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thewidowsghost · 2 months

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A Love Tested By War (Ginny Weasley x Fem!Potter!Reader)

Main Masterlist

So this is the massive Ginny fic I've been working on! It's about 10K words, so I hope yall are good with the ride!

The sounds of the battle are a deafening symphony of chaos. Spells fly through the air like deadly fireworks, painting the night with streaks of vibrant, lethal light. Ginny Weasley stands at the heart of it all, her fiery hair a beacon in the gloom. She’s a fierce dueler, her wand an extension of her will as she duels with a masked Death Eater, her every movement precise and deadly.

But in the back of her mind, she can’t stop worrying about (Y/n) Potter, her girlfriend. Where is she? Is she safe? The thoughts gnaw at her as she deflects a curse, sending it hurtling back toward her opponent with a flick of her wrist.

(Y/n) is somewhere in the castle, fighting her own battles. Ginny knows she’s capable, that she’s strong and brave, but the fear still lingers. In moments like these, when the world is falling apart, it’s hard not to worry about the ones you love.

(Y/n) ducks behind a crumbling pillar, her chest heaving as she catches her breath. Her wand is clutched tightly in her hand, her knuckles white with the strain. She peeks around the edge, her heart skipping a beat as she spots a group of Death Eaters advancing. She’s alone, and they’re too many. She knows she has to be smart, and has to find a way to outmaneuver them.

She takes a deep breath, gathering her courage, and steps out from her hiding place. Her wand is steady as she casts a shield charm, blocking the first volley of curses. She counters with a stunning spell, hitting one of the Death Eaters square in the chest. He collapses, but more take his place, and (Y/n) knows she’s in trouble.

Meanwhile, Ginny’s battle is relentless. She fights with a ferocity born of desperation, each spell a plea for (Y/n)’s safety. She’s separated from her family, from Harry, from Hermione and Luna, but her mind keeps circling back to (Y/n). She needs to find her, needs to make sure she’s alright. But the battle is unyielding, and she can’t afford to let her guard down.

(Y/n) is driven back, her shield flickering under the assault. She stumbles, her foot catching on a piece of debris, and she goes down hard. Pain explodes in her side, and she gasps, struggling to rise. A curse flies over her head, narrowly missing her, and she knows she’s running out of time.

With a surge of determination, she forces herself to her feet. Her vision swims, but she pushes forward, her wand a lifeline. She can’t give up. Not now. Not when so much is at stake.

Ginny’s battle takes a turn as her opponent falters. She seizes the moment, disarming the Death Eater with a swift, decisive movement. She doesn’t waste time celebrating, though. She turns, scanning the battlefield, her heart pounding with dread. Where is (Y/n)?

She spots her then, across the courtyard, surrounded by Death Eaters. Panic grips her as she sees (Y/n) fall. “No!” she screams, the word torn from her throat. She starts to run, her legs pumping, but it feels like she’s moving through molasses. Every step is a battle against the crushing fear that she’s too late.

(Y/n) fights on, but she’s weakening. A curse hits her shoulder, and she cries out, the pain blinding. She drops to her knees, her wand slipping from her grasp. The Death Eaters close in, their laughter a cruel chorus. She looks up, her vision blurring, and sees Ginny running toward her.

Ginny reaches (Y/n) just as a Death Eater raises his wand for the final blow. With a cry of fury, she hurls herself at him, her wand flashing. He goes down, and Ginny spins, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She drops to her knees beside (Y/n), her hands shaking as she reaches out.

“(Y/n),” she whispers, her voice breaking. “Hold on. Please, hold on.”

(Y/n) tries to smile, but it’s a grimace of pain. “Ginny . . . I-I-I’m s-s-sorry” . . .

“No!” Ginny’s voice is fierce, desperate. “Don’t you dare apologize. We’re getting out of this. Together.”

(Y/n)’s eyes flutter, and Ginny’s heart clenches. She looks around, frantic, but the battle rages on. There’s no help coming. She has to do this on her own.

With trembling hands, she tries to stop the bleeding, her mind racing. She needs to get (Y/n) to safety, needs to find help. But (Y/n) is slipping away, and Ginny is terrified.

“Stay with me,” she begs, her voice choked with tears. “Please, (Y/n). I can’t lose you.”

(Y/n)’s hand reaches up, her fingers brushing against Ginny’s cheek, leaving streaks of blood where her fingers had been. “I love you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Ginny’s tears fall freely now, mingling with the blood and dirt. “I love you too,” she says, her voice breaking. “More than anything. Just hold on, okay? We’re going to get through this.”

But even as she speaks, she can see the light fading from (Y/n)’s eyes. The reality of it hits her like a physical blow, and she can’t breathe, can’t think.

“No,” she whispers, her voice hoarse. “No, no, no . . .”

The world around them is chaos, but in this moment, all Ginny can see is (Y/n), lying broken in her arms. The pain is unbearable, a raw, gaping wound in her heart. I can’t lose (Y/n). Not now. Not ever.

And yet, as she watches, (Y/n)’s eyes close, her body going limp. Ginny’s scream of grief and rage echoes through the night, a haunting sound that cuts through the noise of battle.

Ginny’s scream is a raw, heart-wrenching sound, piercing the night and cutting through the chaos. Her entire being is consumed by the sight of (Y/n), lying still and lifeless in her arms. For a moment, the battle fades away, and all that exists is this profound, unimaginable grief.

But the world doesn’t stop for Ginny’s sorrow. A curse whizzes past her ear, jolting her back to the brutal reality of the fight. She looks up, her vision blurred by tears, and sees another Death Eater approaching. Rage ignites within her, a fierce, burning need for vengeance. She gently lays (Y/n) down, her hand lingering on her beloved’s cheek for a fleeting moment, before standing to face her enemy.

“Expelliarmus!” she shouts, her voice trembling with fury. The Death Eater’s wand flies from his hand, and before he can react, Ginny sends a stunning spell his way, dropping him to the ground. She turns, searching for more threats, her heart pounding in her chest.

Her mind races. She needs to get (Y/n) to safety, needs to find help. But the battle is relentless, and she knows she can’t do it alone. She scans the courtyard, looking for any familiar faces, any allies who might be able to assist her.

