Flour Babies

A/N: Here's the last chapter. No notes for you now; you can read them
(or skip them) at the end. For now: enjoy!

Chapter Seven: Endings

Ron and Hermione spent all of Saturday in the Hospital Room, and returned to Gryffindor Tower in time for bed.

"I've been resting all day," Ron said irritably. "I'm not tired."

Hermione grinned. "Me, either." She wheeled the pram next to the fireplace, which was for the most part deserted. Only a handful of fourth- and fifth-years remained, absorbed in games of Exploding Snap or finishing homework early.

"Want to play chess?" Ron asked, flopping down next to an abandoned chess board.

Hermione hesitated. "Well..."

"Come on, let's play. I'm not tired at all."

"All right..."

After fifteen minutes, Ron had almost decimated Hermione in record time. "Thank goodness," Hermione muttered when Mehitabel began to whimper. "Let's take a break, Ron." She picked Mehitabel out of the pram and rocked her gently, humming snatches of what Ron presumed to be Muggle songs and walking around the room. The younger Gryffindors had retreated to bed at the sight of Ron and Hermione; whether it was because they feared an argument, a flour storm, very public displays of affection, or all three at once was unclear.

Mehitabel kept fussing, so Ron intercepted Hermione's path and relieved her of the flour baby. "I'll take her."

Hermione gave him a funny look. "All right."

Ron took up Hermione's path and copied her attempts to calm Hitty. Hermione watched him bemusedly and picked up Ron, Jr. The two of them settled on the couch, pretend-mother and pretend- child. Between wizarding nursery rhymes, Ron snuck peeks at them and marveled at how at home Hermione looked after only one week of Muggle-studies motherhood.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, catching his eye as he watched her.

"You."

Mehitabel was quiet, so he tucked her back in the pram and sat beside Hermione. Merlin, he'd kissed the girl--why did he still feel so awkward around her?

She was blushing. She was always blushing. Hell, he was always blushing. He felt the blush creep up his neck just thinking about it.

"You're good with them," he pointed at Ron, Jr. He wanted to kick himself. That sounded idiotic.

But Hermione seemed pleased, so maybe he wasn't such an idiot. "You are, too, you know."

Ron shook his head. "They used to scream if I even got close to them, remember?"

"Well, you're making progress, then."

Ron, Jr. was asleep in her arms. Ron reached over to lift the flour baby from her hold and place him beside his sister.

"What was that for?" Anxiety and amusement fought for emotional dominance in Hermione's voice.

Ron shrugged, but took a seat beside Hermione and put an arm around her shoulders. "He could get in the way."

Hermione almost asked 'get in the way of what,' but she knew that would be cruel. Instead, she leaned forward and kissed him.

*

In the morning, Harry came down from the dormitory to find Ron stretched out on the couch with one of the twins rising and falling on his chest as he breathed; Hermione was sprawled in an armchair with her fingers in the fist of the second twin, who slept peacefully in the pram beside her.

"Good morning, Hermione," Harry said as Hermione stirred and blinked.

"Oh! G-good morning, H-harry." She frowned and extracted her fingers from the baby's grip before standing up and stretching. "Is it time for breakfast?" She walked toward Ron and nudged him until he woke up.

"What--oh." Ron plucked the child off his chest and staggered over to the pram, his eyes blurred with sleep.

Harry laughed.

"Where's your kid?" Ron asked mutinously.

"With Parvati."

Ron grunted. "Lucky," he said, but quietly enough that Hermione didn't hear.

"You know it's our last day with them," Harry said enthusiastically. "McGonagall gets them back first thing tomorrow."

Ron started to grin, but glanced toward Hermione and the pram and his smile faded.
"Yeah..."

Feet clattered down the stairs from the girls' dormitory, and Parvati marched to Harry, hair tangled and eyes bleary. "Here," she grunted, thrusting Calendula toward him and turning around to march straight back to bed. Harry held the flour baby awkwardly,
trying to hold it without waking it or cradling it too close to himself.

"Where's Ginny when you need her?" he muttered. Ron and Hermione both glared.

"The point of this project was not to teach you how to find babysitters, Harry," Hermione sniffed. She ran a hand through her hair, and twisted it into a fat braid.

"No kidding, mate," Ron mumbled in agreement, still trying to wake properly.

Harry rolled his eyes and sat with Calendula at one of the tables. "You go on to breakfast, then, oh responsible ones. I'll wait for my babysitter."

More thumping noises came from the direction of the stairs. Ginny emerged from her dormitory, followed by assorted first- through fifth-years ready for breakfast.

"Ready, Harry?" Ginny asked. She looked wonderfully refreshed, both Hermione and Ron noticed. Ron grunted in jealousy.

"Come to Aunt Ginny," Ginny cooed at Calendula, lifting the waking flour baby from Harry's grateful grasp. The baby gurgled in delight and nestled against Ginny's shoulder.

"Pathetic," mumbled Ron. He followed the rest to breakfast.

*

The rest of the day was remarkably uneventful; Ron even found it enjoyable. He and Hermione spent some time out of doors (not by the lake, although Harry and Ginny wandered that direction and Ron still had a few misgivings about leaving those two alone together), then returned to the common room, ostentatiously to work on homework while the twins slept. And while homework was not usually an appealing pastime for Ron, the twins' silence could make any event seem like the World Quidditch Match. Hermione even praised one of his essays.

