Where Heroes Rush In

A/N: Well, here\'s the delayed ending. Thank you for those showing your support by leaving a review. I\'m curious to know what you think of the conclusion.









Epilogue









Seven months later…





“Oh, Gods, baby, go deeper, don’t stop. I want you so bad. Fuck me harder, Harry.”





Ginny was leaning backwards over the kitchen sink, her face pressed to the inside curve of her bicep. Her arms hung from the beam across the window holding the flowered curtains, the sun glinting off her hair in burnished threads. She had her eyes closed, beads of sweat had collected atop her lip and just under her breasts. Harry’s wrists were flat to the back of her thighs as his fingers curled upwards clutching tightly to her hips, using a fair amount of force to pummel her insides. It was a Saturday afternoon, and they had already been at it all morning, so he would have to give her a rest soon. It was his turn to make supper, and he still had many things planned for them to do over the course of the evening. This was their ritual for the weekend, after all. He would take her all night, but then they would sleep in through most of Sunday, waking up sometime around one or two, or until Molly Firecalled them to remind them about the family dinner at the Burrow. It wasn’t as if they could forget the engagement; it happened every week.





Harry and Ginny’s weekend began on Friday, at 6 o’clock, as soon as she got home from school. He would already be waiting for her when she walked through the fireplace, undressing her the minute her book bag had hit the ground. Ginny was then forbidden to wear clothes until it was time to get ready for their visit to her parents’ house a few days later. The Weasley dinners always came too soon for Harry. Some weekends, he would try to convince Ginny to let them skip a week, to call up her mother and beg off because of menstrual cramps or homework, or whatever excuse seemed applicable at the time, so he could do more things to her before the dreaded Monday loomed up when she would be off to school and he would be back in training. But it was the one area where Ginny would not bend. In all other matters, she would happily give in to him when he was insistent to have his way, particularly if he employed his tongue somewhere on her body to persuade her.





The Weasley clan was mostly sympathetic to the newlyweds, understanding that they wanted their space, but Molly was inclined to fuss over them when she didn’t see Ginny enough. She hadn’t wanted her daughter to leave her sight when the two teens had returned with Ron and Hermione from their search and destroy mission, and there had been quite a ruckus when Ginny promptly told her that she was moving in to Grimmauld Place with Harry. Molly had been apoplectic; so happy to have her daughter safe and sound, yet horrified that she would be ‘shacking up’, as she put it, with Harry when she hadn’t even finished her education. Ginny had expressed disinterest in returning to Hogwarts—she only wanted to stay with Harry, wherever that happened to be—but he had talked her into seeing about finishing her sixth and seventh year without having to board there. Headmaster McGonogall had arranged things so that Ginny could use the Floo each day to get back and forth between school and home, a compromise they could all live with. But Molly had still been upset about their cohabitation, especially after the night Ginny had declared to the entire family over the roast beef that she and Harry had been having a sexual relationship, that it wasn’t about to change, nor were they going to hide it just so the family could pretend she was still some innocent, little girl. Harry had expected that her brothers would be quick to kick his arse in defense of her honour, but they were all rather sheepish about it, which was just as well, since Harry wasn’t about to allow anyone to kick his arse, not even Ron.





Arthur had taken the news surprisingly well, but then he was just ecstatic to have his daughter back, too. He would hug her tightly whenever the two came over as if he hadn’t seen her in years, then give Harry a firm handshake, his face full of respect. It was after the third or fourth Weasley get-together that Harry finally broke from the guilt and announced to everyone that he was marrying Ginny to make her an honest woman. Ironically, the lot of them had much to say against the idea: the kids were too young, they had been through too much to be thinking rationally, that they shouldn’t rush into any hasty decisions—and then a troubled Molly had wrung her hands and asked if the pair of them ‘had to’ because of some other reason. But Ginny reminded them that she was about to turn seventeen, she would be of age, and the decision was out of their hands. As a concession, the teens let her mother plan them a proper wedding for after Ginny’s birthday. Harry even went so far as to let her redecorate some of the rooms at Grimmauld as part of their wedding present, and said nothing afterwards about the overabundance of white trim and pastels throughout the house. The wedding was a small affair, in the backyard of the Burrow once again, but the news made the front page of the papers. It had seemed as if the family let go a collective exhale after Harry and Ginny were officially wed, and the post party was a lively time for all with everyone drinking perhaps a bit too heavily.





