Current mood:	accomplished
Entry tags:	fiction, h/g

Title: Three

 

Pairing: H/G

 

Genre: Romance. Warning: here be there fluff!

 

Rating: PG-13

 

Summary: Snippets of Harry and Ginny's life, centered around the number 3

 

Notes: written for the hpgw_otp newsletter Number Challenge. It's unbetaed, and I'm as happy with it as I would've liked, but even with ideas I found it surprisingly difficult to write.

 

 

 

She was her third year at Hogwarts when she’d let herself be kissed for the first time.

 

She was walking back to the common room, and he’d asked if he could walk with her there, and when they’d arrived in front of the portrait hole, he did not leave. She’d straightened herself slightly, and he’d mumbled something about fancying her very much, and then he’d bent down, and that was it. It was short and awkward, and afterwards she wasn’t sure she wanted to try again.

 

But then Micheal was quite a handsome boy. Having him hold her hand and carry her things made the dull aching in her heart lessen slightly. It was worth a few kisses.

 

Then the kisses got better. She started smiling for the world to see again. The aching fluttered out of her mind, but she knew it was still there, like a low radio wave buried under static.

 

Three days after she and Micheal broke up, Dean asked her out.

 

She grinned at him, and laughed with him, and admired his drawings, and found herself enjoying the easy flirting game they were engaged in. She kissed him, and this time she didn’t have to wait for it to feel good.

 

She felt as if this new, flirtatious her was laying it on a bit thick to cover up the darker part of her dreams. But then, Dean was charming.

 

Then the kisses got worse. Too much, and too quickly. The aching returned, and she hated herself for it. It had waited for its moment, nagging her with the realisation that it would never fully leave.

 

She still loved him.

 

Harry.

 

“Harry fancies you, Ginny,” Hermione had told her, smiling and squeezing her hand, as if they had just won a long gruelling battle against the odds.

 

Her world toppled at that moment, only to topple back into place when she had rushed into his arms – ran to him, like she could not bare it if they wasted a minute more not being together. 

 

It was not a good kiss. It was perfect. Her pain had bloomed in a split second into a wonderful, swooping feeling that made her never want to let Harry go.

 

The other two never mattered. He’s the third and last. Three is a good number. It’s lucky.

 

 

*****************************

 

 

It was over.

 

It was over, and even as he spoke them in his head, the words didn’t make any sense. He was free, and the feeling was so new and so pure that his legs gave away under him and he crumpled to the ground, crying.

 

The weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders, dissolved into thin air, rising like the billows of blackened smoke rising from the ravaged grounds of Hogwarts.

 

He cried for a long time, so long as he could push away the primal need of finding them, seeing them, alive and moving. Then he looked up.

 

He saw Hermione first. She was walking towards him, holding her bleeding arm against her chest, but walking none the less. He stumbled in her direction, tears streaming down his cheeks, and they met in a tight embrace that spoke all their pain and relief more than any words could.

 

“Ron - ” Hermione croaked. “Have you seen – RON!”

 

Ron was bleeding at the head, looking around frantically amidst the survivors. When he spotted them, he started to run.

 

“Ron,” Hermione cried.

 

Ron encircled them both into a tight embrace, and there they were, the three of them, holding on to each other for dear life, when for the first time their dear life was not hanging by a thread anymore.

 

“Harry, are you all right?” Ron asked as they broke away from each other.

 

He nodded, but his eyes were wandering away already. All around it was grey and black and grim, and his heart started to race unpleasantly. He had not seen her yet, not seen the brilliant flame of her hair that never seemed to fade, even in the darkest hour. Where was she? Where?

 

Surely it had not been taken away from him… Surely…

 

“Harry!”

 

Ginny’s hair was matted with dirt. It was dull, dropping lifelessly on her shoulders. She was kneeling not far from them, trying to stand up in an fruitless effort that was painful to look upon.

 

But when she saw Harry, the expression in her eyes and the look on her face were the same as ever.

 

“Harry!” she called again. “Oh, Harry…”

 

He rushed at her side, overwhelmed with emotion. Hermione and Ron followed behind him, huddled against each other.

 

“It’s going to be all right now,” he said, stroking Ginny’s face and kissing her forehead.

 

The three people I love the most in the world, and they’re all by my side. Yes, it’s going to be all right – always, as long as they’re with me.

 

 

*****************************

 

 

They got it right – finally - on their third try.

