Burning Down the House

Dusk gathered in the corners of the garden before Andromeda came outside to collect Teddy. 'Go tell Harry and Ginny good-bye,' she told him over his protests. 'You have school tomorrow.'

'Oh, all right, Gran,' Teddy sighed, toeing the football into his hands, before handing back to Richard. 'Thank you, Mr. Granger!' he said, his hair going bright red, before Teddy ran into the Burrow.

'You're welcome, Teddy!' Richard called after him, before he turned to Andromeda. 'Does he always do that with his hair?'

'Yes, he does. His mother could change her appearance at will, too.' Andromeda smiled after her grandson. 'He's just gotten to where he can control it. Some.' She wrinkled her nose a bit. 'It still goes turquoise when he's happy or purple when he's a bit bored.'

Richard was fascinated. 'Why turquoise?'

'I don't know. Dora, his mother, always liked pink for some reason. But when Teddy was a baby, before his parents died, every time Remus or Dora held him, his hair turned turquoise.' Andromeda bit her lip, and glanced at Richard. 'Thank you. Nobody else here knows anything about football. The worst thing I can do to him is take away the footie. He droops like a wilted lily.'

'It's fine. Been dying to do this with someone else. Hermione, for as smart as she is, didn't care for it much.'

The back door screeched as Teddy flew through it. 'Okay, Gran, I'm ready,' he said around a mouthful of ginger biscuit. 'G'bye, Mr. Granger! I hope I get to see you again soon.'

'Cheers, Teddy,' said Richard, ruffling Teddy's hair.

'Good night, Mr. Granger.' Andromeda took Teddy's hand in hers, and they went out the garden gate. Richard watched as she turned, and with a pop she was gone.

Ron came outside, cradling a cup of tea in his hands. 'Doing all right, Richard?'

'Brilliant, Ron. Just brilliant.' Richard dropped onto the bench outside the door, and looked up at Ron. 'Is Hermione all right?'

Ron choked on the sip of tea he'd been trying to swallow. 'What makes you ask?'

Richard snorted. 'She's my daughter, Ron. And she looks... Off. Something's bothering her, and she's not going to let me in on it.'

Ron sighed, and looked furtively over his shoulder. 'We're trying to have a baby,' he confessed. His voice dropped down just above a whisper, 'It's not... Yet.'

'You're both too young, you know,' said Richard conversationally.

Ron shrugged. 'Older than some.' He drank his tea in companionable silence for a few moments. 'We're both ready for this. Well, as ready as we can be.' Ron looked over his shoulder through the kitchen window. The kitchen was bathed in warm yellow lamplight, and Hermione's head was haloed with gold. She cradled James, her face animated as she talked to him. Seeming to sense someone was watching her, Hermione looked up and met Ron's gaze. She smiled at him, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded away.

Richard watched the byplay between his daughter and son-in-law. 'Oh, it's like that, eh?'

Ron met Richard's eyes. 'Yes,' he said steadily.

'I still think you're too young,' Richard grumbled.

'No worries. My mum still thinks I'm eleven half the time.'

'You will, too, when you're a father and your child's grown. You wonder where the bloody hell the time went. Seems like yesterday when we took Hermione to meet the train for school.' Richard eyed Ron a bit. 'I remember the first time I saw you. Before the second year of school started.'

'Oh, yeah...' Ron grinned sheepishly, the scuffle at Flourish and Blotts still vivid in his memory.

'I knew back then she'd end up with you. Her letters home were full of you.'

'Really? I didn't know that.'

Whatever Richard was going to say was lost, for Hermione and Jane came out into the back garden. 'Ready to go home, Dad?'

Surprised, Richard looked at his watch. 'Oh, didn't realize it was that late. I'll just go say my farewells, then.' Ron rose from the bench and followed Richard inside the house.

Hermione looked at Jane in amusement. 'You seemed to enjoy yourself today.'

'Oh, well...' Jane watched as Richard made the rounds through the throng in the kitchen. 'Is it always like this?'

'You mean loud, chaotic, totally barmy?'

'Yes.'

Hermione grinned. 'Absolutely.' She watched at Ron bent to hug his mother. 'Nobody's ever a stranger here.'

