Honestly, Hermione

Chapter Thirteen: Revelations

Ron smiled and winked at the florist, taking the large bouquet of flowers he'd chosen. He couldn't remember Hermione's favorite flower, but he knew every woman liked to be surprised with flowers. He whistled as he walked up the street toward Hermione's flat. He had some brilliant news to tell her.

***

Hermione stared into her closet and wondered what she was going to wear for Jamie's christening tomorrow. Lately all her clothes had begun feeling tight. Apparently her appetite for chocolate frogs had had an adverse effect on her waistline. Normally, Hermione was the least vain of women. Her dress size had changed little over the years, but every now and then it fluctuated. It had never bothered her before.

But Ron was coming this weekend. She had to tell him about Hogwarts. And she was selfish enough to wish for the added armor of looking good when she told him. Even her dress robes hung a little differently. It was enough to drive her mad. Why this weekend? Why now? She didn't have time to go shopping!

Sighing, she picked up her wand and tucked it into her little black purse, then apparated into London.

***

Ron knocked on Hermione's door. Waited. Knocked again. When there was still no answer, he rolled his eyes. Women! Well, he thought, he'd surprise her with flowers some other day. He discreetly pointed his wand at the door and unlocked it. He let himself in and conjured up a vase for the flowers. He shrugged. Might as well wait in comfort, he decided, relaxing on the futon.

In a minute, he was snoring lightly.

***

Two hours and several large bags later, Hermione reapparated in the middle of her small flat and almost screamed when she saw Ron. She hadn't expected him until later that night. He always came later at night.

Ron was jolted from his nap by her bit-off scream and smiled lazily. "Hello, 'Mione."

She dropped her packages, stepped over to the futon, and slugged him on the shoulder. "Ron Weasley, you scared me! What are you doing here so early?" She glared at him. "Honestly, Ron. I'm not ready for you to be here yet. Didn't you even stop to see your parents, or your sister?"

Ron shook his head, trying to make sense of Hermione's tirade. Then he stopped himself. Since when had he ever really understood what Hermione was pontificating about?

Hermione sighed, giving up. It was useless to be angry with Ron Weasley. He just tuned her out and went his merry way. She wondered if his blithe spirit ever annoyed his boss. Then she leaned in and gave him a welcoming kiss. "It's good to see you again," she told him.

Ron smiled and kissed her back. This was more the welcome he had hoped for.

***

A few hours later, they lingered in the kitchen, snacking on the amazing array of food in Hermione's normally empty refrigerator. She had exclaimed over the bouquet, pleased that Ron had remembered how much she loved wildflowers. Ron decided not to illuminate her. He watched her pick at a meatloaf she had made the day before - Hermione made a meatloaf? he asked himself - and was suddenly struck by how much he adored this woman.

Hermione had always been the only woman for him. These past seven years without her had been perhaps the worst seven years of his life. Not that he'd lived such a long and varied life, but pain was pain, and emptiness was emptiness, and he didn't want it to happen again. He didn't want her to ever disappear from his life again.

All summer long, ever since Harry and Ginny managed to get them back together again, Ron had marvelled at his good fortune and plotted how to keep Hermione near. It had been a grueling summer; transatlantic apparation took a lot out of a wizard, and his work wasn't exactly a walk in the park. Still, it was worth it. Every moment he could steal away to Hermione's side was worth weeks of sleepless nights and months of exhausted days. It was worth the crap he took from the other guys in his outfit, worth the ribbing he got every time he saw Harry or Ginny or any of his family. Hermione - she was worth it all. He couldn't wait to tell her.

"'Mione?"

"Mm-hmm?" she answered, sipping a glass of fizzy lemonade.

"I have something to tell you."

She put her glass down. "I have something to tell you, too." She smiled. "You go first."

***

When Ron reached for her hand, Hermione felt the cool finger of fear tracing down her spine. He wasn't going to propose again, was he? Because she couldn't do it. As much as she loved Ron (and she freely admitted that yes, she loved ordinary, non-genius, strikingly handsome and irritatingly stubborn Ron Weasley), she was not prepared to give up her newly awarded teaching position to follow him to America. She'd been to the States once, and she had always thought London a hundred times superior to New York. She couldn't imagine trying to make a life in that country, even for Ron. But she knew there was no way she could explain all that to Ron and make him understand. Please, don't let him propose, she prayed.

He didn't. "I've been transferred, 'Mione. Here. Starting in September, I'll be working for the British Aurors. With Harry, actually. I'm moving back to London."

Hermione closed her eyes, relief flooding her veins. He wasn't proposing. He was coming back home. Back to London. Back to...her.

She opened her eyes. No going back now. She had to tell him.

***

Ron watched her bite her lower lip and felt his temper rise. What? What was she hiding from him? Didn't she want him to come back? Didn't she?

***

"I got a job, Ron."

He nodded. "I know. Writing. You told me before, remember?"

She nodded slowly. "I mean a real job. A teaching position." She bit her lip again. "At Hogwarts."

He grinned. "Really? That's awesome, 'Mione." Had he just said "awesome?" Hermione wondered, hiding a grin. "Harry owes me a hundred pounds." Now she was completely lost. Didn't he understand? Apparently not. She tried to focus on what Ron was saying. "In sixth year, Harry and Ginny said you'd probably take some lucrative research position in the Ministry of Magic, since you're about the smartest witch in Britain. I figured you'd end up teaching back at Hogwarts." He shook his head ruefully. "Only thing Malfoy and I ever agreed on. Ginny dared Malfoy to place a wager on it. And I bet Harry. He owes me a hundred pounds." He winked at her. "Think I should tell him tomorrow?"

