The Joining of the Three

Chapter 3

Harry was pacing the empty corridor like a man awaiting trial. He could hear screaming on the other side of the door. It was Hermione. His heart clenched and his body shook as he opened the door separating them. She was on their bed with her feet propped up. Poppy was close by, encouraging her to push.

Hermione reached out a hand to him and he took it, using a nearby cloth to wipe her forehead. Her face twisted in agony again, and he did his best to support her as she labored. With a final small whimper, Hermione fell back to the bed and sighed deeply. Harry looked to Poppy for confirmation that the baby had just been born, but the woman's face had gone white.

Scooting back from Hermione, she clutched the newborn. Holding it at arm's length, as far from her body as possible, her wide eyes met his. Harry felt cold terror creep up his spine. His pulse trebled. His stomach tightened. The child was reddish black, dark and silent. Its face was more reptilian than human. It looked exactly like Voldemort had before Wormtail dropped him into the cauldron.

The child's mouth opened, but no cry came…only a hissing. A hissing Harry could understand. I am born…I am back. Harry…

"NO!" Harry screamed, waking both himself and Hermione. His body was wracked with tremors and covered in a sheen of cold sweat. He fumbled for his glasses and put them on, not because he needed to see anything in the dark room, but because their slight weight on his nose was a comfort. Something familiar.

He felt more than saw Hermione shift on the bed, grab her wand and illuminate the small set of fragrant candles at their bedside. The dim light created comfortable shadows in the room and provided a warmth he desperately needed. Harry blinked rapidly and felt tears fall down his cheeks.

The argument they'd had earlier temporarily forgotten, Hermione wrapped her arms tightly around her husband, pulling him back until he was leaning against her. "It's all over, love. It was just a dream."

"Mione," he whispered, then tried to clear the lump from his throat. "It…he…the baby…it was Voldemort."

"I know, Harry. I saw."

"What do you mean, you saw?" Harry's brow furrowed and he shifted slightly to see her face.

"I mean, that I can still see your dreams occasionally. Not all the time, but when you have a dream that is especially intense, I can see it too. Some remnant of that connection we formed while I was in America remained."

In spite of the horror he'd seen, Harry felt a blush rise to his cheeks. "Er…did you happen to see the one about the prefect's bathroom?"

Hermione laughed for what felt like the first time in ages. "Yes. Interesting idea, by the way."

Harry laughed too, amazed at the way this woman could, just by being next to him, banish the demons that haunted him. Her presence grounded him, brought him back from the brink of a hideous nightmare to a place where he felt safe enough to laugh.

He supposed that was why he loved her, why he needed her…why he'd fallen apart so completely when he thought he'd lost her.

"Is that what you're really afraid of, Harry? That this Daemonica rubbish is Voldemort trying to reincarnate himself?"

"No." Harry exhaled. "Well, maybe. I've had nightmares like that on and off for years. It's always the same horrid image of a baby. Seeing you give birth to him is just a new variation," his mouth twisted sardonically. "All this talk about a Daemonica has me afraid that someone is trying to bring him back, I guess."

"Can he be brought back?" Hermione asked, unconsciously gripping him tighter.

"No," Harry said flatly, but refused to elaborate. He changed the subject as he always did when Voldemort's name was mentioned. Their argument had prevented Harry from asking her about the strange woman's words, and the odd reactions to it. "Did you get the impression that Dumbledore and Trelawney seemed to recognize the words Triuna Crudus?"

"Yeah," Hermione replied, thinking of the light in Trelawney's eyes as she'd spoken. "Her eyes were almost twinkling."

They discussed theories back and forth for almost an hour. And with every argument Hermione made, Harry became more and more skeptical of the scroll he'd been sent…more and more sure that it was a diversionary tactic. He found his fear over Hermione's pregnancy being rapidly replaced by anger over the apparent manipulation.

"One thing is clear, whoever is behind this knows me well enough to know which buttons to push. He or she knew what would prey on my fears. That must be why the scroll was sent to me, not directly to the ministry."

"Draco Malfoy," Hermione finished. "Dumbledore's right, we need to find out where he is," she said simply, and Harry could almost see the wheels in her mind turning faster as she formulated a plan. She'd probably have the owlery cleared out by breakfast, sending notes to every student she knew, as well as those she didn't.