On their privacy, though, Harry was emphatic. Before the wedding ever took place, he and Ginny had settled into their routine, keeping relatives and the outside world at bay as soon as the weekend began. Even when he came home exhausted from being put through his paces in his Auror training maneuvers, Harry would manage to leave it at his door, reviving himself with one of Snape’s potions to prepare for her. And Ginny was always in a frenzy for him when she arrived, as if she had been counting down the seconds. Not that they wouldn’t have sex the rest of the week, because they certainly did, but it was different then; they still had the responsibilities from their day-to-day intruding into their carefully constructed sanctuary. Harry knew he was one of the youngest ever to be admitted into the Auror program and wanted to give it his best effort, if for no other reason than to show Kingsley Shacklebolt that he wouldn’t let him down. But it hadn’t been an easy time of it. He had passed the physical portion of the tests with high marks, and Kingsley would have let him in with that alone, but the rest of his officers demanded that Harry see a Mind Healer first to determine his psychological fitness after his capture and escape. That part had been grueling; endless questions that confused him and made him uncomfortable. There seemed to be a lot of attention paid to the method with which Harry had slain Voldemort and how that had made him feel. It hadn’t made him feel much of anything other than relief, but Ginny had advised him that he should probably act like he was a bit more torn up about it. And when his healer wanted to discuss how he was affected by the sexual abuse, Harry would get very antsy and distracted. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to feel about that, at all. He hadn’t wanted to admit that part to anyone, but it had been rather obvious after his and Ginny’s arrival on the front porch of Shell Cottage wearing only a collar chained to their nipples, Ginny in a screaming fit of hysteria while they were bathed in Riddle’s blood, and a giant snake curled around them. As for the rest of the Wizarding world, unfortunate details had come out at Lucius Malfoy’s hearing.





Of course, that meant Malfoy had also disclosed the nature of Ginny’s imprisonment, which had been widely reported. The Prophet had had a field day with the salacious news, but it died down after a few weeks, most families having already gone through their own hell during Voldemort’s short reign. People recognized that the Weasleys didn’t need further heartache from Skeeter and her ilk. And Ginny refused to discuss it with anyone, not even her parents or her brothers. Harry suspected that it was partly the reason they had been allowed to get away with as much as they did; he didn’t think Molly would have tolerated the idea at any other time if her sixteen year old daughter had come to inform her she was leaving home to live with a boy. Still, he sensed that her family was now looking to him to make sure she recovered from her ordeal, that Harry had become her de facto protector in their eyes, which suited him just fine. Taking care of Ginny was his main priority, after all.





“I’m going to give it you deep, alright; don’t you worry, luv. By the time I get through with you, you’ll be screaming my name, won’t you, girl? My cock owns you. It’s going down your throat next, with your cum all over it.” He was murmuring into her skin, licking the sweat there in between pronouncements. Ginny’s eyes were still shut tightly, but she keened louder, her cunt squeezing around his prick. Harry bent down again as he rammed into her repeatedly and licked up to the delicate gold chain on her torso, holding it between his teeth and giving it a drag. As the chain happened to be linked between her pierced breasts, Ginny’s response was instantly vocal, her mouth opened wide.





“Aahhhhyyy-e-e-sss! Yes! Fucking ‘ell, Harry; hurt me, please. Merlin, I need you. Show me how bad I am, baby. I need you to punish me.”





“If you don’t calm down and stop telling me what to do, I will punish you…severely. You want me to get the crop out?” he threatened, his voice going deeper. “I’ll be sure to strip your arse with so many red welts you’ll have to eat at your mother’s standing up. Is that what you want?” Harry knew that that was exactly what Ginny wanted, but her eyes shot wide open and she shook her head very slowly, continuing the pretense of the frightened child being scolded, even though her face and chest were flushed with her excitement.





This had been a recent development for them. It had been Ginny who had first asked Harry to spank her one night while he’d had her tied up to the couch. Her upper body had been hanging over the back, head resting on the seat cushions, while her bum was on display, legs pulled open and tied to the claws of the sofa. Once he’d started smacking the fair skin of her arse until it had gone bright red, he hadn’t been sure who had been turned on by it more, but the sex that followed had been frantic and intense. Ginny didn’t have to ask the next time.





