Burning Down the House

'Ron?'

'Yeah?'

'Stop talking...' Hermione pushed the sheer white curtains away from the window. She could see their small plot, with the bare canes of the rose bushes.

Ron came behind her, and wrapped his arms around her. 'I'm glad you like it.'

'I love it.'

*****

'Thanks, hen.' Ron kissed Hermione's cheek and slumped against her a little. The adrenaline that had been keeping him going since midnight was wearing off and he was dying to climb into bed and go to sleep. He was thrilled that Hermione liked the room, and he would get excited about it. Later. When he had gotten some sleep.

He led her back into their bedroom, and crawled into the bed, collapsing with exhaustion, burrowing into the pillow. He felt the mattress on the other side of the bed dip as Hermione eased into the bed. Ron was just about to fall asleep when Hermione voice came out of the darkness. 'I'm hungry.'

Ron lifted his head from his pillow. 'What? Now?'

'Yes. I want ice cream.'

'There's some in the freezer,' Ron groaned, settling into the bed.

'But it's strawberry,' Hermione protested.

'So?'

'I don't want strawberry...'

Ron refrained from pulling the pillow over his head. 'So go get what you want,' he nearly snarled

'But it's cold outside,' she whined. 'Please, Ron...'

Ron lay motionless for a moment. He took a deep breath and refrained from shouting. 'Fine. What do you want?'

'I don't know...'

Ron yanked the pillow from under his head and pressed it over his face, groaning loudly into it. He pulled it away, to find Hermione had turned the light next to the bed on, and was glaring at him. 'What?'

'You're being a git,' she informed him loftily.

'You're being difficult,' he retorted. She was staring daggers at him, her fingers caressing the handle of her wand. Without a word, she flicked it at him, and he began to twist as it felt like hundreds of fingers were tickling him mercilessly. 'No fair,' he gasped.

'Be grateful it's not the birds!' she snapped, growing increasingly cranky.

'I think I'd almost prefer those bloody birds,' he panted. She lifted the charm, and Ron lay there, wheezing slightly. Before she could cast the next spell, Ron rolled off the bed. 'Fine...' he grumbled. 'I've only been up since eight this morning, put in a full day at the shop, came home, and spent the next nine hours getting our baby's room ready, and will be at Mum's tomorrow early to help get lunch ready, but sure... I'll go and get my darling wife some bleeding ice cream,' he muttered darkly.

'There's a Tesco Express on Charing Cross that's open all night,' Hermione said crisply.

'Whatever,' Ron growled. He pulled on a sweatshirt and his paint-splattered jeans and stalked out of the bedroom.

'Don't get strawberry!' she called after him.

Ron nearly slammed the front door. 'Serve her right if I did bring back strawberry.' He Apparated to an alley close to the shop on Charing Cross that she had mentioned and went inside the brightly lit store. He grabbed the first carton his hand landed on from the freezer and nearly threw it at the poor clerk. 'Sorry,' he mumbled. 'It's not you.'

'Pregnant wife?' the young man asked sympathetically.

'Yes...'

'Are you sure you want the diet stuff?' The clerk had seen many other people wearing the exact same aggrieved expression; grab the first thing they saw, only to return in less than twenty minutes for something else.

'Huh?' Ron turned the carton over in his hands, the unnaturally skinny cow of the logo coming into focus. 'It's got chocolate in it, it'll be fine.' He handed the clerk a few pounds and left the store. He Disapparated back to the flat, and went into the bedroom. 'Here.'

'This isn't ice cream,' Hermione stated calmly.

'What?'

'It's not ice cream. It's nearly fat-free, for Merlin's sake!'

'It's after three in the morning, Hermione, does it really matter?'

'Yes, it does.'

His ears turning a rather dangerous shade of magenta, Ron snatched the offending tub of ice cream, and tossed it into the air, jabbing his wand at it, muttering, 'Evanesco!' He turned to Hermione. 'It would help,' he said icily. 'If you would tell me what you want exactly.'

'Anything but that rubbish you brought back.'