Harry yawned slightly. Talking quietly with her had soothed his earlier fear. Her soft voice had distanced him from the nightmare. "I also want to tell Ron what's going on. He hears more in Hogsmeade about what's going on in the wizarding world than we do and may be more attuned if he knows what to listen for."

"I'll do it," Hermione said quickly, "you've got a full schedule tomorrow, and I only have that bloody counter to work on." They both grinned. What they had started out calling the Imperfect Charm was rapidly turning into That Bloody Counter.

Harry said nothing as he removed his glasses and Hermione extinguished the candles. They repositioned themselves on the mattress to try and salvage whatever they could of the remaining night's sleep. Hermione spooned next to him, her back to his front, and they fell asleep as they always did. Together. "Love you , Mione," he mumbled as he drifted off. And this time, the only thing he dreamed of was a girl with bushy brown hair, riding behind him on a hippogriff.

^*^*^*^*^

Hermione sat at the head table trying to each lunch and massage her throbbing hand at the same time. She must have written twenty letters that morning -- long ones so as not to draw any more attention to her question about Malfoy's whereabouts than necessary. At first, she'd used a Quick Quill, but too many of her thoughts had transferred to the parchment so she had switched to her regular quill instead. After the first ten letters, Hermione had realized that she'd better pace herself. Today's batch of twenty marked the last of the lot. The end of a week's worth of correspondence.

It was also the day Ron had agreed to meet her at the lakeside. He was still being cagey and secretive, but she had more important things to ask him about today than his odd behavior. Along with informing him of the events at the castle, she wanted answers about a few loose ends that had been worrying her for some time. Harry had the nightmare again just last night. And until she had all her answers, she couldn't begin to help him through them.

He was already sitting there when she arrived, hurling small bits of rock at the giant squid, a faraway look on his face.

"Ron?" Hermione said softly as she came up behind him.

"Hermione," Ron jumped to his feet, causing her to take a few steps backward. "Sorry I couldn't meet you sooner. I've had….well, never mind. Is something wrong?"

"In a way. Actually, I'm surprised you haven't heard about it yet." Hermione filled him in on the scroll, the prophecy and the mysterious woman. Ron's reaction wasn't quite what she expected. He let forth a barrage of questions, all of them tumbling out one after the other.

Hermione tried to answer every question he threw at her, but all she could come up with were one-word answers to most of them. "Dumbledore's doing all he can to figure this out, I'm sure. But now that you know what happened, you can listen around Hogsmeade for anything that might be out of the ordinary."

"I have a feeling there's a 'but' in there somewhere," Ron stated, knowing that Hermione wasn't biting her lip because it itched.

"There's something I need to know." Hermione paused to take in a deep breath. "Did Harry ever tell you what happened in that graveyard after the third task?"

"Yeah," Ron said quickly, "he told both of us, remember?"

"I mean Voldemort's rebirth, not the duel. Did he ever tell you about that part?"

Ron looked vaguely uncomfortable. "Parts of it, one night while I was walking him home from the Three Broomsticks." Ron told her what he remembered of Harry's drunken ramblings. Hermione didn't tell Ron about the nightmares Harry had been having, but at least now she had a clearer idea of where the nightmares were coming from.

"There's something else," Hermione said quietly.

"There always is," Ron smiled back.

Hermione shot him an amused look, then sobered. "I need to know what happened after I disappeared. Exactly what happened."

"That's something you need to ask Harry, Hermione."

"I've tried asking him, Ron. I've tried until I'm hoarse. He won't tell me. All this talk about a Daemonica has him reliving Voldemort's death as well as his rebirth. And I can't help him get past it without the details."

They'd been making their way slowly around the lake, but at her question Ron stopped walking. He looked out over the surface of the water, his mind filled with images of Harry's frenzy that night.

"Hermione…" Ron started, in a last ditch attempt to spare her this.

"I need to know, Ron." She took his hand and squeezed, forcing him to look at her.

"Nothing happened for the longest time. He just sat on that cave floor, staring at You Know Who's body. He wouldn't move; he wouldn't speak. It was like he'd turned to stone. I stayed with him, fighting down my own grief, not knowing what else to do. Then he stood up, magicked the body into the air and started walking out of the cave. When we reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, he lowered the body to the ground. He told me to go back to the castle and tell Professor Dumbledore what had happened."

