Ginny Potter's Unconventional Family
I'm standing at our kitchen window, looking out onto the back porch at the twelve people that make up my family.
My unconventional family, the one that goes against almost every witch or wizards concept of how our lives were supposed to turn out. Five adults and seven children outside, the eighth child gives me a firm kick from inside my womb, I'm probably pressing to hard on the counter. My boys all liked to let me know they were there; at least this one is easier on me than the twins.
Mum has been hoping for another girl, a granddaughter, since we all finished getting married 11 years ago. So far, the Weasley genes have held steady on boys.
Harry's got his arm around one of our twins, I can tell it's 9 year old Sirius from here. Sirius John Potter has a long scar the back of his neck, so if I can keep him and James Arthur from letting it get as long as their Uncle Bill's, I'll have more luck than Mum at telling them apart.
She still can't keep Fred and George straight.
From the look on Harry's face, I'm guessing Sirius and James were somehow involved in why Gideon Dean, our 5 year old, is crying. Hermione's got him in her lap, she's easily his favorite Auntie. She's moved away from her husband and sat down on the ground, I can see her wand out checking for hurt places. Poor kid, it's really my fault we let so much time pass between him and this one.
Mum wants us to name him Fabian, this new baby, after her other brother. I am holding out for Isaac Brian. Harry's fence-sitting for now, but I tend to get my way.
Ooof, another kick to the spleen. I'm not sure how Mum did this six times.
Hermione's laughing, she so beautiful when she laughs. Her oldest son just made some remark. He's got Ron's vivid red hair, so even without the name Edward Bilius Weasley, I doubt anyone would mistake him for any other family. Eddie's almost 9, he'll have his birthday in just enough time to go to Hogwarts the same year as Sirius and James. I have a suspicion whatever Eddie's joke, only the adults got it.
I wonder if anyone else realizes it's the seventh anniversary of the night our little family came to be?
It seems so long ago, and the group was so much smaller then.
Ron, Hermione, Harry, and I were here with the boys. Dobby had taken them upstairs for bed; I know Hermione doesn't love it, but I happier than a Jarvey in our gnome-filled garden at the Burrow at having a house elf. It was often that the three of them would spend the night with us on a weekend, in between Cannons games. Ron was the reserve Keeper, and Harry had been scooped up as their Seeker, meaning that the Cannons were almost a decent team.
Of course, they've actually managed to become winners again since then, there's even talk about another change in their motto.
Anyway – Ron and Hermione were fighting. Which in and of itself is not unusual. Except 7 years ago, we were beginning to wonder if they wouldn't actually kill each other.
Ron wanted our mum. He wanted a girl to stay home and have babies, and be thrilled at his phenomenal professional Quidditch player success.
Hermione wanted her parents marriage – two brilliant minds, working together. One child, who held both parents undivided attention. And lots of reading. LOTS of reading.
It was bad enough that Harry and I knew what the problem was, we just didn't expect the two of them to vocalize it to each other with quite the amount of volume they used.
I mean, did they realize who they had married?
Ron kept saying they only got married because that was what everyone (and thanks to the Daily Prophet he did mean everyone) expected them to do after Voldemort's defeat. He wasn't sure if they loved each other enough.
Hermione kept repeating, at the top of her lungs, that she wasn't a baby machine and that he and Molly would have to learn to deal with just Eddie and not a single child more. She was enjoying her apprenticeship, and wanted to go into Potions research. She loved Eddie, but wasn't ready to sacrifice her life for another half-dozen children just to make Ron happy.
If Hermione wasn't such a forceful personality, I doubt Ron would have been able to handle her working on a daily basis with Severus Snape. Professor Snape had opened a lab in Hogsmeade after being exonerated, instead of returning to teaching. For 'Mione, the chance to learn firsthand from one of the top Potions Masters in Europe – hell, both Harry and I could understand her point of view.
Of course, we also had to listen to Mum, even though we managed to produce twins the first try, about Weasley grandbabies… Neither of us could comprehend how Hermione thought she was going to be able to have only one child in the century-plus she was likely to be married to Ron, and not fight about it.
Harry had moved behind Ron and slipped his wand out of his pocket. Hermione had handed hers over to me when she saw her husband was unarmed. Now Harry and I had seen them fight; bloody hell, every Gryffindor who attended Hogwarts at the same time as us had seen them fight. This one was different.
I really thought at that moment this was the end for the two of them.
When the doorbell chimed, I left the three in the living room, casting a silencing charm as I went. If I had known who was on the other side of our front door, I'm not sure if I would have opened it or not. It all worked out fine in the end, but it was a nasty shock.
Luna was there. Luna Lovegood. Crying. Sobbing. And talking in plain English, which was rather scary for those of us who consider ourselves her friends.
