At times, when she touches her stomach, she feels strangely wary, as if doubtful. He never spotted that faraway look in her eye.
A hero's son.
Will he be happy?
Of course their life is perfect. They couldn't ask for more, really. Every moment is full of such love, seemingly coming from every direction, the glorious light a reparation of sorts for all the darkness they had to endure. Now is the perfect time. Their family is happy, glowing, balanced, ready.
(perfection isn't quite so positive a word for her, though)
She is a Weasley still. Her name has been on people's lips for various reasons. She has her own face, her own character; she is herself in every way (a woman). Yet at times – especially now, expecting her baby, not flying anymore – she feels like Harry Potter's wife.
Nothing more, nothing less.
What will be her son's chances?
She grits her teeth and pushes the doubt away. Of course it won't matter. Her son will be himself. A happy little being in this brand new world.
Harry Potter's face, but without the scar.
Their Boy Who Lived has long become a man. Damn it, why can't they stop?
She smiles, and tries to trust.
(to forget about her instinct)
But too soon there is a tiny, warm bundle in her arms, oh-so-fragile and Harry is oh-so-excited and he keeps on saying the same thing – and it makes him happy, so in the end she agrees.
(her defence was so feeble, and she wants to scream but she manages to smile)
(so James it will be, and she's let him down already. It's so early, and already too late)
Harry wouldn't understand.
Oh, she's still herself. Still every bit as fiery, determined, talented, dedicated and quick-witted.
But she started making compromises.
(the first time she smiled at a journalist, instead of snapping – when was it again?)
She's still flying.
She's still free.
But she has James, and then Albus, and then Lily and her life is just too full – she needs to give something up, and of course it's going to be Quidditch.
(they're so meaningful, her children, right from birth. They're like a living tribute, expected to live up to their names)
(and still she doubts and wonders, but she doesn't want to push it too far, she's scared to find out, the mistakes are made anyway)
When did Ginny Weasley start being scared?
When Ginny Potter started tactfully improving that awful temper of hers, perhaps.
(what a pretty family the hero now has, all for himself)
(don't they look just like the most perfect picture one could possibly imagine?)