Shortly after they had settled in at 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry had taken to bathing Ginny every night. Sometimes he would join her, but more often than not he simply wanted to tend to her, making it as sensual an experience as he could. Very soon after, he added dressing her, as well, getting her ready for school every morning before he had even bothered to shower in preparation for his own day. It soothed him, being able to take care of her that way. He didn’t have to think about anything else when he was focused on her. The first few times he had tied her up for sex, it had felt a bit strange to be repeating what Riddle had done to them, but it felt…comfortable; right—for both of them. Harry had wanted to find more restraints for her, instead of Transfiguring various trinkets from around the house into what they needed, so they had made a trip into Knockturn Alley hoping for a wizarding version of a sex shop. Behind one small storefront with blackened windows, they discovered a virtual treasure trove, the rows of tools and toys impressing them both. Harry had dashed over to Gringott’s to make a withdrawal and their shopping excursion quickly turned expensive.





But their new hobby and weekend retreats had not gone on without some cost to their friendships. Ron had not exactly been enthusiastic about the prospect of Harry marrying his sister when he still hadn’t gotten the nerve up to ask Hermione out on a proper date. After the wedding, he had gotten a bit more used to the idea of them together, but it was as if the two couples had been divided in some ways. Harry hadn’t really wanted to delve deeper into the reason for the shift. Ron never approached his best friend about what had happened at Malfoy Manor, looking mightily uncomfortable whenever the episode was even alluded to. When Ginny would make caustic jokes about their enslavement in his presence, he’d blanch, often leaving the room. Harry had expected that Hermione, at least, would be all over them with questions, particularly during the weeks they hunted down and decimated Riddle’s soul cages, but she had been surprisingly good about respecting their privacy on the matter. Until she had come over to Grimmauld one afternoon without telling them she was stopping by. That had not gone well. She had been too mortified to speak to them for a few weeks after.





“Babe, I’m going to move you, now.” Harry took hold of his wand sitting on the sideboard and used it to detach Ginny so he could swing her to the long bench table behind them, his cock still inside of her. Once he laid her flat on her back, he pushed her legs further up until her ankles were resting on his shoulders then leaned forward. He loved taking her this way. Sometimes, when she was in a very limber state, he could press her legs all the way back, his body pressing down on hers making it possible to get his knob incredibly deep. Ginny usually went mad for it, her enraptured screams lighting him up every time she gushed another release. This time, however, as soon as he angled himself to get some good penetration, she winced, emitting a sharp cry.





“Are you all right? Did I do it too hard?” Harry stilled as he watched her face stay scrunched up in pain.





“Sorry, luv; I’m a bit tender there, lately. My breasts have been really sore, too. We should probably try another position.” She curled her legs back down around his waist but sat up to hook her bound hands over the top of Harry’s head. He hadn’t moved, looking at her with concern. “I’ll be fine. I’m just waiting on my period, is all.” Harry creased his forehead.





“Waiting? Are you late? But you’re taking the potion, aren’t you?” He wrapped his arms to clasp behind her back and pulled her closer, peering intensely into her suddenly frozen expression.





“Oh, um, yeah, of course. I mean, I don’t think that’s it. My monthlies have been a bit sketchy before. It’ll be okay, I’m sure.” She glanced at him furtively before staring down at his erection. “Although…it…well, it wouldn’t be the worst thing, would it? If I were really, you know…late?”





Harry couldn’t respond right away, feeling caught off-guard. His mind scrambled as he pushed away from her, setting her legs down to hang from the table. He glanced around the kitchen, trying to imagine a toddler sitting at the table with them, banging its spoon on the tray of the high chair to demand its breakfast. For Harry, wanting a family with Ginny was a given, but they hadn’t even hit their twentieth birthday or even started their careers. A baby seemed premature. But…would it be the worst thing? Harry had a sudden vision of Ginny’s body lit up with Riddle’s unknown spell.





“Well, if you’re on a potion, how can your period be off-track? Amon gives it to you to take every day, right? You should have told me you were feeling poorly, Gin. Maybe you need to see a healer.” He sat down on the bench and leaned over to rest his crossed arms on her lap, signifying the end of their fucking session. Ginny blinked in her daze, her brow furrowing.





“Oh, are…are we done, then? I still…luv, I’d like to get off, please. I promise I’ll be fine. I’ll just go and see Madam Pomfrey while I’m at school, if it makes you feel better.”





