Burning Down the House

Ron held a handful of paint chips in front of Hermione's face. 'Pick one.'

She looked up form her book, taking the samples from Ron's hand, frowning at them. 'I don't know,' she said doubtfully.

'I promise. No Quidditch team colors are in that lot.' Ron plucked one out of the bundle that reminded him of summer skies. 'How 'bout this one?' he suggested, waving the chip.

Hermione grabbed Ron's wrist and held it still. Not only was it making her dizzy, but she wanted to examine the color. She bit her lip indecisively. 'I don't know.'

Ron bit back a sigh. 'Hen, it's just paint. We can always go back and change it later, if you don't like it.'

Hermione heard the faint frustration lacing Ron's voice. I'm being difficult, aren't I?'

Ron stopped rubbing his forehead. 'No more than usual,' he sighed.

'I'm sorry...'

'Don't be. I just don't want to leave this until the last minute.'

Hermione pulled the sample from Ron's fingers. She fanned them out in her hands. There were about ten colors, ranging from pale yellow to mint green to the blue Ron favored. She knew why Ron wanted it. It would give an impression of being surrounded by nothing but sky. He could spend hours on his broom flying aimlessly.

She pulled out a pale yellow and set it next to the blue one. 'Either of these. Surprise me.'

'Really?' Ron looked at her raised eyebrows.

'Yeah.'

'You're not going to change your mind tomorrow morning, are you?'

'No. Those are the two options. I won't want to change my mind or the paint colors.'

Ron tucked the paint chips into his shirt pocket. He scrawled a note to Harry, who was going to help, to come over Saturday morning. Hermione was going to spend the day with Jane, shopping for Merlin knew what. Ron still hadn't figured out what else a baby needed besides a cot, some nappies, and a few clothes, regardless of what those barmy mags in the waiting area of St. Mungo's said. He wanted to try and get the room done by the time she got home. He silently cursed those magazines, for filling his head with images of painted walls, with the chair rail and window frames picked out in white. The cot in the corner facing the windows, hung with gauzy curtains that billowed gently in the breeze. A rocking chair next to a small table with a lamp on it that cast a soft glow in the night.

Ron shook his head. He really needed to finish the room soon. Before he turned into a girl.

*****

Hermione hurried down the rain-slick sidewalk. She was going to be late for her meeting with Percy. The last meeting with the Hogwarts elves had run long, but Hermione felt she had enough information to create a decent draft. She was so engrossed in mentally writing the first draft, that she didn't see the large crack in the sidewalk. The toe of her shoe caught in the uneven concrete, and she pitched forward, twisting in midair, landing with a grunt on her side.

Hermione lay there stunned for a several moments before she heard an insistent, 'Miss?' An unfamiliar face floated through the haze. 'Miss, are you all right?' And older man stood over her, holding out a hand.

'Uh...' Hermione accepted the outstretched hand and allowed him to assist her to her feet. Once she was upright, Hermione took a moment to examine the damage. She had twisted the ankle of the foot that had caught in the cracked sidewalk. It throbbed with each beat of her heart. She had ripped her trousers and one knee was scraped and bleeding, as was the palm of the hand that had skidded over the sidewalk when she landed.

'You ought to have those injuries seen to,' the man advised.

'I... I will.' Hermione pushed her wet hair out of her face.

'Do you need help getting to a hospital, miss?'

'No, thank you.'

'Let me at least hail you a taxi, then,' the man insisted. Hermione sighed, and nodded, feeling that he wouldn't go away unless she accepted his offers of help. He patted her arm and stepped to the curb to flag down one of the taxis whizzing by in the rain. One of them reluctantly slowed to a stop next to them, and the man handed Hermione into the back, and gave the driver a wad of notes for the fare.

Hermione gave the driver the intersection closest to the entrance of St. Mungo's. He looked back at her askance. 'Are you sure? That's a rather dodgy area, that is.'

'Family doctor's nearby,' Hermione lied smoothly. 'Been there for years.'

'If you say so,' the driver said dubiously.

