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Author: Silver Phoenix Story: Interlude Rating: Young Teens Setting: Post-DH Status: WIP Reviews: 37 Words: 46,731
Harry had not felt this nervous in some time. His palms were sweaty and his body was stiff. He stood rigidly, afraid to stir, lest a small shift in movement cause some damage to the fragile thing he carried. He held it awkwardly, unsure of how to support it, and his heart was knocking so loudly against his ribs that he was sure everyone could hear it. "For heaven's sake, Harry, he's a baby, not a bomb," said Ginny. She moved forward and scooped the baby from Harry's arms. Ginny's movements seemed easy and confident as she arranged little Teddy Lupin in her own arms, allowing the baby to settle his head comfortably in the nook between her arm and her elbow. Ginny smiled down at him and tickled his stomach. Teddy happily kicked his small, sock-clad feet in the air. As he kicked, the soft fuzz on his head turned red like Ginny's hair, and a few freckles popped into existence on his small nose. "I think he likes you," Harry said, peering down at his godson. "That's because I'm not holding him like I'm afraid he's going to bite." "I just don't want to drop him or hurt his head," said Harry apprehensively. "Don't babies have fragile heads?" "Well, maybe he'll be lucky and have a thick head like his godfather," said Ginny breezily. She smiled teasingly at Harry. As if on cue, Teddy began giggling madly. They were standing in Harry's garden, with their backs to the cottage and the lush forest sprawled in front of them. The people that Harry cared about most had come to Arbour Glen for a celebration that was a mix of his birthday and a housewarming party. Several tables and chairs had been dragged out to the garden and were filled with people. Hermione had put tiny, twinkling lights up in the branches of several trees. Ron had hung up a banner between two trees that proclaimed Happy Birthday, Harry! in slightly sloppy lettering. Occasionally, a hand-drawn cartoon figure on a broomstick whizzed across the banner. It was difficult to believe that a year had passed since his last birthday party at the Burrow. It seemed half a lifetime ago, yet at the same time it felt like only yesterday. The festivities today had been fairly light-hearted; it was the first birthday in a while that Harry had not felt the threat of Voldemort looming over the day. But despite the celebratory spirit of the party, there were sharp reminders of the price they had paid for freedom. Mrs Weasley seemed falsely cheerful and distracted; she kept busying herself with things that she did not need to do, such as cleaning out Harry's pantry. George had wished Harry a happy birthday with none of the usual joking and merriment, then had begun wandering around the garden, as if at a loss for what to do at a party without his twin. Mrs Tonks had spent the better part of the evening fussing over Teddy, keeping a worried eye on him as he was passed around to his many admirers. This was perhaps another reason for Harry's nervousness with the baby. At the moment, it appeared that Mrs Tonks was talking to Hagrid; however, Harry could see her vigilantly watching Ginny out of the corner of her eye. Of all of them, Mrs Tonks had probably lost the most - her husband, her daughter, and her son-in-law, all in a few short months. It was no wonder she clung to Teddy; he was all she had left in the world. Harry watched Ginny play with his godson, feeling content and full, having just enjoyed Mrs Weasley's succulent feast. Now, in the soft, golden glow of early evening, people were milling about, talking, and entertaining themselves. Mr Weasley was attempting to perform a Muggle card trick for Hermione, who was trying her best to be supportive as he repeatedly failed to make the trick work. Ron and Neville had sat down to a game of chess at one of the long, wooden tables. Percy was engaged in conversation with the most unlikely pair of people - Luna and her father - and for once, he looked to be at a loss for words. Fleur kept striding up to groups of people with Bill in tow in order to show everyone the photographs from their recent trip to France. George was sitting alone by the pond, and Mrs Weasley was keeping herself busy by gathering empty dishes and taking them inside. This task could have easily been accomplished by magic, but Mrs Weasley seemed intent on doing it by hand. "Mum, come here for a second," Ginny called to her mother, who stopped halfway between the tables and the back door with an armful of dirty dishes. "Look how good Teddy has got at morphing!" Mrs Weasley walked over with a small smile on her tired face, and peered down at the freckle-faced Teddy. She was silent for a moment. "My, you are a beautiful boy," she said softly, a hint of sadness in her voice. "Here Mum, let me take those. You hold him." They did a juggling act with the dishes and Teddy, during which Harry tried not to panic. He kept glancing nervously over at Mrs Tonks. The baby was successfully transferred to Mrs Weasley's