'I think I'd rather deal with the damn birds than this,' Ron snarled, stomping out of the room, and going back to the store. He stood in front of the freezer, and grabbed something called "Half-Baked". 'If this isn't good enough, I quit.' The name of the ice cream summed up his attitude toward Hermione right now. He queued up behind a few harried looking people and met the clerk from earlier. 'Next time, I'll take your advice,' he said grumpily.

'I did try to warn you, mate,' the clerk said sympathetically.

'Thanks,' Ron said tiredly and went back home. He took the ice cream to Hermione. 'Is this good enough, Your Highness?' he asked, dropping the carrier back to the bed.

'I don't suppose you'd be willing to find satay...?'

'Oh, that's it.' Ron started to leave. 'I'm done.' He stood in the doorway, and his hand clutching around the frame. 'I am tired, Hermione. I have been awake and going for nearly twenty hours today, and I want to go to sleep, not gallivant all over London looking for some bloody ice cream!'

He Disapparated to Harry and Ginny's house, not wanting to use the Floo this late at night. He was likely to get hexed by either his sister or his brother-in-law. He walked up to the front door and began pounding on it with his fist.

*****

Harry jerked awake, sitting up abruptly, dislodging Ginny from his arms. 'What the...?' he mumbled. The sound of something knocking on the door brought him to full consciousness. He grabbed his glasses and shoved them on his nose.

'What time is it?' Ginny asked, shoving her hair from her face with one hand. She peered across the bed and frowned at the alarm clock. 'It's three-thirty,' she groaned. 'Whoever it is better have a damn good reason.' She cocked her head toward the partially open bedroom door, where she could hear James beginning to whimper, ready to kill the wanker who woke her son. She slid out of bed, and started to go to James' room. 'I'll go see to James and you go hex the git who's banging on our door.'

'Are you going to go like that?' Harry inquired dubiously. 'I mean, I like the view and all, but it might give James a complex to see you naked.' He groped on the floor next to the bed for his abandoned t-shirt and tossed it to her. She caught it one-handed, pulling it over her head. He slid out of the bed, regretfully, taking his wand from the night table, and scanned the bedroom for his boxers. Ginny had thrown them carelessly across the room earlier. He spied them dangling from one of the bedposts, and reaching up to retrieve them, he wondered how on Earth they ended up there. He grabbed them and yanked them on as he descended the stairs. 'This better be good,' he sighed, opening the door.

Ron stood on the other side, beginning to shiver, now that his rage was beginning to wear off. He blinked at the sight of Harry's wand, slightly elevated, dressed in only a pair of boxers. 'This is a bad time, isn't it?' Ron gulped.

'No, just woke us up.' Harry pulled Ron into the front hallway. 'Is everything all right?'

'I just need somewhere to sleep tonight, or what's left of it.'

'Sure, mate. Teddy's room is available. Or you can kip on the sofa.' Harry's eyes creased in concern. 'Want to talk about it?'

'No.'

'Hermione didn't like the room?'

'No. She loved it.' Ron collapsed on the sofa and rested his elbows on his knees. He looked up at the sound of James snuffling and his face nearly crumpled. Ginny gave Harry a questioning look, and Harry just shrugged in reply. 'I just need to sleep, okay?' he said hoarsely.

'All right.' Harry went to a cupboard near the stairs, and pulled out a spare blanket and a pillow. 'Here. Just let us know if you need anything. There's a new toothbrush in the bathroom, too.'

'Thanks,' Ron said dully.

Harry started to go up the stairs, but Ginny's frantic waves made him stop. She pointed to the kitchen, and made drinking motions, then pointed to James, who was lying against her shoulder, sucking his thumb. Harry switched directions and went to the kitchen to fetch a small bottle of juice for James. On his way back upstairs, Ron's voice stopped him. 'Was Gin ever unreasonable when she was pregnant?' Ron hadn't noticed that Ginny still stood halfway down the stairs.

'Ginny? Sure she was.' Harry handed the bottle to Ginny, who narrowed her eyes at him. 'She threatened to make me have the next one. More than once.' He went to the sofa and perched on an arm. 'She kept the flat so damn cold, the last two months, I wore two layers of clothes to bed. And she thought I was the one who was mad.'

