A tinny whine seemed to start up in his ears as Harry processed what Ginny had just said. He somehow felt as though he'd been hit in the chest with a powerful stunning spell.

"Say what?" he asked stupidly.

"You heard me," Ginny responded. She rubbed her eyes.

"Didn't we...I mean, I thought we...took precautions," Harry said, trying to make his brain start working again.

"Harry, sometimes those don't work, especially if one or both of the parents is magically powerful...didn't you know?" Ginny asked in astonishment. Harry shook his head.

"Never had a mum to sit me down and, well, explain it...never really had occasion to figure it out, either, not like two blokes really have to worry about getting pregnant..." Harry lowered his face into his hands. "Your mother is going to kill me," he moaned.

"Forget Mum, Ron's the one you'll have to watch out for," Ginny said crisply. "And Percy. And Charlie. And Bill. And George. George in particular."

Harry moaned into his hands again.

"Oh, be quiet. It's not as bad as all that."

"You didn't just get a girl with a Quidditch team's worth of older brothers pregnant," Harry retorted. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"They know I'm not a perfect princess. Come to think of it, they'll probably be glad it's yours and not someone else's. Once they stop to think about it, anyway."

"Are you sure it is?" Harry asked. He realized how terrible the words sounded as he was saying them, but it was far too late to take them back. He tried to backpedal quickly. "What I mean to say is—er—I don't mean any offense—"

"You try so hard to be a gentleman it's almost endearing," Ginny said fondly. "Yes. You are without a doubt the father. Not only are there spells for that sort of thing, but the timing is right."

"You're taking this awfully calmly," Harry said, lacing his fingers together to stop them from shaking. Ginny shrugged.

"I'm at a good point in my life to raise a child. With or without the father around."

"With, of course," Harry said, surprised. His face must have shown how wounding the remark was, because Ginny reached over and tousled his hair, startling him.

"I was going to leave it up to you," Ginny said seriously, her smile melting off her face. "If you want no part of this...my job is surprisingly cushy, I'll not want for anything, and trust me—I know that being involved will make it difficult for you and Nev—"

"Neville's not in the picture anymore," Harry said firmly, and his eyes only tightened slightly at the corners as he stated the truth baldly. "And even if he were, he'd know that I have to do the right thing. I'm involved. End of story." He hesitated, then knelt down in front of her chair and reached out awkwardly to lay his hand flat on her midriff. It was an unfamiliar gesture, one that felt oddly intimate. "A boy, you said?" he asked, trying to force himself to remain calm and push the utter terror to one side to be dealt with later. He failed only slightly, in that his hands wouldn't stop shaking. Ginny must have noticed, because she placed her hand over his.

"A boy. Healthy so far. No reason he won't stay that way. I come from a long line of witches of robust fertility, you know."

"I'd noticed," Harry said dryly. He took a deep breath. "I'm a father," he said slowly, trying out the word. A little flutter of panic threatened to make him giggle with hysteria and he stamped it down. He tilted his chin up to look at Ginny. She smiled at him, and he was startled to see that her eyes were shining with what looked like tears. "What's wrong?" he asked quickly.

"Nothing's wrong, you dolt," she said, smacking him playfully on the shoulder. "I'm just...this is a happy moment. Or at least a relieved moment. I was worried you'd take it very badly." She smiled and leaned over to hug him quickly. "I should have known better, knowing you as I do."

Harry nodded slowly, still trying to process events. Him. A father. It was something he'd never thought he'd be able to call himself, and suddenly it was a title he'd earned quite by accident. "You know that pretty little speech you gave me, about separating sex and love?" Ginny nodded. Harry gestured. "Where exactly in the continuum does this fall?"

"I don't know," Ginny said simply. "I imagine we'll work it out as we go along."

Harry nodded absently and leaned back on his haunches. "So...now what?"

Ginny took a deep breath, her self-assured air dissipating somewhat as she exhaled. "We tell my family."

"Bloody hell," Harry muttered, running a hand through his hair. He sighed. "I guess I'm heading to your parents' place for Christmas after all."

Ginny nodded. "You'd best pack. And quickly."

