Burning Down the House

George's shoulders slumped. He hated to see anybody in his family distressed, especially Ron. Everybody else had always been able to shrug bad times off, but Ron took them as a personal affront. George felt like he owed Ron, sometimes. After the war, Ron had quietly helped put the shop back together, learned how things ran from the bottom up to the top, and worked just as hard as George, if not harder that first year. It had kept George from giving in to his grief on more than one occasion then.

George wished he could wave his wand and give Ron everything he wanted.

He slowly unhooked his robes, and hung them next to Ron's. A jab of his wand cleared some of the clutter off the counter. The rest of it could wait until morning.

He Disapparated and reappeared in front of the small house he shared with Katie. George opened the door and was greeted by the sight of Katie juggling both of the twins, her hair in wild disarray. 'Oh, thank Merlin, you're home!' She somehow shifted one of the boys - Fred, George realized, after checking for the birthmark, into his arms. Immediately, Fred threw up all over the front of George's shirt. Trying not to gag, George went into autopilot, using the hem of the already soiled shirt to wipe the baby's chin.

Several hours later, both boys bathed, fed, and sleeping in their cots, George collapsed on the sofa next to Katie. 'When did they start doing the projectile thing?' he asked wearily.

'About three this afternoon,' Katie replied, her eyes drooping. 'Both of them. At the same time.' She cracked open an eyelid. 'I swear they do it on purpose.'

'And Ron wants this,' George scoffed. 'He's really angry at Hermione.'

'I thought he might be,' Katie said as she shifted her position on the sofa, leaning her back against George. 'She called earlier, looking for him.'

'When? I didn't leave the shop much past him.'

'While you were giving the boys a bath. He hadn't gotten home yet.' Katie pulled one of George's arms around her. 'Do you know what happened?'

George ran his other hand through his hair. 'Yeah,' he sighed. 'They've been trying to have a baby, she's not pregnant yet, they blame themselves. In a nutshell.'

'Oh.' Katie was quiet for a moment. 'That's not the only thing, though.'

'No,' George admitted. 'Ron said she went to see a Healer and they had decided not to do that yet. All she did was ask some questions, though.'

'Has Ron met Hermione?' Katie asked bemused. 'Even in school, when something came up, her first thing to do was to go to the library or ask a professor. Going to ask some questions isn't out of the ordinary for her.'

'Yeah, but this is Ron we're talking about,' George reminded Katie. 'He's taking it personally.'

'True. She can get a little obsessed about things, too.'

'I know how he feels, though,' George commented. 'I mean, not that deep sense of failure that he has, though, but it was rather a blow to my ego when you didn't get pregnant the first month. Or the next several after that.'

'So what? Weasley men are supposed to get it done the first time?'

'Something like that,' George said sheepishly. He let his face rest against the top of Katie's head. 'He's afraid, Ron. That's he's going to lose her in the obsession this time. I've never seen him get angry like that. All quiet-like. Usually he shouts.'

'I wonder if he went home,' wondered Katie. 'Hermione was really upset.'

'He will. When he calms down, and realizes she wasn't trying to sneak around behind his back.'

*****

Ron looked around. He had Apparated to Bloomsbury, but not quite ready to go home, he started walking, and had ended up in Soho, near Harry and Ginny's old flat. Ron wanted to kick himself in the arse. There was a small square with benches ahead, and Ron sank down into one, running his hands through his hair.

The bickering between him and Hermione was getting worse. They had always bickered some, but it was never like this. He had never turned his back on her like he had at the shop. He knew Hermione. Knew her almost better than he knew himself. He knew she wouldn't be satisfied until she had found all the answers to her questions. He had known that even before he'd left the shop. Ron sat back, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

He felt like things were spinning beyond any form of control. Ron hated it when he felt like that. It made him feel helpless. When he felt helpless, he snapped. Unfortunately, he tended to snap at the people he loved. He hated seeing that haunted look on Hermione's face, and knowing he put it there made it even worse.

He had brought this on them. Laying down that ultimatum on Sunday. She hadn't done anything wrong in going to ask questions. Hermione liked to back up what she read in books with at least two or three other sources.

Ron heaved himself to his feet. He began walking back to Bloomsbury. He could have Apparated, but he wanted the time to himself to think.

******

'Thanks, Ginny,' sighed Hermione, as she pulled her head out of the fire. She mentally crossed Harry and Ginny's house off the list. That had been the last place.

When Ron hadn't come home by seven, Hermione Apparated to Diagon Alley. The shop was dark and shuttered for the night. She checked the Leaky Cauldron. He wasn't there, either.

