The New Zealand Chronicles: Part V, Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty: On This Earth For Each Other
Word Count: 6695
Warnings: unbeta’d.
I've got a sick kid at home, so it might take me awhile to reply to your comments.
Part IV, Chapter Twenty-Eight: http://stmargarets.livejournal.com/34310.html#cutid1
Part V, Chapter Twenty-Nine: http://stmargarets.livejournal.com/35983.html#cutid1
Chapter Thirty: On This Earth For Each Other
The week after Niall died was a blur of grief and activity for both Harry and Ginny. For three days divers took turns recovering the bodies underneath the rubble from the second cave-in. Harry’s classes were suspended for the week, but he spent all of his time with the Search and Rescue team - first, by helping with the recovery of the bodies and second, by trying to piece together what went wrong in Niall’s last moments.
When they finally concluded that Niall had simply turned back after he was told to abandon the rescue, Harry was full of equal parts anger and admiration. “It was difficult to leave,” he admitted to Ginny the night after the entire team wrote the report together. They were sitting on the settee after dinner - the first meal they had eaten alone together since the rescue. “Just as they called us back, I could see a hand sticking out of the rubble in this side tunnel. There was no mark, so I thought maybe this miner had been overlooked and maybe he was still alive. But there was no response and no pulse when I touched the hand.”
He sighed, looking troubled. “That doesn’t mean anything of course - his arm could have been crushed by the debris and that’s why I couldn’t get a vital sign.” He shook his head. “But then I noticed one of the beams was sagging and there was a dead kea in the tunnel - so that told me there were noxious gases and the miner probably was dead.”
“He probably was,” she soothed. Harry had been having nightmares ever since the rescue. Ron had told her that Harry had nightmares a lot at Hogwarts, but she had never seen him sleep so poorly.
“Turn around,” she coaxed. “Let me rub you back.”
He turned around automatically, with one leg bent in front of him on the settee and one foot on the floor. She got on her knees and put her hands on his tense shoulders. Poor Harry - the guilt was going to kill him if she didn’t do or say something.
“I never saw Niall after they called for us to leave. Jonah was my partner.” He sighed. “Then the side tunnel collapsed and we had to run for it down the main tunnel.”
She felt the muscles under her hands clench with tension. She pressed her thumbs along his shoulders - trying to loosen and smooth the sinews.
“I think Niall must have been working on that miner as we ran out, because that’s where we found the bodies - in the first side tunnel before the exit to the water. We probably ran right past him. I know I didn’t look left or right - all I could think about was getting out of there.”
“Of course,” she murmured, pressing the heel of her hand into the bony knots of his spine.
“Everyone told us that we did the right thing.” He hissed in a breath and arched his back as she hit a sensitive spot. “But I can’t help but feel - “ He groaned. “That hurts and then it feels better,” he said as she found the tension in his lower back.
Ginny kept rubbing his back as he talked. It seemed to help - both the touch and the fact that Harry could pour it all out to her. She wished she could find the same release from the curious numbness that had overtaken her. She had felt Harry’s grief and Hezzie’s grief and the grief of the entire community as she had avoided reporters and visited Hezzie and made food for the volunteer divers. But now all of that was over. Hezzie was traveling with the body back to Australia where the Dunbracks had planned a small, family funeral. The divers and the rescue team had left the lake. The entire camp was empty since the Floo Powder vein was inaccessible now.
Ginny felt empty, too and she didn’t quite know what to do about it.
*
On the solstice weekend, they spent time together doing laundry and tidying the cottage and answering more questions from Ron and Hermione about what they wanted done with their house. The house and a carefree life in England seemed more fairytale-like than anything, but she couldn’t tell Harry that, since the sadness in his eyes eased when he studied the photos and the floor plans Hermione had sent.
They decided to listen to the Macaw-Thunderers match on the Wireless rather than go in person. The skybox would have too many painful memories and Ginny couldn’t stomach the thought of the reporters who were bound to be there. The match was a long one and Ginny couldn’t seem to focus on the announcer’s words. She was almost startled when Harry took out his wand and switched off the Wireless. “Macaws won,” he said in a strangled voice. “That stupid git owes me a Galleon.”
Then he covered his eyes with one hand while his shoulders shook.
“Harry.” She got on her knees and put her arms around him as she buried her face against the back of his neck.
“He owes me,” Harry said brokenly. “Why the hell did he go back?”
“I don’t know,” she crooned.
“Didn’t he know he was leaving people behind?” Harry said.
Something sharp and painful bolted through her, but she forced herself to breathe and the pain eased. “I don’t know,” she murmured once she collected herself.
“Stupid,” Harry sniffed. “He wasn’t supposed to be a hero that way.”
“No,” Ginny whispered, not sure what she was agreeing or disagreeing with.
*
They were very careful with each other the rest of the weekend. On Sunday morning Harry made breakfast for her while she had her bath. She mended a tear in his winter cloak and played Exploding Snap with him even though she had never liked the game since the time she was ten and had singed the sleeve of her first new set of robes whilst playing with Fred and George. On the holiday Monday Harry flew with her for the first time along the Strait. They were both too tired to fly the entire length of it, but the two hours they spent in the fierce wind gave Ginny a lot of confidence in her broom. The exercise and the fresh air helped them both sleep that night, so that on Tuesday morning, Harry was ready to start classes again and Ginny felt ready to face people again.
She braved Jeremiah’s shop for groceries and the post. Jeremiah didn’t tease her about anything, which was a relief, but also a little disconcerting. He declared that it was going to snow in their valley that night and that he thought Ginny looked ‘washed out.’ Then he softened his voice as he placed a half dozen apples in a paper bag for her. “Don’t think about it too much. There are some things in this world that don’t make sense. They always say the good die young.”
“Good die young!” Clark repeated cheerfully.
She had heard that from the other witches while she was cooking for the divers and she hadn’t known what to say to that then, either. She nodded and reached for her groceries. She could tell that Jeremiah Dey was puzzled that she didn’t take the bait and twit him about missing his chance to prove himself ‘good’ so long ago.
*
Hezzie stopped by later on that week. Ginny felt a warm jolt of pleasure at seeing her friend’s familiar face. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” she cried as she hugged her.
“I couldn’t stay in Australia too much longer,” Hezzie said as she settled in the squishy chair. “The Dunbracks are wonderful people and they were good to me, but it felt like I was staying in another world that I knew I would have to leave eventually.”
Ginny noticed that her ring finger was bare of the Dunbrack opal.
“Yes, I gave it back,” Hezzie said, noticing Ginny’s gaze. “It was a family heirloom.”
Ginny winced and tried not to fiddle with her ruby.
“The funeral was very nice,” Hezzie said bravely, filling in the silence. “The wizard who officiated knew Niall very well and it was wonderful to hear some more stories about him.”
“I’m glad,” Ginny said.
“Queensland is beautiful. There are flowers and palm trees growing - even in the winter.” She shivered. “Unlike here. But there was a terrible storm while we were there.” Hezzie shook her head at the memory. “I’ve never seen it rain like that. It was quite frightening. The Dunbrack’s house elf, Nannie - the one who took care of him and Kyle when they were young - came into my room that night. The rain was beating on the roof so loudly I thought we were going to be washed away. Then she told me how Niall was never afraid of storms - even when he was little. He was the one who would tell stories and keep everyone’s spirits up.”
Ginny could feel her eyes filling. “That sounds like Niall.”
Hezzie swallowed. “Everyone I talked to loved him.”
“Yes.”
She looked at Ginny with pain in her eyes. “But did I love him enough? I feel so guilty. And it’s stupid and selfish of me to worry about my feelings when - ”
“No, Hezzie -“
“If Harry died tomorrow,” Hezzie persisted. “You would know that you had loved him with your whole heart. And you would know that he knew.”
A band of pressure formed around her heart at the words ‘if Harry died tomorrow.’ “Hezzie,” she began weakly. “You promised to marry him. I think he knew -“
“I know,” Hezzie said quickly. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to feel now - or what I’m supposed to do.”
Ginny didn’t know, either. “What do you want to do?”