“Ginny!” a voice calls out, and she spins around to see Luna Lovegood running towards her, her blonde hair flying behind her. Luna’s eyes widen as she takes in the scene, her face paling.

“Luna,” Ginny gasps, her voice cracking. “(Y/n) . . . she’s hurt. I don’t know if she’s . . .”

Luna kneels beside (Y/n), her expression uncharacteristically serious as she examines her fallen friend. “We need to get her to the Great Hall,” she says calmly, though there’s a note of urgency in her voice. “Madam Pomfrey will know what to do.”

Ginny nods, her hands trembling. Together, they lift (Y/n) carefully, Luna using her wand to lighten the load. They move as quickly as they can, weaving through the chaos of the battle, hearts heavy with fear and desperation.

As they near the Great Hall, Ginny’s mind is a whirlwind of thoughts. She can’t lose (Y/n). She can’t. The very idea is unbearable. But she forces herself to stay focused, to keep moving. They have to reach Madam Pomfrey. They have to.

The Great Hall is a flurry of activity. Injured students and teachers lie on makeshift beds, and the air is thick with the smell of potions and the sound of urgent voices. Madam Pomfrey moves among them, her face stern and determined, her wand flicking expertly as she tends to the wounded.

“Madam Pomfrey!” Ginny cries, her voice shaking. “Please, help us!”

The matron hurries over, her eyes widening as she takes in the sight of (Y/n). “Lay her here,” she instructs, indicating an empty bed. She immediately begins her work, her wand moving in complex patterns, her lips murmuring incantations.

Ginny stands back, her hands clasped tightly together, her eyes never leaving (Y/n)’s face. Luna places a comforting hand on her shoulder, her own face etched with worry.

“She’s strong, Ginny,” Luna says softly. “She’ll fight. Just like you.”

Ginny nods, swallowing hard. “I hope you’re right,” she whispers. “I can’t lose her, Luna. I just can’t.”

Madam Pomfrey works tirelessly, her brow furrowed in concentration. Ginny watches every movement, her heart aching with every second that passes. Time seems to stretch, each moment an eternity of fear and uncertainty.

Finally, Madam Pomfrey steps back, her face grave. “She’s stabilized, but she’s very weak,” she says quietly. “We need to keep her here, under close watch. She’s not out of danger yet.”

Ginny feels a rush of relief mixed with lingering dread. “Thank you,” she says, her voice choked with emotion. She moves to (Y/n)’s side, taking her hand gently. “I’m here, (Y/n),” she whispers. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Luna stays by her side, offering silent support. The sounds of battle outside the Great Hall continue, a constant reminder of the danger still lurking. But for now, Ginny’s focus is entirely on (Y/n), willing her to hold on, to fight.

Hours pass, and the battle outside rages on. Ginny stays by (Y/n)’s side, her eyes never leaving her face. She whispers words of encouragement, of love, hoping that somehow, (Y/n) can hear her. Luna occasionally leaves to check on the situation outside, always returning with updates that do little to ease Ginny’s worry.

As dawn begins to break, the sounds of fighting start to dwindle. The Great Hall is filled with a tense, exhausted silence, broken only by the occasional groan of the injured. Ginny’s eyes are heavy with fatigue, but she refuses to rest, her grip on (Y/n)’s hand unwavering.

Madam Pomfrey approaches, her face tired but kind. “You should rest, dear,” she says gently. “You need your strength.”

“I can’t,” Ginny replies, shaking her head. “Not until I know she’s okay.”

Madam Pomfrey nods, understanding. “Very well. But take care of yourself too, Ginny. (Y/n) will need you when she wakes.”

Ginny nods, though she has no intention of leaving (Y/n)’s side. She can’t. Not now. Not when the fear still lingers, a dark shadow over her heart.

As the first rays of sunlight filter through the windows, Ginny leans closer to (Y/n), her voice a soft whisper. “I love you,” she says, her words filled with a fierce, desperate hope. “Please, come back to me.”

And then, just as the sun breaks over the horizon, (Y/n)’s eyes flutter open. It’s a small movement, barely noticeable, but to Ginny, it’s everything. Her heart leaps, tears springing to her eyes.

“(Y/n)!” she cries, her voice trembling. “You’re awake! You’re really awake!”

(Y/n) blinks, her eyes slowly focusing on Ginny. “Ginny…” she whispers, her voice weak but unmistakable. “I… I’m here.”

Ginny’s tears fall freely now, her relief a palpable, overwhelming thing. “You’re going to be okay,” she says, her voice breaking with emotion. “We’re going to be okay.”

In that moment, surrounded by the aftermath of the battle and the remnants of fear, Ginny feels a glimmer of hope. They’ve faced the darkness together, and they’ve come through it. And as she looks into (Y/n)’s eyes, she knows that no matter what comes next, they’ll face it together.

. . .

(Y/n)’s return to consciousness is a fragile, delicate thing, and Ginny stays close, her hand a constant presence in hers. Madam Pomfrey hovers nearby, administering potions and casting diagnostic spells, her expression one of focused concern. The Great Hall, though quieter now, still hums with the presence of the injured and the occasional murmur of healers at work.

“You need to rest, (Y/n),” Madam Pomfrey says gently, her eyes softening as she looks at her patient. “You’ve been through a lot. Your body needs time to heal.”

(Y/n) nods weakly, her eyelids fluttering as she fights to stay awake. “Ginny,” she whispers, her voice hoarse and barely audible. “Stay with me?”

“Always,” Ginny replies, her voice firm despite the tremor of emotion beneath it. “I’m not going anywhere.”

As the hours pass, the wounded continue to fill the Great Hall, each new arrival a reminder of the battle that raged just outside these walls. Ginny can see the toll it’s taking on everyone, from the healers working tirelessly to the friends and family members anxiously awaiting news of their loved ones. Despite the fatigue weighing her down, Ginny remains vigilant, her focus solely on (Y/n).

Harry, Ron, and Hermione eventually make their way to the Great Hall, their faces haggard and streaked with dirt and sweat. Relief washes over Ginny at the sight of them, and they share a brief, silent moment of solidarity amidst the chaos.

