Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Infertility (WIP)

The Magic Mug

Chapter 3

   "Sit down, Mr. Potter"

   Harry nervously and tentatively sat down in the worn mahogany chair with cushions made of green velvet and ornate carvings on the legs. The cushions were tearing apart at the seams and there was cotton spilling out like clouds on a windy day.

There was a flash and the doctor was gone.

   "Doctor?"

   The chair across from him, on the opposite side of a matching mahogany desk with gorgeous swirling carvings on the corners and papers strewn across the desk like the leaves he had watched fall from the trees yesterday, was empty.

   Harry called out to the doctor again, wondering if he had only left to get supplies of some sort. There was no answer, only the footsteps of people outside the door and the soft hum of ventilation. Harry waited longer, wandering around the office in search of context: why was he given this address, where has the doctor gone, what did he want to tell him?

   Then Harry tripped, ha, what a clutz. He landed unceremoniously with a thud on the cool tiles, his glasses askew, wand rolling away, and noticed something on the ground, something so small and insignificant he would not have seen it if he had not conveniently and coincidentally fallen: one strand of red hair.

   Harry gingerly (ha get it) grasped the hair

   He rolled over to his wand and grasped it while readjusting his glasses. But Harry managed to drop the hair, and it blended in with the mahogany floor.

   Harry thought nothing of it, but that shade of red seemed oh so familiar...

   Harry had given up on waiting for anyone to come, and decided to go home. The Ministry would not need him anyway, it's not like he's that powerful of a wizard or anything.

   He decided to make himself a cup of tea, as he was having a very stressful day. He settled into an armchair as the sky darkened outside and light rain began to fall. The front door swung open.

In walked his very faithful wife.

"Ginny! How are you home? I thought you were going against the Montrose Magpies today."

"Harry, you idiot, that's tomorrow. We're passing through England today, so I thought I'd come visit you. Because you're NOT DEAD, and you KNOW NOTHING about ANYTHING, right? I always love returning home to (INSERT ADDRESS HERE). The harpy has landed, and she has intercepted the dragon. Right, honey?"

   "Right... Can you stay for dinner?"

   "Sorry, I have to go. Great stopping by though. Toodles!"

   "Ginny!" Harry called after her, "Just one cup of tea? I've missed you!" Something crossed the Weasley's face, and she strolled into the kitchen.

   "Just one," she sighed

   Ginny sat in the kitchen chairs, her white knuckles gripping the teacup. She looked tense, with her mouth pressed into a thin line and her foot tapping.

   Harry sat down across from her. "So, uh, what have you been doing lately?"

   "Not you. I mean, um, Quidditch, lots of Quidditch. Getting the ball in the hoop, scoring points, haha. The usual. And you?"

   "Oh, I've been working. I've missed you, and the kids. I know that-"

   Ginny shot out of her chair. "What? Know what?"

   Harry flinched back a little. "Um, I was just going to say that I know you're busy and all, but you're coming home for Christmas, right? So we can enjoy it as a family."

   Ginny dropped her gaze and picked at the fabric of the tablecloth. "Oh, yeaaaahhh, definitely. I'll be home, don't worry. Look, I have to go. See you, Harry. Glad you don't know anything."

   And with that, Ginny was out the door, her teacup only halfway finished.

   Harry sighed, she was out the door before he let out the breath he didn't know he was holding

   Harry carried her teacup upstairs, into THEIR children's bedroom and sat there on the floor, feeling the warmth of her and the tea fading away and staring up at the ceiling

   Why must he lose everything? First his parents, then his dignity, and now the attention of his very faithful wife. His life couldn't possibly get any worse than this. Oh, foolish is the man that believes in a joyous life. Happiness will slip between your fingertips, dread will haunt you, and you will know nothing but despair. And what a fool Harry had been, to be tricked into even fathoming a cheerful Christmas for once.

   The rain outside pounded and battered the house. Who knows how long Harry sat there, and wallowing in his woes, until he finally drifted into a restless sleep.