Hermione went back to their flat, and began to fire call everybody in the family, starting with Molly and Arthur. Ron hadn't been there, and they hadn't seen him. He wasn't at Bill's, Charlie's, Percy's, George's, or Ginny's, either.

Hermione wrung her hands together. Ron was like Molly. He had a quick temper, but it usually burned itself out fairly quickly. Except for that time their fourth year. Ron usually shouted and that was it. The cold fury she'd seen on his face was not something she saw often, much less directed at her. She miserably thought to herself that if she had just told him she wanted to see Shanti for research purposes before she had actually done it, maybe they wouldn't be arguing.

Hermione snorted.

Arguing.

How in Merlin's name could they argue when they weren't even in the same room?

She flopped on the sofa and did what she normally did in stressful situations.

She opened her tattered copy of -Hogwarts, A History.

And waited.

*****

Ron stood on the stoop of their building. He looked up and saw the light on in the sitting room. She must be waiting up. He glanced at his watch. It was after eleven. Nearly midnight, really. Ron started guiltily. He didn't realize how long he'd been wandering through London.

Steeling himself for the inevitable attack by tiny, twittering birds, Ron opened the door to the building and tiredly walked up the three flights of stairs. He pulled his wand out and pointed it at the doorknob, thinking, Alohomora. Nothing happened. Ron groaned. While he wasn't the best at nonverbal spells, there were some he had managed to master, and Alohomora had been one of the first. He tried again, this time, muttering the incantation aloud. The door released a soft click, and swung open a crack.

Cautiously, Ron pushed the door open, and peered inside. Hermione lay sprawled across the sofa, her battered copy of Hogwarts, A History splayed across her stomach. She was sound asleep. Ron quietly stepped to the sofa, and gently pried the book from her hands.

Hermione gasped and her eyes flew open. 'Ron!' She sat up and threw her arms around him. 'Oh, thank God you're home,' she breathed. She pulled back a little. 'Where have you been?' she demanded. 'I called everybody looking for you!'

'I just went for a walk.'

Hermione looked at the clock on the mantle. 'Ron, it's almost midnight. Where did you go?'

'Nowhere, really. Just started walking. Ended up in Soho, turned around and came back. Just thinking mostly.' Ron sank into the sofa cushions. 'I owe you an apology, Mione.' Ron stared at the worn book cradled in his hands. 'I shouldn't have gotten angry at you for going to ask some questions.'

'I should have told you I was going,' she said softly.

'I don't...' Ron stopped and set the book on the coffee table. 'I'm not sure how to say this,' he began uncertainly. 'I'm scared.'

'About what?'

'You and me. That this is going to tear us apart. Look at what happened today. You feel like you have to sneak around. I get so angry with you I don't want to talk to you and spend most of the evening wandering between Bloomsbury and Soho.'

'Oh...' Hermione sat back. 'Is that what you think is going to happen?'

'I'm scared it will.' He sighed. 'It's why I wanted us to step back from it all for a bit. You get so...' Ron shrugged. 'Tied up in things sometimes.' He turned to Hermione and brushed her hair from her face. 'I'd rather have you and not have children, than let this come between us.'

'Do you really mean that?' she whispered, stricken.

'I just mean I don't want us to become a couple of bitter old sods before we're really bitter old sods.' Ron leaned forward and let his forehead rest against Hermione's for a moment. 'Go to bed, okay? You need some sleep. You've got that meeting with the centaurs tomorrow.'

Hermione nodded and began to head for their bedroom. She stopped in the doorway. 'Ron?' Her voice cracked. 'Are you coming?'

'In a bit. I'm not sleepy yet.' Ron stretched his feet out, letting his head fall back.

Hermione turned and stumbled into the bedroom, automatically pulling her pajamas on, brushing her teeth, and crawling into bed. She curled into a ball, wrapping her arms around her knees.

Was Ron right?

Had she gotten so wrapped up in trying to get pregnant that it was all she cared about? And if so, at what kind of expense?

She lay awake, intently watching the door for Ron, waiting for him to come in and come to bed.

She was still waiting when she fell asleep.

******

Hermione woke up the next morning before her alarm went off. She turned her head looking for Ron. His side of the bed was cold and empty. It looked like it hadn't been slept in. Hermione sighed and pushed the bedding back. She went into the sitting room, expecting to find Ron on the sofa.

He wasn't there, either.

A blanket lying folded over the arm of the sofa, and a half-drunk cup of tea sitting in the sink were the only testaments to Ron's even having spent the night there. 'Not now, Hermione-,' she told herself sternly. She had too much riding on that meeting today. She took a deep breath, and made herself take a shower, and get dressed, pulling her unruly hair back into a plait and pinning it up.