“I want to go back to work,” Hezzie said promptly. “I just want a little normal in my life again. I don’t want to forget Niall, of course -“
“I think it’s a good idea,” Ginny said. “You’re a Healer and you’re needed. Harry was telling me last night that the burn victims are taking up a lot of resources and time that St. Kilda’s really isn’t equipped for.”
“Didn’t you hear?” Hezzie asked. “Niall’s dad has chartered a ship to take them to the magical burn center in Australia - it’s the only one in the entire world.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.” Hezzie sat up straight and nodded proudly. “Niall’s dad is going to continue what Niall wanted - his government is going to set up a Search and Rescue program in Australia that emphasizes Muggle protection as well.”
“Really?” Ginny asked thoughtfully. She and Harry had talked about donating money to St. Mungo’s or the Ministry for that very purpose. “We should talk to Mr. Dunbrack about that. Do you think he’d talk to us?”
“Of course!” Hezzie said. “He knows all about Harry - and you for that matter.” Then a glimmer of humor showed in her eyes. “The best part is that Darlene Jones has been recruited to go to Australia with the patients.”
“Oh?” It seemed too good to be true that they were finally rid of Darlene. Then her eyes narrowed. “Did you have a say in that?”
For the first time, there was a hint of a smile on Hezzie’s lips. “Hers was the only name I could think of when Mr. Dunbrack asked which St. Kilda’s Healer could be spared to accompany the patients.”
“I can’t wait to help her pack!” Ginny crowed.
Hezzie laughed and then her eyes filled. “It’s good to be here with you, Ginny.”
“Same here.” If she didn’t change the conversation then they would both be in tears. “So when is Mr. Dunbrack going to start this program in Australia?”
“I’m not sure, but I do know he’s coming to St. Kilda’s next month.”
“He is?” Ginny couldn’t imagine why the Minister for Magic of Australia was coming to the place where his youngest son had died.
“He’s giving an endowment in Niall’s name to expand the Search and Rescue school here. They’ll have their own building and there will be scholarships for those people who can’t afford the training.”
“That’s wonderful,” Ginny said warmly. “It will be good for the district and the hospital.”
“It will.” Hezzie nodded. “If something good can come out of this -“
“It will make it bearable,” Ginny finished for her.
*
As the days passed, everyone around Ginny seemed to be finding Niall’s death bearable - except for her. She didn’t understand it. It wasn’t like she had known Niall all that long or that she had known him that well. Harry and the rest of the rescue team had spent a lot more time with him and they seemed to be finding their footing. Oscar and Donna started to bicker again. Wayne still did every third thing wrong. And Mr. Hilary pushed them to their limits as they learned advanced alpine rescue techniques.
On the surface nothing had changed for Ginny, either. She drove the ambulance (once in the middle of a blizzard) - she practiced long distance flying on fine days and on stormy days she tried out Mum’s biscuit and bread recipes whilst listening to Days of Destiny on the Wireless.
But there was heaviness around her heart that she couldn’t seem to shake no matter what she did.
She didn’t say anything to Harry because it would worry him and there was nothing he could do about it anyway. It was her problem and she would find a solution.
In the middle of July, Ginny received a notice from St. Mungo’s reminding her that she had taken The Potion a year ago and if she wanted ‘continued protection,’ she should make an appointment with her Healer.
Since they weren’t due back in England until the end of August, she decided to make an appointment at St. Kilda’s. By the time she was done talking to Healer Welby, she had more options than she knew what to do with and she realized that unlike last year, this was a decision she shouldn’t make alone.
And unlike last year, when she had blushingly told Harry about The Potion whilst they toured the vaults at Gringotts, this year they discussed it whilst washing up after dinner.
After Ginny told him the half dozen ways to prevent pregnancy, Harry nodded and wiped a dinner plate seemingly lost in thought. “So, what did Healer Welby say about your scar?” he finally asked. “Some of those methods sound a little dodgy. What if you got pregnant without realizing it and then did magic?”
“I can’t believe I left that part out,” she answered, shaking her head. “Because that’s the good news. He said that my scar has healed so well that he doesn’t think I’ll have any problems doing magic during the first part of pregnancy.”
“Really?” He put the dishtowel down and turned to face her, a relieved smile on his face. “That’s wonderful.”
“It is,” she agreed even though she felt like crying. “I can have babies no problem.”
He embraced her, but instead of hugging him back she stood still in the circle of his arms as a new thought struck her. “Hezzie wanted to have babies,” she blurted. “And now she can’t.” Tears stung her eyes. “I can have babies but she can’t.”
“Ginny.” He ran his hand down her ponytail. “Hezzie can still have babies.”
“But she can’t have Niall’s babies. She wanted little golden babies with blonde hair . . .”
“Ginny,” he said helplessly as she started to cry.
She felt another undertow of despair ready to pull her under as she thought about not being able to have the black-haired, green-eyed babies she had always envisioned.
“Ginny, what is it?” he asked urgently. “Is it me? I know we haven’t done anything fun for awhile and maybe we need to get away the next free weekend -“
Harry. He was so sweet.
“I’m just so sad,” she confessed, wiping her eyes. “And I don’t know why, really. Everyone else seems to be coping with Niall’s death - but I still feel . . . “ She looked up at him and her heart lurched - he looked so worried. “Stuck.”
“Stuck,” he repeated.
“I don’t know.” She gave a short laugh and stepped away from him. “That’s not very helpful is it? Healer Welby said that when The Potion starts to wear off you might be a little more hormonal than usual.” She shrugged and crossed her arms in front of herself.
“Healer Welby suggested you might be hormonal and you didn’t chew him out?” Harry asked.
That surprised a laugh out of her. “That seems so long ago, doesn’t it?” She rubbed her forehead. “I was so awful to you, I’m surprised you didn’t dump me right then and there in the middle of that rainstorm.”
His eyes were warm as he looked at her. “I would never do that,” he said softly. Then he touched her face. “You have been sad. I haven’t really heard you laugh for a long time.”
“I’ll be all right,” she assured him with more bravado than she felt. “Maybe my hormones will even out if I don’t take any more potions for awhile,” she suggested.
“So you want to do the Charm every time?” he asked.
It would be a bother to remember to do it and the Contraceptive Charm wasn’t one hundred per cent effective, but it seemed like the best thing for the time being. “Just whilst we’re still in New Zealand,” she answered.
“Okay.” He nodded. “Er - do we know that charm?”
Her eyes opened wide in amazement. “I don’t - don’t you?”
“Why would I know that charm?”
She giggled at his huffy tone. “I think it’s in The Book.”
“The book?” He laughed. “Oh, right. That book. I must have skipped right over the charm to get to the good parts.”
“I’m glad you did,” she said softly, feeling the first stirrings of desire. It had been too long . . .
He smiled into her eyes. “I think we should practice that charm - you know - before The Potion wears off.”
“You mean like now?” she asked, putting her arms around his neck.
“Like now.” He kissed her.
*
That night marked a turn for the better for Ginny. Opening up to Harry - even though she couldn’t explain her feelings very well - seemed to have eased some of the heaviness in her chest. She was still a bit weepy at times, but that feeling lessened as July wore on.
It was a good thing, since she was busier than ever following up on paperwork for their house and the charitable foundation Harry wanted to set up once they were back in England. The lag time in the post between New Zealand and England didn’t make it any easier. One cold, grey Tuesday, Ginny realized that she had to have Harry sign a document within the hour or they would miss the Portkey Post - thereby missing the deadline for tax exemptions.
The clock said that Harry was in class, so Ginny hastily Apparated to St. Kilda’s. As luck would have it, the rescue team was out on the snowy lawn, casting some sort of Warming Charm - judging by the puddles there were making.
“Yo, Harry!” Wayne called. “Ginny’s here.”
Ginny waved and smiled at everyone watching her.
“We’re going to have a break in ten minutes,” Harry called. “Can it wait ‘till then?”
“Yes!” she called back, although she wasn’t sure if he heard her since something on the ground had caught fire in the short time he had turned his attention to her and pointed his wand downward. She watched him stamp out the flames and then she began to walk along the slushy road to stay warm.
