Delicate

A Spot of Discomfort

Looking on the bright side really isn't my thing. Ginny can see that I'm still not comforted by this.

"Can I let you in on a secret?" Ginny asks, and sits down on the couch beside me, "And this is something that absolutely nobody in the world - except for Harry - knows. Your parents don't even know about this."

"Of course. I won't breathe a word."

She takes a deep breath.

"I could barely even look at James when we first brought him home from the hospital," she tells me, "Every time he'd start crying, I'd completely ignore him. I used to wonder how the hell my mother put up with seven children; I couldn't even deal with one. Harry used to tend to his feeding, his changing - everything. And I'd barely even hold him. Only when the family were around would I pretend that everything was okay, but once they'd leave, it was all up to Harry again. I felt so worthless - even Phlegm...er, I mean, Fleur picked up on motherhood way quicker than I did."

"How long did you feel like that?" I ask, now even more terrified than ever. If it can happen to someone as strong as Ginny, it could easily happen to me. I'm emotionally unstable at the best of times. I'm not sure I've ever seen Ginny cry.

"It lasted about three weeks. But then one day I looked at him, and I mean really looked at him," she smiles, "And the depression just sort of faded away. I was lucky I suppose that it did go away. I know I go on about how much I want to kill James sometimes -" I raise my eyebrows at her. "- okay, all the time, but I couldn't love that boy more." It looks as if she hasn't spoken about this in a long time. "Sometimes I think he feels closer to Harry because of it...sometimes I think he can sense that I couldn't love him for the first few weeks of his life."

"Ginny," I say softly, "James is a Mummy's boy. He might pretend otherwise, but he is."

Ginny smiles at me. "I hope you know that I'll be here if you do ever feel down about it. And also...could you not tell James about this?"

"Of course I won't!" I cry, "I won't ever tell a soul!"

When Ginny leaves, I throw away the article about postpartum depression, deciding that the more I think I'll get it, the greater chance I have of getting it. I'm starting to enjoy having a quiet house to myself when -

"Yoo-hoo!"

There is only one member of my family who would use a phrase like 'yoo-hoo'. One highly unwelcome member.

"Rose, you are glowing!" Auntie Audrey beams as she marches into the living room with a tub of soup in her hands, "I've brought you mushroom soup with extra mushrooms!"

I hate mushrooms.

"Thanks Auntie Audrey," I say politely, "I'll have some a little bit later -"

"There's going to be a small get-together at The Potters' this evening," she says, "To celebrate James's little Quidditch thing." There she goes with the use of the word 'little' to undermine everything, as usual. I'd hardly call being seeker of the Chudley Cannons 'little' myself. "You don't have to come, if you don't want to. It'll just be the family, so if you want to give it a miss everyone will understand -"

"No, I'll be there," I tell her, "I wouldn't miss it."

"Great! I'll pencil you in!" She takes a little notepad out of her handbag and scribbles my name down.

"You're organising this?" I'm a little surprised. Audrey generally doesn't like to get involved with the Weasley side of the family. And she's never had much time for James.