replied. "It's my turn! And just because there are five babies instead of one doesn't mean I'm any more fragile than I was this morning."
"Okay, you got me," Harry grinned. Some sort of fierce, protective instinct – stronger than his already strong instinct to protect Ginny – had sprung up the moment he had completely understood what Ginny had meant by 'pregnant'. Since then, he had almost tried to wrap Ginny up in cotton wool in an attempt to prevent any harm whatsoever from happening to her. "I'll go shower instead."
Harry spent a while in the shower, enjoying how the hot water eased the tension from his muscles. As he scrubbed the suds from his hair, his thoughts wandered to the five little babies who would enter the world in seven months. His children.
Five little babies he would love and cherish and adore. Five little babies who would look a little like him and a little like Ginny. Five little girls and boys with black hair like him and his dad or red hair like Ginny or his mum. Five little babies with his mum's green eyes and Ginny's little nose and his cheek bones and Mrs Weasley's big heart.
What have I done to deserve this? Harry thought. I don't think I've ever been so happy. The wide smile stayed on his face as he showered, as he pulled on his favourite comfy tracksuit bottoms, and as he entered the kitchen to find Ginny dunking fried broccoli into Dijon mustard: her current food craving.