Burning Down the House

Ron didn't know how long he stood in the middle of their kitchen, holding Hermione, while she soaked the front of his shirt. Eventually, she snuffled a few times, and swiped the cuff of her jumper under her dripping nose. 'Here.' Ron held her chin in one hand while he swabbed her face with the tea towel he had slung over one shoulder. Ron leaned down to kiss Hermione. 'You look all done in. Go get cleaned up, have a bath or something. I'll take care of everything else.'

Hermione stared at Ron in part amusement, part astonishment. 'Who are you and what have you done with my husband?'

'I am your husband, you daft hen.'

'Prove it,' she challenged smugly.

Ron looked at her, hair in disarray, eyes swollen, and her nose reddened from her tears, and smiled. 'Sixth year, you Confunded Coramc MacLaggan at tryouts for the Gryffindor team.' Hermione's eyebrow swept up, and her cheeks flushed. Ron pulled her closer, and rested his cheek on the top of her head. Moments like this made him realize just how small she was. She wasn't much bigger than Ginny. Most of the time, she exuded so much confidence she looked taller. 'You really do pack quite the punch for such a small person, love. Now, go. I'll make something for dinner. If you want?'

'No. I'm not really hungry.'

Ron waited until the heard the sound of water running in the bathroom, before he jabbed his wand at the dough and bowl of pumpkin filling. The pasties would be ready to go in the oven when he came back.

He went to the cupboard in the hallway and took out a clean set of sheets. Ron tugged the ones on the bed off, and bundled them in a heap by the wardrobe. He proceeded to make up the bed by hand, without magic. It was one of the things he did routinely without magic, especially when he needed to think. They all had something - Harry did the dishes by hand, Ginny knitted, Ron either baked or made beds, depending on what he was trying to work out, and Hermione would take the Underground from the Ministry to their flat in Bloomsbury. It gave them time to think. Ron smoothed the duvet over the bed, and turned it back. He didn't know about Hermione, but he was worn out, emotionally, if not physically.

Ron retraced his steps back into the kitchen to find a pan of neatly prepared pasties, waiting for the oven. He put the pan in the oven, and set a timer, and then began to clean up the mess he'd made. As Ron put the last utensil away, he heard a shuffling sound behind him. Without looking, he said, 'You are not allowed in here tonight. Go sit down, read Hogwarts, a History. Again.' He swore he heard a muffled curse and something that sounded like, 'more bullheaded than if he'd been born a Taurus.' Smothering a smirk, Ron pulled the pasties out of the oven, shot a quick Cooling charm over them, and loaded a tray with some pasties and a pot of tea.

'Was Madam Pomfrey right about thoughts? Leaving the deepest scars?' Hermione asked abruptly.

'What do you mean?'

Hermione pushed up the sleeve of his shirt and her fingers traced the scars on his forearm. 'Do you remember? After the Department of Mysteries?'

'Yeah, I do,' Ron brooded. He held out his arm, regarding the spiraling scars that snaked up from wrist to elbow. 'It was like a smaller version of what happens when you're around Dementors. Or Horcruxes.' The scars themselves were faded into whitish threads that you had to search for in certain lights. They had been deep purple welts for months, even with the potions from Madam Pomfrey. 'Did I ever tell you what came out of that locket?'

'No.' Hermione was startled. The months and weeks they carried the locket with them was an era they all liked to forget. Harry and Ron never told her what had happened beyond Ron pulling Harry out of the pool, and then diving in for Gryffindor's sword, using it to destroy the Horcrux inside.

'It was you. But infinitely more cruel than you. Said all the things I think - thought - about myself.' Ron's expressive face grew pensive. 'Cried like a baby after I stabbed the bloody thing. Funny thing is,' he added thoughtfully. 'That's what the brains did, too. The tighter they wrapped around my arms, the worse it got.'

'Why didn't you tell me?' Hermione twined her hand in Ron's.

'Wasn't like it was anything new. Or things you didn't already know.' He shrugged. 'Just magnified it. Made it worse than it really was.' He let a barking laugh escape. 'Even what I imagined Harry's relationship to you was.'