arms. Almost immediately, it seemed that the years she appeared to have aged in the last few months simply melted away. Teddy played his part magnificently, with much smiling and delighted giggling. He seemed to have been born for the sole purpose of making everyone happy. Harry smiled sadly at his godson, feeling a sudden, dull pang of grief for Teddy's parents, who would never see the joy that their son brought to everyone around him. Thinking of Remus and Tonks got Harry thinking about his parents, then Sirius, and then Dumbledore and Fred and everyone else who deserved to be alive, celebrating freedom and a world without Voldemort. The knowledge that they were gone, all of them, often came in painful flashes. Although memories of Sirius still surfaced frequently, over time the grief had faded into a dull feeling in his chest, and Harry had found it easier to allow himself to think of his godfather. The people that they had just recently lost in the Battle, though - that was still too fresh to think about so often. Harry struggled to push thoughts of Remus and Tonks to the back of his mind. "Harry," said Ginny, breaking through his thoughts. "Want to help me bring these inside?" Ginny obviously did not need any help bringing a few dirty dishes into the kitchen, but Harry knew better than to point this out. He bent over his godson, who was lounging contentedly in Mrs Weasley's arms, and affectionately - but carefully - rubbed one of Teddy's chubby little fingers in farewell. Harry then turned and followed Ginny into the house. The sun was beginning to set; its last rays were entering the house and making each room come alive with an orange glow. As he followed Ginny, Harry looked around at his home, which was still relatively uncluttered and bare. Ron and Kreacher - a bizarre but effective team - had recently helped Harry move from Grimmauld Place into Arbour Glen. Kreacher's strange, powerful magic had been a great help. The house-elf could disappear and take several items with him at a time using magic that neither Harry nor Ron understood. Consequently, the move had been easy, and Harry had settled into the house quickly. However, he still felt somewhat out-of-place at Arbour Glen. He was still getting used to the idea of a house that was peaceful and quiet and all his own. Harry followed Ginny into the kitchen, where she dumped the dishes in the sink and turned to face him, leaning back against the kitchen counter. The window behind her allowed the setting sun to strike her hair, which blazed a fiery red. Her lips looked dark and full against her pale face. Harry felt his mouth go dry. Was it all right, now, to be with her? Could he finally let himself be happy? Without invitation, the worries lurking at the edges of his mind burst forth: the attack on Ron in Diagon Alley, the escaped Death Eaters and the ones still at large, the problems at the Ministry and the trials which never seemed to be simple and straightforward… "Do you remember what I got you for your birthday last year?" Ginny asked, staring very steadily at him. "How could I forget?" Harry replied hoarsely.
"Honestly, I think last year might be hard to top."
Ginny seemed to sense his hesitation, because she frowned and asked, "What's wrong?" "Nothing…it's just…" "It's over now, Harry," she said quietly. "You don't have to be afraid for me anymore." How could he explain that it might not be over, that it could never be over? In a startling moment of clarity, Harry realized that although he had bought this house, although he wanted to relax and be worry-free, that could never be his life. He'd had enough trouble for a lifetime, yet it was not enough. Harry had spent the last seven years fighting Darkness. He would continue to fight, because it was right and because it was the only thing he knew. "I think I want to apply to be an Auror," Harry blurted out. Ginny looked surprised for only a moment, the faintest glimmer of disappointment evident in her eyes. She sighed, then quickly adapted to the turn of the conversation. "Well, you might have to get a few N.E.W.T's first," she said pointedly. "Maybe I could…you know, skip that." "What, just because you defeated Voldemort?" said Ginny brazenly. "Well…yes." Ginny sighed again. "No one's arguing that you're more than capable when it comes to Defence Against the Dark Arts. But I'm not sure defeating Voldemort qualifies you for the required Transfiguration N.E.W.T." There was a bite of sarcasm in her voice. There suddenly came a muffled shout of Harry's name from outside. He looked helplessly at Ginny. She had her hands on her hips and her face was expressionless. Harry felt abysmally stupid; he had ruined the moment and made Ginny angry. After weeks of uncertainty between them, he had missed his chance to finally solidify their relationship. "I think they're ready for cake," said Ginny flatly. Harry desperately tried to think of something to do or say, but the moment had passed. Ginny swept out of the kitchen and Harry followed her, feeling incredibly idiotic. ***
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