Honestly, Hermione

Chapter Fourteen: Telling You

Molly caught her daughter's eye, and the two redheaded women disappeared, leaving Hermione alone with Ron. Hermione tried her best not to look like a rabbit caught in a trap as he stepped closer. Taking her hands in his, he asked again, "Tell me what?"

Hermione closed her eyes for a second, and tried not to shake her head. When had she become so stupid? Silly question. She knew exactly when she had become so stupid. It was the moment she let Ron Weasley back into her life. From the very first, he'd had an adverse effect on her intellectual improvement: breaking rules at Hogwarts, losing her virginity in a moment of weakness, and now, getting pregnant, of all things, just when her life was going in a proper direction. It was enough to make her lose her temper.

Somehow, the calm voice of reason broke through to the fore of her thoughts in that moment. Hermione told herself that to blame Ron for everything was childish and unfair, the act of her violently fluctuating hormones and not the result of rational thought. Rational thought dictated that she tell Ron the news that affected him, and give him the choice of being involved or running for the hills while he still had the chance.

"Perhaps you'd better sit down for this one, Ron." Not waiting for a reply, she moved to the kitchen table and sat in one of the chairs (which looked as though they had been replicated from the kitchen at the Burrow). Ron followed suit.

"Okay, now what is this all about, 'Mione?"

He was getting impatient. She could hear it in his voice. But Hermione was unsure how to tell him. Should she sort of...feel him out first? Maybe. Although, Ron had always been pretty clear on his feelings about having children. "A whole Quidditch team," he had said on more than one occasion when they were dating before. Well, then, should she just out with it? "I'm pregnant, Ron," she blurted.

His expression didn't change. Indeed, Hermione thought he looked as if someone had cast a Petrificus spell on him. "Ron?" she asked softly, wondering if perhaps he hadn't heard her. A little louder, "Ron?"

***

Ron tried to process the information Hermione had just given him, but couldn't quite bring himself to believe his ears. Pregnant? Hermione? But she was always so careful, so bloody sensible about everything. And she'd made sure he was careful, too. Protection charms added to Muggle contraception were her idea. Ron had gone along, not wanting to saddle her with an accidental child when he couldn't be sure he'd be there to take care of her. Being an Auror was serious business. It was bad enough that his baby sister was married to a man who might one day simply not return home, leaving her a widow and his child an orphan. Ron didn't want that for Hermione.

Yet here she was, sitting across from him, telling him in perfect seriousness that somehow all their extra precautions had come to naught. She was pregnant. Hermione was having a baby. She was having his baby. She was having his baby! As that realization bloomed in his head, a smile found its way to Ron's frozen face. It grew wider, brighter, as he stared at the beautiful, brilliant, bloody perfect witch across from him. Ah, but she was lovely. From the frizzy crown of her head to the uncertain look in her hazel/brown eyes to the way she bit her bottom lip when she was worried to her full bosom - yes, Ron noted, her figure was a bit fuller than it had been when he first saw her when Jamie was born - to her seemingly long legs to the very tips of her pink-painted toes, Hermione was something else. And now she was going to have his baby.

It took less than a second for Ron's daydream to come into sharp focus in his mind. It featured Hermione (Ron's dreams nearly always featured Hermione in some form), pleasantly rounded in the stomach, surrounded by six children with varying shades of red hair. She was smiling up at Ron, who stood beside her, and holding his hand over her stomach, where he felt the strong kick of their seventh child. "A whole Quidditch team," she murmured to him. "Just like you always wanted."

***

"Ron!"

Hermione's voice, worried in tone, brought him back to the present. He reached out to caress her face, to sooth the worry - and was that a touch of fear he detected in her eyes? - from her features. "Ah, 'Mione..." He jumped up and grabbed her hand. "Will we go tell everyone, then? I know it's supposed to be Harry and Ginny's day, but we've a lot to do. They'll understand. Besides, I have to ask Harry to be my best man."

"Best man?" Hermione repeated. "Best man?!"

Hermione jerked her hand out of Ron's. "What do you mean, best man, Ron?" she demanded. This was too much. As much as she had feared a proposal, to not even be given the opportunity of refusing Ron's hand was too much! Her hands balled into fists and planted themselves firmly on her hips.

Ron glanced at her, not noting the easily recognizable argument stance, and nodded. "Best man, 'Mione. At our wedding."

"Wedding?" she repeated, barely reining in her temper.