Ron and Richard joined them in the garden. 'Ready?' asked Ron, offering his arm to Jane.

Jane looked slightly nauseated. 'The hosepipe again?'

'Sorry?' Ron looked confused.

'Appartition. Like being squeezed through a hosepipe,' explained Hermione.

'You get used to it. Besides, Mum gave me something to give to you for the nausea when we get back to your house.' Ron patted Jane on the hand, before he turned and disappeared.

Hermione tucked her hand into the crook of her fathers elbow. 'Ready, Dad?'

'Sure. Go ahead and do your thing.'

Hermione turned and in a second, they reappeared on the hearth rug of her parents' home in Oxford. She could hear Ron and her mother in the kitchen. Ron had made a cup of tea for Jane. Hermione could hear him say, 'Helps take the nasty taste of that stuff out of your mouth.'

'What is it with you and tea?' Hermione asked walking into the kitchen.

'It's what Mum always does,' said Ron, shrugging. 'Better than nothing.'

Ron lobbed a small vial at Richard. 'Here. Drink that if the Apparating made you feel a bit off.'

Richard caught it in one hand. 'Thanks, lad.'

'We should get going,' Hermione said. 'I'll come by on Saturday, Mum.'

Jane nodded and gave Hermione a brief hug before Hermione and Ron Disapparated.

*****

The first thing Hermione saw when she opened her eyes as she Apparated into the flat was the calendar lying on the coffee table. Neither she, nor Ron had replaced it back on the kitchen wall. Ron found her holding it in her hands when he Apparated into the flat a few seconds later. Wordlessly, she turned and threw the calendar into the fireplace. Simultaneously, she drew her wand and cast a nonverbal Incendio toward the calendar.

In less than a minute, a smoldering pile of ash lay where the calendar had been. Ron cleared his throat softly. 'You didn't have to burn the thing.'

'Yes. I did.' Hermione set her wand back on the mantle of the fireplace and sat on the edge of the sofa. She pulled her shoes off and set them aside, and then turned to sit sideways on the sofa, a book balanced on her knees. The matter was closed. 'I can live without it.' She looked up at Ron over the edge of the book. 'If I remember correctly, so can you,' she said, the slight smile taking the sting from her words.

Ron just rolled his eyes, and found the ledger book he had brought home the night before from the shop. He settled at the kitchen table, angling the chair a bit so he could see Hermione through the door. She absently twirled a lock of hair around an index finger as she read.

A few hours later, Ron gave up. He realized he spent as much time watching Hermione as he had actually creating an inventory list. Ron shut the book. He could do it tomorrow.

He leaned back in this chair, remembering all the moments of his life she had been a part of. Most of it was good, some of it was not. There were days where he felt like the luckiest man in the world. Once, in the weeks after Hermione had returned from Australia, on the verge of sleep, he buried his face in her neck and blurted he wouldn't trade his life for Draco Malfoy's. Ever. Needless to say, it was a mood-killer.

Hermione sat up so fast Ron fell off the bed, landing in a tangle of limbs on the floor of his bedroom. She wrapped the sheet tightly around her body, glaring at him. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

Flushing, Ron scrambled into his boxers and t-shirt. 'I just mean that when I was a kid, sometimes...' He became fascinated with his hands. 'Sometimes, I really envied him.' Ron shifted his shoulders like his shirt had suddenly shrunk three sizes. 'Growing up poor, you know? He had everything money could buy. He didn't wear hand-me-down, or have everything second-hand.' Ron rose to his knees, placing his hands on either side of Hermione's waist. 'But he didn't have everything.' Ron kissed the tip of her nose. 'He didn't have you.' Ron edged his way back onto the bed. 'I used to think he was the lucky one, having all that money. But after hearing what it was like for him during the trial...' Ron shook his head. 'I am.'

Ron pushed his chair back and went to stand next to Hermione. Grinning, he tugged the book from her hand. 'So... you have prefect duty tonight?' he asked casually.

'Prefect duty?' she asked hazily.

'Well, do you?' Ron grinned evilly at her, ruffling his hair, so it looked wind-swept.

