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At twenty-one, Ginny Weasley felt on top of the world.
A rising star of the Holyhead Harpies, celebrated by Witch Weekly as one of the youngest and most attractive women in the wizarding world, she was married to the love of her life…
Harry.
And yet, while the world struggled to stitch itself back together after a war that left scars too deep to fade, news where bound to come despite that.
“You are pregnant”
The news caught her off guard, she certainly wasn’t expecting it. When her teammate, friend and sister-in-law had appeared in the fireplace at Grimmauld Place, claiming she had something important to say, Ginny had not expected that.
“When did you find out?”
This morning. You’re the first to know. Don’t tell Harry.”
Ginny blinked, unsure how to respond. “Wh what. how did it happen… well. Wait don’t tell me that .”
Angelina giggled.
“But how far along are you?”
“I don’t know… six to eight weeks, maybe.”
Six to eight weeks.
She gasped. “Oliver’s party.”
Wow. That party really had been eventful.
“Probably. I’m not really sure.”
Then it hit her.
Angelina wouldn’t be playing next season.
Was she aware of that?
Should Ginny say something?
Angelina looked… radiant…
excited…
so Ginny stayed quiet.
After she left, Ginny found herself alone in Grimmauld Place. Well, not entirely. Kreacher was around somewhere, though Merlin only knew where.
She should stop thinking about it. The thoughts were making her nauseous.
Maybe… maybe she could bake. Harry had arrived the day before after a week-long mission, and once he finished his report, he planned to pick up Teddy.
Cookies, perhaps. Or cinnamon rolls.
Or both.
A week later, Angelina told everyone about her pregnancy, family, teammates, the whole lot. It was only a matter of time before the wizarding world learned that the Holyhead Harpies were losing one of their star Chasers to pregnancy.
Ah.
Don’t get her wrong. it was wonderful news. For sure. But Ginny couldn’t understand why anyone would want it now, right when everything was finally going right.
At the Burrow, conversations inevitably drifted toward babies. Who was next. When would the family grow again.
She didn’t understand the rush.
If anyone was going to catch baby fever, it wouldn’t be her.
“You should be more careful,” the mediwitch scolded after a particularly nasty fall during training.
“Oh, believe me,” Ginny replied as she swung her legs off the bed, “no matter how careful we are, injuries happen.”
“I know,” the mediwitch said, pointedly. “But especially in your condition. You should start preparing for a temporary absence from matches and training.”
What?
Leaving? Why would she
laughed, panicked and strained. “What do you mean by-” Her breathing hitched. “-temporary absence?”
The mediwitch looked at her.
“Ah. You’re pregnant. Congratulations. By the looks of it, you’re around fourteen weeks along.”
The words felt wrong. Heavy.
She tried to hide it after that. She wasn’t ready. But the new presence in her body refused to remain a secret.
When she was alone, everything felt manageable. But around others especially Harry nausea crept in, and she could swear her stomach looked bigger by the day.
Eventually, she told him.
Harry was ecstatic. His eyes shone in a way that unsettled her. When the family found out, excitement spread like wildfire.
“What a blessing,” her mother said. “Two babies next year.”
Ginny didn’t feel blessed. She didn’t know what she felt.
Of course, the tabloids caught on. After all, what was more sensational than Harry Potter marrying Ginny Weasley?
A baby.
Their baby.
The son of Harry Potter.
Her body changed, and she hated it. That small creature was taking up every inch of her, rewriting her shape and the forms in her skin.
At the Ministry’s Halloween party, whispers followed her.
“Oh my, she looks so round.”
“She’s so different.”
“Is that really Ginny?”
Each comment made her feel like a stranger inside her own skin.
By December, Fleur announced her second pregnancy. Another blessing.
Ginny was almost grateful. With Fleur glowing, her own misshapen body drew less attention.
In the final months, she couldn’t bear to look in the mirror. She hated her reflection. She looked nothing herself. She wanted it to end.
So she waited only for the delivery.
James Sirius Potter was born on a cold February night in 2003.
It made national news.
They say holding your child for the first time changes everything.
For Ginny, it didn’t.
She felt…
…relief
nothing more.