 

It was a beautiful summer at the Burrow, from the dazzling light of morning to the warm and star-filled darkness of the night. When she ate her breakfast every morning, Ginny had the immense satisfaction to see all the clock hands stray very far away from Mortal Peril. It was a sensation she never tired of : idleness.

 

It wouldn’t last, of course. She had to go back at Hogwarts next year. Harry would be at Auror training. She would have to study for NEWTs.

 

But all that could well wait until she and Harry were done playing Quidditch, and taking walks in the countryside, and kissing, although the kissing part never seemed to want to end, only go on until their lips and their hands alone could not fully express their desire anymore.

 

“Do you want to?” he’d asked her, a bit breathless, in the quiet intimacy of her room.

 

“Yeah,” she’d whispered. The fate her answer sealed was thrilling, and scary, and elating beyond anything she could imagine.

 

So they did.

 

At first she didn’t know what she should be doing, if she should just wait and let him do everything, and what was the best way to get to it. By the time they had it figured out, she was a bit nervous, and he was concentrating hard on where to go, and then became even more nervous than she was for fear of hurting her.

 

They’d laughed about their clumsiness, dispelling any awkwardness there might have been, and Ginny found herself wanting to try again very quickly.

 

The second time was better, and they were ready, and oh, she wanted him so badly she could have screamed with frustration when she realised she had forgotten all about taking a Pregnancy potion that took three days to brew.

 

Hermione helped her with the potion, having already made some for herself. The three days could not go by fast enough.

 

“It’s a simple formula, really,” Ginny said as Harry hastily unbuttoned her shirt. “A strand of my hair, one of yours, three pinches of – hmmmm - ”

 

The words died in her throat, and did not come back till after they were finished.

 

“If you don’t succeed, try, try again,” Harry joked, caressing her stomach lazily.

 

“You were lucky to get it right that third time,” Ginny said. “Or else I might have tried with someone else.”

 

He nudged her, and she laughed.

 

He’s so beautiful, lying here next to me, and he makes me feel so good… I’m definitely up for three times more.

 

 

*****************************

 

 

Livia, Angus and Arthur all had their mother’s fine, curly hair and their father’s bright blue eyes.

 

“Isn’t tiring to look after of the three of them?” Harry asked Hermione as they were sharing an afternoon tea, while the toddlers played on the floor next to them.

 

“We manage,” Hermione said with a smile. “They’ve all started to show signs of magic, but nothing too terrible yet.”

 

“Triplets,” Harry said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Even in the Weasley family, I reckon that’s a first.”

 

Hermione waved her wand and levitated her daughter away from the hearth, where she was a about to go exploring. “Heaven help us if they become pranksters like their uncles.”

 

“Heaven help Hogwarts, you mean,” Harry said, grinning. “I bet Minerva misses the good old days.”

 

Hermione chuckled. “Without the twins, and without you getting us involved in spectacular adventures at the end of each year, it must feel like an early retirement for her, you mean.”

 

Harry watched Angus knocking a building block on the floor, and squeal with delight when it turned from green to red to yellow. He suspected the triplets had inherited their mother’s keen intelligence and their father’s sturdy brand of magic.

 

They would go to Hogwarts one day. They would be sorted, and walk its dear old halls, and see Albus Dumbledore’s tomb gleaming by the lake. All the little witches and wizards knew who he was, of course, but they had no sad memories of him. On sunny days, they would lie in the grass and joke around, right next to the smooth marble slab.

 

Harry knew Dumbledore wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

 

He’d waited until Ron returned, then bade the two of them goodbye and headed home by foot. It was a chilly evening, but he was feeling unusually light-hearted, like something wonderful was about to happen. Peace was something wonderful happening every day – perhaps the triplets had reminded him of that.

 

“I’m home,” he called when he opened the door to his flat. “Ginny?”

 

His wife stepped into sight, but did not come to kiss him immediately. Instead, she just stopped and smiled. In her eyes were was the hard, blazing look she always got when she was happy about something, and impatient to share her happiness with him.

 

“I know that face,” Harry said, grinning. “What is it?”

 

“I can’t guarantee we’ll have three all at once,” she said, “but one is still good, right?”

 

Harry stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded. Then the meaning of her words hit him with the force of a train.

 

“You mean – you mean you’re -”

 

Ginny’s smile widened. “Yes.”

 

Without even bothering to take his cloak off, Harry ran to her and swept her in his arms, spinning her around until they were both dizzy and breathless with laughter. When they came to a stop, he gently touched her belly, feeling tears of joy spring into his eyes.

 

“A baby. A baby, imagine that.”

 

One and one make three. I’ve never been so happy in my life.