One look at heavy grey clouds told her it was going to snow soon. She wondered if it would snow during the Strait race, but she doubted it, since that part of the South Island didn’t get snow like the mountain districts. Still, snow would be better than a soaking rainstorm. Then she thought about Harry’s birthday coming up in a week and how it was a real effort to remember that since she always associated his birthday with summer and a visit from him at the Burrow. It seemed hard to believe that somewhere it was as hot and humid as Mum claimed in her last letter.
When she noticed her surroundings again, she found herself in front of the obelisk with the names of the dead soldiers. There was a tattered wreath from the April Twenty Fifth ceremony half-buried in the slushy snow at its base and this evidence of neglect sent a shiver down her spine. Then she remembered what Niall had asked her at the breakfast afterwards.
Do you think you have to fight in a war to be a hero - to do good?”
Niall had always tried to do good in his life and it was no different when he died.
But I wish I would have known my duty when I was as young as Harry.
His wish of knowing his duty had been fulfilled in the dark tunnel deep below the water.
She pulled her cloak tight around her body, and walked to the other side of the obelisk. Carved in the grey stone was the poem Healer Welby had read at the end of the ceremony:
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
At the ceremony she had been so busy being thankful that Harry survived that she hadn’t paid much attention to the words of this poem. But now each word was sharp with clarity.
Niall was never going to grow old. He had found and done his duty in the dark tunnel - and for that Ginny both admired and grieved for him.
Harry had done his duty, too - and he had survived. Until that horrible day when Niall died, Ginny had thought Harry’s story as a hero was over. Harry was going to grow old with her - she was not going to be the one left to grow old.
But now . . .
She swallowed hard and traced the gouges the letters made in the stone. But now she knew that was an illusion. At one time she had been brave enough to let Harry go - to be left behind as he found his destiny and did his duty.
But now . . .
No wonder she had been depressed - she had just discovered how very afraid she was.
She clasped her hands together. When had she become such a coward? Wasn’t love supposed to make you stronger? If so, she should be very strong since she loved him more than ever after a year of marriage.
Oh, damn.
She bowed her head and brought her clenched hands to her mouth. Why didn’t they tell you this when you got married? That you would learn to love someone so much that you couldn’t imagine life without him? People talked about wedding dresses and flowers and invitations, but they didn’t tell you about the risk embedded in the very act of agreeing to live with and love someone for the rest of your days.
There are always dragons, Ginny.
Charlie had tried to tell her.
You'll soon have a rich husband and the world at your feet. Don't think it will last, Weasley.
Her worst enemy at Hogwarts, Miranda Smith, had tried to tell her.
You almost died.
Harry had tried to tell her.
Even their wedding vows spoke of sickness and health and ended in ‘until death do us part.’
She hadn’t paid attention. Death had seemed far, far away on that sunny afternoon in the green orchard.
But one day either she or Harry would die and the other would be left behind and they wouldn’t be married any more.
A sob welled in her throat.
She wanted to be married - for a long time. On the ship, when she had seen her wrinkled sharp features and Harry’s white hair, she had been appalled, but now she realized that a long life together was a gift. A gift that wasn’t guaranteed.
Their marriage, which had become as rock-steady to her as the earth under her feet, was really a fragile thing.
Until death do us part.
“Ginny?”
She came out of her reverie with a start. Harry must have followed her footprints in the dirty snow to the obelisk.
“Did you need me?” he asked, frowning in concern.
“Oh! Yes.” She pulled the crumpled parchment from her cloak pocket. “This has to go into the Portkey Post today. And it needs your signature.”
“Okay.” He patted his chest pocket. “Do you have quill? I think I left all of mine inside.”
She sniffed and took out her wand. “I can conjure you one.”
“Brilliant.” He was reading over the document and not really paying attention. He absently accepted her quill and put the paper against his knee to sign it. She watched him sign his name under hers.
Ginevra M. Potter
Harry J. Potter
His wedding ring gleamed dully on his finger as he handed the paper back to her. They were still married.
She started to cry - but these were tears of relief rather than despair. They were still married. Harry knew as well as she - maybe even better than she - that they were vulnerable. But right now . . . .
They were still married.
“Why does signing things always make you cry?” Harry asked. He sounded half sympathetic and half exasperated, but he hugged her anyway.
She laughed through her tears. “Because it reminds me that we’re married.”
He kissed the top of her head. “And that makes you cry?”
“It does.” She pulled away so she could see him, her tears leaving a cold wet trail on her cheeks. “I just realized as I was standing here why I’ve been so depressed. It wasn’t just Niall, although that was bad enough. It’s because part of me has been feeling what it would have been like if it had been you in that tunnel.”
His eyes flashed with emotion. “Ginny.”
“I’ve never paid attention like I should,” she whispered. “I’ve taken us for granted.”
“Are you kidding me?”
She looked up at his emphatic, almost angry tone.
“No, you haven’t taken anything for granted.” He put his hands on her upper arms. “You’ve tried so hard to make everything perfect for me - for us. Even to whether you should leave the laundry hanging on the line overnight.”
Her lip trembled. “But that’s nothing big - that’s nothing -“
He started to say something but she stopped him. “I never thought you’d die.” It sounded horribly blunt, but she didn’t know any other way to explain it. “Not after the war - not after we were married.”
“Ginny.”
She held up her hand, not wanting to hear any placating words or promises he couldn’t keep. “It was in our wedding vows and I didn’t pay attention.”
“What was in our wedding vows?” He dropped his hands from her arms.
He was losing patience with her and she didn’t blame him. Nothing she had told him made much sense. “Until death do us part,” she blurted. “That’s the part I didn’t pay attention to.”
He stared at her. “Why should you pay attention to that part?”
Now it was her turn to stare.
“When the time comes there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”
“I know,” she said quietly.
“But that’s not what - “ He stopped and looked at her for a moment as if gathering his thoughts.
“What?”
“You’re missing all the bits before the ‘death do us part,’” he said.
She frowned.
“Like life.”
“Life,” she repeated dumbly.
“You know, living. Like deciding what to eat for dinner and yelling at me about my socks on the floor.”
“Harry,” she said weakly. “That’s not -“
“Not what?” he snapped, thoroughly put out with her. “Not being married?” He paced a few steps.
That was being married, Ginny realized. It was another thing they didn’t tell you - all those mundane details that added up to . . .
Something very precious.
“You’re right,” she said to his back.
He turned around.
She spread her hands helplessly. “I just -“
He let out a deep breath. “I know.”
He did know. But there was no point in thinking about death when there was so much life to live.
Then he smiled ruefully. “Right. You always cry over signing papers.”
The papers. She clapped her hand over her mouth. “What time is it?”
Harry looked at his watch. “Half past.”
“Oh, no! I have five minutes before the Portkey Post is sent off.”
“You should go then.” He frowned. “You okay?”
“Yes.” She was okay. They had been okay all along - she had just needed reminding of that fact. She touched his arm. “Chicken for dinner or do you want something else?”
He smiled. “Sounds good.”
Then Ginny Disapparted to mail the marriage exemption form for their taxes.
*
They had agreed to give each other modest gifts for their respective birthdays because they were already spending a lot on renovating and furnishing their house. Hezzie helped Ginny look for and enchant the perfect golden apple. When Harry saw it on the table the morning of his twentieth birthday, he laughed since he knew it was a tribute to their functional fairytale style that Ron was supposedly incorporating into their new house. It seemed impossible, but in one month’s time they would be back in England.
August was to be a busy month since Harry had final exams the first week and at the end of the second week, Ginny was to fly in the Strait Race. John Dunbrack’s visit to St. Kilda’s happened to fall during the middle of exams for the Search and Rescue class.
Even though the cafeteria had been expanded, there was standing room only for John Dunbrack’s speech where he was expected to announce the establishment of an endowment in Niall’s name, for the Search and Rescue school. Ginny found herself in the first row with the Search and Rescue class and Hezzie. Barbara Jones, she was spitefully glad to note, had to settle for the second row.
But she forgot all about Barbara Jones once John Dunbrack walked to the podium. He looked a lot like Niall, Ginny thought with a pang - handsome and assured and even more charming than his son. Of course, he had had a lot of practice; she thought cynically - he was a politician.