The first weeks after James’s birth were spent at the Burrow, alongside Angelina, who gave birth to her and George’s son, Fred, just three days later.
Everyone was radiant.
Ginny was not.
Later, she insisted on returning to Grimmauld Place. Her mother protested, argued, pleaded but Ginny stood firm. She couldn’t bear watching Angelina glow with happiness, couldn’t endure the constant comparison between what should be felt and what she felt instead.
So they returned to the cold, green walls of Grimmauld Place.
Harry noticed. Of course he did. He always noticed. But Ginny didn’t want to talk not yet, not ever. Talking meant naming things, and names had a way of making thoughts permanent.
She wasn’t entirely alone. Kreacher was there. Teddy and Andromeda visited often. Her mother too though Ginny preferred she wouldn’t, because every visit ended the same way, with quiet insistence that she should come home.
By May, Fleur’s pregnancy grew complicated, and visits became less frequent. Most days, it was just Ginny and James.
Harry reduced his workload as much as he could. Fewer missions. Shorter absences. He insisted on being present, and sometimes Ginny wondered but mostly feared that he sensed something was wrong.
But sensing was not the same as knowing.
One afternoon, when it was just her and the baby, Andromeda stopped by and asked if Teddy could stay while she attended a checkup. Ginny agreed without hesitation.
It was fine at first.
Andromeda, sweet and tired Andromeda, made an offhand comment as she left.
“You look exhausted, dear.”
That was all.
Everything was fine… until it wasn’t.
“Ginny,” Teddy called from the hallway. “The baby is crying.”
James was hungry. She fed him.
Minutes later: “Ginny, the baby is crying.”
He needed a change.
Again: “Ginny-“
The knife struck the wooden table harder than intended. The sound cracked through the room, sharp and sudden. Teddy flinched, wide eyed, and fell silent.
Ginny said nothing.
She carried James upstairs and laid him down, her movements stiff, mechanical.
Andromeda returned briefly but didn’t stay long. When the door closed behind her, the house swallowed the sound.
Ginny was alone again.
Alone in a house too large for her, where corridors echoed with thoughts she didn’t want, where silence pressed in from every direction.
Then…
A cry.
She inhaled.
The crying grew louder, sharper.
Enough.
“Kreacher,” she called. “The baby is crying.”
Nothing.
“Kreacher!” Louder now.
The cries continued.
“Bloody hell, Kreacher, are you listening?”
She stood and climbed the stairs, unsteady, dazed. The sound followed her piercing, relentless.
At the nursery door, she pressed her left hand against her face, fingernails digging into her cheek and forehead, grounding herself in pain.
Why couldn’t he be quiet just for a moment?
Before she reached the crib, the crying stopped.
Only her heartbeat remained, loud and violent in her ears. Her footsteps were slow, heavy against the wooden floor.
Her mind latched onto one thought…
a solution
even though the problem had already vanished.
She didn’t notice the cushion in her right hand.
When she reached the crib, a pair of blue eyes stared back at her. James smiled.
And…
Harry found her moments later, collapsed against the crib, sobbing.
“Ginny!” He dropped to his knees beside her. “What happened? Are you okay?”
She was shaking.
A monster.
She was a monster.
“Ginny, look at me.” His hands rested on her shoulders gentle, steady. “Inhale. Exhale.”
He repeated it over and over, guiding her breathing until it slowed, until she clung to him, gripping so hard that she might left the crescent of her nails.
“Everything is okay,” he whispered into her hair. “You’re okay. James is okay. You’re both okay. I’m here.”
Again and again.
The only witness was Kreacher, watching from the doorway with something smilar to relief showing on his face .
A few weeks later, they moved closer to the Burrow.
Ginny began therapy. Harry’s workload dwindled to the bare minimum. As Ginny slowly returned to Quidditch, Harry took over caring for James very often Teddy as well.
Life rearranged itself around what could not be spoken.
Ginny loved James.
That was never in question
But she was afraid, so that same love fear twisted it and became distance.
She was terrified of hurting, even that tought, the memory was painful for her.
So when she became pregnant once more, she poured everything into doing it right.
She gave all the attention to the baby growing inside her.