"I'll be right back," Harry promised, standing up and grabbing the overnight bag that he'd never gotten around to putting away a little over two months ago.

A quick duck to the laundry room provided him with the clothing he'd need for the weekend, but Harry paused as he passed by the unused drawing room on the way back to the living room. He considered a moment, then entered, drawing his wand to tap on one of the portraits, which studied him up and down before swinging forward and revealing a hollow in the wall.

The hollow did not contain much: two small dark wooden boxes and some rolls of parchment wrapped in cloth. Harry reached for the smaller of the two boxes and pocketed it before swinging the portrait shut and walking with slightly more purpose to the living room.

"I don't know how Neville is going to handle this bit of news," Harry warned as he hoisted the bag onto his shoulder. "And—should you be Apparating with a baby?"

"No. I hope you have some Floo Powder. And Neville's not coming—something about spending his first Christmas as assistant professor at the Hogwarts feast."

As Harry led Ginny to the kitchen and the fireplace, he wasn't sure how to describe his current emotional state. He was fairly certain he was in an advanced stage of shock, and that was what kept him from feeling the relief and pang of regret too keenly. He wasn't sure he'd have been able to handle the events of today and seeing Neville again without having to curl into the fetal position and fend everyone off like a tortoise for several days afterward.

After Ginny had disappeared into the emerald green flames, he took a very deep breath before tossing his handful of powder in and stepping into the flames. The rest of the evening was not going to be easy.

"The Burrow!" He announced, and he began spinning.

There was no going back now.

As he wiped ash from his mouth with the back of his hand and blinked rapidly, noises of surprise sounded from in front of him.

"Well, look at what the cat dragged in!" came Molly Weasley's delighted voice, and then he was being hugged, despite the ash still streaking his jacket. Harry coughed and blinked hard once more before hurriedly putting his glasses back on.

"Harry!" Hermione said, getting up from her chair to join what seemed to be a queue to hug him. "I'd hoped you'd change your mind and come!"

Hugs were dispensed all around; Harry took inventory of who was here as he was pulled against shoulders and greeted. Bill and Fleur were in attendance with five-year-old Victoire, who had a great deal of her father about her face but Fleur's silvery hair and willowy frame; Charlie clapped his back heartily; Andromeda Tonks embraced him gently and pushed forward his very shy godson Teddy for a pat on the head; Percy opted for a warm handshake rather than an embrace, beaming as he introduced his new fiancee Audrey; George, still conspicuously a bachelor and just as conspicuously enjoying it, pinched his bottom just for the reaction it would get from him (just as startled as the first time he'd done it, as George well knew); Ron and Hermione, of course, fairly threw themselves at him and he was hard-pressed to peel them away; Arthur and Molly, Arthur looking perhaps a little grayer than when Harry had seen him last, began and ended the greeting ritual with warm welcoming embraces that felt more like home than Harry had experienced in a long time. Ginny stood to one side once she was done receiving her hugs, and if she was nervous, she hid it well.

"All right, all right," Mrs. Weasley said, beaming, "Give him some breathing room now. Harry, there's some space and a bed in George's old room if you want to go put your bag down and change out of your ashy clothes. Dinner will be on in a few minutes, so off you go. Ginny, Mrs. Tonks and Teddy are up in your old room—"

"Oh, we don't mind sharing at all—"

"Right, then. Harry, you should have Kreacher stop by from Hogwarts and clean your fireplace for you, you're both all over soot. Away with you! Not another word!" She actually made a shooing gesture with her apron, and Harry couldn't help but laugh as he hoisted his bag to his shoulder again and made his way up the winding staircase to what had once been the twins' room.

In a clean shirt and the worst of the soot brushed out of his hair and off his trousers, Harry stepped back into the stairwell and waited, his heart beating slightly faster in anticipation. Soon enough, he heard a door shut upstairs and Ginny begin her descent.

"Ginny," he said as she got to the landing. The light was dim here, but it was bright enough to make her hair catch the light and shine. Harry swallowed hard.

"What is it, Harry?" Ginny asked after he'd licked his lips and tried to begin speaking several times. Harry took a deep breath and decided to just do it.