Ron paused, trying to find the strength within him to tell her the rest. "I didn't go. I followed Harry into the Forest, into a clearing. And he…he…he went a little mad, I think. He started blasting trees into splinters, creating craters in the ground several feet across. By the time I reached him, he had just summoned You Know Who's body to him. I caught his arm before he could do anything, but Hermione…the look in his eyes. I hope to never see that kind of wild rage again as long as I live."

Hermione was silent. She couldn't think of anything to say. To any of it. All she'd been told prior to this was that Harry had spent years trying to come to grips with his grief. This was the first time she'd heard of his behavior immediately following her disappearance. She imagined herself in Harry's position. Watching him disappear, thinking he'd died.

And she understood completely.

They started walking again. Hermione didn't even try to stop the tears that were flowing freely down her cheeks. She thought she'd cried all her tears over the past. She was wrong.

"How are you feeling?" Ron asked quietly as they started their second loop, desperate to get her mind off that hideous night five years ago.

"A little stunned by all I've heard," Hermione wiped at her cheeks.

"I guess I should have said, how are you feeling, mum?"

She smiled slightly and brought her hand automatically to her abdomen. "Fine. Better than the horrid things I've heard expectant mothers go on about. When I was working at the library, I came into contact with loads of pregnant women. Their talk of throwing up every morning is enough to put anyone off having children. Maybe witches aren't susceptible to that."

"No, they are," Ron grinned. He'd heard his sisters-in-law go on about it until he felt like throwing up himself. "But if you're smart, you'll keep that to yourself. Envy over easy pregnancies is a terrible thing. I still can't believe the two of you are pregnant," Ron shook his head.

"Two?" Hermione asked curiously.

"You and Harry," Ron covered quickly. "I still can't believe you and Harry are pregnant." Ron glanced in the direction of Hogsmeade and then turned back to Hermione. "Look, Hermione. I've got to get back to Weasleys. Let me know if anything else comes up, okay? And I'll keep my ears open for anything out of the ordinary in town. About the other, though. It's up to you, but you may not want to tell Harry I told you about it."

Ron pressed a brief kiss to Hermione's cheek before sprinting off towards the Hogwarts gates. Hermione stared after him, wondering why his ears had gone bright, beet red.

^*^*^*^*

He stood at the balcony, and stared out over the grounds, fidgeting. He didn't like it, but he fidgeted anyway. This was going to be the hardest conversation he'd ever had with her. Because this time, he was going to stick to his guns. This time, he was going to make her see reason.

"Sweetheart?" Ginny asked as she walked up behind him. "What's wrong?"

"I have to leave, Gin," he said softly. "Your mother's not going to be happy with your brief visits with your brother and notes from you for much longer. She's not a stupid woman."

"I see," Ginny settled into a chair and crossed her arms. They'd had this conversation in one form or another several times since she'd met with Ron two weeks ago. Eventually, she'd convince him it was futile. "And your leaving me will ensure my mother's happiness?"

"Ginny. If I'm out of the picture, you can go back home. I mean it'll take her some time to get used to the situation, but she'll have you home at least."

"I'd rather you come home with me."

"Yeah," he laughed bitterly. "I have this little movie of that scene that plays in my head all the time. We show up at the Burrow, together, you sporting four months of pregnant stomach. The next thing I see is the lid of my casket being closed."

"It wouldn't be like that. I know my family, sweetheart. They're protective, but not murderous."

"They would be about me."

She left her chair and crossed the room towards him, placing her arms firmly around his middle once she was near enough. "But they'd be reacting to who you were, Draco. Not who you are now."

"Like that makes much difference," Draco snorted, wishing for the hundredth time that he could alter the past, alter his upbringing. Alter his whole bloody life.

"It does to me," Ginny smiled and pulled his head down until their lips met in a brief kiss. "And we are going to tell them, Draco. You're right, I can't hide from them forever. They might be a little…ER…resistant at first, but they'll come around."

"That'll be when, Red, sometime after we become grandparents?" Draco sighed deeply, using the nickname he'd bestowed upon her early in their courtship.

"Look," she pulled out of his arms and placed her hands on his face, forcing him to meet her eyes. "When I saw you at the reception, lurking in the shadows, I was positive you were there to cause havoc. Curse the food, bring the roof down on our heads. But I believed you when you said you were just there to wish Harry and Hermione well."