"You know, tomorrow I bet they lay it on thick," Ron moaned as he finished Professor
Sinistra's assignment. He paused. "Actually, though, not having the twins might be
worth it."

Hermione shot him a wry smile. "I agree with you there," she said.

Mehitabel began to shriek.

*

Sunday night left them with as much or less sleep than could be expected, yet Monday dawned with an air of intense anticipation in Gryffindor Tower. Even Neville looked refreshed, despite the fact that he'd been up half the night with a flame-hiccoughing Reginald. Hardly any of the sixth-years bothered with breakfast, busy double-checking their assigned essays and making sure their flour babies retained all of the appropriate limbs for the home stretch.

Ginny seemed to be the only person at the table truly distressed by the end of the project.

"Don't worry, Gin; you'll get them next year," Ron said cheerfully as his sister cuddled
Calendula and picked at her eggs. Ginny only glared.

The anticipation was palpable as they Gryffindors took their seats in Muggle Studies and passed in their charges. Lavender burst into tears at the last moment and made a scene of kissing Mimsy good- bye; Seamus tried in vain to shut her up, but only succeeded in transplanting her sobs onto the front of his robes. No one listened to Professor McGonagall's end-of-project speech, and when the bell rang they flew into the hallways for the rest of their classes.
*

When Hermione fell asleep that night while doing her homework, Ron rolled his eyes and called a pause to his and Harry's chess game in order to carry her from the table over to
the couch, where he tucked a blanket over her and returned to his game. Hermione
blinked a little at the sensation of brocade on her cheek, and smiled.

"Thanks," she mumbled. Ron, sitting on the floor in front of her, gained a little color in his cheeks, but kept a straight face. "No problem."

Harry assumed it was rather hard for Ron to concentrate on the game when Hermione
reached out and, eyes half-closed and mind half-asleep, twirled her fingers in his hair.

"I think she's saying you should get a hair cut," Ginny said snarkily from an armchair
nearby, where she had been reading from her Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook.
She looked bored.

"You always say Harry needs a haircut," replied Ron, not even looking up from his game. Harry watched Hermione sleepily play with Ron's hair, and decided that that would feel rather pleasant; but when he looked at Ginny, she only huffed into her book and curled
her legs beneath her.

"Give her some time," Ron muttered.

*

By the end of the night, Ginny had given up all pretense of reading, and was relaxing
against Harry's arm as they took Ron on in Exploding Snap. Hermione had woken from her nap and now watched the game, her head pillowed on her hands.

"I'm glad those babies are finally gone," Ron said when his hand spontaneously
combusted.

Harry and Hermione shot each other looks. "I dunno..." said Harry, pulling Ginny just a little bit closer.

Ron rolled his eyes, but Hermione smiled. "Come on, you all. Time for bed." She pulled herself up from the sofa and stretched; the others followed suit. At the foot of the
dormitory stairs, Hermione reached up and kissed Ron on the cheek. "Sleep tight."

"Hey..."

Ginny waved good night to Harry and followed Hermione up the stairs.

"Come on, Ron. You heard the girl. Bedtime."

*

The next morning put the icing on the metaphorical cake. Ginny came bursting into the Great Hall for breakfast, laughing uproariously as she slid into her seat next to Harry.

"You won't believe it," she said, gasping for air.

"What?" Three pairs of eyes watched her worriedly as she chortled.

"Malfoy's--partner," she panted. "Millicent--Bulstrode."

Ron and Harry guffawed. Hermione smirked.

"And she--signed up for - extra credit," Ginny said, her breathing slowly appraching normal. "Because she failed last year. They have... triplets."

Sure enough, when the Gryffindors craned their necks toward the Slytherin table, Malfoy held a pink-blanketed flour sack loosely in his arms, and looked like he was ready to kill someone. Nearby, the almost masculine form of Millicent Bulstrode leaned over an elongated pram, from whence four tiny burlap fists were waving fussily. The squalling could be heard from across the room.

"They're all girls," Ginny continued, spooning eggs on her plate. "D'you want to know their names?"

The others turned back to watch her as she buttered her toast.

"Felina, Lyonelle, and Kitty."

The others laughed until their sides hurt, and hurried to finish breakfast before class. It was going to be a lovely day: the sun was shining, the sky was clear, and, in Ron's opinion the best thing of all, Malfoy would be in Potions with them next period.

"Now who has a nursery?" he muttered to Hermione as they made their way
out of the great hall.

"Ron!" She slapped his hand lightly, but relented when he gave her a quick kiss and put an arm around her waist.

"I dunno," he said as they walked down the hall. "Hermione Weasley-- you should consider that. Has a nice ring to it."

__

A/N: And that's all, folks! I kind of hate to leave you with ramblings, but that's the way the cookie crumbles... yeah. I apologise for the lack of plot, yet remind all readers that this story is based completely on fluff, for the sake of which plot has been sacrificed. I
apologise also for my abysmal characterization of Harry, whom I am simply horrible at
characterizing but can't avoid it. I also have some thank-yous to mention/reiterate. Thanks to Hannah, who is at college now and who I'm missing already, for her enthusiasm in reading everything I write. Thanks to all of my reviewers, and especially to Ampersand Ellipsis, who praises my fics far more than they deserve and whose comments can cheer me up any day of the week. Also, thanks to you, reader, for
reading, and reviews will make my day!