"I suppose I'd better do this properly," he said, sinking down to one knee. He fumbled slightly as he drew the small wooden box from his pocket, opening it to showcase the gold band inside; the brilliant clear stone set in it gleamed even in the dim light.

"Harry," Ginny said sharply, "What the devil are you doing?"

"Um, well, I thought it was obvious," he said, blinking. "I'm proposing."

Ginny snorted. "Do you even really want to marry me?"

Harry considered. "Not really, no, but—look, you're spoiling it."

"And I'm about to spoil it even more. No, I'm not going to marry you, you dolt. Now get up, you look ridiculous." She reached down and pulled him to his feet. He felt rather like he'd been riding a broomstick that had braked to a dead stop in midair, but he'd kept going. She laughed and pulled him into a hug. "Always the gentleman," she said admiringly. "But you have to admit, you are chock full of bad ideas."

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," he protested. "And it still seems like a good idea for our son to have two parents who—"

"It's a better idea for him to have two parents who get along," Ginny interrupted, "And trust me, we would drive each other absolutely barmy if we were married." She laughed and shook her head. "Don't think I don't know your dirty little secret, that the great Harry Potter, fearless leader, much prefers to have someone else in charge of him." Her eyes danced as Harry blinked, slightly taken aback.

"Most people don't pick up on that," he said slowly. "They'd assume—"

"And that's why it's your dirty little secret," Ginny said mischievously. "Although really, one would probably have to sleep with you to figure it out. You're very docile in bed, darling." Harry sputtered and Ginny patted him on the cheek, obviously enjoying throwing him off stride. "And while it may seem like I'm having a great deal of fun bossing you about, really—I need the same thing you do." She smiled with a crooked little self-deprecating twist. "We'd go in endless circles of deferring to one another and nothing would ever get done." She kissed Harry softly on the cheek then. "Don't think I don't appreciate the gesture," she said quietly, in a more serious manner. "Or understand where it's coming from. You are a gentleman, Harry, a dying breed, to be sure. I'm glad that you're that father of my child, but that doesn't mean you have to be my husband." She took him by the hand. "Shall we go break the news?"

Harry's eyes widened of their own accord. "Now? Shouldn't we wait until...well, until Christmas is over and I can make a clean getaway? George and Ron might get in each others' way trying to rip me to shreds but Charlie fights dragons, he's agile—"

"Oh, hush. I'll break it gently. If they still want to rip you to pieces, you can Apparate out." She considered for a moment. "I might have to hold back Hermione," she said thoughtfully. "Her fingernails are kind of sharp."

Harry hadn't even thought of what Hermione's reaction would be. "On second thought, I think I'll just Apparate home right now."

"Five minutes ago you were ready to spend the rest of your life with me," Ginny pointed out. "I think you've got the courage to face my family."

"Five minutes ago I was going to face your family having done the right thing and proposed to you," Harry countered.

"You still did it. I refused. If it's so important to you I'll make sure they know it." She cocked her head to the side. "Where on earth did you get that ring, anyway?"

Harry looked down at the box still in his hand. "It was my mother's. At least I assume it was. It was in my vault at Gringott's."

Ginny smiled sadly, reached out to close his hand over the ring box. "We really should go down to dinner."

Harry slipped the box back into his pocket and steeled himself, staring down the stairwell. "All right. Let's go."

"So how's work going, Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she finally sat down, having run out of bowls and platters to move to the table. "Ron keeps us posted on this necromancer deal you have on your plate. It's become rather high-profile, hasn't it?"

Harry finished chewing and swallowed the bite of roast hastily. "Stupidly high-profile. Thankfully not due to any ineptitude on my part. This bloke's tremendously difficult to track down. When your victims are all already dead anyway, it's hard to find evidence..." he shrugged. "They'll be assigning more resources to it in the new year," he continued. "I'll have two other junior Aurors under me, a few more hit-wizards, and even some more support from the Department of Departed Magical Persons, they've been rather closed-mouthed about the whole thing, embarrassed probably."