The corner of Hermione's lip twitched as she recognized the move. 'I don't know - I'll have to check the roster.' She stood up and wrapped her arms around Ron's neck. 'What if I don't have duty tonight? What did you have in mind?'

'Oh, nothing special,' Ron said airily. 'Maybe you and I could frighten a few first-years.'

Hermione laughed softly. 'You're being silly.'

'You're the one playing along,' Ron informed her.

'Yes, I am.'

Ron twisted and sat on the sofa, with Hermione draped across his lap. 'Kiss me,' he murmured.

'You know this isn't going to go any further than this.'

'Nothing wrong with that. I just want to snog my wife senseless.'

'And why is that?'

'Because she's the most beautiful woman in the world.'

Hermione smiled. 'You need to have your eyes examined.'

'Nope. They're perfect.' Ron kissed Hermione softly. 'Mione?'

'Hmmm?'

'Just take the compliment, love.'

*****

A few days later, Hermione passed through the entrance of St. Mungo's to see Shanti. When a sprig of guilt sprang up, she tamped it down. It's research, she told herself. The welcome witch ushered Hermione to Shanti's office and in after a few minutes of hand-wringing, Shanti bustled into the office, efficient-looking as always in her Muggle-style scrubs and trainers. 'Hi,' Hermione said nervously.

'Hello, Hermione.' Shanti greeted her warmly. 'What brings you here today?' Hermione felt Shanti's eyes evaluating her.

'I have a few questions...' Hermione said shakily.

Shanti sat in the char next to Hermione, and took one of her hands. 'Hermione, breathe. In... and... out.... One more...'

'Thanks,' Hermione breathed.

'So then... What questions do you have?'

'I...' Hermione looked down at her hands. 'I'm scared I might not be able to...' She looked up at Shanti. 'That I'm infertile,' she sighed.

Shanti leaned back a bit. 'How old are you? You can't be more than twenty-seven or so.'

'I'm twenty-five.'

'How long have you been trying?'

'Since March.'

'Hmmm.' Shanti examined Hermione thoughtfully. 'It's only October now, and not many Healers will consider you infertile until you've been trying for at least a year.'

Hermione slumped slightly. 'That's five more months,' she said softly.

'Hermione, listen to me for a moment. It doesn't always happen the first time. You only have a twenty-five to thirty percent chance of getting pregnant in any given cycle; even if you're doing everything you're supposed to be doing. Sometimes,' Shanti held off a burst of protest from Hermione. 'Sometimes, some people get lucky, and that's what it is - luck.' Shanti gazed at Hermione. The distress practically radiated off her in waves. 'If you want, I can give you a checkup now,' Shanti offered.

Hermione bit her lip, considering. She had promised Ron. Nothing until March first. She twisted her wedding ring around her finger, feeling the rosebuds etched into the surface under her fingertips. She shook her head. 'No,' she said reluctantly. 'I promised Ron. We did decide to wait a year before getting everything checked out.'

'Regular cycle?'

Hermione shrugged. 'It's not every twenty-eight days. About every thirty days. Regular like that.'

Shanti nodded. 'Fourteen days before the start of your next period, figure out when that is. You're considered to be most fertile in the days before that. No sex every day. Every other day is fine.' Hermione's head bobbed up and down, drinking in the information. Shanti smiled a bit. 'And relax a little. Keep it light and keep it fun.'

'But what if that doesn't work, and we do the tests and I am infertile?'

'It's not always the woman, Hermione,' stated Shanti.

'Ron's a Weasley,' explained Hermione.

'So?' challenged Shanti. 'It could just as easily be his problem, if it's a problem at all.'

'But if it's me? I know Muggles have things...'

'Yes, and so do we, but I'm not fond of using them right away.'

'Why?'

'Well, I will use them,' amended Shanti. 'They just have... side effects. Like Muggle drugs, our potions have an increased risk of multiple births, especially in one as young as you. That comes with a risk of miscarriage and premature birth. It's not really considered a large risk, about ten to forty percent. But still, that's something you and Ron need to consider very carefully before you try them. And sometimes, they just don't work at all for a couple.'

Hermione rubbed her temples. Her head was starting to hurt. 'It doesn't seem fair,' she said. 'All these things we can do, and there's still something magic can't fix.'