He certainly knew how to deliver a speech. This one started out with the usual greetings and then went right to the announcement about the endowment and the building that was going to be built to house the expanded Search and Rescue school. The crowd gasped and applauded when he disclosed the amount of money that would be available to make this “dream a reality.”
Hezzie clapped along with everyone else.
Then John Dunbrack did something unusual for a politician. He rolled up the parchment that he had been reading from and then he grasped both sides of the podium and looked at the crowd. “I read an interesting editorial in the newspaper about a week after Niall died,” he began in a pleasant voice. “In that editorial, the writer sought to draw a metaphor between Niall trying to rescue the miner and Australia’s effort in helping Shangri-la.” His mouth tightened. “The writer felt that the metaphor held because both efforts were doomed to failure. Niall took an unacceptable risk as did my government.”
Someone coughed and broke the awkward silence.
“I can understand the impulse to draw such a metaphor,” he continued. “Especially if you happen to disagree with my Shangri-la policy.” He smiled wryly and then swallowed. “However, Niall isn’t a metaphor. He’s my son.”
There were a thousand tears in that one phrase. He’s my son.
“The miner was someone’s son.”
Ginny bit her lip as she remembered Harry’s description of that dark, chaotic tunnel.
“Niall wasn’t thinking about politics when he ran one way when he was supposed to go another. He wasn’t thinking about the vast differences in education and economics between a miner from Shangri-la and the son of the Minister for Magic of Australia. Because at that moment, there were no differences between them. The miner’s trouble was Niall’s trouble and he was going to help.”
“And for that I’m very proud.”
Hezzie sniffed next to her.
John Dunbrack cleared his throat and looked at the Search and Rescue team in the front row. “At times like these I’m humbly reminded that we’re on this earth for each other. In my job that’s hard to remember sometimes. In your job you will never forget.”
Harry’s head was bent. Donna was listening with tears in her eyes. Oscar’s expression was grave.
“I’m thankful that some good can come from Niall’s death,” he continued. “And I’m glad the money can go to train and support people who know the difference between a metaphor and a parent’s beloved son.” He paused for a moment and then nodded to the crowd. “Thank you.”
Ginny wanted a quiet place where she could contemplate John Dunbrack’s words, but she was stuck in the front row. Barbara Jones, it seemed, was completely tone-deaf to the John Dunbrack’s barely concealed sorrow. “I’m Barbara Jones,” she cooed as she held out her hand. “Surely you’ve heard of Jones’s Farm? We’re the largest operation on the South Island.”
“Oh yes,” Niall’s father said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Niall spoke of you. The board is going to approach you about supplying meat and produce to the school.”
“For free?” Barbara squeaked.
Ginny looked at Hezzie and they both smirked. Served her right. Now she couldn’t wriggle out of it without losing face.
“Let’s get out of here,” Ginny said to Hezzie. She waved to Harry who was talking to Healer Welby. He waved back, but kept talking. Ginny knew he had another exam in the afternoon, so she didn’t expect him to leave with her.
They shouldered their way through the crowd and went directly outside for some fresh air.
“Are you working today?” Ginny asked as they strolled up the path lined by beech trees.
“Tonight,” Hezzie answered absently. Then she stopped. “What did you think of Mr. Dunbrack’s speech?”
“I thought it was wonderful - very heart-felt.”
Hezzie sighed. “I did, too. It made me feel a lot better about Niall - I mean it’s like his father understood exactly what he had been trying to do.” She rubbed her forehead. “But now I have a headache.”
“Maybe you should take some willow bark potion.”
Ginny whirled around to see Healer Jones standing in the path behind them.
“Kenny!” Hezzie had been pale before, but she was positively white right now. “What are you doing here?”
His eyes glinted at her hostile tone and he hesitated before he answered. “I thought you might need a friend.”
“A friend?” Hezzie sputtered. Now color was rising in her face. “I thought I had too many friends for your liking.”
Ginny’s heart sank. This was going to be Michael and Melinda all over again. She started to back away, but Hezzie grabbed her cloak sleeve.
“I’m sorry.” There was no mistaking the sincerity in his voice or the sorrow in his eyes.
Hezzie bit her lip and then let go of Ginny’s cloak. “It’s too late,” she said in a harsh voice. “Why should anything be different now?” Then she turned and started to walk away.
He glanced at Ginny. She could only make a helpless gesture with her shoulders.
“Hezzie!” he called, sprinting after her. She didn’t stop. “Heather,” he pleaded. She stopped and looked at the sky.
Ginny knew she should leave them, but she was rooted to the spot.
He put a hand cautiously on Hezzie’s arm. She didn’t flinch from his touch. His fingers moved down her arm until they reached her hand. After a moment’s hesitation, she closed her hand over his fingers, still not looking at him.
“I didn’t need friends,” Hezzie said. “I needed you.” Her voice broke. “And you left.”
“I know. But I’m back now - I was going to come back at Christmas but - ”
“Niall left me, too.”
“Sorry.”
“I don’t know what to do,” she said to the sky. “What I’m supposed to do.”
They were still holding hands.
“I don’t know either.” He hesitated. “But maybe we can figure it out together.”
A bird cried overhead and woke Ginny up to the fact that she was shamelessly eavesdropping. Before curiosity could get the better of her, she silently Apparated home.
*
“Three more exams and then I’m done,” Harry said with a sigh as he sat down to dinner that evening.
“How did the potions exam go?” she asked, putting a plate of roast beef and veggies in front of him.
“All right,” he answered, slicing into the beef. “I got a hundred per cent on my practical. I’ll know my written score tomorrow.”
She smiled and sat down opposite him. “You are a potions ace.”
He smiled and kept eating.
“Kenny came back,” she announced.
“Sorry?”
“Healer Jones,” she explained. “He caught up with Hezzie when we were walking out of the cafeteria.”
“What’s she going to do?” he asked.
She sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t think she knows. I mean - it’s awfully soon and they do still have unresolved issues.”
“Yeah - but -“
“But what?” For once Harry hadn’t said it was someone else’s business.
“I don’t know.” He looked troubled. “If it was just misunderstandings the first time they were together - “ He shrugged. “I mean - look at Ron and Hermione.”
Her eyes widened. “You think they should get back together?”
“What did Mr. Dunbrack say today? About being here for each other?”
“That’s what Kenny said,” she murmured thoughtfully. “He thought she needed a friend.”
“She does.” Harry nodded. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with her lately and she’ll miss you when you’re gone.”
“I never thought of that,” she said guiltily. Now she really hoped Hezzie would accept whatever Kenny could give her. Hezzie still had a lot of life left to live.
Harry took a sip of water. “So Matt and Donna are going to Canada - Alberta.”
Her eyebrows raised. “Alberta?”
“Yeah. Muggles are trying to squeeze oil out of sand there.”
“Why would they do that?” Really, Muggles were so strange sometimes.
“Muggles need oil to fuel their cars, just like we magical people need Floo Powder to fuel ours,” he explained.
“Oh.”
“There’s also a Floo Powder rush going on in the Yukon - so the Canadian Ministry of Magic wants more Search and Rescue people and law enforcement.”
“I’m glad they both found jobs,” Ginny said, reaching for a bun. “What about Oscar?”
“He’s signed on to a ship.” Harry laughed. “He claims he’ll have witch in every port.”
Ginny snorted. “I can hear Donna now.”
“Wayne’s not going to pass, though.”
As Ginny’s eyes widened in dismay, Harry added, “He’s going to take the course again.”
“How’s he going to afford to do that?”
“Niall’s dad,” Harry answered. “Wayne’s the first recipient of the Dunbrack Scholarship.”
“Oh, that would make Niall happy,” Ginny said softly. “He always tried to help Wayne out. Do you think he can pass next year?”
“I do,” Harry assured her. “Wayne just didn’t have the academic background. It was an intense course.”
“But you passed it no problem,” she said admiringly.
Harry smiled. “I had a lot of support at home.”
We’re on this earth for each other.
Her heart glowed at the love in his eyes. “That’s what it’s all about.”
A/N: The lines Ginny reads are from Laurence Binyon’s poem “For the Fallen,” a traditional part of the Anzac Day ceremony.