Hermione leaned out of the window. The man still stood on the sidewalk. 'Thank you.'

He smiled. 'I have a daughter about your age, miss. I'd hate it if something like this happened to her.' He looked at the driver. 'Go on, then.'

The ride to St. Mungo's seemed to take ages. Hermione's immediate worry wasn't her hand or ankle, but Angus. She had tried to let her hands take the majority of the impact, but she couldn't avoid all contact between her stomach and the ground. She ran her uninjured hand run over and over her stomach, praying she hadn't harmed Angus. She felt him flutter inside and nearly wept with relief.

The taxi halted a few yards from the storefront entrance to the hospital. 'Gentleman already paid up for you...' The driver's voice faded and Hermione lowered her wand. She slipped her wand back into her bag, feeling a pang of guilt for modifying the driver's memory, but she didn't want him to ask a bunch of questions. She painfully pushed herself out of the backseat and hobbled to the entrance. 'Shanti Choudry, please.' The mannequin beckoned with a finger and Hermione limped through the window.

She turned down the hidden corridor to the maternity/neonatal wing. Shanti was in the waiting area, speaking to a vaguely familiar blonde witch, but in her anxiety, Hermione didn't take the time to search her memory for the name. Shanti looked up as Hermione came into the brighter light by the desk, and bid a hasty farewell to the witch before hurrying to Hermione. 'What happened to you?'

'I tripped.'

Shanti put an arm around Hermione and helped her to a room. 'Landed on your right side, did you?'

'Yeah.' Hermione grimaced as she eased onto the bed.

'Go ahead and change into that gown.' Shanti pointed to a folded green garment on the pillow. 'I'll go fetch something to clean those scrapes.'

Hermione peeled off her shirt and trousers, and pulled the gown over her head. Shanti knocked on the door and entered, carrying a tray with a few bottles and several pieces of gauze and cotton wool. She set the tray on a small table, and dampened a piece of cotton wool with a purple liquid and began to dab at the scrapes on Hermione's hand. She repeated the process on her knee, then spread a blue ointment over the deepest cut before covering it with a bandage. 'That should be better by morning.'

'That's good,' Hermione murmured distractedly, rubbing the side of her abdomen.

Shanti noticed the movements and calmly moved to Hermione's ankle. 'Are you cramping at all?'

'I don't think so.'

'Any bleeding?'

Hermione shook her head. 'No.'

Shanti laid a hand on Hermione's bare foot. 'See if you can push against my hand,' she directed, applying gentle pressure to the outside edge of the foot. Hermione pushed back against it. 'Good. Looks like it's just a mild sprain.' Shanti wrapped the ankle and put a Cooling charm on it. 'Lie back. I want to check the baby.'

Shanti draped a sheet over Hermione, and drew the gown up a bit to expose her stomach. She put the tip of her wand just below Hermione's navel and the familiar sounds of the baby's heartbeat filled the room. Hermione released the breath she had been holding. 'One hundred and forty-three beats per minute.' Shanti pulled the gown back down. 'I want you to stay here overnight.'

'But I can't!' Hermione started to sit up. 'I have a meeting with Percy, and I'm already horribly late for it.'

Shanti put a restraining hand on Hermione's shoulder. 'Yes, you can. You've taken a nasty spill and I'd like to keep you here for observation to make sure both you and the baby are all right.'

Hermione flopped back onto the pillows. 'Can someone call Ron?' she asked tiredly.

'I'll do it in a moment. You just lie back and relax.' Shanti slid a pillow under Hermione's right ankle. 'And stay off the ankle.' She left the room leaving Hermione alone.

She could feel Angus performing somersaults. Normally, she would have found it almost distracting, but at this moment, she welcomed the internal flutters. Shanti hadn't lifted the charm that allowed them to hear Angus' heartbeat, but without her wand to amplify the sounds, it had faded to the background, but it was still distinct. She shifted restlessly, needing someone to call Percy to reschedule the meeting.