"And I was. After all the heartbreak those two endured, no one deserves a life of happiness more than they do. When I read the notice about the reception, I knew I had to go. Harry and I put the past behind us for the most part at Hermione's memorial service, but I didn't think anyone else would care to see me there. I was hoping to get him alone, offer my congratulations and leave. Listening to Ron's toast, though, I lost my nerve. I was just about to leave when you stopped me." A smile lit his pale face. "You looked like Hell personified pointing your wand in my face, telling me to get out."

Ginny laughed with him. "I was shaking the whole time. You always scared me a bit at school, you and those goons who shadowed you. But I'd seen hate and jealousy mar your face enough to recognize the opposites I saw in your eyes that night."

"And," he leaned down to kiss her forehead softly, "you agreed to meet me for dinner the next day."

"And marry you the next month," Ginny grinned even wider. "Well, if we're finished with today's round of 'Ginny, I'm leaving for your own good,' I'm going upstairs to run myself a nice hot bubble bath and wash away this whole conversation. You can either join me or leave me. The choice is yours." She took a few steps toward the staircase and turned. The look on his face told her that she'd won the argument again.

"I'm right behind you," he smiled back.

As he heard the water begin to run upstairs, he padded back to the window, watching dusk fall and stars coming alight in the sky. Glancing towards them, he thanked whatever force had brought Ginny into his life. He couldn't have planned it better.

Ginny slid into the tub and sighed, scented bubbles covering her nearly to the ears. To an observer, she looked serene, almost like she was sleeping. But inside, her emotions were in turmoil. She couldn't tell Draco, but she was worried about her parents' eventual reaction to their secret marriage and her subsequent pregnancy. Mum would rant that she'd gone too fast, then she'd rant that she was denied the pleasure of witnessing her only daughter's wedding.

Her father would rage over her choice of groom. And then he'd probably disown her.

Those were the simple reactions. Each of her brothers would take their own turns lambasting her, Ron more than the others as he hated Draco the most. But she was determined to win them over, to show them the Draco she knew…and loved with all that she was.

In the month they'd spent together before the elopement, she had seen many different sides to Draco Malfoy. The little boy, following in his father's shadow for a bit of attention. The nasty, wisecracking student, desperate to earn a father's regard. And the man, lost without the father that had played such an important role in his life, and desperate to make amends for the past.

And her family would have to either accept him or live without her.

"Is this a private party?" Draco asked, pushing open the bathroom door, a wicked gleam in his gray eyes.

"No. I need my back washed," Ginny replied primly and sat forward.

Stripping his shirt off over his head, Draco sauntered to the side of the claw foot tub and reached for a cloth. After a few minutes, and quite a bit of sighing, Ginny found her voice.

"I said my back needed washing."

"My mistake," he grinned and joined her in the tub, pants and all.

^*^*^*^*^

Hermione was lying amid a pile of parchment when Harry opened the door to their apartment that night. Engrossed in what she was reading, she didn't even notice him. He closed the door silently and surveyed the small room. It wasn't much, but they hadn't needed much. Not overly large or terribly small, it was only one room with an adjoining bath and closet area. There was a writing table in one corner, a bed in the other and two dressers on the wall near the door. So far, it had been fine for them.

But, Harry thought, how would a baby fit into their cozy room? Would they simply add a cradle, or move out to a larger house in Hogsmeade? As far as Harry knew, there had never been a married couple teaching at Hogwarts, much less a couple raising a child. Harry shelved those concerns for the moment. As Hermione said, they had months before the baby came and the logistics became a concern…for now, they were reveling in the excitement of the upcoming event.

Looking back on his initial reaction, Harry still felt the vestiges of shame. The most wonderful news a couple could share and he'd stormed out. Part of him was still amazed that she had forgiven him that outburst…and thanked God every day that she had.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice snapped him from his wayward thoughts. "Come and listen to this." She waited until he joined her, perching a hip on the bed. "According to several of the letters I sent, Malfoy was at our reception."

"What?"

"Hannah and Ernie MacMillan saw him. At first I decided they were seeing things and ignored it. But Katie, Angelina and Alicia saw him, too. Skulking around the back of the hall, they said. And then, to cap it off, Percy wrote and said he could have sworn he saw Malfoy at the ministry."

"You're joking," Harry said, stunned.