'I'm sorry,' she whispered.

'No more apologizing for you, missy.' Ron handed Hermione a pasty. 'What brought this on?'

'Something I was thinking about earlier today.'

'Go on,' Ron prodded.

'What do you see? When you see me?'

'I don't under - '

Hermione cut off Ron's question. 'Just tell me.'

'I see you.' Ron cocked his head to the side. 'I still don't understand, Mione.'

'Mornings like today, I still see who I was before I met you and Harry. Or who I was before the incident with that troll. Obnoxious know-it-all with bushy hair and large front teeth.'

'You were still a know-it-all, love.' Ron informed her.

'I know, but -'Hermione paused uncertainly. 'Before I came to school, I didn't have any friends, really. You and Harry were my first real friends. The only thing I was really good at was school. I used to go home and cry, because none of the girls in my class at primary school would play with me.'

'Mione, you have to tell me where you're going with this. Remember? This is me you're talking to, even if my range has increased to that of a tablespoon.'

'I'm getting there. When I wore the locket, especially at night when I was sleeping, I would dream that you and Harry were mocking me, and telling me you only used me for the help with homework and the like.'

'But that's not true!' Ron exclaimed.

'Well, obviously,' Hermione huffed. 'But it made me feel like I was a failure.'

'And you felt like a failure this morning?' Ron said, comprehension dawning.

'Yes. Something everybody else in this family seems to be able to do. And it's something I can't seem to do.' Hermione scooted into Ron's lap. 'Makes me feel like I'm standing outside during recess and trying and miserably failing at all the things the other kids did.' A small smile crossed her features. 'If you think my flying is bad, you should see me play footie. Disaster,' she proclaimed.

'Hermione, why on earth do you think it's you?'

'You're a Weasley.' As if that explained everything.

'So?' Ron was really starting to get confused.

'So... you're a Weasley,' she repeated for emphasis.

'So Weasley men are supposed to have, I dunno, super-magical sperm or something?' Ron looked at Hermione incredulously. 'Sounds like an awfully dodgy theory to me.'

'Have you looked at your family lately?'

'Yes. It gets any bigger and Mum and Dad will have to do some serious remodeling.'

'See?'

'It could just as easily be me. Maybe the Legendary Weasley Fertility skipped me or something. Sort of like a Squib.'

'That makes absolutely no sense.' Hermione crossed her arms over her chest.

'And neither does yours!' Ron pushed her off his lap to the sofa. He began to pace in front of the fireplace. 'It could be both of us. It could be neither of us.'

'We could -'

'No. Absolutely effing not.'

'Why not, Ronald?' Hermione rarely used Ronald. Unless she was exasperated.

'Because I don't want it to be me!' he yelled. 'And I really don't want it to be you even more than I don't want it to be me!'

'So we're just never going to find out?'

Ron stopped pacing. He stalked into the kitchen and yanked the calendar off the wall. Paging through it, he came to March. 'My birthday. That's the deadline.' He picked up a pencil and scribbled a large star on March first. 'Then we'll go see.'

'Fine.' Hermione all but spat the word across the room.

'Fine,' Ron snarled. 'I'm going to bed.' He threw the calendar to the coffee table, and went into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Hermione felt tears well up, and she tried to stop them. She curled into a ball on the sofa and wept.

Ron sat on the edge of the tub, breathing heavily. When the pulse pounding in his ears subsided, he could hear the soft sounds of Hermione's crying. Feeling like the biggest, most enormous prat in the world, Ron silently brushed his teeth. He turned the light out, and found Hermione huddled in a corner of the sofa. Rubbing a hand over his face, he scooped her up, and carried Hermione to bed.

******

Hermione lay wide awake, curled on her side, facing away from Ron. She wondered if he was asleep. She rolled over to find Ron's wide blue eyes boring into her. 'We never really discussed having children, did we?' she asked. He shook his head. 'Do you want them? Honestly?'

'Yes.' Ron's voice was rusty.