Word Count: 6695
Warnings: unbeta’d.
I've got a sick kid at home, so it might take me awhile to reply to your comments.
Part IV, Chapter Twenty-Eight: http://stmargarets.livejournal.com/34310.html#cutid1
Part V, Chapter Twenty-Nine: http://stmargarets.livejournal.com/35983.html#cutid1
Chapter Thirty: On This Earth For Each Other
The week after Niall died was a blur of grief and activity for both Harry and Ginny. For three days divers took turns recovering the bodies underneath the rubble from the second cave-in. Harry’s classes were suspended for the week, but he spent all of his time with the Search and Rescue team - first, by helping with the recovery of the bodies and second, by trying to piece together what went wrong in Niall’s last moments.
When they finally concluded that Niall had simply turned back after he was told to abandon the rescue, Harry was full of equal parts anger and admiration. “It was difficult to leave,” he admitted to Ginny the night after the entire team wrote the report together. They were sitting on the settee after dinner - the first meal they had eaten alone together since the rescue. “Just as they called us back, I could see a hand sticking out of the rubble in this side tunnel. There was no mark, so I thought maybe this miner had been overlooked and maybe he was still alive. But there was no response and no pulse when I touched the hand.”
He sighed, looking troubled. “That doesn’t mean anything of course - his arm could have been crushed by the debris and that’s why I couldn’t get a vital sign.” He shook his head. “But then I noticed one of the beams was sagging and there was a dead kea in the tunnel - so that told me there were noxious gases and the miner probably was dead.”
“He probably was,” she soothed. Harry had been having nightmares ever since the rescue. Ron had told her that Harry had nightmares a lot at Hogwarts, but she had never seen him sleep so poorly.
“Turn around,” she coaxed. “Let me rub you back.”
He turned around automatically, with one leg bent in front of him on the settee and one foot on the floor. She got on her knees and put her hands on his tense shoulders. Poor Harry - the guilt was going to kill him if she didn’t do or say something.
“I never saw Niall after they called for us to leave. Jonah was my partner.” He sighed. “Then the side tunnel collapsed and we had to run for it down the main tunnel.”
She felt the muscles under her hands clench with tension. She pressed her thumbs along his shoulders - trying to loosen and smooth the sinews.
“I think Niall must have been working on that miner as we ran out, because that’s where we found the bodies - in the first side tunnel before the exit to the water. We probably ran right past him. I know I didn’t look left or right - all I could think about was getting out of there.”
“Of course,” she murmured, pressing the heel of her hand into the bony knots of his spine.
“Everyone told us that we did the right thing.” He hissed in a breath and arched his back as she hit a sensitive spot. “But I can’t help but feel - “ He groaned. “That hurts and then it feels better,” he said as she found the tension in his lower back.
Ginny kept rubbing his back as he talked. It seemed to help - both the touch and the fact that Harry could pour it all out to her. She wished she could find the same release from the curious numbness that had overtaken her. She had felt Harry’s grief and Hezzie’s grief and the grief of the entire community as she had avoided reporters and visited Hezzie and made food for the volunteer divers. But now all of that was over. Hezzie was traveling with the body back to Australia where the Dunbracks had planned a small, family funeral. The divers and the rescue team had left the lake. The entire camp was empty since the Floo Powder vein was inaccessible now.
Ginny felt empty, too and she didn’t quite know what to do about it.
*
On the solstice weekend, they spent time together doing laundry and tidying the cottage and answering more questions from Ron and Hermione about what they wanted done with their house. The house and a carefree life in England seemed more fairytale-like than anything, but she couldn’t tell Harry that, since the sadness in his eyes eased when he studied the photos and the floor plans Hermione had sent.
They decided to listen to the Macaw-Thunderers match on the Wireless rather than go in person. The skybox would have too many painful memories and Ginny couldn’t stomach the thought of the reporters who were bound to be there. The match was a long one and Ginny couldn’t seem to focus on the announcer’s words. She was almost startled when Harry took out his wand and switched off the Wireless. “Macaws won,” he said in a strangled voice. “That stupid git owes me a Galleon.”
Then he covered his eyes with one hand while his shoulders shook.
“Harry.” She got on her knees and put her arms around him as she buried her face against the back of his neck.
“He owes me,” Harry said brokenly. “Why the hell did he go back?”
“I don’t know,” she crooned.
“Didn’t he know he was leaving people behind?” Harry said.
Something sharp and painful bolted through her, but she forced herself to breathe and the pain eased. “I don’t know,” she murmured once she collected herself.
“Stupid,” Harry sniffed. “He wasn’t supposed to be a hero that way.”
“No,” Ginny whispered, not sure what she was agreeing or disagreeing with.
*
They were very careful with each other the rest of the weekend. On Sunday morning Harry made breakfast for her while she had her bath. She mended a tear in his winter cloak and played Exploding Snap with him even though she had never liked the game since the time she was ten and had singed the sleeve of her first new set of robes whilst playing with Fred and George. On the holiday Monday Harry flew with her for the first time along the Strait. They were both too tired to fly the entire length of it, but the two hours they spent in the fierce wind gave Ginny a lot of confidence in her broom. The exercise and the fresh air helped them both sleep that night, so that on Tuesday morning, Harry was ready to start classes again and Ginny felt ready to face people again.
She braved Jeremiah’s shop for groceries and the post. Jeremiah didn’t tease her about anything, which was a relief, but also a little disconcerting. He declared that it was going to snow in their valley that night and that he thought Ginny looked ‘washed out.’ Then he softened his voice as he placed a half dozen apples in a paper bag for her. “Don’t think about it too much. There are some things in this world that don’t make sense. They always say the good die young.”
“Good die young!” Clark repeated cheerfully.
She had heard that from the other witches while she was cooking for the divers and she hadn’t known what to say to that then, either. She nodded and reached for her groceries. She could tell that Jeremiah Dey was puzzled that she didn’t take the bait and twit him about missing his chance to prove himself ‘good’ so long ago.
*
Hezzie stopped by later on that week. Ginny felt a warm jolt of pleasure at seeing her friend’s familiar face. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” she cried as she hugged her.
“I couldn’t stay in Australia too much longer,” Hezzie said as she settled in the squishy chair. “The Dunbracks are wonderful people and they were good to me, but it felt like I was staying in another world that I knew I would have to leave eventually.”
Ginny noticed that her ring finger was bare of the Dunbrack opal.
“Yes, I gave it back,” Hezzie said, noticing Ginny’s gaze. “It was a family heirloom.”
Ginny winced and tried not to fiddle with her ruby.
“The funeral was very nice,” Hezzie said bravely, filling in the silence. “The wizard who officiated knew Niall very well and it was wonderful to hear some more stories about him.”
“I’m glad,” Ginny said.
“Queensland is beautiful. There are flowers and palm trees growing - even in the winter.” She shivered. “Unlike here. But there was a terrible storm while we were there.” Hezzie shook her head at the memory. “I’ve never seen it rain like that. It was quite frightening. The Dunbrack’s house elf, Nannie - the one who took care of him and Kyle when they were young - came into my room that night. The rain was beating on the roof so loudly I thought we were going to be washed away. Then she told me how Niall was never afraid of storms - even when he was little. He was the one who would tell stories and keep everyone’s spirits up.”
Ginny could feel her eyes filling. “That sounds like Niall.”
Hezzie swallowed. “Everyone I talked to loved him.”
“Yes.”
She looked at Ginny with pain in her eyes. “But did I love him enough? I feel so guilty. And it’s stupid and selfish of me to worry about my feelings when - ”
“No, Hezzie -“
“If Harry died tomorrow,” Hezzie persisted. “You would know that you had loved him with your whole heart. And you would know that he knew.”
A band of pressure formed around her heart at the words ‘if Harry died tomorrow.’ “Hezzie,” she began weakly. “You promised to marry him. I think he knew -“
“I know,” Hezzie said quickly. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to feel now - or what I’m supposed to do.”
Ginny didn’t know, either. “What do you want to do?”