“Actually, I think it would make me feel loads better. Why don’t you see to that then, babe,” he directed, leaning in further so he could suckle one of her pebbled nips. Her hands were quick to press to the back of his head, keeping him in place, legs wrapping around him again. After a few moments, Harry pushed her back down to the table once more, holding her legs open with his hands pressed to the insides of her thighs as he bent to lap at her cunt. His teeth took hold of one of the gold hoops there, right above her clitoris, and he tugged lightly, causing a squeal to come from above his head. The two of them had taken to getting more piercings, especially on their genitalia, and he kept her pubis shaved bare in light of it. The Muggle tattoo shop in Piccadilly where they’d had it done had been a fun outing. He had almost allowed Ginny to get a tattoo right above her bum, but then changed his mind. Aside from the jewelry, he wanted her pristine.





His tongue danced and Ginny’s moans were back in abundance. Harry wasn’t too concerned about his flagging hard-on. He would bring Ginny to orgasm and then have Amon put her in the bath to wash her up while he took care of himself. He kept a rather large dildo for such occasions; he could magic it to fuck him while he got off a good wank. There were times, when Ginny was suffering from cramps or feeling a bit wild, that they would invite Malfoy junior to the house for an overnight visit. Draco was always ready for a good lay and they exploited his fixation whenever they could. Harry had finally conceded that perhaps the ferret really did have a thing for them both when the bloke kept showing up mysteriously every time Harry and Ginny went anywhere. That first time that they had brought him home, he had seemed completely bowled over by their actions, or perhaps he was just surprised by his own, Harry wasn’t sure. The blond definitely turned eager once they were in bed, though. Harry had been firm about keeping between them; letting Draco fuck him while he fucked Ginny. But after the pair called him over a few more times, Harry relented a bit and let Draco touch her. Ginny very much enjoyed being spit-roasted between the two men, getting a bit overzealous at times. He could understand that, even appreciate it. The thought of having the ferret’s prick up his arse was so disgusting that it turned him on, disappearing into the mindlessness of it all. There were still certain things that Harry wouldn’t allow, however. Draco could never come inside her; that was law. He would never tie Ginny up in Draco’s presence or get rough with her. That was part of their private life. He still hated the blond prat with a dirty passion, but brilliant sex was brilliant sex, that much he could admit. And Harry didn’t have to listen to Draco’s snide remarks when his cock was entrenched in the blond boy’s gob. The Malfoys were all right for some things, it appeared.





Harry moved back while his hands pressed Ginny open wider, one smacking her right arse cheek deftly. She gave her throaty approval, grunting louder when he did it again, much harder. Her grunts turned to squeals when his tongue wet her arsehole, his enthusiasm quickly returning. Perhaps she would be okay if he simply flipped her over and took her in her bum. When he made the suggestion aloud, Ginny insisted he do it. Burrowed in her rear-end, it was difficult for Harry to maintain a steady pace so as not to cause her discomfort—seeing her hair fanned out across the table while he listened to her warbling made him want to drive into her all the more fervently. But they both came to a hearty release. He summoned Amon to take Ginny upstairs while he got ready to cook supper, still starkers. Kreacher did the meals for them during the rest of the week, but they gave him the weekend off, not always wanting the house elf around watching them. It was different with Amon, though, they were more used to that one. Oddly, Kreacher had seemed to be much more conducive to their demands once they had come back. The wizened creature had ceased its tantrums, becoming rather reserved and servile around them. Harry was at a loss to explain the change and wondered if it had anything to do with the addition of Amon to the household.





Harry shook his head in wonder while he stared inside of the icebox. On occasion, he would still express surprise at his decision to bring Amon to Grimmauld Place. What had he been thinking? But the house elf had quickly instated itself as a valuable aid, gaining more of Harry’s trust daily, sometimes even advising his young Master on how to deal with the press or his training. And it was much easier for Harry and Ginny to play house when they didn’t have to worry about the menial tasks. Being chef on alternate Saturdays was a pleasure for him that he hadn’t anticipated. Tonight, he was making them Beef Wellington. As he pulled ingredients from the cupboards in preparation, he smiled outwardly as he thought of their life together. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked for them. They both still had their bad weeks—his nightmares of Riddle only grew steadily worse—but for the most part, they kept each other whole. His expression shifted, however, his smile turning downward, when the intrusion of Ginny’s plaintive question echoed in his head. She had seemed rather shirty about the potion discussion and he wondered what had her so tender. The notion of Ginny suddenly stopping their birth control method so she could secretively get pregnant seized hold of him and he looked over his shoulder expecting her to be there looking back with a knowing face. But why would Ginny want a baby right now? It didn’t seem logical. Harry shook his head again with a sigh. He’d have her see the Hogwarts nurse on Monday and then be able to lay his fears to rest. It would be all right. His mind drifted to how he might alter his plans to something a bit more gentle for her, later on.





