Hello, darling. This is one of those "3 a.m. fics," so please be kind to the typing and grammar mistakes. I try, I really do, but I wasn't ready to let this plot bunny hop away and felt the need to get it all out there.
Hope you enjoy.
Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, now a man, who had walked straight to his death, the only one to face down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named twice, was looking more terrified than he had ever before in his life. He stood there, his jaw slack, his eyes wide and blinking behind his glasses, unable to move.
"Did you hear me, Harry?" his wife, Ginny, asked again, peering up at him since he was a head taller, "I said I think it's time." her voice was calm, and her face didn't show any discomfort at the moment. She rubbed a hand over her stretched belly, absent mindedly.
"I--I did," Harry gulped, looking at his wife with sheer terror, "is it time to floo to St. Mungo's?" he tried to sound calm, but the comforting hand he had raised to place on her shoulder was shaking so hard Ginny had moved away from it before he could touch her.
"Well, yes. That's what I meant about it being time," Ginny teased, wincing slightly as she felt the pain of a contraction.
"Right," he said decisively, stepping towards the fireplace, still blinking as if there was something trying to fly into his eyes.
"Harry," Ginny started, causing Harry to whirl around so fast he bumped the small table at the end of the couch, knocking their old red vase to the floor, "couldn't you get my overnight bag before we go?" Ginny continued to tease, whirling her wand over the broken vase, repairing it instantly.
"Right," Harry repeated, carefully making his way past the vase this time, to their back bedroom to retrieve the bag that had been packed for days now.
The cat Harry hated but Ginny adored was resting on their bed, her great yellow eyes peering at Harry with mild amusement.
"You'll be replaced soon, havin' a baby tonight." Harry told her. "Then Gin will forget all about you, and it's out in the street with ya!" The cat let out a long hiss, and Harry had an eerie flash back to his school days, with the vicious Mrs. Norris.
"Harry! Quit fighting with the cat! I need to get to St. Mungo's, remember? Having your child and all!" Harry looked up at Ginny's call, smiling slightly.
"Hear that? Baby now, cat later." he mumbled, and he heard the cat let out a noise that sounded distinctly like a growl.
Harry wasn't quite sure what all happened at St. Mungo's, but there were distinct things that stood out in his memory. The yelling of Molly when she found she was the last person to be notified about Ginny checking in to have the baby, the mediwitches constantly yelling at him to get out of the way, the way Ginny was disturbingly giggly from all the spells cast on her to keep her comftorable, which were doing a bit too good of a job.
And then the cries, the tiny, tiny cries that came from this little pink thing he was handed.
"It's a boy, Mr. Potter!" someone had told him, but he already knew that, he and Ginny had secretly known for a few months, but hadn't told anyone.
"Hullo, James." Harry muttered to the baby, resting in a light blue blanket with golden snitches adorning it, standard for St. Mungo's. The baby let out a small mew of a noise, and Harry couldn't help but feel that this little squirmy thing was more terrifying than any Horcrux.
"Oi, you gonna let me see him, then?" Ginny questioned from where she was still resting on the bed, her hair plastered to her forehead from sweat. Harry had never seen her look more beautiful.
"You got to hold him for nine months." Harry retorted, walking over to her, but not quite sure if he was ready to let the moment go.
"Yeah, but he wasn't this fun. He made me throw up and ache, I want to enjoy him now." Ginny put her hands out expectantly, and Harry grinned despite himself, passing the little one.
Ron Weasley peered into the room at St. Mungo's, careful not to let any of the mediwizards see him. It was way past visitation hours, but he had been unable to be reached at work to hear about the arrival sooner. Standing tall in the doorway, he looked around the room, seeing the standard St. Mungo's room. Clean walls, one window with the standard view, his sleeping sister in the bed, and his knocked out best friend in the chair next to her, snoring softly. He grinned at this, for years at school everyone blamed Neville Longbottom for all the snoring in their dorm, always denying that any of them made any noise in their sleep.