I took her into the kitchen, to try and talk to her, and she was just sitting down to speak when Hermione walked in.
All we heard was sniffling and "I'm pregnant."
Let me tell you, that's not what you expect Luna Lovegood to say. "I'm raising rare Blue Snergs" maybe, or "I'm leaving to hunt the Yooldles of India", but pregnant? For a moment, I think both Hermione and I saw the Ravenclaw that the Sorting Hat saw.
I almost dropped the teacups. Hermione just sat down in the chair beside her and let out a squeal.
"Luna, that wonderful! How far along are you? Who's the father? When are you getting married?"
Luna looked between us, her eyes wide and brimming with tears. "I'm not getting married."
"Why not? He loves you, doesn't he?"
"Yes, I think he does…"
"Then you're getting married."
"I can't," she wailed.
"Why not?" Hermione got that scary look of determination on her face, the one that always caused Ron to point out she was "mental", and studied the woman at the table next to her. "Luna, are you three weeks pregnant?"
"Yes," came a very soft whisper.
"It's okay," Hermione responded, grasping Luna's hands out of her lap, "you're getting married."
"Ginny, get Ron and Harry."
"I can't," moaned Luna, ignoring Mione's words.
I don't know what Hermione said next, for I was in the living room, telling the boys Luna was at the door, and pregnant.
What I didn't expect was for Ron to pass out. Or for Hermione to bring Luna into the living room, take her wand out of my pocket, revive Ron, and then inform him they were getting a divorce so he could marry Luna. He passed out again.
It's amazing to me that now, exactly seven years later, Hermione can sit outside with Luna, Ron, and their 6 year old son, Galvin Bilius Weasley, without a care in the world. Galvin and Eddie are obviously siblings – down to the red hair and blue eyes of their dad. Both have the Weasley Quidditch skills, too.
Hermione opened her home and even though the two brothers don't live together, the kids seem to spend more time roaming from home to home in a pack than at their own houses. All of them.
Galvin has an adorable little brother. Adian Buckley Weasley is just a few months younger than our Gideon, and the pair can be worse than the twins if they try hard enough. They've got new training brooms; Harry and Ron get free ones yearly from the different manufacturers to test out.
None of our children will ever have to sneak into a shed to steal a broom for flying time.
Mione's so comfortable and supportive of all the kids, and Eddie's relationship with his father. Hermione's not the most shocking sight, though.
It's her daughter. Her 3 year old, raven-haired daughter with the soft ringlets and the tiny nose that no one can figure out. Everyone thought Regan Miranda would have her father's nose. This is the second child Hermione swore she would never have – the daughter we all desire – and we all spoil her rotten.
She's curled up in her brother's lap. Eddie's reading to her, while the rest of the boys run around like hoodlums – Weasley/Potter hoodlums. It's likely muggle Shakespeare. She loves that her name is from the same writer as her mother's name. Regan's little head on Eddie's chest, his arms wrapped around her tightly…he's the most protective of all of us. Yes, I think Regan will have as tough a time dating as I did at Hogwarts.
Ah, Hermione's husband is looking up at me. I smile at him, and he's reaching down to squeeze Hermione's arm and whisper in her ear. She meets my eyes and nods at her husband as he comes inside the kitchen to help me carry out the birthday cake.
"Ginerva, what can I take out for you?"
I reach up and lay a hand on his arm.
"Look at them, Severus…did you ever think a Snape would love a Weasley so much?"
I watch his gaze fall on his daughter and the boy he loves as his own, simply because he's the son of the woman he adores.
He reaches over and squeezes my hand, which is most unlike our surly, and late, addition to the family. He's only been with us for five years, although I'm quite positive he and Hermione began their relationship almost immediately after her divorce.
"Faith makes all things possible, Mrs. Potter," he says, "Love makes them easy."
I remain silent; he doesn't want to talk and I know that. I give him his space as he lifts the heavy cake platter with his wand and carries a stack of plates and a tray of glasses out the door.
I lay my palm on my stomach, letting little Isaac push with all his might, and take one last glance out the window, my perfect Wizarding photo.
Ron's on the long bench, his right arm thrown around Luna, and his left hand cradling her pregnant belly. Isaac will have another boy cousin within a few months of his own birth. Gideon's done crying and has moved on to playing with Adian and Galvin. I think it's some sort of dragon-taming game, with Sirius and James riding low on the brooms as dragons. Uncle Charlie's influence, no doubt. Severus arranges the food and drink on the table, then moves behind Hermione on the steps she is sitting on. He's talking animatedly to Harry, but I can see from my vantage point how he's got a hand resting on Hermione's back. Eddie's done reading to Regan, and helps her up before sending her off to find the baby broom to ride on.
That's my family. My eccentric, unusual, particular, unexpected family. My unconventional family.
I pick up the pitchers of pumpkin juice and head out to join them.