"Ron!" she shouted. That got his attention. "Don't you get it? Hogwarts. The one place in Great Britain more protected from outsiders than Harry's house. I'll be there. You'll be here. You won't be able to apparate in anytime you please. We won't be able to see each other. Not like before. Not like now."

***

Ron thought Hermione was getting awfully emotional over nothing. There were a dozen ways to get around the spells that guarded Hogwarts from the rest of the world. She knew them. They'd used them after getting stuck in Hogsmeade with Harry and Draco Malfoy a few times. Hermione had been the one to tell the boys how to get back into the school after Filch had found the last secret tunnel. She'd threatened not to tell them - served them right for getting into yet another fight - but finally relented...with a little cajoling from yours truly.

Ron smiled at the memory of cajoling Hermione in a number of different situations. He leaned back in the rickety old kitchen chair, enjoying the memories.

"Ron!"

Hermione's demanding voice jolted him back to the present. "Calm down, Hermione. We'll work it out. Remember? You're a genius, and I'm a master strategist. I'm sure we can work something out. It can't be any worse than being separated by an ocean, can it?" He stood and rounded the table to stand behind her. Massaging her shoulders and planting kisses in her wild hair, he said, "So tell me about your new job. What subject are you going to teach? You're not the new DADA teacher, are you?" Tradition begun while they were students had not changed. Every year, there was a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. No one seemed able to keep the position for more than a year.

***

Hermione wanted to argue more, talk through all the options, come up with a sensible plan for their relationship. She couldn't help it. She was a sensible woman at heart. But Ron had some magic in those long fingers of his, and she found herself relaxing under his ministrations.

Instead of staying up half the night fighting, they spent the night wrapped in each other's arms. Hermione pretended to sleep, listening to Ron's even breathing, and let her mind fly through a thousand possibilities.

Around four o'clock, she finally fell asleep.

***

Ginny noticed the change in Hermione the minute the woman apparated into the Potter home. Her glance shot to Ron, who looked awfully sure of himself. She raised an eyebrow at Harry, then rolled her eyes when he didn't get the message. Ginny adored her husband with every once of her being, but sometimes she had to admit that he was just...thick...when it came to some things. Ginny guessed that if she wanted to hear Hermione's news, she was going to have to ask her friend herself. She gave Jamie to Harry and left him to entertain their guests (for the entire Weasley clan had come to give their blessing to James Henry Potter) for a minute while Ginny spoke to Hermione in private.

Molly Weasley's ever-sharp eyes followed her only daughter across the crowded living room, then watched as Hermione turned deathly pale at whatever Ginny said. Molly nodded to herself. It was obvious. Hermione didn't know. How the smartest witch in Britain could fail to recognize something so obvious to the rest of womankind, Molly did not know. But Molly hadn't given birth to seven children without learning to recognize the signs.

Hermione Granger was pregnant.

Ron didn't know.

Molly apparated across the room, grabbed both girls' wrists, and whisked them away to the relative quiet of Ginny's kitchen. Hermione was practically hyperventilating. "What? Oh, my god! It can't be true - it is true - Ron - what will I tell - and Hogwarts - and - oh, how could I be so stupid?!!" Her voice rose to a fever pitch on that last word, and then Hermione flung herself into the nearest chair to cry her eyes out.

Mrs. Weasley had held a grudge against this girl for the past seven years, ever since Hermione broke her poor son's heart. True, her heart had melted a bit over time, but Molly was like a mother bear. She would protect her cubs to her dying breath, and she didn't take kindly to anyone who hurt them. Thus, Molly was less than careful of Hermione's fragile emotions. She didn't really mean to be; deep inside, she'd always liked Hermione and respected her attention to her studies. And who could help but feel sorry for the girl? Just when she'd started to feel happy, really happy, an unexpected calamity might destroy all her aspirations. "There now, Hermione. Surely you expected it?"

Ginny gave her mother a look. Only Ginny had more steel in her backbone than Molly Weasley. "Mother, please." Then she turned her attention to her best friend. "Hermione, don't worry. Everything'll be fine! It'll be perfect. Your baby will grow up with Jamie. They'll be the best of friends. And I know Ron will be thrilled, just like Harry was. Calm down." She continued to pour soothing words over her friend, until Hermione finally ceased her violent sobbing.

"I'm sorry. You must think me a great gaping idiot not to recognize the signs. Cravings, skipping my monthly, the way suddenly none of my clothes fit? Honestly, sometimes I get so caught up in the ephemeral that I stop noticing the real world. Ask Ron. I almost never have food in my flat when he comes -" She stopped, flicking her eyes toward Ron's mother, embarrassed.

Ginny laughed. "Honestly, Hermione. Do you seriously think Mum didn't know Ron was coming to see you? I mean..." She gestured toward Hermione's thickening waistline. "It's rather obvious."

Hermione turned a lovely shade of magenta. Molly began to chuckle, too. Finally, Hermione gave into the situation and laughed. It was either that, or cry, and she'd done enough crying. She could handle this. Sure, a baby was an unforseen complication, but she would work it out. If they didn't take her at Hogwarts now, she'd just find some other work. She was the smartest witch in Britain, after all. Someone must want her arithmancy expertise. Plus, she had her writing. She'd be able to feed her daughter...or son. And there was always Ron. Ron would be thrilled when he found out. He loved children. He -

He didn't know yet. He wasn't expecting it. He couldn't be held responsible, exactly, since Hermione still wasn't sure if she wanted to marry him. Still, it was his decision. She had to tell Ron. She said as much.

"I have to tell Ron."

"Tell me what?" the man in question asked, opening the door to the kitchen.