Ron came pounding into the room, his magenta robes flying behind him. He had obviously dropped whatever he was doing and come directly from the shop, without pausing to take off his robes. 'Are you all right?' he demanded.

'Yes, I'm fine. Just a few scrapes and a sprained ankle.'

Ron picked up Hermione's bandaged hand. 'Did she use some sort of smelly purple potion on the scrapes?'

'Yes, she did. How did you know?'

Ron rolled his eyes. 'When you live in the same house as Fred and George, you keep a few bottles of that potion somewhere. You're bound to get more than your fair share of scrapes and cuts. Mum was always dabbing it on Fred, George, Ginny, or me. For a while, I thought all houses had a faint whiff of that stuff. You'll be good as new tomorrow.'

Hermione flexed her fingers. 'Good. I need to be able to hold a quill.'

'And the baby?' Ron rested a hand over Hermione's stomach. He couldn't feel it move yet, but Hermione had assured him Angus was quite active.

'She's fine. So far.'

'Or he.'

'Or he,' Hermione agreed.

'Shanti said you'll be here overnight.'

'Yeah.'

'I'm staying with you.'

'Ron, that's not necessary.'

'I'm staying with you, whether you want me to or not.' Ron crossed his arms over his chest, and his chin set stubbornly.

Hermione blew out a breath and looked up at Ron. 'Could you do a few things for me?'

Ron shrugged out of the robes and laid them over the arm of the chair next to the bed. 'Sure.'

Hermione began to tick a list of things to do on her fingers. 'Call Percy. We'll have to reschedule our meeting.' She began to think aloud. 'It's Wednesday today, so perhaps Friday or Monday...'

'Okay.' Ron started to leave the room.

'And I need that stack of books on the bookcase in the sitting room next to the kitchen door.'

'Got it.' Ron's hand landed on the doorknob.

'And I promised Mum I'd ring her today, but I left the mobile at home. Can you give her a quick ring and let her know what happened? And tell her I'll talk to her tomorrow?' she asked anxiously. The mobile, like all electronic devices, wouldn't work in St. Mungo's - too much interference from the magic.

Ron's eyes got wider, but he nodded, twisting the doorknob.

'And bring me a change of clothes?'

The corner of Ron's mouth twitched. 'Oh, I thought I'd just let you go home in that get up,' he smirked, letting go of the doorknob to flick the sleeve of Hermione's gown, neatly dodging the cuff she aimed at his head. 'Anything in particular?'

'Just don't bring me something that clashes horribly.'

'So that's a no to the plaid skirt and the striped jumper?'

'Considering I can't fit into either of them... Yeah, that would be a no.'

'Anything else?' Ron edged toward the door once more. His head was beginning to hurt from the list of things that would have taken the rest of Hermione's afternoon and most of the evening.

'Yeah. Bring me the book on my night table.'

Ron frowned. 'I thought you were supposed to rest.'

'I am resting,' insisted Hermione. 'See? I'm lying down and everything.'

'You're working.'

'Ron, you know just as well as I do that if I don't have those things I will go mad thinking about it.'

'I know,' he admitted reluctantly. 'I'll be back in a bit.'

Ron left Hermione's room and darted to an Apparition point. He went to the Ministry and took the lift to the offices the held the Minister and his staff. Knocking on the partially open door, Ron slipped inside. Percy was working at a large desk in an airy room that led to the Minister's private office doing some paperwork with one eye on his watch. 'Perce?'

Percy glanced up. 'You wouldn't happen to know where Hermione is, do you? She's over an hour late. That's not like her.' He frowned disapprovingly.

Ron ran a hand through his hair. 'Uh, yeah. She slipped and fell on her way over here. She's in St. Mungo's until tomorrow.'

'Is she all right?' Percy asked distractedly.

'Yeah. They just want to make sure the baby's okay.'

'Good...' Percy was already engrossed in his paperwork once more.

'Uh, Perce?'

'Yes?'

'Can you meet with Hermione Friday or Monday?'

'Uh-huh.'