He gave her a look that asked if she had suddenly taken leave of her senses. "Of course, Hermione," he answered slowly, as if speaking to a young - and mentally slow - child. "You can't expect my son to be born without my name, can you?" He gazed at her for a moment, and took note of her hands-on-hips position. Backpedaling slightly, he rushed to explain his meaning. "Or daughter." No change. If anything, Hermione looked angrier. "Well honestly, 'Mione. I don't expect you to raise our child all on your own. And teaching at the same time? Besides, I want to be there. You can't really - I mean...well, don't you want to get married? It's kind of necessary now, isn't it?"

"Necessary? Necessary?!! What, for the sake of my pristine reputation, you'll condescend to marry me and keep our child from the angst of illegitimacy?" She pinned him with a death glare and continued. "This isn't 1840, Ron. You're not landed gentry, and I'm not some humble waiting-maid with no hope or future if I'm found to be with child. Look around, you prat. Your own brother isn't married, but he has children. Bill didn't seem to find it necessary to insist on marrying Acacia when she got pregnant. In fact, I'll bet he at least gave her the choice! But not you, not Milord Ron Weasley. Who do you think you are? You didn't even propose! Just, 'Oh, must run ask Harry to be my best man.' Sure, ask Harry. But don't ask me! I'm only the mother of your damned child! Don't give me any choice in the matter!"

In the next room, the entire Weasley clan pretended not to listen to the blazing row going on in the Potters' kitchen. But all of the adults were a bit quieter, and willingly sent the children outside to play so that they could hear better. Not that such a step was necessary. Ron and Hermione had never fought quietly. Fred shot an amused look at his twin; George winked back. They would use this. Somehow. Maybe a new joke for their shop.

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, Ron was beginning to fight back. "Oh, come off it, 'Mione. I don't think that you have no choice but to marry me. Stupid me, I guess I assumed too much. Silly of me, really, to think that after all we've gone through to get to this point, you actually loved me! No, of course not! Everything must be your way or no way, isn't that right? Doesn't matter a bit what I think, or what I want. Doesn't matter at all that it's my child, too, does it? No. Better for you to make wild accusations and send me packing, just like you did before. Well, here's some news for you to think on. I'm not leaving this time, 'Mione. You don't want to marry me - fine! We'd probably end up killing each other anyway. But you are not going to keep me out of my child's life, understand?"

They were toe to toe, nose to nose again. Both were red with anger. Neither were thinking clearly. Neither cared. Hermione gave Ron a withering glance and shot back, "Understanding has never been my problem, Ronald Weasley. That's more your area, isn't it? And I never wanted to keep you out of your child's life! I told you, didn't I? If I hadn't wanted you to take part, I would never have told you, just disappeared up to Hogwarts and called on my friendship with Professor McGonagall to keep the whole thing a secret! So spare me the theatrics, Ron."

In the next room, eyebrows shot up at the mention of Hogwarts. Penelope had heard about Professor Vector's retirement, but no one had known who his replacement would be. Apparently, it was Hermione. Made sense. But with the baby, would she still go?

Hermione still had the floor. "You do not get to dictate my life to me! If I don't want to get married, having a baby isn't going to change that. Millions of women manage to raise perfectly normal children without husbands. I suppose I could manage it, too!"

"But you don't have to!" Ron burst. "That's the difference, or has being right blinded you to the obvious? I know you can manage it. You can manage anything, Hermione. But you don't have to. I'm here. I want to be here. I-" He broke off, stepped back, attempted to calm his temper. Softer now, he finished, "I love you, 'Mione. Alright? I love you, I love our child, and I mean to be there for both of you. Always."

At that, Hermione burst into tears.

***

Some time later, Hermione and Ron emerged from the kitchen. Her face bore the evidence of her loud, racking sobs in red eyes and nose, tearstained cheeks, little gulping breaths. He looked a bit shell-shocked. So many intense emotions flying at him in such quick and unexpected succession had given him a bit of a crash course in the effects of pregnancy on the hormones of a normally reasonable woman. His brothers, his father, Harry, and even the women in the room, recognized that look, and extended some pity to Ron. They all remembered going through it.

Of course, he hadn't made things any easier on himself by immediately assuming Hermione would marry him - without even asking her! Add to that the fact that Hermione only just discovered her pregnancy herself, and it was a volatile situation for anyone, even those with far slower tempers than Ron and Hermione. So their family was willing to extend the pair a little grace.

Ron made the official announcement. "Well, I suppose you all know by now. We're having a baby." No one said anything. Ron gave them a weak grin, and expanded on his statement. "We're both quite happy about it, actually. Seriously. We are."