Ron slipped all the way into the room, letting it gently click closed behind him. He grinned at the enchanted basket on the other side of the room. It was three feet off the ground, just right for his sister, and rocking gently. He tip toed over, grinning stupidly to himself.
"Well, aren't you just tiny?" he whispered to the little person in the basket, staring up at him with big eyes. He had dark wisps of hair, and in this light, he had dark, shadowed eyes. "Shouldn't you be asleep? Isn't that what babies do? That's what Hermione, well, your Aunt Hermione told me. You'll have a cousin before long, and he or she had better be well behaved and sleep. Not like you, wide awake at this time of night..."
"Oh, don't look at me like that! I'm allowed to be awake, I'm a grown up...Blimey, look at me, arguing with a newborn. I'm worse than Harry and that bloody cat...
"Now, now, don't fuss! Shhh...all right, all right, I'll hold you...you're lighter than a bludger, aren't you? Well, we haven't been formally introduced have we? I'm your Uncle Ron, and I already know that you're James, Gin told me before you even got here. Funny how things work out like that. Now, I want you to remember, I'm Uncle Ron. You've got plenty of uncles, but I plan on being your favorite. Won't be your godfather, though. We find it's not very good luck to have a godfather...but focus more on your uncles than any of that mess.
"Bill's fun, and his wife, your Aunt Fleur, is part Veela. That'll mean something when you meet one who's not related to you, I promise. Then, there's Charlie, he's absolutely bonkers about dragons. Dragons! Sent me a picture of Norberta the other day, brought back a few memories I won't be letting you in on till you're much older.
"Uncle Percy's next in the line of Weasley brothers, and he's about as stodgy as his name suggests. But I must warn you not to write him off right away, he can be dead useful. Brilliant at paperwork, and that's something that people like me just aren't good at. That's why it's extra good that I married your Aunt Hermione. You'll understand her better later on, she was here in what I'm sure was a mad rush.
"I dunno if you remember, but when you were three hours old, the Weasley clan took over the hospital. Mum and Dad prolly fussing over you and your parents, all your aunts and uncles running around, trying to take care of cousins...must have been a real laugh.
"Speaking of a laugh, do you remember your Uncle George? He's good for a laugh, but don't let him fool you with his 'can't hear ya' bit, his ear is fine. He's good for a laugh, I told you. He has, er, had a twin. That's your Uncle Fred. He has a portrait up in their joke shop, you'll see him plenty, I'm sure. They're trying to figure out a way for free samples to be handed out to people through a portrait, think it'll be extra funny. They might be right, come to think of it. They were always funny. George will probably tell you he's not funny, Fred was the funny one, and he was the pretty one, but now without his ear...but don't pay any mind to that, that just means he's trying to get a sympathy. Probably from a blond.
"Now, don't go thinking that all these uncles you have are going to be anything compared to yours truly. I'm famous, actually. We'll talk about that later, maybe when you can lift your own head. But I should be your favorite. I'm your dads best friend, I've got all the good stories on him. I can tell you all sorts of things about your mum too, but she'll prolly hurt me for it.
"So will your Aunt Hermione. And Grandmum. But don't pay them any mind, either. It's okay to be a trouble maker...actually, it's expected! Part of your heritige. Well, so is defeating evil gits who call themselves 'the Dark Lord,' but I'd rather you not do that. Defeatin' one was bad enough, don't want to have to see the sequal...
"Blimey, it's nearly three in the morning! Your Aunt 'Mione is gonna be quite mad at me...don't fuss now, this is a nice basket to rest in, I wouldn't mind it...there ya go...All right, g'night James.
"Remember, I'm your favorite, Uncle Ron! I'll teach you how to fly, before your dad does, and we won't tell him. Then you'll look bloody brilliant when he tries, won't you?...Yeah, it's gonna be nice to be the favorite..."
Ron clicked the door behind him, humming slightly as he walked down the hall, ready to Apparate home.
"Did you hear all that, Harry?" Ginny asked in a soft voice from her spot on the bed.
"Every word." Harry answered, a small smile on his lips from his place in the chair.
"I'll kill him."
"I'll help, love."