'Yeah, but did she ever make any... Unreal demands...?' Ron's head had tipped to the back of the sofa, and he blinked owlishly at Harry.

'A few times.' Harry lightly cuffed Ron on the shoulder. 'It'll get better. I promise.'

'Mmm-hmmm.' Ron's eyes closed and he began to breathe deeply. He started to snore softly and Harry unfurled the blanket and draped it over Ron. Personally, Harry had almost been waiting for the two of them to have a spat like that. They'd been almost too agreeable lately. If he didn't know better, Harry would have thought they were under some sort of spell. He tiptoed up to his bedroom, and joined Ginny in their bed.

'What's going on?' she asked, snuggling into him.

'No idea.' Harry pulled his glasses off and dropped them on the night table with a clatter. He slowly exhaled and pulled Ginny closer. 'Maybe he'll talk in the morning.'

*****

Hermione set the carton of ice cream in the freezer, and padded back into the baby's room, Crookshanks at her heels. It really is beautiful, she thought. Ron had spent a great deal of time and effort putting it together. She picked up the bunny from the crib, straightening its small t-shirt as she lowered herself into the rocking chair. Ron had bent over backwards for her for a long time. For months. At the very least, since her father's death. He had done everything she had asked without a peep, and then some. She fingered the bunny's soft, floppy ears, her finger trailing around the collar of the Cannons shirt it wore. She had known as much as Ron huffed about people buying useless things for their babies, he hadn't been able to resist adding the bunny.

She held the bunny against her chest. It had been over a year since she and Ron had had a fight like that one. As much as they bickered, it frightened her. The bickering was without heat, more habit than anything else. It didn't make Ron want to leave.

He was right. She could have gone herself, and not made him go fetch the ice cream for her. Or, she could have just eaten the strawberry in the freezer.

She'd been unforgivably selfish. Hermione had a good idea where Ron had gone. Most likely, he was at Harry and Ginny's. She considered going after him, but Ron had been quite angry and she had learned it was generally best to leave him be, and let him calm down. He wouldn't listen to her until then. Hermione pushed herself to her feet, and replaced the bunny in the cot. When she went back into the bedroom, she crawled into bed and curled up around a pillow. Crookshanks followed her back into the bedroom, and jumped on the foot of the bed. He snuggled into the small of her back, purring deeply, the rumble vibrating against her back. She reached back and scratched his head, the fluffy fur soft under her fingers.

Tears gathered under her eyelids as she realized Ron hadn't even noticed the cradle at the foot of the bed. She had been looking forward to showing it to him, and telling him all the things Molly had said about it, and her anticipation of sharing it with Ron slipped a bit.

*****

Ron woke up with a snort, the back of his hand smearing the thin line of drool from the corner of his mouth across his cheek. He sat up, looking wildly around him. He was in Harry and Ginny's sitting room, a blanket pooled around his waist. His nose twitched as the scents of tea, eggs, bacon, and toast drifted in from the kitchen. A pair of Harry's jeans and a clean shirt and jumper sat on one of the armchairs. Ginny came down the stairs, bundled in her dressing gown, James in her arms. 'Morning,' she said, dying to know what had brought Ron to their door last night.

'Morning,' Ron replied. He indicated the jeans with a hand. 'Harry does realize he's a head shorter than me, doesn't he?'

Ginny looked down at James. 'Uncle Ron's being silly,' she told her son. 'There's this little thing we can use called magic that can make a pair of Daddy's jeans fit Uncle Ron.' She glanced at Ron. 'Go have a wash, and come get some breakfast.'

Ron picked up the clothes and made his way to the stairs. 'Hey, Gin?'

'Yeah?'

'Thanks. For...' Ron jerked his head at the sofa.

Ginny reached over and gathered Ron into a one-armed hug. 'It's no problem.'