“How is she?” Hermione asks, her voice soft and full of concern as her gaze falls on her injured friend.

“Madam Pomfrey says she’s stabilized,” Ginny replies, her grip on (Y/n)’s hand tightening. “But she needs time to recover. She was hurt badly.”

Ron places a reassuring hand on Ginny’s shoulder. “She’s tough,” he says, his voice filled with quiet confidence. “She’ll pull through.”

Harry nods in agreement, his eyes serious, his eyes on his sister – the last of his living family. “We’re here for you, Ginny. Whatever you need.”

Ginny offers them a grateful smile, though her heart remains heavy. She knows they’ve all been through so much, that the road to recovery will be long and difficult for everyone. But in this moment, surrounded by the people she cares about most, she feels a glimmer of hope.

As the days pass, the immediate danger fades, and the survivors begin the slow, painful process of healing. The castle, though battered and scarred, stands as a testament to their resilience and strength. Ginny remains by (Y/n)’s side, her presence a constant source of comfort and reassurance.

. . .

(Y/n)’s recovery is slow but steady. Each day brings small signs of improvement: a stronger grip on Ginny’s hand, a longer period of wakefulness, a hint of color returning to her cheeks. Ginny treasures each of these moments, holding on to them like precious jewels.

One afternoon, as sunlight filters through the high windows of the Great Hall, (Y/n) manages to sit up with Ginny’s help. Her movements are tentative and shaky, but the determination in her eyes is unmistakable.

“You’re doing great,” Ginny says, her voice filled with pride and encouragement. “Just take it slow. There’s no rush.”

(Y/n) nods, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “I feel . . . so weak,” she admits, her frustration evident. “Like I can barely move.”

“That’s normal,” Ginny reassures her. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s going to take time to get your strength back. But you’re getting stronger every day. I can see it.”

(Y/n) manages a small smile, her eyes softening as she looks at Ginny. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she says quietly. “You’re the reason I’m still here.”

Ginny’s eyes fill with tears, and she leans in to press a gentle kiss to (Y/n)’s forehead. “We’re in this together,” she murmurs. “Always.”

. . .

The days following the Battle of Hogwarts are filled with a mixture of relief, grief, and the slow process of healing. While the immediate danger has passed, the emotional wounds remain raw. For Ginny, the loss of her brother Fred is a deep, aching pain that shadows even the moments of hope and recovery with (Y/n).

Ginny stands in the Great Hall, her eyes scanning the faces of the wounded and the healers moving among them. The castle feels different now, both a place of victory and a monument to those who have fallen. Her thoughts drift back to Fred, his laughter, his mischievous grin, and the way he could light up a room with his presence. The memory is bittersweet, a reminder of all they’ve lost.

She feels a hand slip into hers and looks up to see (Y/n) standing beside her, looking stronger each day but still bearing the signs of her ordeal. “You okay?” (Y/n) asks softly, her eyes filled with concern.

Ginny squeezes her hand, drawing comfort from her touch. “I will be,” she says, her voice steady despite the sadness that lingers. “It’s just… Fred. I can’t believe he’s really gone.”

(Y/n) nods, her grip tightening. “I know. I’m so sorry, Ginny. He was incredible.”

Ginny’s eyes fill with tears, but she smiles through them, thinking of her brother’s infectious spirit. “He was,” she agrees, her voice trembling. “He really was.”

The next few days are a blur of preparations for Fred’s funeral. The Weasley family comes together, their grief a shared burden that somehow makes it easier to bear. They gather at the Burrow, the familiar, comforting home now filled with a sense of profound loss. Ginny finds solace in the presence of her family, each of them offering support in their own way.

. . .

On the day of the funeral, the sky is overcast, a fitting backdrop for their sorrow. The Weasleys, along with their friends and extended family, stand together in a field near the Burrow, the air heavy with the weight of their grief. Ginny stands beside (Y/n), her hand firmly clasped in hers, drawing strength from her presence.

The ceremony is simple but heartfelt, a tribute to Fred’s life and the joy he brought to everyone around him. George, standing next to the casket, speaks of his twin with a mixture of humor and heartbreak, his voice cracking as he shares memories that bring both laughter and tears.

“He’d hate this, you know,” George says, managing a small smile despite the pain in his eyes. “All of us standing around, being sad. He’d want us to throw a party, to celebrate his life the way he lived it – with laughter and love.”

Ginny listens, her heart aching with every word. She thinks of the countless pranks Fred and George pulled, the way they could always make her laugh no matter how bad things seemed. She feels (Y/n) squeeze her hand, a silent reminder that she’s not alone in her grief.

After the ceremony, the Weasleys and their friends gather at the Burrow for a meal. It’s a subdued affair, but there are moments of lightness, of shared stories and memories that bring smiles amidst the tears. Ginny sits with (Y/n), their shoulders touching, finding comfort in their closeness.

As the evening wears on, Ginny steps outside, needing a moment to herself. She walks to the edge of the garden, looking out over the fields that stretch beyond the Burrow. The sky is beginning to clear, the stars slowly emerging in the twilight.

She feels (Y/n)’s presence before she hears her footsteps. “Hey,” (Y/n) says softly, coming to stand beside her.

“Hey,” Ginny replies, her voice quiet. She takes a deep breath, the cool night air filling her lungs. “I just needed a moment. It’s so hard, saying goodbye.”

(Y/n) nods, slipping an arm around Ginny’s waist. “I know. It’s never easy. But he’ll always be with you, in your heart. In all of our hearts.”

Ginny leans into (Y/n), finding solace in her warmth. “Thank you,” she whispers. “For being here. For everything.”

(Y/n) kisses her temple, her touch gentle and reassuring. “Always,” she murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

They stand together in the quiet of the evening, the stars above a silent witness to their shared grief and enduring love. In the face of such profound loss, Ginny finds strength in the knowledge that she’s not alone, that (Y/n) is by her side, and they could deal with whatever comes next in their journey.

. . .

Five years have passed since the Battle of Hogwarts, and life has found a new rhythm for Ginny and (Y/n). The scars of the war have faded, but the memories remain, woven into the fabric of their lives. They have moved into a cozy cottage on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole, a place that feels like a sanctuary after all the chaos and loss.