He wondered if he should get Malfoy to come over.





\\\\





Monday evening was quite a teary affair when the two teens got home. Madam Pomfrey had cleared up the matter immediately—Ginny was definitely with child. She swore to him that she hadn’t stopped her schedule, that she took the flask Amon handed her every time. Harry found her implied suggestion perplexing, not understanding why the house elf would tamper with her contraceptive. What did it have to gain by saddling them with a baby? But there was nothing to be done about it now. They were going to be parents, he’d just have to get used to the fact, and he had held Ginny in a comforting embrace to try to console her. By the time the baby arrived, he would be turning nineteen, and almost finished with is Auror course. Ginny would be done with school and could go on to whatever she wanted once the baby was old enough to stay with her Mum during the day. Harry had even suggested they put him in one of the new wizarding pre-schools that had started springing up, getting the young ones introduced to their magic early on.





“He? You’re sure about the baby’s sex already?” Ginny had teased through her tears, lightening her mood at Harry’s assumption.





“It will be a boy,” Harry droned robotically, growing chilled all of a sudden. His gooseflesh prickled and he hugged Ginny to him tighter. But he knew it was true; Ginny would bear them a son.





Over the months of her pregnancy, things became difficult for them both. Ginny was having an awful time of it, having to call over her mother often when she’d be in a sickly state, stuck in bed. Her morning sickness hadn’t seemed to subside after the first few months, and she frequently appeared with a tinge of green in her pale countenance. Harry tried to help her with her homework to get her caught up, but he was just as beat, the toll from his extensive training running him ragged. Adding to the pressure was that he didn’t sleep much, at all, not wanting to see the horrific images behind his eyes when he sought slumber. The nightmares had gotten so bad that he had taken to downing a Dreamless Sleep potion before bed, but then soon discovered it caused him to sleepwalk. He would wake up in odd places of the house totally out of sorts, his hands shaking, often with Amon grinning at him from a dark corner. And then there were periods when he would wake up on top of Ginny, fucking her into the headboard as she screamed out Tom’s name. He wasn’t sure which had shaken him up more; the fact that he had blacked out while he was engaging in sex with his wife, or that she was calling for him. The bedroom had become a tense place after that. Sometimes, just looking at her swollen belly sticking up like a camel’s back under their covers filled him with such dread that he started scratching at his skin, wanting to tear it off, yet leaving red tracks on either side of his arms.





Amon had changed, also, treating Ginny with more affection and tenderness. Harry even caught the creature smiling at her once, and the sight of it almost induced him to retch. He was suddenly suspicious of the elf, imagining that the thing really had switched potions on Ginny to trick her into a fertile state, instead. The picture of Ginny glowing pink as Riddle had waved his wand over her kept showing up in his dreams when he couldn’t evade them. Harry went to a healer himself, to make sure that he was not carrying some disease from the fucker, and that his sperm was sound. They told him he was in perfect health, other than a slight case of exhaustion from lack of sleep. But Harry no longer trusted potions and was loath to take anything.





The two of them were still having sex, but it was sporadic, less controlled by Harry. He felt like someone else was in the room with him and he couldn’t concentrate; the feeling of his skin crawling continuing to revisit him. Other times, he was downright mean to her, fucking her like she was a piece of meat and completely unconcerned for her pleasure, or her well-being, for that matter, slamming her distended belly into the dining room table as he took her mercilessly from behind again. The following day he would beat himself up about it, not listening to Ginny make excuses for him with her ghostly face. The worst of it drove him to seek Draco out on his own and beg for his own style of punishment. He found the ponce somewhere in London, in a flat near the Ministry. It suited the situation better, since there was no way in hell that Harry would ever set foot in Malfoy Manor again, but he still felt foul going over to the ferret’s apartment and goading the Slytherin to take every aggression he ever had with him out on Harry\'s arse.