Ron sighed. 'Percy? Which day?'

'Yeah...'

'Percival!' Ron yelled.

'What?' Percy snapped.

'Friday or Monday?' Ron ground out between clenched teeth.

Percy flipped through a desk calendar. 'Monday.'

'Thanks.' Ron turned on his heel, and left, getting all the way to the lift before remembering he had forgotten to set a time. He sprinted back to Percy's desk and skidded to a halt. 'Percy?'

'Yes?' Percy looked at Ron over the rims of his glasses.

'First thing Monday?'

'Yes.'

Ron nodded and left, trying to remember what was next on the list. Jane, books, and clothes, he repeated to himself, over and over, hoping he didn't forget anything.

The fireplaces weren't busy at this time of day, so Ron Flooed to their flat. 'Right, Jane first.' He found Hermione's mobile and dialed the house in Oxford. While he waited for Jane to answer the phone, Ron found his old schoolbag in the cupboard by the front door, and started to stuff the books stacked on the bookcase into it.

'Hello?'

'Jane, it's Ron.'

'What's wrong?' Jane asked, the worry radiating across the phone.

'Nothing,' Ron said quickly. 'She just tripped and fell. Shanti wants to keep an eye on her for the night.' He grunted slightly as he hefted the laden bag to his shoulder and took it into the bedroom. 'She's got a few bumps and scrapes, but she's all right.'

'That's good.'

'She'll give you a ring in the morning, or whenever she gets home from the hospital.'

'She's not planning on going in to work tomorrow, is she?'

'I hope not,' Ron muttered. 'Hermione'll stay off her feet tomorrow if I have to bloody sit on her.'

'Do you need me to come by tomorrow? I can easily take the morning off.'

Ron started to tell Jane no, that it would be all right, but he found himself saying, 'Yeah, that would be great.'

'I'll try to make it as casual as possible. So she doesn't think we're ganging up on her.'

'Thanks,' Ron said fervently. He hit the "off" button and threw the phone into the middle of the bed. He walked to the bureau and rooted through a drawer for a jumper for Hermione. He then found a pair of trousers she'd favored a lot recently, because they fit her growing girth, and she still hadn't found time to go to Godric's Hollow and raid Ginny's things from when she'd been pregnant with James. He stuffed the clothing into the bag, and snatched the book from the night table.

Ron hauled the bag to his shoulder and staggered slightly under its weight. He made his way back to the sitting room, and considered Flooing, but the extra weight on his back would make it awkward. Sighing, Ron Apparated back to the waiting area of St. Mungo's. He still hated Apparition after all this time. It made him queasy.

He pushed open the door to Hermione's room. She had been tucked under the bedding, and the whooshing pulse of the baby's heartbeat still echoed softly in the background. Ron swung the bag to the chair and dropped to the foot of the bed. 'How are you doing?'

Hermione stopped the idle twiddling of her thumbs and glowered at Ron. 'I'm bored.' She started to swing her feet to the floor.

Ron gently pushed her back into the pillows. 'What do you think you're doing? You're supposed to stay off the ankle!'

She looked up at him. 'I have to go to the loo. Or are you going to carry me in there?'

'I could,' Ron challenged her.

'Just help me walk over there.' Hermione sighed. All this enforced inactivity was going to send her to a nice padded room soon. She didn't know what to do if she didn't have a massive list of things to accomplish before dinner. Between Shanti and Ron, she'd be lucky to write her first draft, much less open one of the books Ron brought. Hermione edged into the bathroom, Ron's arm around her waist. He was practically carrying her as it was. She looked at Ron, standing next to her. 'Do you mind? Really not in a mood to pee in front of you right now.'

Ron started. 'Oh, right.' He blushed and jerked his thumb at the door. 'I'll just be out there, then.'

Hermione watched Ron close the door and shook her head. She sincerely hoped the rest of the pregnancy was uneventful. Otherwise, she was going to have to strangle Ron. Hermione couldn't stand hovering. And Ron had a tendency to hover sometimes.