Their home is filled with warmth and love, a testament to the life they’ve built together. The walls are adorned with photos of family and friends, moments of joy captured in time. The garden is a riot of color, a shared project that has become a source of pride and relaxation.

One crisp autumn morning, (Y/n) wakes with a feeling of nausea. At first, she thinks it’s just the remnants of a bad dream, but as the days go by and the nausea persists, she begins to suspect something more. Ginny notices her discomfort and gently encourages her to see a healer.

After a thorough examination at St. Mungo’s, the healer smiles warmly. “Congratulations, (Y/n),” she says. “You’re pregnant.”

(Y/n)’s heart skips a beat, a mixture of joy and fear flooding her senses. “Pregnant?” she repeats, her voice barely a whisper.

“Yes,” the healer confirms. “You’re about eight weeks along. You and Ginny are going to have a baby.”

(Y/n) leaves St. Mungo’s in a daze, her mind racing with the news. She finds Ginny in the courtyard of their home, practicing her Quidditch moves. Ginny sees her approaching and immediately senses something is different.

“(Y/n)? What’s wrong?” Ginny asks, concern lacing her voice as she lands gracefully and rushes over.

(Y/n) takes a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. “Ginny, I . . . I have something to tell you,” she begins, her voice trembling. “I just saw the healer. I’m . . I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, Ginny simply stares at her, the words sinking in. Then, her face lights up with a mixture of shock and joy. “You’re pregnant?” she echoes, her voice filled with wonder. “How –?”

(Y/n) nods, tears welling up in her eyes. “Yes, we’re going to have a baby.”

Ginny’s laughter is pure and joyous as she pulls (Y/n) into a tight embrace, spinning her around. “We’re going to have a baby!” she exclaims, her excitement contagious.

. . .

The following months are a whirlwind of anticipation and preparation. Ginny and (Y/n) transform the spare bedroom into a nursery, painting the walls a soft, calming shade and filling it with baby supplies. They attend all the prenatal appointments together, Ginny always holding (Y/n)’s hand and offering words of encouragement.

In the mornings, Ginny insists on preparing breakfast, making sure (Y/n) gets all the nutrients she needs. They enjoy leisurely walks through their village, the fresh air and exercise doing wonders for (Y/n)’s well-being. Ginny’s protective nature is endearing, and (Y/n) appreciates her attentiveness.

As (Y/n)’s belly begins to show, they receive an outpouring of love and support from friends and family. Molly Weasley is over the moon at the prospect of another grandchild, and she showers them with advice, stories, and homemade baby clothes. The entire Weasley clan rallies around them, offering help with everything from nursery setup to baby name suggestions.

One afternoon, as they’re sorting through baby clothes in the nursery, (Y/n) feels a flutter in her abdomen. She gasps, placing a hand over her belly.

“Ginny!” she calls out, her voice filled with wonder. “Come here, quick!”

Ginny rushes in, her eyes wide with concern. “What is it? Are you okay?”

(Y/n) smiles, her eyes sparkling with tears of joy. “I felt the baby move.”

Ginny’s face lights up, and she places her hand gently on (Y/n)’s belly. They wait in silence, and then they feel it – a tiny, fluttering movement. Ginny’s eyes well up with tears, and she kisses (Y/n)’s forehead.

“Our little Fred,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “He’s really in there.”

. . .

As the months progress, (Y/n)’s pregnancy becomes more pronounced. Her belly grows rounder, and Ginny takes delight in feeling the baby kick and move. They take to reading to the baby every night, Ginny’s voice soothing as she tells stories of Hogwarts, their adventures, and the loved ones they’ve lost.

Ginny becomes a master at cooking nutritious meals that (Y/n) enjoys, experimenting with recipes to keep her appetite piqued despite the nausea that sometimes persists. (Y/n) finds herself craving odd combinations, and Ginny indulges every whim, even if it means a midnight run to the nearest magical grocer.

In their quiet moments, they talk about their hopes and dreams for their son. They discuss parenting styles, argue playfully over baby names, and make lists of all the things they want to teach him. Ginny is determined to teach him how to fly a broomstick as soon as he’s old enough, while (Y/n) dreams of reading to him under the stars.

. . .

One evening, they visit the Burrow for dinner. The entire Weasley family is gathered, the atmosphere warm and lively. Molly serves a feast, and everyone takes turns feeling the baby kick. Fred’s memory is a constant presence, their photos prominently displayed and their stories shared with laughter and tears.

As the evening winds down, Ginny and (Y/n) sit by the fire with Arthur. He shares stories of Ginny’s childhood, and they laugh together, imagining what their own son’s antics might be. Arthur places a gentle hand on (Y/n)’s belly, his eyes twinkling with joy.

“You two are going to be wonderful mothers,” he says softly. “This little one is lucky to have you.”

. . .

The second trimester brings more changes, but also a sense of calm and stability. (Y/n)’s nausea subsides, and she begins to feel more energetic. Ginny takes her to Quidditch matches, where they cheer for the Harpies and talk about taking their son to games in the future.

(Y/n) finds herself drawn to the garden, where she plants flowers and herbs, feeling a deep connection to the earth and the life growing inside her. Ginny often joins her, and together they create a beautiful, vibrant space that feels like a sanctuary.

One sunny afternoon, as they’re sitting in the garden, Ginny places her hand on (Y/n)’s belly and feels a strong kick. She laughs, her eyes sparkling with joy.

“He’s going to be a Quidditch player, just like his mum,” Ginny says, her voice filled with pride.

(Y/n) smiles, her heart swelling with love. “Or maybe a gardener, like his other mum,” she replies, her voice soft and tender.

. . .

As the due date approaches, Ginny becomes even more protective and attentive. She takes over more of the household chores, insists on carrying all the heavy objects, and makes sure (Y/n) is comfortable at all times. They attend birthing classes together, where they learn breathing techniques and labor positions.

Ginny reads every book she can find on pregnancy and childbirth, wanting to be as prepared as possible. She often stays up late, reading by the soft glow of a lamp while (Y/n) sleeps beside her, her hand resting on her belly.

. . .

One night, (Y/n) wakes to find Ginny gently stroking her belly, her face illuminated by the soft light.