“I want to go back to work,” Hezzie said promptly. “I just want a little normal in my life again. I don’t want to forget Niall, of course -“
“I think it’s a good idea,” Ginny said. “You’re a Healer and you’re needed. Harry was telling me last night that the burn victims are taking up a lot of resources and time that St. Kilda’s really isn’t equipped for.”
“Didn’t you hear?” Hezzie asked. “Niall’s dad has chartered a ship to take them to the magical burn center in Australia - it’s the only one in the entire world.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.” Hezzie sat up straight and nodded proudly. “Niall’s dad is going to continue what Niall wanted - his government is going to set up a Search and Rescue program in Australia that emphasizes Muggle protection as well.”
“Really?” Ginny asked thoughtfully. She and Harry had talked about donating money to St. Mungo’s or the Ministry for that very purpose. “We should talk to Mr. Dunbrack about that. Do you think he’d talk to us?”
“Of course!” Hezzie said. “He knows all about Harry - and you for that matter.” Then a glimmer of humor showed in her eyes. “The best part is that Darlene Jones has been recruited to go to Australia with the patients.”
“Oh?” It seemed too good to be true that they were finally rid of Darlene. Then her eyes narrowed. “Did you have a say in that?”
For the first time, there was a hint of a smile on Hezzie’s lips. “Hers was the only name I could think of when Mr. Dunbrack asked which St. Kilda’s Healer could be spared to accompany the patients.”
“I can’t wait to help her pack!” Ginny crowed.
Hezzie laughed and then her eyes filled. “It’s good to be here with you, Ginny.”
“Same here.” If she didn’t change the conversation then they would both be in tears. “So when is Mr. Dunbrack going to start this program in Australia?”
“I’m not sure, but I do know he’s coming to St. Kilda’s next month.”
“He is?” Ginny couldn’t imagine why the Minister for Magic of Australia was coming to the place where his youngest son had died.
“He’s giving an endowment in Niall’s name to expand the Search and Rescue school here. They’ll have their own building and there will be scholarships for those people who can’t afford the training.”
“That’s wonderful,” Ginny said warmly. “It will be good for the district and the hospital.”
“It will.” Hezzie nodded. “If something good can come out of this -“
“It will make it bearable,” Ginny finished for her.
*
As the days passed, everyone around Ginny seemed to be finding Niall’s death bearable - except for her. She didn’t understand it. It wasn’t like she had known Niall all that long or that she had known him that well. Harry and the rest of the rescue team had spent a lot more time with him and they seemed to be finding their footing. Oscar and Donna started to bicker again. Wayne still did every third thing wrong. And Mr. Hilary pushed them to their limits as they learned advanced alpine rescue techniques.
On the surface nothing had changed for Ginny, either. She drove the ambulance (once in the middle of a blizzard) - she practiced long distance flying on fine days and on stormy days she tried out Mum’s biscuit and bread recipes whilst listening to Days of Destiny on the Wireless.
But there was heaviness around her heart that she couldn’t seem to shake no matter what she did.
She didn’t say anything to Harry because it would worry him and there was nothing he could do about it anyway. It was her problem and she would find a solution.
In the middle of July, Ginny received a notice from St. Mungo’s reminding her that she had taken The Potion a year ago and if she wanted ‘continued protection,’ she should make an appointment with her Healer.
Since they weren’t due back in England until the end of August, she decided to make an appointment at St. Kilda’s. By the time she was done talking to Healer Welby, she had more options than she knew what to do with and she realized that unlike last year, this was a decision she shouldn’t make alone.
And unlike last year, when she had blushingly told Harry about The Potion whilst they toured the vaults at Gringotts, this year they discussed it whilst washing up after dinner.
After Ginny told him the half dozen ways to prevent pregnancy, Harry nodded and wiped a dinner plate seemingly lost in thought. “So, what did Healer Welby say about your scar?” he finally asked. “Some of those methods sound a little dodgy. What if you got pregnant without realizing it and then did magic?”
“I can’t believe I left that part out,” she answered, shaking her head. “Because that’s the good news. He said that my scar has healed so well that he doesn’t think I’ll have any problems doing magic during the first part of pregnancy.”
“Really?” He put the dishtowel down and turned to face her, a relieved smile on his face. “That’s wonderful.”
“It is,” she agreed even though she felt like crying. “I can have babies no problem.”
He embraced her, but instead of hugging him back she stood still in the circle of his arms as a new thought struck her. “Hezzie wanted to have babies,” she blurted. “And now she can’t.” Tears stung her eyes. “I can have babies but she can’t.”
“Ginny.” He ran his hand down her ponytail. “Hezzie can still have babies.”
“But she can’t have Niall’s babies. She wanted little golden babies with blonde hair . . .”
“Ginny,” he said helplessly as she started to cry.
She felt another undertow of despair ready to pull her under as she thought about not being able to have the black-haired, green-eyed babies she had always envisioned.
“Ginny, what is it?” he asked urgently. “Is it me? I know we haven’t done anything fun for awhile and maybe we need to get away the next free weekend -“
Harry. He was so sweet.
“I’m just so sad,” she confessed, wiping her eyes. “And I don’t know why, really. Everyone else seems to be coping with Niall’s death - but I still feel . . . “ She looked up at him and her heart lurched - he looked so worried. “Stuck.”
“Stuck,” he repeated.
“I don’t know.” She gave a short laugh and stepped away from him. “That’s not very helpful is it? Healer Welby said that when The Potion starts to wear off you might be a little more hormonal than usual.” She shrugged and crossed her arms in front of herself.
“Healer Welby suggested you might be hormonal and you didn’t chew him out?” Harry asked.
That surprised a laugh out of her. “That seems so long ago, doesn’t it?” She rubbed her forehead. “I was so awful to you, I’m surprised you didn’t dump me right then and there in the middle of that rainstorm.”
His eyes were warm as he looked at her. “I would never do that,” he said softly. Then he touched her face. “You have been sad. I haven’t really heard you laugh for a long time.”
“I’ll be all right,” she assured him with more bravado than she felt. “Maybe my hormones will even out if I don’t take any more potions for awhile,” she suggested.
“So you want to do the Charm every time?” he asked.
It would be a bother to remember to do it and the Contraceptive Charm wasn’t one hundred per cent effective, but it seemed like the best thing for the time being. “Just whilst we’re still in New Zealand,” she answered.
“Okay.” He nodded. “Er - do we know that charm?”
Her eyes opened wide in amazement. “I don’t - don’t you?”
“Why would I know that charm?”
She giggled at his huffy tone. “I think it’s in The Book.”
“The book?” He laughed. “Oh, right. That book. I must have skipped right over the charm to get to the good parts.”
“I’m glad you did,” she said softly, feeling the first stirrings of desire. It had been too long . . .
He smiled into her eyes. “I think we should practice that charm - you know - before The Potion wears off.”
“You mean like now?” she asked, putting her arms around his neck.
“Like now.” He kissed her.
*
That night marked a turn for the better for Ginny. Opening up to Harry - even though she couldn’t explain her feelings very well - seemed to have eased some of the heaviness in her chest. She was still a bit weepy at times, but that feeling lessened as July wore on.
It was a good thing, since she was busier than ever following up on paperwork for their house and the charitable foundation Harry wanted to set up once they were back in England. The lag time in the post between New Zealand and England didn’t make it any easier. One cold, grey Tuesday, Ginny realized that she had to have Harry sign a document within the hour or they would miss the Portkey Post - thereby missing the deadline for tax exemptions.
The clock said that Harry was in class, so Ginny hastily Apparated to St. Kilda’s. As luck would have it, the rescue team was out on the snowy lawn, casting some sort of Warming Charm - judging by the puddles there were making.
“Yo, Harry!” Wayne called. “Ginny’s here.”
Ginny waved and smiled at everyone watching her.
“We’re going to have a break in ten minutes,” Harry called. “Can it wait ‘till then?”
“Yes!” she called back, although she wasn’t sure if he heard her since something on the ground had caught fire in the short time he had turned his attention to her and pointed his wand downward. She watched him stamp out the flames and then she began to walk along the slushy road to stay warm.
