Twenty-Five

A/N: All I can say in my defense is that I've been super busy with a new school and projects and real life. Sorry for the wait. I haven't had time to respond to everyone who's left a review or followed/favorited this story, but I would really like to thank you all. I mean it though, you guys are awesome! I've also been having problems with this site lately. Whenever a story I'm following updates, I don't get an alert E-mail anymore. I've gone through, and it still says I'm following them. Anybody have any suggestions?

-:-

July 31, 2005

He knows something is wrong from the second he opens his eyes and the light streaming in from the open window sends a rush of pain through his skull. He reaches blindly for his glasses on the bedside table, sitting up and swinging his legs so that he could stand up. He groans as the movement sends a jolt of nausea through him. He slides his glasses up his nose, rubbing his stomach with his free hand. He sits there in silence, contemplating whether it would be worth going to see a healer, or maybe Hermione for some pain-killer potion. He grimaces at either option, unwilling to spend his one day off, his bloody birthday, in bed drinking foul-tasting potions.

On one hand, he could wait and see if it gets better within the next few days. But that would mean pretending he's fine and possibly getting others sick. Not to mention Ginny would see through his pathetic lies and probably hex him until she's blue in the face. She doesn't take too well to his "pretend I'm fine and wait until I bloody collapse because I have a stupid hero complex and I never need help." Her words, not his.

On the other hand, he could go and see a healer, or again more likely, Hermione. Either way he would get a lecture on his "questionably healthy habits" (so maybe going flying with Ron on Boxing Day had been a terrible plan, and their wives had been furious, but it was brilliant conditions above the clouds) and have potions with the consistency of sludge poured down his throat.

Merlin, he's buggered.

His misery is abruptly interrupted when the bedroom door opens. His wife comes in, walking backwards to open the door with her left hip. The reason becomes clear when he notices that her hands are full with their ten-month old son, James, who is laughing so hard his small shoulders shake and his dimples appear. The pain fades to the back of his mind at the sound of his infant giggle, his tiny hands wrapped in his mum's long red hair. Ginny has a look that's caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement. Harry can relate.

He doesn't think he'll ever quite get used to the rush of pure elation that explodes like a supernova within his chest at the sight of his family. He can't help but be a little blindsided every time it happens, so sudden and consuming that for a moment he wonders if someone gave him a dose of Elixir to Induce Euphoria. He never thought he could love something, or someone as much as he does his beautiful wife and their child. It terrifies him at times, that part of him that will always be waiting for the shoe to drop, for him to lose all that he's gained. Ginny assures him that'll never happen, and Harry knows that he'll die before it does. It's still staggering the amount of feelings two people can inspire though. Then again, at least Hermione can never accuse him of having the emotional range of a teaspoon.

He smiles even though his head throbs with the return of sound into the room. Ginny walks towards him, bouncing Jamie on her hip. She looks up from Jamie and catches Harry's eye. Her smile is understanding and loving. So maybe he's not the only one who never knew how much they could have.

Harry reaches forward and brushes Jamie's black fringe away from his forehead. At the contact, James' tiny face screws up with concentration as he struggles to form a word. "'Ot," he declares. Ginny's been working on teaching him simple words, like 'hot' and 'cold,' and 'yes' and 'no.' He's not too good with H's yet, so Harry assumes that 'Ot' means 'hot.'

Ginny tilts her head to the side in confusion before stretching her arm up to brush her fingers down the side of her husband's face. Her eyes widen in shock. "Merlin! Harry, you're burning up!"

He frowns as he touches the back of his neck, then touches Ginny's forearm. He winces as he realizes the temperature difference. So there goes any plan of hiding his illness. And yeah, Ginny's eyes are already narrowing suspiciously. "Are you feeling alright?" Her tone is concerned.

He sighs. There's really no use in trying to deny it considering she can always tell when he's lying. "My head's killing me and my stomach hurts." And he will deny later that e whines this to his wife.

Ginny frowns. "Lie back down. I'm going to floo to Ron and Hermione's and see if they'll watch James for a few hours. I'm sure Hermione has some spare Fever Reducing Potion since she caught a cold last month." She shoos him back to bed with her free hand.

He doesn't argue as she tucks the blankets under his chin, pressing a soft kiss to his brow. He feels his eyes grow heavy as she walks out the door. The last thing he hears is Ginny's voice trailing off as she talks to James. "You're going to have to stay with Uncle Ron and Aunt 'Mione for a little while, love. Your Daddy's not feeling good. Silly Daddy, Mummy's gonna take care of him..."

-:-

When he wakes up the next time, he opens his eyes to the sound of a potion being poured into a measuring goblet. Harry moans and buries his face in the pillow, pulling the blanket over his face.

"Don't you dare Harry James. You have a fever and you are going to take this potion. Don't make me Petrify you."

She would too. He doesn't say anything but doesn't fight her off either when she pulls the blanket away from his face. She sits on the side of the bed and cups the back of his head. He lifts his head as she guides the rim of the goblet to his lips. He screws his face up at the thick gooey substance that fills his mouth. Forcing himself to swallow, he turns away from his wife childishly and pouts. He hears her snort as she Banishes the empty goblet and potion bottle, presumably to the kitchen.

He almost wants to be angry about being sick on his birthday and the inevitable Healer's appointment and teasing from the Weasleys. He would be too if he didn't have reason to appreciate his own luck and how good his life really is. He'd lived through war and Voldemort, and really, being sick isn't so bad. Yes it's annoying and worse in the middle of a hot summer on your bleeding birthday, but he cant' find any emotion other than contentedness as he drifts back to sleep as his wife tucks herself into his side.

Her fingers twine with his and he smiles. "Love you Gin," he mumbles sleepily, turning his head to nuzzle her sweet-smelling hair. She huffs and kisses his jaw.

"Love you too Harry, even when you get sick germs all over me. Though I swear to Merlin, if you get me sick, you're sleeping on the couch for a week. Or better yet, on Ron's couch."

-:-

Okay, that sucks but at the very least I'm content with it. Last chapter someone a reviewer mentioned including Ron and Hermione more in the story and next chapter I'll try to oblige. I wasn't even aware of leaving them out. And I'm also hoping on making the next chapter longer. Albus and possibly Rose should make an appearance next chapter as well as playful toddler!James. If anyone has any ideas to include, I'm all ears. Until next time.

-HF