“What are you thinking about?” (Y/n) asks, her voice hushed.

Ginny smiles, her eyes filled with love. “About how lucky I am,” she replies. “And how much I love you both.”

(Y/n) reaches out and takes Ginny’s hand, squeezing it gently. “We’re lucky too,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t wait to see you as a mum.”

. . .

The third trimester brings its own set of challenges. (Y/n) becomes more uncomfortable as her belly grows, and sleep becomes elusive. Ginny does everything she can to help, massaging (Y/n)’s aching back, placing pillows around her to make her more comfortable, and whispering soothing words when the baby’s kicks keep her awake at night.

Despite the discomfort, there are moments of pure joy. (Y/n) feels a deep connection to the life growing inside her, and Ginny’s excitement and love are a constant source of strength.

One evening, as they sit on the couch, Ginny places her head on (Y/n)’s belly and talks to the baby.

“Hey, little one,” she says softly. “We can’t wait to meet you. Your mums love you so much, and we’re going to take such good care of you.”

(Y/n) watches, her heart swelling with love. “He’s going to be so lucky to have you,” she says, her voice filled with emotion.

. . .

As (Y/n)’s due date approaches, the excitement and nervousness build. They have their bags packed for the hospital, the nursery is ready, and they’ve read all the books. Still, nothing quite prepares them for the moment when (Y/n) goes into labor.

It happens one sweltering summer evening. (Y/n) feels the first pangs of labor and calls out to Ginny, who rushes to her side. They grab their bags and make their way to St. Mungo’s, their hearts pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement.

The labor is long and exhausting, but Ginny never leaves (Y/n)’s side, her hand a constant source of comfort and strength. She whispers words of encouragement, strokes (Y/n)’s hair and forehead, and reassures her that everything will be okay.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the cries of a newborn fill the room. Tears stream down Ginny’s face as she looks at their son for the first time, his tiny body cradled in (Y/n)’s arms.

“He’s perfect,” Ginny whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “Hello, Freddie. Welcome to the world.”

(Y/n) smiles through her tears, her heart overflowing with love. “He’s beautiful,” she agrees. “Just like his namesake.”

. . .

They bring Fred home to their cottage, where they spend their first weeks as a family in a blissful haze of sleepless nights and joyful moments. The entire Weasley family comes to visit, showering them with love and support. Molly and Arthur are frequent visitors, offering advice and marveling at their grandson.

As Ginny and (Y/n) settle into their new roles as mothers, they find a new sense of purpose and joy. Their love for each other, and for their son, becomes the foundation of their life together, a beacon of hope in a world forever changed.

One evening, as they sit by the fire with baby Fred asleep in Ginny’s arms, (Y/n) looks at her family, her heart filled with gratitude and contentment. “We’ve come so far,” she says softly, her eyes meeting Ginny’s. “I never thought we’d find this much happiness after everything.”

Ginny smiles, her eyes shining with love. “We’ve been through a lot,” she agrees. “But we have each other. And that’s all we need.”

Together, they watch the flames dance in the hearth, the future stretching out before them like a promise. No matter what challenges lie ahead, they know they’ll face them together, their love a constant, unwavering light in the darkness.

And as they look forward to the future with their son, they know that the best is yet to come.

. . .

Little Fred Potter grows quickly, filling their lives with laughter, curiosity, and boundless energy. His first steps are cheered on by both mums, and his first words, a mix of babble and attempts at imitating his mothers, become cherished memories captured in photographs scattered around their home.

As Fred grows, so does their love for him. He inherits Ginny's mischievous grin and (Y/n)'s curiosity about the world. They take him to the Burrow often, where he becomes fast friends with Molly and Arthur's grandchildren, creating bonds that mirror the deep connections forged by the Weasley clan.

On a crisp spring morning, (Y/n) wakes up with a familiar sense of nausea. Memories of her first pregnancy flood back, and she finds herself counting the days with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Ginny notices the change in (Y/n)'s routine, the subtle signs that were so familiar from before.

One evening, over a quiet dinner at home, (Y/n) finally gathers the courage to broach the subject.

“Ginny,” she begins, her voice steady but tinged with nervousness, “I think . . . I think I might be pregnant again.”

Ginny's fork pauses midway to her mouth, her eyes widening with surprise and then joy. “Really?” she breathes out, her voice filled with hope.

(Y/n) nods, a small smile playing on her lips. “I haven't taken a test yet, but . . . I just have this feeling.”

Ginny's face breaks into a wide grin, and she sets her fork down, reaching across the table to take (Y/n)'s hand in hers. “Let's go see a healer,” she suggests eagerly. “Just to be sure, yeah?”

. . .

The next morning, they find themselves once again at St. Mungo's, waiting anxiously for the healer to confirm their suspicions. The healer smiles warmly as she performs the examination, then turns to face them with a nod.

“You're pregnant,” she confirms, her tone gentle and reassuring. “Congratulations.”

Tears well up in (Y/n)'s eyes, and Ginny pulls her into a tight embrace. They stay like that for a long moment, their hearts overflowing with joy and gratitude.

“We're going to have another baby,” Ginny murmurs against (Y/n)'s ear, her voice filled with wonder.

. . .

The news spreads quickly through their family and friends, greeted with an outpouring of love and support. Molly is overjoyed at the prospect of another grandchild from her youngest daughter, and she immediately starts knitting tiny sweaters and booties. The entire Weasley clan celebrates with a festive dinner at the Burrow, where Fred – seven now – runs around with his cousins, oblivious to the excitement around him.

As (Y/n)'s pregnancy progresses, Ginny becomes even more attentive and nurturing. She takes over household chores with a smile, ensuring (Y/n) has everything she needs and more. They attend prenatal appointments together, holding hands tightly as they listen to the steady beat of their second child's heart.

Fred, sensing the changes in his mums' routines, becomes even more affectionate, often cuddling up to (Y/n)'s growing belly and whispering secrets to his unborn sibling.

. . .

In the evenings, Ginny reads to Fred and (Y/n), her voice gentle and soothing as she spins tales of bravery, magic, and love. They talk about their hopes and dreams for their expanding family, imagining what their new baby will be like and how Fred will adjust to being a big brother.

