30 June 2053

Harry and Ginny's fiftieth anniversary was marred by an emergency trip to St. Mungo's. Unlike their usual visits—for Ginny's eye exams, or Harry's occasional scrape in some Auror activity or another before his retirement, or even one of their children or grandchildren, who proved as adept at getting into trouble as the rest of their family—Ginny was finding that she was having rather a difficult time restraining her laughter.

"You're habbing ad awf'ly good dime ober dere," Harry said, holding Arthur's handkerchief to his nose as he sat on the exam table.

Ginny stifled a snort of laughter behind her hand. "I'm sorry," she said sympathetically, clearly trying to repress a grin. "You just—you tried so hard." She got up and kissed Harry gently on the cheek. "I'm glad I got to see that, I have to be honest."

Harry chuckled slightly, then winced, and he adjusted the slightly bloodstained hanky. Ginny removed her spectacles, squinting slightly as she cleaned them and wiped away her tears of laughter. Before she could replace them, Harry touched her chin.

"I'b sorry I ruined our barty, Gin," he said, lowering the handkerchief and meeting her gaze. She smiled, still straining a bit to see without her glasses.

"You didn't ruin anything," Ginny promised him with a smile. "It was a wonderful thing for you to do, whether or not it worked. Now—" she replaced her glasses, blinking hard for a moment— "come here, so I can give you a kiss."

Harry grinned, leaning forward, and very gently Ginny pressed her lips softly to his. Then she straightened up, patting his leg, and smiled as the door opened.

"All right, Uncle Harry." Their niece, Molly, came over to the exam table, carrying a little tray of potions and gauze. Her Healer's robes were draped over the dress she'd been wearing for Harry and Ginny's party at the Burrow. "This is going to sting, but it'll heal by tomorrow morning." She took the bloody handkerchief from Harry and dabbed a bit of a thick, glutinous blue potion on a piece of gauze before touching it to the puncture marks on Harry's nose.

He winced, and Ginny patted his hand. After only a few minutes, Molly was finished. She smiled and picked up a large bandage.

"Do I really need that?" Harry asked, as she moved to place it across the bridge of his nose.

Molly smiled and looked at her aunt. "I think you do," she said. "You look like—"

"Like a gnome bit you on the nose," Ginny said helpfully, and Harry glared at her.

"All right, Molly, go on," he said, allowing Molly to put it over his wound. She smiled and straightened, clearing away her tray of medicines.

"I'm going to go take care of the file, and then we can go back to Gran's," she said, grinning at Harry and Ginny. "Maybe they saved us some cake."

Ginny laughed as Molly closed the door behind her and turned to Harry. "Feel better?"

Harry shook his head. "I feel stupid, that's what I feel."

"Oh, sweetheart," Ginny said, genuinely concerned. She put a hand to his dark gray hair, and he met her eyes. "Don't. Don't feel bad. It was so sweet of you. And now my mother thinks you're even more of a hero, she can't stand those stupid gnomes."

Harry grinned. "Well, we didn't want it to get away with your present," he said. "And Stunning worked that one Christmas—remember? Fred and George and Ron and I stuck that one on top of the tree?"

Ginny threw her head back, laughing. "Oh, no, I'd forgotten about that!" she said. "I guess George and Ron were feeling a little nostalgic this evening, too. Though I notice neither of them are here getting their faces patched up."

Harry chuckled. "Well, it did work then. I just missed, this time."

"Missed," Ginny scoffed, shaking her head. "You know, Harry dearest, I don't know if I mentioned this, but the three of you aren't sixteen, you're seventy, and you're mad old codgers for picking a fight with a gnome," she informed him.

Harry raised his eyebrows, feigning offense. "Codger?" he asked. "Maybe you shouldn't get the gift I just rescued from the jaws of certain doom for you." He touched his nose nonchalantly as he helped Ginny up onto the table beside him.

"You got it back?" Ginny asked in gentle surprise. "Oh, Harry," she said, kissing him.

Harry grinned. "You got me the watch to replace Fabian's," he said, shrugging slightly. The watch he'd received from Molly and Arthur on his seventeenth birthday had, after years of repeated magical repairs, had finally given out a few months ago. "I wanted to get you this." He withdrew a rather crumpled box from his pocket. The wrapping paper was hanging off of it, and there was evidence on one corner of more gnawing by the pilfering gnome.

"Happy anniversary, Gin," said Harry, kissing her forehead.

Ginny smiled, taking the gift. She pulled off what remained of the wrapping paper and lifted aside the lid. Inside was another, smaller box. It was lacquered, and its glossy top bore an embossed Gryffindor crest, glinting with miniscule rubies and topazes the size of pinheads.

"Harry," she said softly. "It's beautiful."

"Hopefully it still works," Harry commented. Ginny frowned.

"Still works?" she asked.

Harry grinned, drew his wand, and tapped the lid of the box in Ginny's palm three times. It creaked open slowly. It was completely empty but for a shiny gold bit of machinery like the inside of a clock. As soon as it opened fully, the clockwork began moving, and a very soft tune began to play.

"What is—oh," Ginny said, putting one hand to her mouth and meeting Harry's eyes. "Harry, that's—that's the song—"

"Gabrielle sang it," Harry nodded. "At our wedding."

Ginny stared at him openmouthed as the song finished and the lid closed itself gently. She looked at Harry, pressing her lips together as her chin trembled.

"I am not—supposed—to cry—Harry Potter," she said, gently shoving his shoulder and blinking furiously, torn between tears and laughter.

Harry laughed, pulling Ginny in for a hug. He kissed her cheek, and she rested her forehead against his shoulder, taking a moment to close her eyes and breathe. They'd received the news almost nine years ago that Ginny was slowly but surely losing her sight. At the time, they'd been told she had five to seven years before it finally happened; they had gotten very lucky, and they both knew it.

"I love you," Harry told her.

"I love you too," said Ginny, looking up to meet his gaze, raising her eyebrows. Not for the first time in their marriage, Harry wondered if she knew exactly what he was thinking. He was right.

"Not right now, okay?" she asked, giving him a smile. "Not today."

"You've got it," Harry said, taking the music box from her hand and putting it back in its package. "Happy anniversary, Gin."

"Happy anniversary," Ginny laughed, giving him a tight hug.

"All right, you're all sorted out, Uncle Harry," said Molly as she opened the door, shrugging off her St. Mungo's robes. Harry and Ginny got down from the table.

"Let's see if they really did wait for us to cut the cake," Harry said.

"So optimistic," Ginny said in a pitying tone to Molly, who laughed.

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