After Ron had taken a shower and dressed, he slowly went down to the kitchen, standing in the doorway, looking at Harry, Ginny, and James. James was clumsily pinching banana slices between his fingers, and in the attempt to put them in his mouth, missed more often than not. It was a cozy scene - Harry's hair even more tousled than usual, Ginny in her dressing gown and slippers, and James between them, dressed in pajamas printed with dragons. He took a step back, intending to leave quietly, so as not to intrude on their familial bliss. As his foot came down, the floor creaked, and Harry looked up. 'Hey.' He pulled out a chair, and patted the back of it. 'Have a seat. Can I get you some breakfast?'

Ron's stomach twisted slightly at the mention of breakfast and he shook his head. He sat in the proffered chair, and poured a cup of tea for himself, and held the cup in both hands, sipping it slowly. 'Unc' Rah!' James waved his chubby fist in Ron's face. He held up a banana slice, offering it to Ron. Ron smiled and leaned down and ate the banana slice, making James squeal in delight. He noticed Harry and Ginny using a form of sign language that was made up of eyebrow movements, and knew she was trying to get Harry to ask Ron about last night.

'We had a fight about ice cream,' Ron said shortly. 'It was three in the morning, and she sent me out to get ice cream. And I hadn't even been to bed yet.' He raised his cup to his lips and took a slow sip.

'All pregnant women are barking this late,' Harry said. 'No offense,' he added hastily to Ginny.

'None taken,' she chuckled.

'This wasn't barking,' Ron commented. 'This was completely and totally unreasonable. After I brought the ice cream, she wanted me to go around London to find a bloody satay stand still open. At three in the morning!' he repeated.

Harry sighed. 'I know,' he said sympathetically. 'But you can't just walk out like that. You know Hermione, she's probably worried sick.'

'I know...' Ron set the cup on the table. 'I'm going to go help Mum get lunch started. I'll... I'll talk to her later. Thanks for the tea...' He ruffled James' hair and left the kitchen, going into the sitting room to Floo to the Burrow.

*****

Hermione stumbled out of the fireplace in the sitting room of the Burrow. She caught herself before she tripped over her own feet and followed the sounds of cutlery on plates into the kitchen. It was well after one. She had tossed and turned until six that morning, and then fallen into a fitful sleep, and hadn't managed to drag herself from the bed until noon. She pushed the door of the kitchen open, and the chatter slowly died as everyone noticed that Ron hadn't even glanced up at her. 'Hermione, dear, you don't look well,' Molly said, coming to the door. 'Why don't you go on up to Ginny's old room, and lie down for a bit.' Molly steered Hermione up the stairs to the first floor and into Ginny's room. 'I'll have Ron bring you some soup,' she said softly, helping Hermione settle on the bed. 'You two need to talk,' Molly stated.

'I know.' Hermione twisted the edge of the blanked Molly laid over her.

'Don't worry, Hermione. You know how Ron's temper gets the best of him at times.'

'I was terrible to him...' Hermione said in a low voice.

'You're pregnant,' Molly snorted. 'You've got more hormones than blood right now. You're not really yourself right now.'

'That's no excuse...'

'What happened? He wouldn't say.'

Hermione sighed. 'He finished the baby's room late last night. Or early this morning, depending on how you want to look at it. And he made me get up and look at it, and when we went back to bed, I was hungry, and wanted some ice cream.'

'And you got into a spat over that?'

'We had a carton in the freezer already, and I sent him out for some...'

'Pffft.' Molly waved it off. 'I sent Arthur to Manchester for samosas when I was carrying the twins. He was a mite displeased, I can tell you.'

'Did he bring the wrong ones?' Hermione asked sardonically. 'I didn't know what kind I wanted, and he just grabbed something. So I sent him back out.'

'That's part of the job,' Molly countered.

'Then I wanted satay to go with the ice cream.'

'Ah.' Molly nodded. 'I can see how that might tip him over the edge a bit.'

'It was complete disaster.'

'It'll blow over. It takes Ron a while to calm down sometimes.' Molly leaned over to give Hermione a hug. 'I'll send Ron up with that soup when I get back down to the kitchen.'