“You're going to be the best big brother,” (Y/n) tells Fred one evening, her hand resting on her belly. “You'll teach your little sibling all sorts of mischief.”

Fred grins mischievously, his eyes shining with excitement. “And you'll teach them all about plants and flowers, right?”

(Y/n) nods, her heart swelling with love for her son and the baby growing inside her. “Yes, we'll teach them everything.”

. . .

As (Y/n)'s pregnancy progresses, their days are filled with anticipation and wonder. Ginny takes on more responsibilities around the house, ensuring (Y/n) rests and stays comfortable. She prepares nutritious meals, her culinary skills expanding to include dishes that satisfy (Y/n)'s cravings and ensure both mother and baby are healthy.

One morning, (Y/n) wakes to find Ginny and Fred huddled close to her belly, their heads bent together in conversation. She watches them silently, a small smile tugging at her lips as she listens to their murmured words.

“Do you think they can hear us?” Fred asks in a hushed voice, his eyes wide with curiosity.

Ginny nods, her hand resting gently on (Y/n)'s belly. “I think they can,” she replies softly. “What do you want to tell them today?”

Fred thinks for a moment, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Tell them about Quidditch,” he decides finally, his face lighting up with excitement. “And how we're going to play together when they're bigger.”

Ginny chuckles softly, her heart swelling with love for her son and the baby growing inside (Y/n). “That sounds like a wonderful idea,” she agrees, her voice warm with affection.

(Y/n) closes her eyes, savoring the moment. She feels a deep sense of gratitude and contentment, knowing that her children are loved and cherished by the woman she loves with all her heart.

. . .

As the weeks pass, Ginny and Fred continue their ritual of talking to the baby. They share stories of their adventures, their dreams for the future, and the love that binds their family together. Sometimes, Ginny sings softly, her voice a lullaby that soothes both Fred and the baby nestled within (Y/n)'s womb.

One evening, as they sit together in the nursery, Fred places his hand on (Y/n)'s belly and waits patiently. When he feels a gentle kick, his eyes widen in amazement, and he looks up at Ginny with a wide grin.

“They kicked!” he exclaims excitedly, his voice filled with wonder.

Ginny's eyes sparkle with pride as she strokes Fred's hair affectionately. “They did,” she confirms softly. “I think they like hearing your voice.”

Fred beams, his cheeks flushed with happiness. “I can't wait to meet them,” he says earnestly, his hand still resting on (Y/n)'s belly.

. . .

One evening, (Y/n) wakes with a sharp pain in her abdomen. Fear grips her heart as she clutches the sheets, her mind racing with worry. Ginny stirs beside her, instantly alert.

“(Y/n), what's wrong?” Ginny asks urgently, her voice filled with concern as she sits up and reaches for (Y/n)'s hand.

Tears well up in (Y/n)'s eyes as she tries to speak. “I . . . It hurts, Gin,” she manages to say, her voice trembling.

Ginny's heart races as she reaches for her wand, summoning a Patronus to alert their healer, as well as her mother. Within moments, Molly arrives to watch after Fred, and (Y/n) and Ginny are at St. Mungo's, surrounded by healers who rush to (Y/n)'s side.

After a tense examination, the healer delivers the devastating news – (Y/n) has experienced a complication, and there's a risk of miscarriage.

The world seems to stop as Ginny's heart shatters into a million pieces. She clings to (Y/n)'s hand, her eyes filled with tears. “No,” she whispers hoarsely. “Please, no.”

(Y/n) grips Ginny's hand tightly, her own heart breaking at the thought of losing their baby. “Ginny, I . . .” she begins, her voice thick with emotion, and tears welling in her eyes. “I-I don’t kno-ow what I d-d-d-did wrong.”

The healer interrupts gently, explaining the options and the steps they will take to monitor and care for (Y/n). Ginny listens, her jaw clenched with determination as she nods, her gaze never leaving (Y/n)'s face.

. . .

Days pass in a haze of worry and anxiety. Ginny hardly leaves (Y/n)'s side, taking on all responsibilities at home and at work to ensure (Y/n) rests and recovers. The nursery sits silent and untouched, a painful reminder of their shattered hopes and dreams.

One afternoon, as (Y/n) lies in bed, exhausted from the emotional toll, Ginny sits beside her, holding her hand and brushing stray strands of hair from her face.

“I'm so sorry, (Y/n),” Ginny murmurs softly, her voice thick with guilt and sorrow. “I should have been more careful. I should have…”

(Y/n) reaches out and cups Ginny's face in her hands, her heart aching for her. “Ginny, this isn't your fault,” she says firmly. And if anything, it’s mine, she thinks miserably, but doesn’t voice her thoughts. “We'll get through this together, okay?”

Ginny nods, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I love you so much,” she whispers brokenly, her forehead resting against (Y/n)'s.

. . .

As (Y/n)'s pregnancy progresses past the scare, their days are filled with cautious optimism and renewed hope. Ginny and (Y/n) cherish each moment, savoring the little milestones and imagining the future with their growing family.

One evening, as they sit together by the fire, Ginny leans over and presses a gentle kiss to (Y/n)'s belly. She smiles warmly as she feels a flutter of movement beneath her lips, her heart overflowing with love.

“They're getting stronger,” Ginny murmurs softly, her voice filled with wonder.

(Y/n) nods, her hand resting on Ginny's shoulder. “It's amazing,” she agrees, her eyes shining with tears of happiness. “I can't wait to meet them.”

. . .

As the weeks pass, (Y/n) and Ginny tread cautiously through the remainder of the pregnancy. They cherish each moment, from feeling the baby kick to preparing the nursery once again. Ginny becomes even more attentive and nurturing, ensuring (Y/n) takes her vitamins, rests, and avoids stress.

Fred, sensing the tension in the air, becomes more affectionate, often cuddling up to (Y/n)'s belly and whispering encouraging words to his unborn sibling. His innocence and love provide a much-needed source of comfort and hope for both mothers.

. . .

In the quiet moments before sleep, Ginny often finds herself lost in thoughts of their growing family. She watches (Y/n) sleep peacefully beside her, her hand resting protectively on her belly. Ginny places her own hand over (Y/n)'s, feeling the gentle movements beneath her fingertips.

