In the morning I wake up and I feel horrible. I've got an intense pain in my lower abdomen, and in a flash I understand why. I've got my period. All taken by the drama I completely forgot; what day is it? Am I late? Am I early? Who knows…? I must get back in touch with reality but, right now, I feel so sick and aching I cannot concentrate. I think I bled on the linen too.
Sometimes it happens I get very sick. Not often but I guess all the stress and disruptions of my personal routine didn't play in my favour.
While I'm trying to figure out how to handle the situation in between painful cramps, Harry is awake too. He caresses me lovingly but when he sees my face he falters.
'What's the matter? You are pale'
'I don't feel well'
Anxious, he eases himself on his elbow 'What's wrong?'
'No, Harry, nothing bad' I say to reassure him, but I feel so shy in admitting the reason of my sickness. My god, like If I am thirteen years old or something!
'Only stomach-cramps, nothing serious'
He frowns and then after a moment of consideration asks, 'Have you got your period?'
I nod feeling shyer by the minute and for no reason at all, for Heaven's sake!
'I think I dirtied the sheets' I mutter sheepishly while clenching my abdomen.
He peers underneath 'Mmhh.. I'm afraid so' he says grinning.
'I'm sorry' I say contrite in a fit of deep shame.
He chuckles 'Nothing to be sorry for. Can you stand?'
I answer in the affirmative.
'I prepare you a hot bath, it'll make you feel better. I'll change the linen in the meanwhile'
'No Harry!' I stammer 'Don't. I'll do it!'
He is already getting out of bed. Only in his pants. If no even period cramps save me from enjoying the sight, there is no hope.
On wearing his t-shirt, he answers, 'Don't be silly' and he shots out from the room.
I crouch on myself in sufferance but also very pleased. He is truly caring.
After a few minutes he is back in the living room 'The bath is ready. Have you got some pads? I don't know if there are any in the house'
I see his expression clouding slightly. The house has been purged from any of Ginny's belongings and he is reflecting on it. I don't want him to. I stammer quickly.
'Don't worry, I can use some toilet paper'
'Toilet paper?! You are joking, I hope! There is a supermarket just around the corner, I'll pop in and buy some' he says wearing a sweater and jeans. He is so lovely I'm almost moved to tears but when I see him grabbing his muggle wallet, I grow worried all of sudden. 'Harry!' I bellow before he leaves the room.
He turns enquiringly.
'Buy only the pads, all right?'
He looks puzzled 'Why? Don't you want me to buy something for lunch since I'm there? I thought to get some eggs and bacon for breakfast too, I rather fancy a fry-up'
He has such a look of ingenuity on his face that I perceive he is not lying. He forgot about wanting to buy drugs only the day before yesterday.
'Yes, ok. But buy some veggies too' I answer debilitated. He smirks and leaves the house.
I drag myself with difficulty to the bathroom. He left me also some fluffy towels close to the bathtub. He is such a nice guy. And I'm so hopelessly in love that is shameful. I would reproach myself if only I wouldn't be suffering the pain of hell.
While I try to fight the discomfort in the warmth of the water, I hear the front door open. He is back.
It's followed by some rummaging of shopping bags and bustle around the house.
After a while he knocks at the door 'I left in front of the door pads and some paracetamol. I wanted to get you a potion, but, you know, I cannot go to Diagon Alley'
I'd rather have preferred a potion but the only one I had I gave it to Harry for his headache. I don't like muggle medicine much. If you read the leaflet there are so many side effects is scary, they seem more harmful than beneficial, but I'll take them, beggars can't be chooser. I feel splitting in two.
After half an hour I'm back in bed hoping the damned poisonous paracetamol is either going to take the pain away or to kill me.
Harry brings me a cup of tea and sits on the edge of the bed while I'm sipping it.
'Thank you for the pads' I mumble.
'No problem'
'How did you know what to take?'
He sniggers 'It's always the same, innit?'
I frown taken aback by this answer. He has no way to know actually. This is not an information you usually share with your male best friend, more with your female best friend. In fact, I perfectly know what Ginny used. The brand he got me as a matter of fact. I feel a creep rising on my back.
'Harry?' I ask tentatively.
'Yes?' he answers while caressing my head and smiling affectionately.
'Nothing'
I decide cowardly not to bring up the subject for the moment. I don't want to destroy his smile. I decide to believe it's simply a lapsus.
'Do you mind if I do my work out here before to get breakfast?'
I give my consent trying not to look too cheerful. Actually, I always rather enjoyed watching him doing his workout. A small guilty pleasure I allowed myself time to time when we were still working together. In both our departments keeping fit was essential and, in the Ministry, there is a small gym employees can use. We went there together time to time but only late in the evening or very early in the morning when the Ministry was almost empty. Otherwise, he wouldn't get any peace.
Between men trying to ingratiate themselves and women who wanted to be noticed, he couldn't have a quiet moment. Poor man. With any other person it would have been called persecution but with him it was considered normal and acceptable.
Well, I don't know if it's the paracetamol or seeing his muscles working under the effort, but all of sudden I feel definitely better. When he finishes and take out his t-shirt to swipe away the sweat around his neck, I feel so well that I need to grasp the duvet to prevent myself from sprinting and attacking him in a manner of a lion on the antelope.