'Why?'

'You're really going to make me do this, aren't you?'

'Yes. Go on, please.'

'That diary you kept in Australia. You said that you wanted a normal life.' Ron shrugged helplessly. 'I guess I assumed you meant all the traditional things.' He leaned back against the headboard. 'The idea of two-and-a-half midgets, Crookshanks, the tidy house with the nice garden. I want to make you happy. I like to make you happy.'

'But that doesn't tell me how you feel about it.'

Ron traced the embroidery that ran along the edge of the sheet. 'I kept imagining myself with you and a couple of kids with lots of curly red hair and freckles. And it made me happy.'

Hermione reached for Ron's hand. 'What happens if the two-and-a-half midgets don't have lots of curly red hair and freckles?'

Ron sighed. It was late, and he didn't have the energy to keep up with Hermione's brain. 'Mione, please. This is Ronald Weasley you're talking to. He doesn't keep up with your thought process very well late at night.'

'If we can't have children ourselves...'

'You mean adoption?'

'Exactly.'

'Why would I have a problem with that?'

Hermione got out of bed, and went to the wardrobe. She knelt to pull out a drawer and rummage for something. It was a packet of letters bound with a blue ribbon. 'I found these. When I was a little girl. My parents wrote them before they were married.' She turned the packet over in her hands. 'They were somewhat older before they were married. My mum was thirty-five and my dad was nearly forty. The question of infertility came up.' She smiled a tight, bitter smile. 'Dad had reservations about whether or not he could feel the same about a child that wasn't his, biologically.'

'Mione, I'm not your father.'

'I know, but -'

'But nothing. Hermione, I'm not the brightest bloke around, but I have been able to watch my parents with Harry and Harry with Teddy. My parents couldn't love Harry any more if he had actually been theirs. And Harry would take a Killing curse for Teddy, just like he would do for James.' Ron reached for Hermione's hand so he could pull her back to bed. 'Just like I will do for any child of ours, whether we give birth to it or not.'

Hermione sagged in relief. 'Good to know.' She laid the packet on her night table. 'Have I ever told you how glad I am you saved me from that troll?'

'A few times. Get some sleep, love.'

******

Hermione woke early, as usual. It had stopped raining during the night, and a few weak rays of sunshine struggled through the blanket of grey that covered the sky. She lay in bed for a moment, listening to the sounds of Ron sleeping next to her. She got up and went to dress for the day. 'Ron?' Hermione shook his shoulder. 'Ron? Wake up.'

'Unnnngh?' Ron opened one baleful blue eye and glared at his wife.

'Hey, I'm going to my parents' for the morning. I'll be at the Burrow in time for lunch.' Hermione frowned a bit. Ron's eye had closed. 'Ron! Did you hear me?'

'Enh.' Ron inhaled and exhaled, propping himself up on an elbow, cracking open both eyes to gift Hermione with the look of a man who has had his precious weekend sleep interrupted. 'I heard you. Going to parents'. Will be at Burrow for lunch.' Ron flopped back into the mattress. 'Invite your parents,' he added. 'They're always welcome. Merlin knows there's enough food.' With that, Ron turned over and went back to sleep.

Hermione grabbed her coat by the door and stood on the doormat uncertainly. She could take the train, but it would take a couple of hours, or she could Apparate. She knew of an alley she could Apparate in close to her parents' house. Nodding to herself, Hermione turned on the spot and Disapparted with a soft pop.

She walked up to her parents' house, and used her key to open the door. 'Mum?' Hermione called softly. Jane Granger's head popped out of the kitchen, the Sunday Times crossword in one hand, and a pen in the other.

'Hermione!' Jane greeted her daughter with a smile. 'So good to see you, dear.' She ushered Hermione into the kitchen, and poured her a cup of tea. 'It's a bit early, though.'

'Mum, every Sunday, you get up early, make some tea and toast, do the Sunday crossword - in ink because you like to muck with Dad's head - and then once Dad decides to make an appearance, the two of you either fix something here, or go have a nice brunch.' Hermione took a sip of her tea. 'It was a pretty good chance you'd be up.'

