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*****
“None for me, thank you,” she says and puts her hand over her wine glass.
She couldn’t be, could she?
Her words are casual, but there is a glow about her. I glance at Ron to see if he’d caught on to what transpired, but he’s still deep in conversation with Harry. I smile at Ginny and quirk my eyebrow at her, knowing she’ll sense the unspoken question.
She nods her head and puts a finger over her lips, before grabbing my hand and telling the boys we’re heading to the loo. They barely glance over at us as we get up.
“I haven’t even told Harry yet, I wanted to wait until I got through the first month or so,” she says and I try to force myself to focus on her words.
Wow. A baby. Am I being punished for something? I know it has nothing to do with me, but I can’t help taking it personally. Our situations aren’t even remotely comparable, yet I feel that they’ve been given something while the same has been taken away from me.
“I didn’t even know you were trying,” I hear myself say. It’s amazing I can breathe at all right now.
“We weren’t. I guess sometimes these things happen,” she says with a laugh. “I’m really happy about it though, probably more than I should be since I’ll have to give up the team.”
I close the gap between us and hug her tightly, whispering my congratulations in her ear. I feel tears rising, their bitter vitriol moving up my chest, but I push the sensations away. Not now, dear God- not now.
Pulling back to look at her, I ask her how far along she is. Six weeks. She'd planned on telling Harry tonight, but then he planned this impromptu dinner, claiming it had been too long since we’d all gotten together. It had only been a week since the last time, but his enthusiasm was sweet.
She says we should probably get back to the table, but I tell her to go ahead without me. She briefly glances at herself in the mirror before heading out the door. Lucky.
I lock the stall door behind me and sit there, unsure how to convince my body to survive this dinner as though nothing has changed. And, really, nothing has changed. That’s the bloody problem, I think bitterly.
I want so badly to be happy for her, for them. I am, but it’s clouded with this toxin in my heart. I want to wish her congratulations and have nothing but the most pure feelings of love and happiness and joy for my sister. I want to be elated at the wonder of the small miracle growing inside her at this very moment.
More than anything, I want to be in her position, instead of feeling the green monster of jealousy hanging over my heart. I want to not try, but still somehow be pregnant. I want to have the lovely glow she has. I want to make an announcement that will bring a light to my husband’s eyes and make pride and love swell in his chest. I’ve wanted those things for the past couple years, but sometimes it seems as though nothing will ever come easy for me.
I wonder when she did the diagnostic spell to detect the pregnancy. I’m curious if she’s had a healer confirm the pregnancy. I’ve done that particular spell so many times; I swear I could do it in my sleep. I’ve become far more familiar with home pregnancy tests than I ever thought possible. The Muggle tests make me feel more comfortable, because they are something I can hold onto in the moment rather than the quickly fading spell that hides the evidence of my failure. I’ve looked for pink lines, double blue lines, and blue crosses.
I saw the two thin blue lines once, but that ended with cramps and blood and a trip to St. Mungo’s. They called it an anembryonic pregnancy, a blighted ovum. I called it my body’s cruel trick. I cried for days over something we never had. We hadn’t lost a baby- there had never been one to begin with. Only we didn’t know that. We had already gotten used to the idea of having a little girl with Ron’s smile and my eyes or a little boy with Ron’s hair and my nose.
The image forces the tears to finally leak from my eyes and a sob catches in my throat. I don’t want to cry over this. I don’t want to be upset and bitter when there is such happy news in the family. I don’t want to think we deserve it more than they do or that it should have been me. Neither is true and I know that deep down. I just have to remind myself.
I know they deserve their happiness. Harry deserves to start a family of his own after everything he’s done for the Wizarding World. I think it’s all he’s ever really wanted for himself, especially since he didn’t have a happy family growing up. He’s going to be thrilled once she tells him. I really am happy for them, I realise. That doesn’t stop the ache within my chest, but it does alleviate the pressure some.
I need to find a way to separate my happiness for them from my jealousy over the entire situation. They have no idea we've been trying to get pregnant for almost two years. They don’t know that I cry myself to sleep when I get my monthly visitor. They don’t see Ron’s disappointment when I softly shake my head and tears spill down my cheeks. They aren’t in our bed when we cling to each other tightly and mourn the difficulties we’ve had.
In hindsight, we probably should have told them we were having problems, but neither of us wanted to worry the family unnecessarily. At first, it would have been silly to tell them, because we had only been trying for a few months. There was no need to worry or cause alarm. Then, it seemed awkward to explain that we weren’t getting pregnant as quickly as we wanted. Everything has to happen on its natural timeline, right?
They all probably would’ve teased me about revision schedules and planning our entire future.
But then we had been trying for so long and I think neither of us wanted to share our personal grief. We didn’t tell anyone about the trip to St. Mungo’s. Neither of us wanted comfort from family members who all had beautiful babies and normal, healthy pregnancies. Neither of us wanted to admit that something which came easily to all Weasleys didn’t come easily to us.
Ron blames Bellatrix for what she did to me. He firmly believes she cursed me. The healers have found nothing to corroborate that. In fact, they have found nothing wrong with me- or him, for that matter. It’s infuriating, because if they find a problem, they can fix it. But, they can’t fix something they can’t find.
Enough of this! Chin up, you can cry later, I tell myself.
I know I have to put on my best smile for Ginny and Harry. It’s not their fault that we haven’t confided in them and they won’t understand if we aren’t overjoyed at the news. I almost want to tell her so I don’t have to lie, but I know now is not the time. I don’t know when the right time will come around, but I think this time we can’t keep it to ourselves. This ugliness inside me could ruin our friendship if I don’t tell her and I would never do anything to jeopardise our relationship.
I take a deep breath and grab tissue to wipe my face. I’ve gotten good at hiding my tears and pain. I am a master of faking a genuine smile. In two years, no one has questioned me or asked if something is wrong, even the ever-perceptive Molly. It is almost a relief, it makes the lie so much more convincing.
I glance in the mirror and check to make sure there are no tell-tale tracks running down my face. My cheeks are a bit pink and my eyes a bit shiny, but nothing seems out of place. I’ve put my mask back on, ready to go back to reality.
As soon as I sit back down at the table, Ron reaches over and squeezes my hand. His gentle smile tells me he has figured it out, too. My heart clenches at the thought of what I can’t give him. I kiss the back of his hand, still entwined with mine, and rub my thumb back and forth a few times.
We’ll be okay, we’ll be okay, I chant in my head, as though I can channel my thoughts into that simple movement.
Harry clears his throat and teasingly asks if we’d like to be left alone. Yes, but there’s plenty of time for that when we go back to our empty flat. We both roll our eyes at him and Ron makes a rude gesture. I swat his arm lightly and indulge him with a small laugh.
“Nah, mate, we’re in good company,” my husband says and it’s then that I realise we are. We might go home and struggle between excitement for them and jealousy, but, for now, we are with family and we can be happy.
We’re just fine.
*****
Fin.
Thanks so much for reading! I'd love to know what you thought. Reviews are love! ~Risie :o)