It was going to be an interesting night, if the past hour was any indication.

*****

Ron leaned forward and pillowed his head on his folded arms next to Hermione. 'Night, hen.'

'You're not going to sleep like that, are you?'

'I've slept in worse positions.'

'You won't sleep at all.'

Ron snorted. 'I can sleep anywhere.'

Hermione stared at the top of Ron's head. 'Ron?'

'Hmmm?'

'Could you... Sleep up here?'

'Will I fit?' he asked, opening one eye.

'I'll make you fit,' she promised.

Ron sat up and moved to the edge of the bed. 'Budge up, then will you? I'm certainly not seventeen anymore.'

Hermione giggled and slid over a bit, enough to allow Ron to lie on his side, facing Hermione. She turned her head to look at him. 'Have you thought of names yet?'

'Not really,' he replied, his eyes closed. 'Have you?'

'A bit,' she allowed.

'We're not using Ronald as a middle name for a boy,' Ron stated flatly.

'Fine. Then we're not using Hermione as a middle name for a girl. Too damn complicated to try and pronounce.' Hermione shrugged.

'Well...' Ron began. 'While we're on the subject, do you mind not naming the baby after any family members at all?' Ron picked up his head a bit. 'I mean, if you want to name it after your dad, that's all right.'

Hermione shook her head. 'No. Not after any family members.'

'Not even after your dad?'

'Nope. I love my dad, but I want Angus to have his own name and identity.' One of Ron's hands lay on the bulge of the baby, and Hermione picked it up and laced her fingers through it. 'If we want to name it after Dad, I'm sure we can find some other way to do it, besides using Richard.' She chewed her lip for a moment before continuing quietly, 'It's the only thing Harry and Ginny have done that I absolutely disagree with them.'

'Why?'

'Don't get me wrong. I understand why he's named James after his father and Sirius, but don't you think it's an awful burden for a child? To try and live up to some nearly unreasonable expectation?'

'I suppose.' Ron's thumb slid back and forth across the back of Hermione's hand. 'I was thinking Beatrice for a girl.'

'Beatrice? Where'd you get that one?'

'Remember that book I got you for your birthday? -Much Ado About Nothing, I think it's called?'

'Yes...'

'I read it one weekend. After your dad...' Ron swallowed. 'Died.'

'You did? You read a book?'

Ron gave Hermione a censorious look down his long nose. 'I can read, you know. I just don't read like you do.'

'I know...'

'Anyway,' Ron said, picking up the thread of conversation. 'I'd like our daughter to be like that. Fierce. Protective. Smart. Spunky. Independent. Capable of insane amounts of love.'

'We'll put it on the list, then.' Hermione smiled at the idea of Ron wanting to use a name from a book.

'What if it's a boy?' Ron asked.

'We're not using Angus,' Hermione said automatically.

'Merlin, no. I don't want him to get roughed up at the play park.' Ron sniggered. 'Like Percy did when Fred called him Percival.'

'We don't have to decide right now,' Hermione yawned.

'No, we don't.' Ron laid his head back on the pillow next to Hermione. 'We've got plenty of time.'

Ron fell asleep, listening to the sound of the baby's heartbeat, whooshing softly in the background, his hand over Hermione's heart, feeling the steady throb of her pulse under his palm.

Sleep didn't come as easily to Hermione. She lay awake into the night, fretting about Angus. What if she had hurt him, and they couldn't tell? He's not even born yet, and I'm already dropping him. The whole day had only added to her worries about not being a good enough mother. It was like being in the dormitory sixth year, listening to Lavender and Parvati talk about boys. When they had talked about what they had done and with whom, it made Hermione cringe a little. She had only kissed Viktor the one time. And that had been over two years ago. Now, she had earned the privilege of listening to other witches talk about their children, and how advanced they were for their ages and all the oh-so-motherly things they did for their children. Like bake fresh biscuits every day. Teach them French when they were two.

It was the dormitory all over again.

Only this time, the stakes were much, much higher. And it made Hermione feel wholly inadequate.