Hermione looked around the room. Caught the eye of Fred's wife Gwen. Then Ginny's. Harry's. Ron's father Arthur's. They were waiting for her to say something, or do something, to back up Ron's statement. She squared her shoulders and stood up straight. Lacing her fingers with Ron's, she looked up at him. It took him a second to feel the pull of her particular gaze, when he was pinned to the door by the looks of so many others, when he did, Hermione was ready. She stood up on tiptoe and pulled him down to her level. She planted a very sure kiss on his lips. If she was going to have a baby, she was glad it was Ron's. She'd never want anyone else.

Applause went up around them as the two embraced.

***

It turned out to be the longest and most emotionally draining day of Hermione's life. Not even the day Ron proposed to her came close. Or the day he disappeared. Or came back. Or any of the times Harry had managed to pull them into some sort of fight-to-the-death against evil while they were all still at Hogwarts. Or any day since. After being pompously (and a little disdainfully) congratulated by Percy and Penelope, Hermione was set upon by the rest of the Weasleys, all at once. Somehow they all got themselves under control in time for the christening ceremony, which was also attended by several of Harry's fellow Aurors, a number of Ministry officials, as well as Hermione's future colaborers from Hogwarts: Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid (along with Madame Maxime and their son Ragnar), Oliver Wood (who, after a short-lived professional Quidditch career and ongoing popularity among the Witch's Weekly set, had suffered too many injuries and had taken over for Madam Hooch at Hogwarts), and several others. In fact, the only people missing from Jamie's christening were those whom no one expected to be there: Harry's Muggle family, the Dursleys. Even Sirius Black and Remus Lupin had managed to come out of their respective hiding places for the occasion. After all, this was the Son of the Boy Who Lived. It was a momentous occasion for the entire magical world. And as godmother, Hermione had had to speak to each and every one of them.

After the ceremony came the celebration, for which the Burrow was opened, and which lasted long into the night. Hermione had tried to remain quiet and in the background; after all, this was Harry and Ginny's day, not hers. Nevertheless, Dumbledore and McGonagall caught her. They wanted to use this opportunity to talk to her a bit more about her position at Hogwarts.

"Tell me, Miss Granger," Professor Dumbledore began. "Or should I say, Professor Granger?" he asked with a knowing twinkle in his eye. Hermione was not fooled. Behind the kindly old wizard mask, Albus Dumbledore was without a doubt the wisest and most powerful wizard in England, if not the world. His twinkling eyes did not deceive Hermione. Especially not today, when every other subterfuge in her world had been stripped away. Dumbledore recognized this and tried to hide a grin. Oh, the weight of the world was heavy indeed to the young! Perhaps when Miss Granger had lived a few more decades she would see that indeed today was not so trying.

Still, today she appeared to be at her wit's end. So he got right to the point. "Will Mr. Weasley be accompanying you to Hogwarts this fall?"

She thought she had heard it all, but at this, Hermione's head shot up, and her eyes met her professor's. "I beg your pardon?"

Professor McGonagall took over. Always a no-nonsense woman, she got right to the point. "Professor Granger, of course you know we are well aware of your current - ahem - condition." Hermione blushed a bright pink at this, but did not shrink from the admission. Of course they knew. They had probably known before she did. "We have therefore alotted you a set of private rooms. We had intended to make you a head of house, but this is not a good idea - at least not this year. What we wish to know now, Miss - Professor, is if we need to make your accomodations over with Mr. Weasley in mind."

Hermione gazed wildly between these two people whom she admired above nearly anyone else, and searched her mind for the appropriate response in such a situation. Sadly, there was none. Instead, she tried to answer them truthfully, with as much dignity as she could muster. "To be perfectly honest, Professors, Ron and I haven't discussed our future living arrangements. His work keeps him close to London, whereas mine will keep me at Hogwarts, of course. I thank you for the accomodations you have made for me and my child. I assure you, if my needs change, you will be the first to know. Now, if you will please excuse me, I'm a bit worn out. I think I'll just make my excuses to Harry and Ginny and go on home."

Ron had been watching Hermione for some time, waiting for some unknown signal that she was tired and ready to leave. He saw her take an uncharacteristically stiff and formal leave of Dumbledore and McGonagall and was by her side in a flash. "'Mione?"

"I just want to go home, Ron," she told him, and he could hear the exhaustion in her voice. Perhaps tomorrow she would be sorry for whatever she had said to Dumbledore and McGonagall, but tomorrow would take care of itself. Ron offered her his arm.

"Well, then, let's go." And just like that, they were back in Hermione's little flat, their most trying day at an end at last.