Genesis

Harry watched Ron pace anxiously in the waiting room.

"Come on, mate, you're driving me bonkers just pacing like that. Let's finish the game." He gestured toward the half-finished chess game sitting abandoned on the end table.

Ron waved away the suggestion. "Nah. I can't concentrate, mate." He continued his pacing, stopping only when a nurse emerged from a plain door behind him.

"Any news?" he asked eagerly, hurrying over to the nurse's side.

She smiled at the frazzled redhead and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley," she said. "Still no news." She looked around at Harry. "Why don't you go and get something to eat?" she asked the pair of them. "It will be a while."

Ron shook his head and resumed pacing. The nurse laughed kindly and disappeared down the hospital hallway.

Harry rolled his eyes and stretched. "Well, Ron," he said, standing up, "I think I'm taking her advice. I'm going to get some dinner. You want to come?"

Ron scowled and shook his head.

"I'll bring you something back, then," Harry said. "Want anything in particular?"

Ron didn't answer, but continued to scowl.

"Hey, mate, calm down," Harry laughed, shrugging on his jacket. "I'll be back in an hour or so." He shuffled to the hospital elevator, whistling under his breath.

Ron sagged into a chair as the elevator doors closed on Harry. It kind of made him nervous, this Muggle hospital. He and his mother had argued heatedly with Hermione about the choice of birthing facility, but she had been adamant. She did not want to have her child at home, and she wanted her own mother to be present. In the end, Ron had wildly threatened to hex her.

"I am still a very capable witch, Ron," Hermione had said calmly as she dried the dishes, a smile hovering on her lips as she listened to her husband rant exaggeratedly. "I daresay I could shield it."

Ron had reluctantly given up the battle, and they pacified Molly Weasley by assuring her that she would most definitely be present as well, and that they would come and visit for a few days once the baby was born.

He thought back to the day Hermione had told him she was pregnant. He'd come home from work at his accustomed five-thirty to find Hermione waiting anxiously.

"Hey, Hermione." Ron greeted his wife with a kiss on the cheek as he slipped out of his workrobes and hung them on a peg next to the door.

"Ron?" asked Hermione anxiously.

Ron peered at her. "What is it, Hermione? You all right?"

Hermione nodded quickly, not meeting his eyes.

"Ron, I--I--I'm... pregnant," she said in a small voice. She raised her eyes to his anxiously.

Ron's face went white. "Bloody hell," he whispered, staring into the air above Hermione's right shoulder.

Hermione's face fell, and her anxious eyes filled with tears. She knew this would happen, she knew this wasn't a good time to have a baby, they didn't have enough money, it was too soon--

Ron seemed oblivious to her agony. His face lit up ecstatically and he wrapped Hermione in a huge hug, kissing her hard.

"Bloody hell, Hermione!" he whooped. "That's bloody brilliant!" He punched the air with his fist as if he'd just scored a winning Quidditch goal.

Hermione's expression lifted, relieved and joyful, and her bitter tears turned to joyful tears.

"Wait'll I tell Harry... till I tell everybody!" Ron crowed. He led Hermione in a mad little dance around the living room.

"In fact," he said, stopping abruptly, "let's owl them all right now." He jumped to find a quill and parchment. "Mum'll be so happy," he confided to Hermione. "She told me--er, threatened me, but don't worry--that she wanted another baby as soon as possible... She thinks only one grandchild is completely inadequate when she herself has seven children..."

Hermione laughed as Ron readied to dash off notes to everyone of importance.

"Here, Ron, I'll write some," she interceded. "Let me phone Mum, though--I think she ought to know first..."

"Sure, Hermione. I'll write my Mum and Dad. You just wait till we go for dinner Sunday--we'll never get out of there."

Hermione laughed. "You can write Harry, too," she said, smiling as she dialed her own mother's number. "Now, let me make this call."

Ron picked up a Muggle magazine and idly thumbed through it, smiling faintly at the memory. His mother was lonely, he had decided after Mrs. Weasley's umpteenth "surprise visit" to check up on Hermione and share baby advice. After years of being a houseful of seven children, the Burrow seemed too big and empty. Bill, her only child so far to give her any grandchildren, lived in France with Fleur and their daughter--named Marguerite in honor of Molly herself--which was too far away to visit often. Bill had been promoted to a more prestigious position at a Gringotts bank in France, and Fleur had been thrilled to be living in her homeland. Bill assured his family that it was temporary, but Ron was fairly sure Fleur would make it a longer temporary by any means necessary. Apparantly, her English was sufficiently improved, or she was homesick. Ron privately held the opinion that it was the latter. He had seen two-year-old Marguerite several times: an exact copy of her mother except for her hair, which was a pretty red-gold color, and the few freckles sprinkled across her nose.