Hermione considered and rejected breakfast before Apparating to the Ministry. The meeting wasn't for several more hours on the grounds of Hogwarts. She resolutely shoved her own problems to the back of her head, grateful for her skill in compartmentalizing her life today.

******

Ron leaned his elbows on the counter of the kitchen of the flat above the shop. His eyes burned from lack of sleep. After he sent Hermione to bed, he had lain on the sofa for hours, unable to settle or fall asleep. He finally gave up and came to the shop. George must have left in a hurry the night before, as the shop hadn't been given its usual tidying.

So Ron cleaned up the shop. And made a new inventory list of the merchandise in the back. And fed the Pygmy Puffs. When he had done everything he could do, short of opening the shop at six in the morning, Ron trudged up to the flat, and made himself a cup of tea.

He carried his tea to the dilapidated sofa in the flat's sitting room. He fell into the cushions and closed his eyes. The next thing he knew, George was shaking him awake. 'Did you even go home last night?' asked George.

'Yes,' Ron said testily. 'Couldn't sleep so I came in.'

George regarded Ron thoughtfully. 'Go back home,' he ordered.

'What?' Ron snapped.

'Go home. Go to bed. Don't come back until tomorrow. I can handle it with Lucas.'

'I'm fine,' Ron muttered.

'Like hell you are,' George said bluntly. 'You won't be any good to anybody.' George shoved Ron's feet off the end of the sofa and sat down. 'What time did you get home?'

'Late.'

'You still angry at her?'

'No.' Ron scrubbed a hand over his face. 'I'm not. I don't know what I feel.'

'Ron... Go home. Get some rest, and just forget about last night.'

Ron threw himself back into the sofa, wincing as a spring jabbed a kidney. 'Just give me an hour's nap,' he begged.

'No,' said George. 'I'm playing the big brother card. Get your sorry carcass off my sofa and go home. Your sofa at home is way more comfortable that this piece of shite. Don't know why we still have it.'

'Fine.' Ron heaved himself to his feet.

'Oh, and Ron?'

'Yeah?'

'Flowers. Just a suggestion.'

'Right,' Ron sighed.

******

Hermione left Hogsmeade, with a signed agreement in her hand. She had been fortunate enough to deal with Firenze. As centaurs went, he was fairly easy-going. Kingsley would be pleased with the agreement. The Ministry had expanded the area for the centaurs to include most of the Forbidden Forest, and tentative plans were being made to set up a new settlement in the Forest of Dean. She stopped in the Ministry long enough to hand the scrolls off to Percy, before going home. Hermione was worn out.

She opened the front door of the flat and went inside. Ron was sprawled across the sofa, snoring softly. The tension radiating along her shoulders dissipated. 'Ron?' she said softly, shaking his shoulder.

'Unnnn?' Ron opened bleary eyes to see Hermione hovering over him. He pulled her down so she draped over his chest and wrapped his arms around her. It took several minutes before Ron was conscious enough to realize her shoulders were shaking and the front of his shirt was getting damp. He just stroked her back and let Hermione cry.

'I didn't think you were coming back.'

'Why would you think that?'

'You never came to bed,' Hermione pointed out. 'You left early.'

'I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to disturb you.' Ron used the cuff of his shirt to gently wipe some tearstains from Hermione's face. 'I'm so sorry. I overreacted to you going to see a Healer.'

'I just wanted to know what our options were,' hiccupped Hermione.

'I know,' Ron soothed. 'You always do. I shouldn't have been surprised.'

'I should have said something before I went. But what you said Sunday...'

'I know. I shouldn't have said it like that. Especially since it made you feel like you couldn't tell me you went to the Healer beforehand. But this is why I said it. I don't want to spend months and years angry and tense. I don't want to calculate odds or count days anymore. The expectation is killing us both. What's that thing the Muggles say? Just do it? Why don't we give that a try and see what happens?' Ron shifted Hermione a bit, so she lay against him. 'I'm never going to leave you. Not unless you want me to go.'

'No.'

'So we're okay?' Ron tipped Hermione's chin up so he could see her face.

'We're okay,' she sighed.

They lay quietly for several quiet minutes before Ron dug something out of his pocket. 'Here.' He pushed a small box into her hand. Hermione propped herself on one elbow and thumbed open the box. A silver daisy suspended from a gossamer chain lay inside. 'It's out of season for daisies,' Ron said. 'This is as close as I could get.'