One look at heavy grey clouds told her it was going to snow soon. She wondered if it would snow during the Strait race, but she doubted it, since that part of the South Island didn’t get snow like the mountain districts. Still, snow would be better than a soaking rainstorm. Then she thought about Harry’s birthday coming up in a week and how it was a real effort to remember that since she always associated his birthday with summer and a visit from him at the Burrow. It seemed hard to believe that somewhere it was as hot and humid as Mum claimed in her last letter.
When she noticed her surroundings again, she found herself in front of the obelisk with the names of the dead soldiers. There was a tattered wreath from the April Twenty Fifth ceremony half-buried in the slushy snow at its base and this evidence of neglect sent a shiver down her spine. Then she remembered what Niall had asked her at the breakfast afterwards.
Do you think you have to fight in a war to be a hero - to do good?”
Niall had always tried to do good in his life and it was no different when he died.
But I wish I would have known my duty when I was as young as Harry.
His wish of knowing his duty had been fulfilled in the dark tunnel deep below the water.
She pulled her cloak tight around her body, and walked to the other side of the obelisk. Carved in the grey stone was the poem Healer Welby had read at the end of the ceremony:
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
At the ceremony she had been so busy being thankful that Harry survived that she hadn’t paid much attention to the words of this poem. But now each word was sharp with clarity.
Niall was never going to grow old. He had found and done his duty in the dark tunnel - and for that Ginny both admired and grieved for him.
Harry had done his duty, too - and he had survived. Until that horrible day when Niall died, Ginny had thought Harry’s story as a hero was over. Harry was going to grow old with her - she was not going to be the one left to grow old.
But now . . .
She swallowed hard and traced the gouges the letters made in the stone. But now she knew that was an illusion. At one time she had been brave enough to let Harry go - to be left behind as he found his destiny and did his duty.
But now . . .
No wonder she had been depressed - she had just discovered how very afraid she was.
She clasped her hands together. When had she become such a coward? Wasn’t love supposed to make you stronger? If so, she should be very strong since she loved him more than ever after a year of marriage.
Oh, damn.
She bowed her head and brought her clenched hands to her mouth. Why didn’t they tell you this when you got married? That you would learn to love someone so much that you couldn’t imagine life without him? People talked about wedding dresses and flowers and invitations, but they didn’t tell you about the risk embedded in the very act of agreeing to live with and love someone for the rest of your days.
There are always dragons, Ginny.
Charlie had tried to tell her.
You'll soon have a rich husband and the world at your feet. Don't think it will last, Weasley.
Her worst enemy at Hogwarts, Miranda Smith, had tried to tell her.
You almost died.
Harry had tried to tell her.
Even their wedding vows spoke of sickness and health and ended in ‘until death do us part.’
She hadn’t paid attention. Death had seemed far, far away on that sunny afternoon in the green orchard.
But one day either she or Harry would die and the other would be left behind and they wouldn’t be married any more.
A sob welled in her throat.
She wanted to be married - for a long time. On the ship, when she had seen her wrinkled sharp features and Harry’s white hair, she had been appalled, but now she realized that a long life together was a gift. A gift that wasn’t guaranteed.
Their marriage, which had become as rock-steady to her as the earth under her feet, was really a fragile thing.
Until death do us part.
“Ginny?”
She came out of her reverie with a start. Harry must have followed her footprints in the dirty snow to the obelisk.
“Did you need me?” he asked, frowning in concern.
“Oh! Yes.” She pulled the crumpled parchment from her cloak pocket. “This has to go into the Portkey Post today. And it needs your signature.”
“Okay.” He patted his chest pocket. “Do you have quill? I think I left all of mine inside.”
She sniffed and took out her wand. “I can conjure you one.”
“Brilliant.” He was reading over the document and not really paying attention. He absently accepted her quill and put the paper against his knee to sign it. She watched him sign his name under hers.
Ginevra M. Potter
Harry J. Potter
His wedding ring gleamed dully on his finger as he handed the paper back to her. They were still married.
She started to cry - but these were tears of relief rather than despair. They were still married. Harry knew as well as she - maybe even better than she - that they were vulnerable. But right now . . . .
They were still married.
“Why does signing things always make you cry?” Harry asked. He sounded half sympathetic and half exasperated, but he hugged her anyway.
She laughed through her tears. “Because it reminds me that we’re married.”
He kissed the top of her head. “And that makes you cry?”
“It does.” She pulled away so she could see him, her tears leaving a cold wet trail on her cheeks. “I just realized as I was standing here why I’ve been so depressed. It wasn’t just Niall, although that was bad enough. It’s because part of me has been feeling what it would have been like if it had been you in that tunnel.”
His eyes flashed with emotion. “Ginny.”
“I’ve never paid attention like I should,” she whispered. “I’ve taken us for granted.”
“Are you kidding me?”
She looked up at his emphatic, almost angry tone.
“No, you haven’t taken anything for granted.” He put his hands on her upper arms. “You’ve tried so hard to make everything perfect for me - for us. Even to whether you should leave the laundry hanging on the line overnight.”
Her lip trembled. “But that’s nothing big - that’s nothing -“
He started to say something but she stopped him. “I never thought you’d die.” It sounded horribly blunt, but she didn’t know any other way to explain it. “Not after the war - not after we were married.”
“Ginny.”
She held up her hand, not wanting to hear any placating words or promises he couldn’t keep. “It was in our wedding vows and I didn’t pay attention.”
“What was in our wedding vows?” He dropped his hands from her arms.
He was losing patience with her and she didn’t blame him. Nothing she had told him made much sense. “Until death do us part,” she blurted. “That’s the part I didn’t pay attention to.”
He stared at her. “Why should you pay attention to that part?”
Now it was her turn to stare.
“When the time comes there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”
“I know,” she said quietly.
“But that’s not what - “ He stopped and looked at her for a moment as if gathering his thoughts.
“What?”
“You’re missing all the bits before the ‘death do us part,’” he said.
She frowned.
“Like life.”
“Life,” she repeated dumbly.
“You know, living. Like deciding what to eat for dinner and yelling at me about my socks on the floor.”
“Harry,” she said weakly. “That’s not -“
“Not what?” he snapped, thoroughly put out with her. “Not being married?” He paced a few steps.
That was being married, Ginny realized. It was another thing they didn’t tell you - all those mundane details that added up to . . .
Something very precious.
“You’re right,” she said to his back.
He turned around.
She spread her hands helplessly. “I just -“
He let out a deep breath. “I know.”
He did know. But there was no point in thinking about death when there was so much life to live.
Then he smiled ruefully. “Right. You always cry over signing papers.”
The papers. She clapped her hand over her mouth. “What time is it?”
Harry looked at his watch. “Half past.”
“Oh, no! I have five minutes before the Portkey Post is sent off.”
“You should go then.” He frowned. “You okay?”
“Yes.” She was okay. They had been okay all along - she had just needed reminding of that fact. She touched his arm. “Chicken for dinner or do you want something else?”
He smiled. “Sounds good.”
Then Ginny Disapparted to mail the marriage exemption form for their taxes.
*
They had agreed to give each other modest gifts for their respective birthdays because they were already spending a lot on renovating and furnishing their house. Hezzie helped Ginny look for and enchant the perfect golden apple. When Harry saw it on the table the morning of his twentieth birthday, he laughed since he knew it was a tribute to their functional fairytale style that Ron was supposedly incorporating into their new house. It seemed impossible, but in one month’s time they would be back in England.
August was to be a busy month since Harry had final exams the first week and at the end of the second week, Ginny was to fly in the Strait Race. John Dunbrack’s visit to St. Kilda’s happened to fall during the middle of exams for the Search and Rescue class.
Even though the cafeteria had been expanded, there was standing room only for John Dunbrack’s speech where he was expected to announce the establishment of an endowment in Niall’s name, for the Search and Rescue school. Ginny found herself in the first row with the Search and Rescue class and Hezzie. Barbara Jones, she was spitefully glad to note, had to settle for the second row.
But she forgot all about Barbara Jones once John Dunbrack walked to the podium. He looked a lot like Niall, Ginny thought with a pang - handsome and assured and even more charming than his son. Of course, he had had a lot of practice; she thought cynically - he was a politician.