"Well, hopefully you'll get to the bottom of it all soon," Mr. Weasley said, helping himself to more mashed potatoes. "What's this fellow doing, anyway? We don't hear about it much in my department."

"At first he was just killing other ghosts," Harry said. "Then he started forcing already-dead wizards and witches into becoming ghosts."

"Oh dear," Fleur said. "That's terrible."

"Sorry," Percy's fiancee Audrey said, "But why's it terrible?"

"When someone dies, they've got a choice to go on or not," Harry explained. He didn't entirely expect everyone at the table to know that he had firsthand knowledge of this, but those who didn't know could just assume he'd done research. "Most choose to go on. Only those who are afraid of death, or too selfish to give up life, come back as ghosts. But they're ghosts forever; there's no dying once you're a ghost. You've opted to be released from the cycle of birth and death, so you're out for eternity."

"So if you've made peace with death," Hermione interjected, "And you're forcefully brought back..."

"Ah," Audrey said, her eyes wide. "But didn't you say this necromancer is killing ghosts?"

"He's removing their ability to assume a visible form," Harry clarified. "They can't manifest, can't interact. Everything they've held onto is taken away from them, and they've got eternity to do nothing but be present without being able to affect anything." He shook his head sadly. "It's a terrible fate for those who have chosen to become ghosts. A worse one for those who didn't choose it in the first place."

A silence floated over the table. Harry cast about for a change of topic. "Ron, what are you working on right now?"

"Nothing," Ron said through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley looked disapprovingly at him, and he swallowed before continuing. "Oddest year we've had for a while, normally you get all sorts of dark magic around the holidays for whatever reason. But not a dickey bird."

"Another roll, Ginny?" Charlie asked, offering the bread basket as he removed one for himself.

"No thanks," Ginny said brightly. "I've already got a bun in the oven."

The fledgling conversation didn't so much screech to a halt as wind down excruciatingly like a catastrophic failure of a very large clock. Mouths snapped shut or gaped open, faces were frozen mid-chew, and all eyes were directed at Ginny as though by magnetism. She continued to cut her meat, unfazed, the only one moving.

Harry leaned over slightly. "That was breaking it to them gently?" he asked in a low voice, as realization began to spread round the table like an inkblot.

"I've been waiting for that line all evening," she said back. "Good one, wasn't it?"

Charlie was still holding the bread basket aloft; he slowly lowered it. Harry glanced around the table, looking for warning signs that he should prepare to bolt. "Masterful," he responded, "But it's possible it could have been handled with a bit more...tact."

"Tact is for those who aren't clever enough for a witty remark," Ginny said dismissively. "Oh, come now," she said, directing her gaze around the table, "Stop blinking like owls and say something."

"You're pregnant?" Ron blurted. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Stop blinking like owls and say something intelligent," she clarified.

"How?" George asked.

"The usual way." Despite her quips, Harry could see that she was gripping her knife hard enough to turn her knuckles white, and it was taking a great deal of effort for her to keep her composure. He himself felt a bit like a statue.

"And who is the father?" Mrs. Weasley asked, apparently completely calm but definitely a bit wild around the eyes.

Ginny jerked her head in Harry's direction; Harry could feel all the eyes slide over to him. The room felt like it was pulsating along with his pounding heart.

"I didn't know you two were..." Mr. Weasley trailed off.

"We're not," Ginny said. "Happened anyway, though."

Harry felt as though Ginny was not doing him any favors with her lackadaisical presentation of the situation. His evaluation was confirmed as Ron stood up, pushing his chair back, saying "Oy! That's my sister!"

"Oh well spotted," Ginny said acidly. "Sit down, Ronald. Eat your potatoes."

"Don't speak to your brother that way," Mrs. Weasley snapped. Her eyes were very sharp, and next to her, Hermione's eyes also seemed as though they'd recently seen a whetstone. "Explain yourself."

"I don't see a real need to, Mum," Ginny said calmly, though now she was bouncing her leg under the table. "I'm a grown witch. Harry's a grown wizard. We got myself pregnant. We're going to have a baby. Not an odd occurrence, when you think about it."

George was glaring at Harry, and Harry wasn't sure whether he was cracking his knuckles out of habit or threateningly. Even Percy had an angry gleam in his eye. He felt very much like a trapped animal.

