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The first anniversary of the battle, they're in the hospital.
Not for one of Harry's injuries, though there had been plenty of those in the past year. Nor Ron's, even if they tended to be fewer.
Harry had had to cancel his speech at the memorial in Hogwarts. Ginny and Hermione had gotten special permission to leave the school--though they had always had it, this last year of their education.
Harry sat between Ginny and Hermione, trying to ignore Hermione's anxious recitation of statistics by tracing his girlfriend's knuckles instead.
Mrs. Weasley paced the waiting room, wearing down the floor to its foundations. Mr. Weasley didn't try to stop her, looking pale and wan himself.
Fleur had been healthy and glowing throughout the pregnancy, which was why the sudden complications towards the end took all of them by surprise.
The date didn't help.
Mrs. Weasley had summoned everyone, and so all of them sat crammed in the small waiting room. Even George had put in an appearance despite being missing in action for almost the past month, though his face was darkly hollow.
"This is Fleur we're talking about," Ginny said bracingly to Gabrielle, who'd been emergency portkeyed in along with her parents. "She and the baby are going to be just fine."
Gabrielle nodded, but it was subdued.
"I bet you can tell us a lot of stories about her, huh?" Harry asked.
Much to his alarm, tears glistened in the young girl's eyes. He looked to his girlfriend, begging for help, but she just looked pleased, surprisingly.
The reason for this was revealed when Gabrielle began jabbering about Fleur's antics as a teenager in mixed French and English, perking up despite her wet eyes.
Ginny squeezed his hand, proudly. He lifted her hand to press a kiss to it even as he listened to Gabrielle, able to understand her thanks to the quick crash course he'd had in French ever since Teddy had started speaking the language thanks to Fleur's insistence on regular babysitting.
Hermione, who also understood French, asked her questions, distracting the kid.
Ginny still looked pale and withdrawn. Harry wished more than anything he could promise her everything would be okay, that she wouldn't have to face another loss in her family.
But he had long since promised both her and himself not to lie to her ever again.
Instead he squeezed her waist, pulling her even closer, telling her without words that he would be there for her no matter what this time.
She smiled wanly, clearly understanding, closing her eyes and resting her head on his shoulder. "I love you," she whispered.
He didn't answer, let her doze off, and wondered how Bill was doing inside there with Fleur.
He imagined being in the same position with Ginny and his blood ran cold. It was enough to make him never want children.
This fear only subsided when Bill ran out of the hospital room, exuding joy from every inch of his face.
Mrs. Weasley shrieked. Ginny startled awake, and ready for it, Harry gently caught her wand hand and lowered it, kissing her temple.
Seven hours they'd been here, and it was all worth being able to pour into the room and see mother and newborn.
Fleur looked perfectly composed, as though she hadn't been fighting for two lives for hours. She smiled and held out the baby proudly, Weasley red hair already formed.
"Her name is Victoire," she declared.
Harry's eyes found Ginny's, Ron's and Hermione's.
Victory.
A year after the battle.
Hermione sniffed, and even Ron's eyes were misty.
Ginny's, though, were shining. She held Harry's hand so tightly it felt like it was about to drop off, but all he could stare at was what felt like the culmination of all these years, the reason they'd all fought and bled and died for, for children to be born like this.
For Victoire, for victory.
No one seemed prepared to say anything, so Ginny broke the silence with a soft: "A fitting name."
"I'm glad you think so," Bill's smile widened, which had seemed impossible seconds prior.
"Since you are 'er godmother, oui?" Fleur had the amazing talent to make questions sound like statements.
Ginny's eyes widened and she looked to Harry. He could see all the exclamation points and emotions in her eyes, all the time she'd spent in teenage spite and envy and dislike of her sister-in-law, followed by the reluctant admiration and kinship. Her love for her oldest brother, whom she'd idolized.
He nodded encouragingly.
"I'd be honoured."