“I love you both so much,” Ginny murmurs softly to (Y/n) and the baby, her voice a whisper in the darkness. “You're both so strong.”

(Y/n) stirs slightly, sensing Ginny's presence even in her sleep. She smiles sleepily, her dreams filled with visions of their children growing up in a home filled with love and resilience.

. . .

Fred becomes even more excited as the due date approaches, eagerly counting down the days and asking endless questions about babies and siblings. He helps Ginny and (Y/n) prepare the nursery once again, carefully arranging toys and books for his new sibling.

One afternoon, as they finish decorating the nursery, Fred steps back to admire their handiwork. He beams proudly, his chest puffed out with pride.

“I think the baby will like it,” he says confidently, his eyes shining with anticipation.

Ginny ruffles Fred's hair affectionately. “I think so too,” she agrees warmly, her heart swelling with love for her son and the baby growing inside (Y/n).

. . .

The Weasley family gathers once again to celebrate the upcoming arrival. Molly and Arthur beam with pride, showering (Y/n) with hugs and words of encouragement. Ron and Luna arrive with gifts and stories of their own children, their laughter filling the room with joy. Harry sits close by his sister, his heart swelling with love for his sister, and Freddie, and his unborn niece or nephew, his family growing larger and happier with each passing day. Hermione hovers nearby, taking with Ginny in quiet, concerned undertones, her hand occasionally brushing her own stomach, making (Y/n) wonder if Hermione herself may be pregnant, and she can’t wait to have her own niece or nephew running around – maybe with her Hermione’s dark brown hair, and Harry’s green eyes (the color both Potter children had inherited from their mother, Lily).

As they sit around the table for dinner, Ginny looks around at her family with gratitude and love. She squeezes (Y/n)'s hand under the table, her eyes shining with tears of happiness.

“We're so lucky,” Ginny murmurs softly, her voice filled with emotion. “To have each other, and to have this.”

(Y/n) nods, her heart overflowing with love for Ginny and their extended family. “We are,” she agrees softly, her gaze meeting Ginny's.

. . .

In the final weeks of (Y/n)'s pregnancy, Ginny becomes even more attentive and protective. She takes leave from work to be with (Y/n) full-time, ensuring she rests and stays comfortable. They spend quiet afternoons together, reading stories to Fred and talking about their hopes and dreams for their new baby.

One evening, as they sit together in the nursery, Ginny takes (Y/n)'s hand in hers, her gaze filled with love and anticipation.

“I can't believe we're going to meet them soon,” Ginny murmurs softly, her voice filled with wonder.

(Y/n) smiles warmly, her heart swelling with love for Ginny and their growing family. “I can't wait,” she admits, her voice just as soft.

. . .

The day of (Y/n)'s labor arrives with a mix of excitement and nervousness. Ginny remains calm and steady, her voice a constant source of reassurance as they make their way to St. Mungo's. Fred stays with Molly and Arthur, eagerly awaiting news of his new sibling.

The labor is intense but swift, and soon the cries of a newborn fill the room. Ginny's eyes fill with tears as she looks at their second child for the first time, their tiny body cradled in (Y/n)'s arms.

“It's a girl,” the healer announces softly, her voice filled with warmth.

(Y/n) gazes down at their daughter, her heart overflowing with love. “Hello, Lily,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. “Welcome to the world.”

Ginny leans in close, pressing a gentle kiss to (Y/n)'s forehead before turning her attention to their daughter. “Hello, Lily,” she echoes softly, her voice filled with tenderness. “You're perfect.”

. . .

They bring Lily home to their cottage, where they settle into their new routine as a family of four. Fred adjusts quickly to his role as a big brother, showering Lily with hugs and kisses and proudly showing her his favorite toys. The Weasley family visits often, showering Molly with love and affection, and Fred becomes the self-appointed protector of his baby sister.

As Ginny and (Y/n) navigate the challenges and joys of raising two young children, their love for each other deepens. They find moments of quiet amidst the chaos, holding hands by the fire or stealing kisses in the nursery. Their home is filled with laughter and love, a haven where their children grow and thrive.

. . .

One crisp September morning, the excitement in their cottage is palpable as Fred prepares for his first journey to Hogwarts. Ginny and (Y/n) help him pack his trunk, Fred insisting on bringing his favorite books to share with his new friends. Lily, now a toddler full of curiosity and mischief, toddles around their legs, watching her big brother with wide eyes.

“Are you excited, Freddie?” Ginny asks, smiling fondly at her son as she adjusts his scarf.

Fred nods eagerly, his eyes shining with anticipation. “I can't wait to ride the Hogwarts Express,” he declares proudly, straightening his robes. “And to see the castle!”

(Y/n) kneels down to Lily's level, planting a kiss on her cheek. “You'll have to wait a few more years, sweetheart,” she murmurs softly, brushing a strand of hair from Lily’s face.

Lily pouts playfully, reaching up to tug on (Y/n)'s hair. “Castle!” she insists, her eyes wide with wonder.

Ginny laughs, scooping her daughter into her arms. “You'll be the bravest witch when it's your turn,” she promises, pressing a kiss to Lily's forehead.

. . .

At King's Cross Station, Fred stands nervously beside Ginny and (Y/n), his trunk at his feet and his cat in its cage. The platform bustles with students and families, the air filled with excitement and farewell hugs.

“You'll be fine, Fred,” Ginny assures him, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “Just find your friends and enjoy the journey.”

(Y/n) brushes a stray tear from her cheek, her heart full of pride and bittersweet emotion. “Write to us as soon as you can,” she urges him, her voice trembling slightly.

Fred nods bravely, a lump in his throat. “I will,” he promises solemnly, hugging them tightly. “I love you both.”

Ginny hugs him back fiercely, her eyes shining with tears. “We love you too, Freddie,” she whispers hoarsely, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

. . .

With a final wave, Fred gathers his courage and disappears into the crowd, blending in with the students in their school robes. Ginny watches him go, her heart filled with a mixture of pride and longing.

“He's growing up so fast,” she murmurs softly, leaning into (Y/n)'s side.