He certainly knew how to deliver a speech. This one started out with the usual greetings and then went right to the announcement about the endowment and the building that was going to be built to house the expanded Search and Rescue school. The crowd gasped and applauded when he disclosed the amount of money that would be available to make this “dream a reality.”
Hezzie clapped along with everyone else.
Then John Dunbrack did something unusual for a politician. He rolled up the parchment that he had been reading from and then he grasped both sides of the podium and looked at the crowd. “I read an interesting editorial in the newspaper about a week after Niall died,” he began in a pleasant voice. “In that editorial, the writer sought to draw a metaphor between Niall trying to rescue the miner and Australia’s effort in helping Shangri-la.” His mouth tightened. “The writer felt that the metaphor held because both efforts were doomed to failure. Niall took an unacceptable risk as did my government.”
Someone coughed and broke the awkward silence.
“I can understand the impulse to draw such a metaphor,” he continued. “Especially if you happen to disagree with my Shangri-la policy.” He smiled wryly and then swallowed. “However, Niall isn’t a metaphor. He’s my son.”
There were a thousand tears in that one phrase. He’s my son.
“The miner was someone’s son.”
Ginny bit her lip as she remembered Harry’s description of that dark, chaotic tunnel.
“Niall wasn’t thinking about politics when he ran one way when he was supposed to go another. He wasn’t thinking about the vast differences in education and economics between a miner from Shangri-la and the son of the Minister for Magic of Australia. Because at that moment, there were no differences between them. The miner’s trouble was Niall’s trouble and he was going to help.”
“And for that I’m very proud.”
Hezzie sniffed next to her.
John Dunbrack cleared his throat and looked at the Search and Rescue team in the front row. “At times like these I’m humbly reminded that we’re on this earth for each other. In my job that’s hard to remember sometimes. In your job you will never forget.”
Harry’s head was bent. Donna was listening with tears in her eyes. Oscar’s expression was grave.
“I’m thankful that some good can come from Niall’s death,” he continued. “And I’m glad the money can go to train and support people who know the difference between a metaphor and a parent’s beloved son.” He paused for a moment and then nodded to the crowd. “Thank you.”
Ginny wanted a quiet place where she could contemplate John Dunbrack’s words, but she was stuck in the front row. Barbara Jones, it seemed, was completely tone-deaf to the John Dunbrack’s barely concealed sorrow. “I’m Barbara Jones,” she cooed as she held out her hand. “Surely you’ve heard of Jones’s Farm? We’re the largest operation on the South Island.”
“Oh yes,” Niall’s father said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Niall spoke of you. The board is going to approach you about supplying meat and produce to the school.”
“For free?” Barbara squeaked.
Ginny looked at Hezzie and they both smirked. Served her right. Now she couldn’t wriggle out of it without losing face.
“Let’s get out of here,” Ginny said to Hezzie. She waved to Harry who was talking to Healer Welby. He waved back, but kept talking. Ginny knew he had another exam in the afternoon, so she didn’t expect him to leave with her.
They shouldered their way through the crowd and went directly outside for some fresh air.
“Are you working today?” Ginny asked as they strolled up the path lined by beech trees.
“Tonight,” Hezzie answered absently. Then she stopped. “What did you think of Mr. Dunbrack’s speech?”
“I thought it was wonderful - very heart-felt.”
Hezzie sighed. “I did, too. It made me feel a lot better about Niall - I mean it’s like his father understood exactly what he had been trying to do.” She rubbed her forehead. “But now I have a headache.”
“Maybe you should take some willow bark potion.”
Ginny whirled around to see Healer Jones standing in the path behind them.
“Kenny!” Hezzie had been pale before, but she was positively white right now. “What are you doing here?”
His eyes glinted at her hostile tone and he hesitated before he answered. “I thought you might need a friend.”
“A friend?” Hezzie sputtered. Now color was rising in her face. “I thought I had too many friends for your liking.”
Ginny’s heart sank. This was going to be Michael and Melinda all over again. She started to back away, but Hezzie grabbed her cloak sleeve.
“I’m sorry.” There was no mistaking the sincerity in his voice or the sorrow in his eyes.
Hezzie bit her lip and then let go of Ginny’s cloak. “It’s too late,” she said in a harsh voice. “Why should anything be different now?” Then she turned and started to walk away.
He glanced at Ginny. She could only make a helpless gesture with her shoulders.
“Hezzie!” he called, sprinting after her. She didn’t stop. “Heather,” he pleaded. She stopped and looked at the sky.
Ginny knew she should leave them, but she was rooted to the spot.
He put a hand cautiously on Hezzie’s arm. She didn’t flinch from his touch. His fingers moved down her arm until they reached her hand. After a moment’s hesitation, she closed her hand over his fingers, still not looking at him.
“I didn’t need friends,” Hezzie said. “I needed you.” Her voice broke. “And you left.”
“I know. But I’m back now - I was going to come back at Christmas but - ”
“Niall left me, too.”
“Sorry.”
“I don’t know what to do,” she said to the sky. “What I’m supposed to do.”
They were still holding hands.
“I don’t know either.” He hesitated. “But maybe we can figure it out together.”
A bird cried overhead and woke Ginny up to the fact that she was shamelessly eavesdropping. Before curiosity could get the better of her, she silently Apparated home.
*
“Three more exams and then I’m done,” Harry said with a sigh as he sat down to dinner that evening.
“How did the potions exam go?” she asked, putting a plate of roast beef and veggies in front of him.
“All right,” he answered, slicing into the beef. “I got a hundred per cent on my practical. I’ll know my written score tomorrow.”
She smiled and sat down opposite him. “You are a potions ace.”
He smiled and kept eating.
“Kenny came back,” she announced.
“Sorry?”
“Healer Jones,” she explained. “He caught up with Hezzie when we were walking out of the cafeteria.”
“What’s she going to do?” he asked.
She sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t think she knows. I mean - it’s awfully soon and they do still have unresolved issues.”
“Yeah - but -“
“But what?” For once Harry hadn’t said it was someone else’s business.
“I don’t know.” He looked troubled. “If it was just misunderstandings the first time they were together - “ He shrugged. “I mean - look at Ron and Hermione.”
Her eyes widened. “You think they should get back together?”
“What did Mr. Dunbrack say today? About being here for each other?”
“That’s what Kenny said,” she murmured thoughtfully. “He thought she needed a friend.”
“She does.” Harry nodded. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with her lately and she’ll miss you when you’re gone.”
“I never thought of that,” she said guiltily. Now she really hoped Hezzie would accept whatever Kenny could give her. Hezzie still had a lot of life left to live.
Harry took a sip of water. “So Matt and Donna are going to Canada - Alberta.”
Her eyebrows raised. “Alberta?”
“Yeah. Muggles are trying to squeeze oil out of sand there.”
“Why would they do that?” Really, Muggles were so strange sometimes.
“Muggles need oil to fuel their cars, just like we magical people need Floo Powder to fuel ours,” he explained.
“Oh.”
“There’s also a Floo Powder rush going on in the Yukon - so the Canadian Ministry of Magic wants more Search and Rescue people and law enforcement.”
“I’m glad they both found jobs,” Ginny said, reaching for a bun. “What about Oscar?”
“He’s signed on to a ship.” Harry laughed. “He claims he’ll have witch in every port.”
Ginny snorted. “I can hear Donna now.”
“Wayne’s not going to pass, though.”
As Ginny’s eyes widened in dismay, Harry added, “He’s going to take the course again.”
“How’s he going to afford to do that?”
“Niall’s dad,” Harry answered. “Wayne’s the first recipient of the Dunbrack Scholarship.”
“Oh, that would make Niall happy,” Ginny said softly. “He always tried to help Wayne out. Do you think he can pass next year?”
“I do,” Harry assured her. “Wayne just didn’t have the academic background. It was an intense course.”
“But you passed it no problem,” she said admiringly.
Harry smiled. “I had a lot of support at home.”
We’re on this earth for each other.
Her heart glowed at the love in his eyes. “That’s what it’s all about.”
A/N: The lines Ginny reads are from Laurence Binyon’s poem “For the Fallen,” a traditional part of the Anzac Day ceremony.