"An occurrence that happens to a husband and wife—" Mrs. Weasley began. Ginny held up a hand that, Harry admired, did not shake, though it likely took all her willpower to keep it from doing so.

"You and Dad weren't married when you had Bill," she said matter-of-factly. "And if you thought we'd never figure that out, well. You weren't even married until you were pregnant with Charlie."

"We weren't of age, and we got married as soon as we were," Mrs. Weasley said sharply, "And that's what I expect you'll be doing first thing—"

"Harry already tried," Ginny said quickly. "I said no."

The amount of heat directed at him reduced palpably. Harry felt like he could breathe slightly more easily.

"You what?" Percy asked, apparently taken aback at the notion of not making something official.

"I told him I didn't want to marry him," Ginny said matter-of-factly, "As I don't. Didn't I, Harry?"

Harry nodded enthusiastically. He didn't seem to be able to find his voice.

"He was very sweet about it," Ginny went on, "proposed with his mother's ring and everything. He's all about doing the right thing, which is why we're going to raise our son together, but I'm not going to get married just because we're having a child."

"You proposed to my sister?" Ron asked in a tone of astonishment mixed with anger. Harry nodded solemnly. He couldn't help but notice that Hermione's glare had softened slightly; she was now a steak knife rather than a dagger.

He opened his mouth, and for a wonder, words started coming out. "I—we—never intended for it to happen," he said in a shaky voice. "But now it has, and I've a responsibility, and oh god please don't hurt me," he said in one rush as George and Ron both stood up again.

"Boys," Mr. Weasley said sternly. They both sat back down. He turned his gaze to Harry. Harry swallowed, then addressed the table.

"I'm sorry to cause trouble," he said, gaze moving between each of the Weasleys in turn. "And I know you're angry at me, and I apologize for my bad judgment calls. But I'm not sorry Ginny and I are—are going to have a son." He took a deep breath and continued. "It's not something I regret, or ever will regret. I'm going to take care of her as much as she'll allow, and be there for our son, and if that's not good enough for you..."

A pin would have echoed throughout the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley sighed and it sounded like gale-force winds.

"You're not going to budge, are you, Ginny?" she asked. Ginny shook her head resolutely. Silence reigned again until Andromeda cleared her throat.

"It may not be my place to say," she said tentatively, "But it would seem, as we've exhausted all reasons to be angry, that a bit of celebration is in order?"

"Celebration?" Hermione asked sharply.

"Certainly. You and your brothers-in-law are going to have a new nephew. Isn't that exciting?"

"Yeah," Charlie said, a bit too heartily. "Yeah, it is." He snapped his fingers and flagons of Butterbeer appeared in front of every plate. "Oh, sorry Ginny, not for you—" hers vanished—"Come on," he said as everyone looked as though he'd said something very rude at a funeral, "To Ginny and Harry," he said, raising his flagon, "And to their son—who, if blood tells, will be a brilliant wizard."

There was a frozen moment of time as everyone looked at their flagons, then back to Charlie, as though he were mad. Then, slowly, Ron reached out and grasped the handle of his, lifting it in grudging salute. At that, the rest of the crowd around the long table followed suit, and the relief that crashed down on Harry was so strong that he felt rather dizzy. Mr. Weasley loudly observed that it was snowing, and the rest of the table chimed in, desperate to fill up the silence with something normal.

Under the table, Ginny squeezed his hand. "That wasn't so bad, now was it?" she whispered.

"I still don't want to be left alone with any of them for a while," Harry whispered back. Ginny glanced around, where the air was not so much that of a celebration as a cease-fire.

"Point taken," she said. "They'll come round." She squeezed his hand again. He squeezed back. "This isn't even the hard part," she said thoughtfully. "We've still got a pregnancy to get through and a son to raise."

"Am I likely to be dismembered by six blokes bigger and older than me during that?"

"Probably not?"

"Then it'll be a piece of cake." Harry took a sip of his own Butterbeer then, feeling grimly triumphant that, for now at least, he didn't seem to need to fear for his life.