Molly had been ecstatic when they'd told her Hermione was expecting, and they could rely on at least one owl per day inquiring how Hermione was doing or giving tips on pregnancy and baby care. The notes had started to irritate Ron, but Hermione laughed about them and seemed really grateful for the advice.

"I've never had a baby before," she'd told Ron when he complained about his mother's missives. "She's had seven kids! Of course she knows more about it than I do; I'd rather know all of what she knows now instead of after having six or seven of my own! By then, it wouldn't matter anyways."

Ron supposed she was right.

After some quality pacing time, the elevator 'ding'ed again and Harry returned with supper for the pair of them. Ron ate nervously, not even tasting the food. Harry watched him critically.

"You know, Ron," he said when they were both finished. "If you keep this up, I'm not hanging about for the next one."

Ron glared at him. "Wait till it's you," he muttered. "You have no idea..."

Mrs. Weasley poked her head out from the plain door behind Harry and Ron. Ron jumped to his feet and almost ran to his mother.

"Shouldn't be long now, boys," Mrs. Weasley said smilingly to her youngest son. "Will you be a dear and fetch another glass of water?" At his stricken look, she added: "I promise, Ron, you'll know first thing." She withdrew back into the room and shut the door.

Ron slumped against the wall. Harry grinned lopsidedly at his friend. "I'll get the water," he said.

Ron and Harry waited anxiously for another hour before Mrs. Weasley stuck her head out again. Her eyes were shining and her cheeks flushed with excitement.

"It's coming!" she crowed.

Both Ron and Harry jumped up. Ron's face went white as a cry came from the room.

"Is it--"

"That was just Hermione," Mrs. Weasley said dismissively. She pulled her head back in.

The next half-hour was agony for Ron, as his mother updated him every minute or so on his wife's progress. Finally, a cry went up collectively from the room, and Mrs. Weasley proudly threw the door open to Ron and Harry

An exhausted, scared-looking Hermione beamed up at them from the hospital bed with a nonetheless triumphant expression. Ron ran to her side and grabbed her hand. "Are you all right--?"

Hermione smiled radiantly at him. "I'm fine, Ron," she said softly. She held out her arms to the nurse behind Ron, who passed her a tiny blanket-swathed bundle to the new mother. "Ron," she said grandly, "meet your son."

Harry watched Ron's face go beyond white, making his freckles stand out horribly against his face as he took his son in his arms. His mouth opened and closed silently as he stared at the tiny new person. Harry beamed at the trio: Ron, Hermione, and the baby. Mrs. Weasley looked like a satisfied cat, a triumphant look on her beaming face. Mrs. Granger stood beside Mrs. Weasley, an older version of Hermione, with a quiet, happy smile on her face. Occasionally, she glanced uneasily at Mrs. Weasley, who Harry knew to be a bit overbearing at times, and whom Hermione had said rather intimidated her own more quiet, easygoing mother.

"What will you name him?" asked Harry.

Ron and Hermione looked at him, then at each other.

"Well," stammered Ron, "we hadn't exactly... well, we hadn't really decided it for sure..."

Hermione looked back to Harry, staring him firmly in the eye. "Arsenios Harry Arthur Albus Weasley," she said firmly.

Ron turned seriously, albeit a little startled by the abrupt naming of his offspring, to Harry. "Er... we wanted... you to be the godfather, Harry," he said.

Harry looked back and forth between Ron and Hermione in surprise. "Well--"

Hermione spoke up. "Who else do you think we would choose?" she asked, her face breaking into a smile. "We'd be pretty lousy friends if we didn't trust our best mate with our baby."

Harry felt tears come to his eyes. He walked swiftly over to the little family and hugged both of his friends. He peered at the little baby, whose blue eyes slowly swept the room to land on him.

"Hello, Arsenios," Harry whispered, feeling tears slide out of his eyes. "I'm your godfather. I'm Harry Potter."