(Y/n) wraps her arm around Ginny's waist, pulling her close. “He's going to have an amazing adventure,” she agrees warmly, pressing a kiss to Ginny's temple.

Lily squirms in Ginny's arms, reaching out to wave at the departing train. “Bye-bye!” she calls out happily, her laughter echoing through the station.

. . .

Back at their cottage, the atmosphere feels quieter without Fred's boundless energy and chatter. Lily toddles around, exploring every corner with wide-eyed curiosity, her laughter filling the rooms that still echo with memories of Fred.

Ginny and (Y/n) find themselves adjusting to the new dynamics of their family. Ginny takes on more responsibilities with Lily, playing with toys and reading stories to her before bedtime. (Y/n) spends precious moments with their daughter, playing games and exploring the garden together.

One evening, as they sit together by the fire, Ginny watches Lily play with her stuffed dragon, her heart swelling with love for her daughter.

“She's growing so fast,” Ginny murmurs softly, her gaze fixed on Lily’s animated gestures.

(Y/n) nods, her own eyes never leaving their daughter's joyful expression. “She's going to be just as adventurous as Fred,” she predicts fondly, her voice tinged with pride.

. . .

As the days turn into weeks, Lily becomes more accustomed to being the center of attention. She delights in having Ginny and (Y/n) all to herself, soaking up their love and affection with a smile that lights up their home.

Ginny and (Y/n) make sure to keep Fred updated with letters and care packages, filling each parcel with homemade treats and news from home. They eagerly await his responses, treasuring every word that bridges the distance between them.

. . .

One afternoon, as they play in the garden, Lily toddles over to Ginny and tugs on her robes, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“Feddie?” she asks innocently, her voice tinged with confusion.

Ginny smiles warmly, scooping her daughter into her arms. “He's at school, sweetheart,” she explains gently, brushing a strand of hair from Lily's face.

Lily frowns slightly, her tiny brow furrowing in thought. “School,” she repeats slowly, her expression thoughtful.

Ginny kisses the top of her head, her heart swelling with love. “He'll be back for the holidays,” she assures her, her voice filled with reassurance.

. . .

One sunny afternoon, (Y/n) sits with Lily in the garden, helping her plant colorful flowers in small pots. Lily giggles as she digs her tiny fingers into the soil, her eyes bright with excitement.

“Look, Mumma!” Lily exclaims proudly, holding up a daisy with dirt-covered hands.

(Y/n) laughs warmly, brushing dirt off Lily's cheek. “That's wonderful, Lily,” she praises, her heart swelling with love. “You're a natural gardener.”

Lily beams, her smile lighting up her face. “I want to grow a big garden like yours,” she declares earnestly, her eyes wide with determination.

(Y/n) presses a kiss to Lily's forehead, her heart overflowing with pride. “You can grow anything you set your mind to,” she assures her daughter, her voice gentle and encouraging.

. . .

The arrival of summer brings a familiar excitement to their cottage as they prepare for Fred's return from Hogwarts.

Ginny and (Y/n) clean and decorate Fred's room, filling it with fresh linens and his favorite treats. Lily eagerly helps, her excitement matching theirs as she counts down the days until her big brother comes home.

One sunny morning, the trio make their way to Platform 9 and 3 Quarters once again. Lily squeals with delight, racing to greet her brother with Ginny and (Y/n) close behind. Fred’s face lights up with a wide grin at the sight of his mothers and sister.

“Fred!” Lily cries out happily, throwing herself into his arms.

Fred laughs warmly, lifting Lily into the air and spinning her around. “Hey, Lily!” he greets her enthusiastically, his eyes sparkling with joy. “I missed you!”

Ginny wraps her arms around Fred in a tight hug, her eyes brimming with tears of happiness. “Welcome home, Fred,” she whispers hoarsely, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

(Y/n) joins them, smiling warmly at Fred. “We're so glad you're home,” she says sincerely, her voice filled with love.

. . .

Throughout the summer, Fred fills their days with stories of his adventures at Hogwarts. Lily listens wide-eyed, hanging onto his every word as he describes Quidditch matches, magical creatures, and his favorite classes. They spend afternoons in the garden, playing Quidditch with makeshift brooms and laughing until their sides ache.

One afternoon, as they sit together by the lake, Fred teaches Lily how to skip stones across the water. Lily watches in awe as Fred demonstrates, her brow furrowed in concentration as she tries it herself.

“You'll get it, Lily,” Fred encourages her warmly, kneeling beside her. “Just keep trying.”

Lily nods determinedly, picking up another stone and sending it skipping across the water. She jumps up and down with excitement as it skips twice before sinking beneath the surface.

“I did it!” Lily exclaims proudly, turning to Fred with a wide grin.

Fred scoops Lily into a hug, lifting her off her feet. “You're a natural,” he praises her, spinning her around.

Ginny and (Y/n) watch fondly from their spot on the grass, their hearts overflowing with love for their children and the bond they share.

. . .

Evenings are spent gathered around the table for dinner, sharing stories and laughter as they reconnect as a family, Lily, now more vocal and opinionated, joins in the conversation with enthusiasm, her laughter blending with Fred and chatter.

. . .

As the summer draws to a close, Fred eagerly prepares to return to Hogwarts for yet another school year. Ginny and (Y/n) help him pack his trunk once again, filling it with new books and supplies for the year ahead. Lily stands beside him, her expression a mix of pride and sadness.

“I'll miss you, Freddie,” Lily admits quietly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Fred kneels down in front of Lily, pulling her into a tight hug. “I'll miss you too, Lil,” he whispers earnestly, his voice filled with love. “But I'll write to you every week, I promise.”

Lily nods bravely, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Okay,” she agrees softly, her voice tinged with sadness.

As they wave goodbye to Fred at King's Cross Station, Ginny and (Y/n) exchange a bittersweet smile. They watch him disappear into the crowd, their hearts heavy with longing but also bursting with pride for the young man he's becoming.

“We have such amazing children,” Ginny murmurs softly, her voice filled with love.

(Y/n) nods, her hand finding Ginny's and squeezing it gently. “We do,” she agrees warmly, her gaze lingering on the spot where Fred vanished from view.

Word Count: 9288 words

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thewidowsghost · 2 months

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