Convergence: Chapter One
Convergence
Chapter One: Domestic Sunday Mornings
That morning, Ginny was slouching at the kitchen table and reading the Sunday Prophet when Neville walked in wearing, not pajamas, but his best work robes. When she looked up from her buttered toast and noticed this, Ginny frowned.
“You’re not going out today, are you?” she asked. “It’s Sunday morning!”
Neville shrugged. “I have to. They need me at the greenhouse.”
She rustled her paper and clicked her knife against her plate. “Do they?”
“Oh, don’t be childish, Ginny,” said Neville, flapping a hand at her. “I’m not going because I want to; I’m going because there’s work to be done. And don’t tell me to get a different job. I like my job.”
Ginny said nothing, but continued to butter her bread aggressively.
Unfazed, Neville leaned in to kiss her forehead and tweak the paper out of her hands. “I’ll be home for dinner, don’t worry. Oh, and Harry should be dropping in later this morning. I left the books he wanted on my desk.”
“Is Ron coming, too?” asked Ginny.
“Harry didn’t say,” answered Neville, “but probably not. Anyway, give them both my love.”
Ginny nodded and didn’t look as he turned to the hearth and flooed out without another word.
***
Harry came shortly after lunch. He Apparated in the back garden, where the brick walls protected against all but the most prying eyes, and came in through Neville’s conservatory, leaving his cloak there. Nick had only just fallen asleep, and Ginny was finishing the dishes. He knocked lightly on the kitchen door before entering.
“The door’s open,” said Ginny after looking back from the sink.
“I know,” said Harry. “I didn’t want to startle you.”
“Neville left the books you wanted on his desk,” she said.
“I saw them when I came in,” he replied.
She raised an eyebrow, wiping her wand on a dishtowel. “The neighbors didn’t see you come in, did they?”
“Hardly,” said Harry.
She dropped the towel on a chair and went back to the living room.
He followed. “How’s Nick?” he asked.
“Having an afternoon nap,” she answered, and sat down on the sofa.
Harry smiled at her; that strangely crooked smile of his that she always thought she should be used to and never quite was. “Not here,” he said.
***
“How’s Ron?”
Harry flipped over and looked at her, leaning his face on his hand. “Why don’t you come and visit, see for yourself?”
Ginny shrugged with one shoulder. “I’m busy with the kids, or else with Nick.”
“Bring him over,” suggested Harry, one hand trailing on her stomach. “You can come on a Tuesday. That’s when Molly usually comes to help with the chores.”
“Maybe,” said Ginny.
“They’d both like to see you, you know,” Harry offered. “Ron and Molly, I mean. You know your mother; she never sees enough of her children, even if they all visit her weekly.”
“And you?” asked Ginny, turning over to look at the blue-painted ceiling.
“I’d like to see you, too. You know that.”
“Ah, but you see, I always like hearing it again,” said Ginny, still looking at the ceiling.
His answer was to draw the blanket closer around them both. She supposed it was a good one.
“Harry?”
“What?”
“How’s Hermione?”
“Hermione is well.”
“Good.”
“Should I give her your regards?”
Ginny hesitated. “Yes.”
She thought Harry smiled at that, but wasn’t really sure.
“Harry?”
“Yeah?”
“I think the baby is yours.”
***
When he left, Harry took Neville’s borrowed books and his cloak, kissed Ginny goodbye and said he was going to deliver her message. She knew that meant he was going to see Hermione, but preferred not to dwell on it. Instead she got dressed for Sunday dinner. When Nick woke up, she gave him a thorough bath and dressed him, too, and they both sat down in the living room to wait for Daddy to come home so that they could all go see Gran.
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Chapter One: Domestic Sunday Mornings
That morning, Ginny was slouching at the kitchen table and reading the Sunday Prophet when Neville walked in wearing, not pajamas, but his best work robes. When she looked up from her buttered toast and noticed this, Ginny frowned.
“You’re not going out today, are you?” she asked. “It’s Sunday morning!”
Neville shrugged. “I have to. They need me at the greenhouse.”
She rustled her paper and clicked her knife against her plate. “Do they?”
“Oh, don’t be childish, Ginny,” said Neville, flapping a hand at her. “I’m not going because I want to; I’m going because there’s work to be done. And don’t tell me to get a different job. I like my job.”
Ginny said nothing, but continued to butter her bread aggressively.
Unfazed, Neville leaned in to kiss her forehead and tweak the paper out of her hands. “I’ll be home for dinner, don’t worry. Oh, and Harry should be dropping in later this morning. I left the books he wanted on my desk.”
“Is Ron coming, too?” asked Ginny.
“Harry didn’t say,” answered Neville, “but probably not. Anyway, give them both my love.”
Ginny nodded and didn’t look as he turned to the hearth and flooed out without another word.
***
Harry came shortly after lunch. He Apparated in the back garden, where the brick walls protected against all but the most prying eyes, and came in through Neville’s conservatory, leaving his cloak there. Nick had only just fallen asleep, and Ginny was finishing the dishes. He knocked lightly on the kitchen door before entering.
“The door’s open,” said Ginny after looking back from the sink.
“I know,” said Harry. “I didn’t want to startle you.”
“Neville left the books you wanted on his desk,” she said.
“I saw them when I came in,” he replied.
She raised an eyebrow, wiping her wand on a dishtowel. “The neighbors didn’t see you come in, did they?”
“Hardly,” said Harry.
She dropped the towel on a chair and went back to the living room.
He followed. “How’s Nick?” he asked.
“Having an afternoon nap,” she answered, and sat down on the sofa.
Harry smiled at her; that strangely crooked smile of his that she always thought she should be used to and never quite was. “Not here,” he said.
***
“How’s Ron?”
Harry flipped over and looked at her, leaning his face on his hand. “Why don’t you come and visit, see for yourself?”
Ginny shrugged with one shoulder. “I’m busy with the kids, or else with Nick.”
“Bring him over,” suggested Harry, one hand trailing on her stomach. “You can come on a Tuesday. That’s when Molly usually comes to help with the chores.”
“Maybe,” said Ginny.
“They’d both like to see you, you know,” Harry offered. “Ron and Molly, I mean. You know your mother; she never sees enough of her children, even if they all visit her weekly.”
“And you?” asked Ginny, turning over to look at the blue-painted ceiling.
“I’d like to see you, too. You know that.”
“Ah, but you see, I always like hearing it again,” said Ginny, still looking at the ceiling.
His answer was to draw the blanket closer around them both. She supposed it was a good one.
“Harry?”
“What?”
“How’s Hermione?”
“Hermione is well.”
“Good.”
“Should I give her your regards?”
Ginny hesitated. “Yes.”
She thought Harry smiled at that, but wasn’t really sure.
“Harry?”
“Yeah?”
“I think the baby is yours.”
***
When he left, Harry took Neville’s borrowed books and his cloak, kissed Ginny goodbye and said he was going to deliver her message. She knew that meant he was going to see Hermione, but preferred not to dwell on it. Instead she got dressed for Sunday dinner. When Nick woke up, she gave him a thorough bath and dressed him, too, and they both sat down in the living room to wait for Daddy to come home so that they could all go see Gran.
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