Ectopic: Occurring in an abnormal position or place.

July 10, 2005

James let out a mad yowl, beating the air with tiny, clenched fists.

"Oh, hush now," Ginny hissed to him, repositioning him in her lap as he wriggled. "Can't you go five minutes without making a fuss?"

"You'd better take him out," Harry muttered as people started turning their way, a few already giving them judgmental frowns.

She gave him a sideways look, wincing as one of James's flailing feet connected with her abdomen. "Alright, alright," she shushed to the baby. "We won't be five minutes," she added apologetically to Harry, leaning over to kiss him as she stood with their positively screeching son. "Really."

Harry nodded. "Don't worry about it." But the moment they were gone, he felt the atmosphere closing in around him, the suits, the gleaming dance floor, the obscenely expensive vases of flowers, the passive-aggressive chitchat rising up like suffocating vapor to the arched ceiling of the church. He was as out of place here as he had always been. He took another sip of champagne, tapping the seconds on his thy as he waited for Ginny to return.

Dudley and his new bride had taken the dance floor to some Beatles' song Harry half-remembered from long ago. He watched with a feeling of fondness that was still new and strange to him as Dudley clumsily shuffled his girth around, trying not to bowl his wife over in the process. She was almost as tall as him, but willow-thin and delicate, almost made of wisps. But she had a warm laugh and a gentle way of keeping Dudley from making too much of an idiot of himself. From what he'd seen of her when they'd met last summer, Harry liked her well enough. Dudley had seemed oddly keen for his opinion. That evening still baffled him.

"Oh, terribly sorry."

Harry was jerked out of his musings as a woman stumbled over the baby carrier Ginny had stuffed awkwardly under her chair. He automatically reached out to steady her, mumbling a quick apology of his own. Their eyes met, and they both froze at the same time.

Aunt Petunia jerked back an automatic step and Harry drew his hands back as if he'd been shocked. Her pale eyes stared back at him, wide as galleons, and he thought perhaps he should say something, some of the things he had imagined telling her, asking her ever since diving into the pensive filled with Snape's memories, but his breath was caught in his throat and he felt suddenly eight years old again and caught where he shouldn't be. The funny thing was, she looked equally as caught.

She was the first to recover. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, defensively snappish.

Harry, some of his adulthood coming back to him, raised his eyebrows. "Dudley invited us. We're friendly."

Her mouth dropped open just a little before she regained some of her composure. The silence that had fallen between them all those years ago before they'd left Privet Drive swelled up suddenly, horribly sticky and dense with decades of things unsaid.

"Hello." As a life-preserver flung to a drowning man, Ginny dropped in beside Harry, James contentedly sucking on a pacifier in the crook of her arm. "I don't suppose you remember me; we met once a few years ago. I'm Ginny Potter, Harry's wife." She extended the hand not currently tapping soothingly against James's hip to keep him calm.

"I need to serve the drinks," Aunt Petunia said abruptly and turned on a heal and bustled away.

"I'm so sorry," Ginny rushed the moment she was gone, slumping against Harry's arm. "He wouldn't take the bottle, and then he was sick all over me, and –"

"It's fine," Harry cut her off, still staring at the place his aunt had vanished in the crowd. "We saw Dudley and Allison, we should head out. We don't exactly belong in this crowd anyway. No wonder Jamie was sick. The fumes of expensive cologne in this room are making my stomach turn."

He stood up suddenly and reached for James's bag.

"Harry…."

"Leave it."

"But isn't there something you want to say to her? After everything?"

"She doesn't want to hear it."

"Who the bloody fuck cares what she wants?"

"Ginny –"

"Oh, he can't understand a word I say."

"Let's just go. Please? We only came for Dudley and he won't miss us." He had already swung the diaper bag over his shoulder and hoisted the baby carrier over an arm and was looking imploringly at her. "This isn't the time nor the place."

Ginny sighed and stood up. "But if you don't say anything to her soon, you can bet I will."

A/N: A bit strange to leap back to July for Christmas, I know, but I'll have a Christmas special for you later. This is for Zoulou. I've got some better Petunia stuff coming in a bit. Inspiration struck after I had most of this written. Anyway, Merry Christmas to you all! (And if there's anything you'd like as a stocking-stuffer, let me know in a review and I'll see if I can work something up!)