'Do you want some breakfast?' he asks throwing the t-shirt in a corner of the room.
I shake my head. I don't trust myself using my voice; I'm afraid only an unintelligible squeal would come out.
Mistaking it for lingering pain, he gets close and rest his chin on the bed just few inches from my face 'Poor thing' he says brushing my cheek. His manly smell invades me making me dizzy. The lion in me is ready to jump.
'Don't worry. I'll take care of you' he says kissing my forehead.
This is rather nice. I think I'll pretend to be unwell a bit longer.
The day passes pleasantly, I welcome all the small attentions and kindness he pours over me, I let him spoil me and I feel really loved in a way.
I stop to reflect on how bizarre the procedure on which character is formed. How is it possible that a person that has not received love for all his childhood and very little while a teenager, a person mistreated by people and destiny, can develop a loving personality. How that happened?
Sometimes I wonder if a different person could have defeated Voldemort. I believe not. Having a pure heart was essential to defeat evil.
I wonder if Dumbledore had placed him to the Dursley with a scheme, maybe Harry has so much to give just because he never received any. Perhaps Dumbledore had done it on purpose to develop this trait in his character (because, let's be honest, I'm sure that giving in a bit of thought a better solution could have been found). Well, I sincerely hope not. I don't want to have to harbour rancour against Dumbledore. I know I should see the whole thing in a different prospective. It's one life against the hundreds that would have suffered if Voldemort wouldn't have been defeated, but still, I cannot. It seems a bit hard in his regard. Like if his life was somehow less important.
Anyway, I spent a very nice day on the whole and I think he did too. Only two things created me some disquiet.
In the afternoon he brought me some strawberries accompanying them with the affirmation that they are my favourites, which is not true and while we were talking and laughing about some silliness just before going to bed, he almost kissed me. On the lips I mean. He has never done it up to now. Not even once, not by mistake. I was about to auto combust from the inside with anticipation but as soon as he realised what he was about to do, faltered and seemed very afraid for a moment. He forced a smile and caressed me, but plunged in a complete silence, turned back from me going to sleep.
Should I grow afraid? Should I mention it to Ted?
The next day I'm still a bit sore in my muscles but nothing so debilitating. Harry is quite caring and seems to go above and beyond to please me.
I wonder if Ginny felt her luck in having such husband. I'm sure she did, despite she was often complaining about his messiness and carelessness. I anyway feel mine. Only during my pregnancies Ron, carried away by happiness, treated me in the same way. And I ask myself why he wasn't affectionate to me all the time. With the kids he has always been very loving. He has never been stingy of kisses and hugs. Why then it wasn't the same in my regards?
We were so happy when we finally got together. I was so taken. After years at Hogwarts wishing for each other and never acknowledging it, this desire growing steadily and increasingly with every year, every month, every day, every minute spent together. It reached its zenith in that kiss the night of the Hogwarts battle (because I made a move, otherwise we could have waited forever).
I just wanted him so much. I had already experienced making love and at that age, once you start, there is not stopping it. You have that desire burning under your skin all the time.
Then the battle raged, and Fred died. Ron was devastated, the whole family was devastated, George was distraught, shocked. It was such a calamity in a family as united as theirs.
Harry needed to recover, tired beyond belief. Everybody was gathered in the Hufflepuff dormitory, we hid as far away as possible from them. They wouldn't leave Harry alone and he needed to sleep. Me and Ron offered to guard his rest. The Gryffindor dormitory had been damaged but not destroyed. Their room was still intact.
Harry, exhausted, nodded off as soon as he touched the bed but we, although as exhausted as him, couldn't doze. We were laying in Ron's bed, and we were too close to feel the tiredness, our desire too heightened. Years of waiting and all of sudden we couldn't wait a second longer and with the only precaution of letting the four posters bed's curtain down, we made love there for the first time, only a few feet from Harry sleeping. Probably it hasn't been so nice of us but we were so delirious by the victory and so happy to be alive. We were so in love.
Ron didn't realise it wasn't the first time for me. Perhaps he never had a doubt about it, perhaps he was a bit naïve or perhaps only too excited, tired, grieving, and euphoric all together to notice. I don't know, but it worked perfectly for me. I would have named Krum as the man if pinned down. I'm sure Ron would have been furious, but anyway better than the truth.
When he found out years later, he went berserk. Scary really but not surprisingly. Ron, for all his life, felt second in importance in pretty much anything, and he just couldn't bear that even with me he had been second after Harry. Poor man. He has always been second with me after Harry.
Today, the weather being acceptable, we had a walk in Cornwall. It was very soothing and relaxing. We walked hand in hand, sometimes in silence observing the lovely scenery, sometimes chatting.
He talked as if we were going to spend together our whole life somewhere else other than England, I obviously thought he was in jest. However, I grew uneasy when I asked in the same playful tone, 'What about the kids?'
And he answered a bit too seriously 'What kids?'
I didn't know what to say but, thankfully, after a moment, seeing my expression, he wavered and added 'Ah yeah, the kids… They will come with us of course'
I decided to believe he was still in jest.