'I know.' Shanti squeezed Hermione's limp hand.

'Do you think I want this too much?' Hermione's face creased in an anxious frown.

'You can never want something like this too much.' Shanti stood up. 'I know this is easy for me to say, but try not to dwell on it. Stress is not good, especially when you're trying to have a baby.'

'That's like telling dragons not to breathe fire,' Hermione told Shanti, a faint smile on her face. 'Everybody tells me not to stress about things.'

'Hermione, if you ever want to talk to an unbiased person, just come by or send a note over.'

'Thank you.' Hermione left, feeling drained and knowing she would have to tell Ron.

******

Hermione Apparated in front of Ninety-Three Diagon Alley. She blinked at the floating jack-o-'lanterns in the windows. George really did enjoy decorating for Halloween. She opened the door, and rolled her eyes at the belch. George was helping a young witch pick a few Daydream charms and after eyeing her rather spotty complexion, threw in a vial of Ten-Second Pimple Vanisher as a 'free gift'. After he wrapped the witch's purchase, Hermione approached the counter. 'Do you record Charlie every year at Arthur's birthday party?'

'Yep!' George informed her proudly.

'Then I hope you at least give him some sort of recognition,' Hermione sighed.

'A free case of butterbeer every year.'

'I'm sure Bronwyn just squeals with glee,' Hermione said dryly. 'Ron in the back?'

'Yep. And keep it clean back there, all right? No member of the next generation of Weasleys has been conceived back there yet, and I'd like to keep it that way.'

'Really?'

'Yep.'

'Interesting...' Hermione raised an eyebrow thoughtfully at the back curtain. She giggled at the growing alarm on George's face. 'Never get tired of getting the best of you, George,' she said lightly, as she walked through the curtain.

Ron was using his wand to wrap and box Nosebleed Nougats. 'Hi!' he said. 'What are you doing here?'

'I need to tell you something.'

Ron Banished the sweet he'd just wrapped and put his wand down and moved out of reach of it. The tone of Hermione's voice told him he wouldn't like what she was about to say. He turned to face her. 'Okay. Shoot.'

'I went to see a Healer today.' Hermione looked at Ron expectantly.

'All right.' Ron leaned against the table. 'You all right?'

'Yes, I'm fine.'

'So why were you seeing a Healer?' Ron asked evenly. Hermione's brow arched. Ron could produce as much bluster as Molly when he was angry, but the even tone worried her.

'I just had some questions.' Hermione chewed her lower lip.

'Oh.' Ron turned back to wrapping the sweets. The back of his neck was bright red.

Hermione stared at his back for several long, silent moments. 'Ron?'

'Go home, Hermione. I'll talk to you later,' he told her quietly. Hermione's mouth dropped open. This was not what she expected. She expected Ron to at least shout at her for a minute. 'Go home, Hermione,' he repeated a bit more forcefully. He gripped his wand so hard, his knuckles were white.

Wordlessly, Hermione turned and hurried out of the shop. 'Bye, Hermione,' called George.

George looked at his watch. It was close enough to five to close the shop. He flicked his wand at the door, and the sign flipped itself over to 'Closed', and the door locked. He went into the back. Ron stiffened when he heard George's footsteps. 'What?' he asked in a surly voice.

'Why did Hermione leave in such a hurry?' George leaned against the doorway.

'Not now, George.'

'Ron, come on. Tell me what's going on.'

Ron began to stack the boxes of Nosebleed Nougats on a shelf. 'She went to see a Healer.' He shoved the last box on the shelf. 'We weren't going to do that for a few more months, and she went behind my back. So, needless to say, I'm not really happy with her right now.'

George shook his head, his shaggy red hair flying in all directions. 'You're both barking.'

'No,' Ron sighed. 'I know why she went. You know Hermione. She'll want to do research. Ask someone questions.' He pulled off his robes, and hung them on the hook by the doorway. 'She promised me. Sunday after lunch, she promised me she would relax about all this. She told me no more calendars.' Ron turned to look at George, his blue eyes dark with anguish. 'She promised,' he repeated. 'Just because I love her, George, it does not mean I have to like what she does sometimes.'

With that, Ron Disapparated from the shop.