"Read it yourself." Hermione pressed the letter into his hand and Harry scanned it. …pretty sure I saw Malfoy at the ministry last month, Hermione. Don't know where he was going, but I'm positive it was him… Harry had trouble forming words. Draco Malfoy was at their reception and had been sighted at the ministry. He didn't know what either meant, but was fairly certain it wasn't good.

"Who else do we know who works there?"

"Seamus and Dean both do, but neither of their letters mention him at all. Should we ask them to check it out?"

"Not yet," Harry said, his mind turning over possibilities. "Let's see what happens. Has everyone you've written to responded, then?"

Harry's brow creased at the sudden downturn of her eyes.

"Mostly," she said quietly then picked up a still sealed envelope. Harry could see Mariah's name written across it. "Hedwig brought this back about an hour ago. Harry, I'm starting to get really worried about Mariah. Hedwig's never failed to deliver a letter before. If she couldn't find Mariah…" Hermione trailed off, thinking of how sad Hedwig had appeared. She was almost as upset as Hermione with her first failure at mail delivery.

"That probably means she's not in the UK, Mione," Harry tried to placate her, but Hermione wasn't having any of it.

"Don't give me that, Harry. Hedwig delivered letters to Sirius when he was in the tropics. Distance doesn't waylay her."

Harry knew she was right, and he felt helpless to reassure her.

"Any luck with Dumbledore?" Hermione asked trying to get her mind off Mariah.

"Not a whit. He's still not talking about what the Triuna Crudus is, if he even knows. I'm starting to consider a trip up to the North Tower."

"Better you than me," Hermione grinned. "Would you trust what Trelawney told you?"

"Based on her prediction rating, three correct out of several thousand? Probably not. The fact that I'm still alive seems to trouble her no end. You know, I actually caught her trying to glance into my teacup in the staff room a few weeks ago."

"Lucky thing you switched to tea bags, eh?"

Their eyes met. Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. What was it about her? Which physical characteristic of hers caused his heart to lurch whenever their gazes connected? He'd tried to narrow it down to one but had failed. He guessed it was just…Hermione. All the little things wrapped into the small, albeit widening, package that was his wife. His love.

"I love you," he said simply.

Hermione silently swept all the parchment surrounding her onto the floor. A wicked gleam twinkled in her eyes as she reached up and removed his glasses. Close as he was to her, he had no trouble making out the slight upturn to her mouth as she reached up and kissed his lips primly. It was a chaste, closed mouth kiss that she followed with smaller ones along his jawline, not stopping until she reached the hollow below his ear. Her soft voice whispered sinful, wonderful suggestions of how they could spend the rest of the evening.

Harry kept silent and let her continue to persuade him. After all, he had nowhere in particular to be.

"Me first," he growled into her ear at a particularly lovely proposal.

^*^*^*^*^*^

Ron stopped at the door. He could hear Mariah walking around inside the apartment, and had to steady himself before he walked in. He thought he'd been shocked when Mariah had Apparated in front of him. He thought he'd been shocked to find out they were Bonded. But he now knew better. He hadn't known true shock until he'd seen her standing at the dresser…pregnant.

All pleasant thoughts of her had fled in that instant. A sense of betrayal had run swiftly through him and he'd shut himself off from her. For nearly a month she'd lain in his bed, never once mentioning what she'd kept hidden under the blankets. Not so much as a hint that she sheltered a child beneath her heart. His child, unless he'd been wildly mistaken about her character.

At times he found that thought thrilling his heart and turning the corners of his mouth into a wide grin. Then he remembered that Mariah had kept it from him; that he'd found out by accident. And the grin turned to a frown. Every time.

The hardest part of all was fighting the urge to stay near her. When his mind was unoccupied, he was filled with thoughts of her. Her face, her smile, everything that was innately Mariah swam through his mind like a siren's song. Several times each day he fought the desire to run up the back stairs or Apparate into the living room if Lissanne was hovering. It was almost like the Imperius curse, a rush of near giddiness, a pull towards her, and a desire to do nothing else but stay by her side until time ended. He knew it was because of their being Bonded, and he hated the control it had over him.

But they had to talk. Mariah's abduction had been frightening enough. However, when he coupled it with what Hermione had told him the week before he became downright terrified…for Mariah and for their child. If Harry was right, and there was some unknown person pulling strings and casting fear over an upcoming birth…Mariah was in far more danger than he'd realized.