By her eighth month, Ginny was pretty much bed-ridden. Healers would come for house calls, tut-tutting over her and warning of an impending hard labor. Harry still felt like a storm was looming in their home, the charge in the stagnant air of the rooms reminding him of the wind whipping up the trees while the sky darkened. He tried to be more patient with her, relying on Amon and Kreacher to hold down the fort while he stayed at her side. He was thrilled when Molly or Hermione came to call and helped him out, he was dying for company. Ginny was in a constant emotional state, unless she was sleeping, and it was hard on everybody when she threw another fit. In order to appease her, Harry would attempt to calm her with baths again, massaging her afterward with her favorite jasmine lotion and then spending a dutiful amount of time with his head between her legs. It seemed as if it was the few times she was comforted, her sighs in her satiation sounding weary and appreciative at the same time. But it had been during one of these sessions that he had first seen into her mind, his mouth fused to her flower while his hand gripped one of her engorged breasts. He heard her moans from outside of himself, but then her thoughts were rushing by in a loud chatter in his head and Harry could see his shock of black hair protruding from her thighs, from her point-of-view. Things shifted until it was that stream of moving pictures, going from one scene to another. He was seeing a very young Ginny playing with her bits while she had her legs splayed in a bathtub, her face one of dreamy rapture before it dissolved into another vision of her sucking off Michael Corner in some dusty room at Hogwarts. Harry growled as more scenes played out in front of his eyes—she had lied, she had blown Dean, too—and when it settled on how Riddle had taken her that first night, Harry climbed on top of her and slid into her deep. He had wrapped his hands around her head, as if he were keeping her skull from splitting apart, and fucked her as the spool of film continued to play. When he came, it was with a roar, feeling like everything had been taken out of him. It was the first time he had slept soundly in months.





The day arrived, a few days after Harry’s birthday, and thankfully, both Molly and Arthur were there to help him get Ginny to St. Mungo’s. It was a taut time in the waiting room once everyone else in the family showed up, Hermione and Ron hand in hand as they sat to one side of Harry. He had wanted to be with Ginny during the birth, but the healers had shaken their heads, masks affixed over their mouths keeping their expression from Harry. Knowing how miserable her pregnancy had been, the Weasleys and the extended kin were all intent in their worries, but looked at Harry assuredly even as they twitched in nervous anticipation. Harry felt sick, thinking somewhere in the back of his mind that it would be better if the baby didn’t make it. He couldn’t believe he could have such a vile thought, and wanted to run from the room, never looking back, but he simply swallowed thickly and held tighter to Hermione’s hand, hoping no one else could see what a wretched person he was.





When they heard the piteous sounds of a baby crying coming from Ginny’s room, the whole lot of them broke into cheers and applause, Ron and his brothers quick to slap Harry on the back, their faces beaming. Hermione gave Harry a big squeeze in her embrace, whispering her congratulations into his ear, but he couldn’t explain the sudden powerful feeling that had come over him like he’d been covered in wet cement. He didn’t want to go in there to see them, to see his son. But then someone was lifting him to stand up and pushing him in that direction, his feet taking over even as his mind screamed at him to stop.





She was lying back against the pillows, her face aglow with her perspiration, but her smile adoring as it settled on the wriggling bundle in her arms. Harry could make out black hair on top of the squished face, so he supposed it was definitely his, but the sparse locks weren’t particularly unruly, and it seemed to be staring right back into Ginny’s face. It was just the three of them in her hospital room, but Harry felt like an outsider, the two beings in front of him appearing lost in their own little world. He cleared his throat to alert her to his presence, but then she spoke aloud, not looking away from the child.





“I’ve been thinking about what we should call him. I don’t know if James is suitable for him, you know? He looks all wrong for it. What do you think of…Tim?”





Harry felt like he’d been knocked in the stomach with a Bludger, finding it difficult to breathe. “Tim?” he repeated in a hollow voice.





“Yes, Tim. He’s a Timmy, alright, don’t you think, luv?” Ginny had still not turned to face him.





“Tim? And not…Tom?” Might as well make it official, he thought. Then Ginny finally looked at him, blushing. She blushed, Harry acknowledged, gobsmacked.





“Well, that would be a bit…obvious, surely.” She smiled at him sweetly. “I think Tim, it is, Harry. Little Timmy. Such a perfect boy. I can’t tell who he favors yet, but he’s got your hair.” She went back to locking eyes with her baby and kissed it on the forehead.





Something shifted again in Harry. He went totally calm, the malevolent laughter filling his head refusing to rattle him. There was an explanation for this and he would find the reason eventually. Ginny was still his family—his--and he would see that she remembered that. As for their….baby boy, he could handle this, he would rise to the challenge. Harry would be the best father he could be.





Harry had a lot to teach young Timmy about love.







~Fin~