Hermione nodded and leaned back against the pillows. In a minute, she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. They were too heavy to be Molly's. Ron's head poked through the door. 'Can I come in?' he mumbled. Hermione nodded, and Ron came through the door, bearing a tray containing a large bowl of soup, a glass of milk, and a couple of bread rolls. He set the tray on her lap, and turned around. Hermione thought he was going to leave, but he closed the door and pulled out the chair of Ginny's old desk, and sat down.

Hermione picked up the spoon and began to stir the soup. Ron didn't look like he'd slept much, and he was nervously pulling each finger, until the knuckle popped. 'I'm sorry,' she said into the yawning silence. 'I wasn't thinking.' She looked up at Ron. 'Well, I was, but not with my brain. My stomach was doing the talking...'

Ron shrugged. 'I snapped. I was tired and I just snapped.'

'You've done so much for me the last year. Between Dad and the baby, and I haven't always been appreciative of it.'

'It's fine.'

'You've done more to get ready for this baby than I have.'

'If you're talking about the room, I wanted to do that. You've taken care of all the other stuff, like clothes and nappies, and whatever rubbish babies need.' Ron gestured in her direction. 'And you're the one doing all the hard work.'

Hermione ate a few bites of the soup. 'Where did you go?'

'Harry and Ginny's. I slept on their sofa.' Ron rubbed a hand over his face. 'Not that I slept much...'

'I thought you might have gone there.' She toyed with the soup.

'Drink your milk,' Ron ordered. Hermione raised her eyebrow, but she picked up the glass and drained the milk. 'Are you going to eat the soup or play with it?'

'I'm not really hungry,' she confessed.

Ron picked up the tray and set it on the desk. 'Budge up then. I'm too tired to keep my eyelids open anymore.'

Hermione scooted over to make room for Ron on the narrow bed. 'Ron?'

'Yeah?' He paused, one knee on the bed.

'Can you open the window? It's stifling in here.'

Ron's mouth dropped open. 'Are you mad? It's nearly freezing out there!'

'You can have the blanket and I'll put a nice Warming charm on it,' Hermione offered. 'Just open the window a bit.'

Ron bit back a sigh, and crossed the room to the single window in Ginny's bedroom. He nudged it open a few inches and crawled into the bed next to his wife. He turned onto his side, and flung an arm over the bulge of their child. Hermione turned her head on the pillow. There were bluish smudges under Ron's eyes. 'Your mum gave us her old cradle yesterday.'

'What cradle?' Ron asked sleepily.

'The one her brother Gideon made. Before Bill was born.'

'She did?' Ron's eyes opened. 'Blimey. I didn't think she'd ever give that up.'

'Said Fabian used to rock you in it when you got fussy.'

'Yeah. There's a photograph at the flat of that. It's in a box in the hall cupboard.' Ron shifted a bit as he settled into the mattress. 'Wonder why she gave it to us...?' he mumbled.

'Why wouldn't she?' Hermione asked sharply.

The tone of her voice made Ron's head come off the pillow. 'I dunno. I thought she might have given it to Bill. Family heirloom and all,' he said defensively.

'She gave it to us. Because there's so many memories connected to it of her brothers, and because you never got to know them.' Hermione fingered the faded scar spiraling up from Ron's wrist. 'It's why she gave the rocking chair to Ginny. She thought you ought to have something of theirs.'

'And we got the cradle because Fabian spent countless nights rocking me in it?'

'Something like that.'

'That's nice...' Ron murmured. He fell asleep in moments, worn out by the past two days.

Hermione lay awake far longer, the image of that note lying in pieces in their rubbish bin, curling through her mind. While she tended to brush off such things as the workings of a crackpot witch or wizard, it nibbled at the edge of her mind, making her worry slightly.

What if there was more to it than someone who was averse to change? There were still plenty of those types around.

Hermione shook her head slightly. She would ignore it. Just like she had done with the other nasty letters she had received in school. She wouldn't - couldn't - give the letter-writer the satisfaction of knowing the letters had rattled her in the slightest. And if she ignored them, they would go away.

Or so she hoped.