Jane laughed. 'So what brings you all the way out here this early?'

'Mum, it's eight,' Hermione pointed out. 'Hardly early.'

'True, but you didn't answer my question.'

'Could I ask you something?' Hermione traced a fingertip around the rim of her cup.

'Of course.' Jane put the pen and crossword to the side.

'Was it hard for you? With me?' Hermione tripped over the words. 'I mean, was it hard to...' Hermione bit her lip. 'Have me,' she finished.

Jane looked at her daughter, who was close to tears. 'Hermione, we were thrilled to have you.' She reached to touch the back of Hermione's hand that lay next to her cup. 'What's the matter?' she asked gently.

'Did you have problems getting pregnant?' Hermione's eyes were fixed on the table in front of her.

Jane leaned back, and regarded her daughter thoughtfully. 'Some,' she admitted. 'I was over thirty-five when your dad and I were married. It's a bit harder to do at that age.'

'How long did you try?' Hermione nervously reached for a slice of toast, and began to nibble it.

'Over three years. Not as long as some people, but it felt like an eternity. It was a nightmare of calendars and doctors. We almost gave up at one point.' Jane looked at Hermione curiously. 'Why do you ask?'

'Ron and I have been trying.'

'How long?'

'Seven months.' Hermione raked a hand through her hair. 'Seven frustrating months. Especially when everyone else in his family has children already. Without even trying too hard, it seems.' Hermione bit her lip. 'I'm sorry, Mum. I know it sounds like I'm whining - Oh, let's face it. I am whining.'

'Not a problem, dear. You feel like it's something everyone else is doing better than you, and not that they're rubbing your nose in it, but it does rather feel like it, doesn't it?'

'Yes!' Hermione exclaimed. 'I mean, I love all my nieces and nephews, and I know it's not a contest or anything, but...' she shrugged. 'I'm so bloody envious of them,' she confessed, relieved to be able to say it aloud. 'When Ginny had James last month, I went to the loo and locked myself in there for ten minutes and cried.' She sheepishly met her mother's gaze. 'I've gone barking, haven't I?'

'I did the same thing. When your aunt Pam had William.' Jane moved to sit next to Hermione. She put her arm around Hermione's shoulders. 'How does Ron feel about this?'

'About the same as me.'

'Oh, so that good?'

'Yes. He seems to handle it better than me. Or so it seems. He's supportive and makes me my favorite pasties.' Hermione shrugged. 'It really bothers him, though. Like I'm going to think he's not man enough for me or something silly.'

'That's all men,' Jane observed dryly.

Hermione let a watery giggle escape. 'Yes, it is.' She took a sip of her rapidly cooling tea, and grimaced. She pulled out her wand and gave it a jab at her tea, smiling when steam rose from the surface.

Jane gave Hermione another thoughtful gaze. 'What about them?' she asked pointing to the wand in her daughter's hand. 'Is there something they can do?'

'We're not going to do anything in that direction until March. Give ourselves a year.' Hermione replaced the wand in her pocket. 'Speaking of that side of my life,' she began, 'how would you like to have lunch with my crazy in-laws?'

'Oh, I...' Jane toyed with her cup.

'Mum, they'd love to have you. There's always room for a few more at Molly and Arthur's. Teddy will be there. You remember Teddy? Harry's godson?'

'Of course I do. I've never seen hair quite that blindingly turquoise before.'

'He's mad about football. Dad can bring that manky old ball of his, and teach Teddy a few moves, maybe?'

'Make him a fan of Manchester United before he's ten?'

'Something like that. Nobody else there knows anything about footie. Dad will be a hero to Teddy.'

'Are you sure it will be all right?' Jane was still worried about how the Wizarding world would react to two non-magical people showing up in the middle of their lunch.

'It's fine, Mum. Really.'

'And how will we get there?' Jane asked pointedly. The village of Ottery-St.-Catchpole was a bit of a drive.

'Side-Along Apparition of course.' Hermione smiled.