Ron took a deep breath and closed his hand on the door leading from the staircase into the apartment. It didn't budge.

"Mariah?" he said through the door.

Inside, Mariah froze. So, she thought to herself, careful not to project her thoughts to him, he's deigned to speak to me again.

Joy and bitterness warred within her. Bitterness won hands down. In all the years she'd harbored a hero worship of him, she'd never guessed that he could be such an immature jerk. He'd looked so horrified, so appalled at the sight of her pregnancy. And then he'd simply stopped speaking to her. Not one comment had escaped his lips. He'd just stared, then he'd turned away from her.

The desire to examine his thoughts had been overpowering that afternoon. And it still was. The connection was there, but she wouldn't intrude that way. There was a fine line between listening to what he broadcast and searching for what he wanted hidden. She knew several Diviners, her mother included, with no qualms about glancing unbidden into the minds of their Bonds. But that was a line Mariah refused to cross.

Deep in her heart, she wished that his childish reaction would banish the feelings she still had for him. But it didn't. And it wasn't the damn Bond, much as she wished she could lay the blame there. Bonding had no influence over emotional states. Damn her masochistic heart, which was even now increasing its beat because he was near.

She took several deep breaths, calming her heart and blanking her face. Walking slowly, she unlocked the door and let Ron in.

"What'd you lock the door for?"

Why didn't you use your wand to open it?

"I didn't want to disturb you," Ron said softly, his eyes riveted to her stomach.

How noble, she added as much sarcasm to the thought as she could. What do you want?

Ron looked sheepish. "I was just wondering how you're feeling. I haven't seen much of you in the past few days."

Try two weeks, Ron. Tell me, has it always been your practice to run away when things get difficult? To turn away from friends when they disappoint you?

Mariah would have laughed at the stunned expression on his face if she weren't so angry. He looked like he'd just taken a Bludger to the stomach.

Ron hoped his face showed no sign of the thoughts rampaging through him, but was pretty sure it did. Hermione'd told him a thousand times that his face gave away every thought he had. A retort was on his lips, but he bit it back. Memories of Scabbers' supposed death and Harry's becoming Hogwarts champion ran through his mind. Both times he had turned from Hermione and Harry, refusing to speak to them over an imagined slight. He realized he had no retort to make. She was absolutely right.

"I guess I do," Ron said softly. "I'm sorry, Mariah."

Ron's apology took all her anger and whisked it away like smoke. She'd heard the internal dialogue he'd had with himself as he came to realize his own shortcomings. Mariah began to wonder if she shouldn't teach him a blocking spell to further shield his thoughts from her. Sometimes, he thought louder than a stereo cranked to its highest volume.

It's okay, Ron. After all, it's not like you haven't had a lot to deal with over the past month. And I'm sorry for the stress I've caused you. Mariah moved over to sit on the couch and Ron followed, taking the chair opposite her.

"I thought we agreed on no more apologizing," Ron said with a small smile.

You started it, she smiled back. I know that this past month hasn't exactly been a walk in the park for you. My showing up, then finding out that you're about to become a father. Mariah placed a hand over her stomach and looked up at him quizzically. His eyes had grown as large as dinner plates. I'm fairly sure you didn't miss the fact that I'm pregnant, Ron.

"I'm not that dense, Mariah," Ron chanced a half smile. "But that's the first time I've heard you say it." Acting on impulse alone, he rose from his chair and walked over to sit beside her on the couch. Their eyes remained fixed and unwavering as Ron's hand raised and reached towards hers. Their fingers entwined. Mariah raised their joined hands and placed them on the swell of their child. His hand rested on the surprisingly firm mound, her hand on top of his. As if recognizing him, the baby gave a little kick against his palm. Every other thought fled from his mind at that tiny impact.

Did you feel that? Mariah asked, tears swimming in her bright blue eyes.

"Yeah," Ron said softly.

They lapsed into silence. Ron kept his hand on her stomach, his heart leaping every time the baby shifted. It wasn't even born yet, and Ron already knew he'd give his life to protect it. He could think of no other moment that could compare to the harmony he felt right now, sitting there, feeling the subtle movements of the baby beneath her skin. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to sit on this couch with Mariah forever. And he didn't even care if it was the Bond talking.

Mariah suddenly stiffened and fire shone from her blue eyes. She stood and stalked a few steps away from him. Confused, Ron stood as well.

Stay away from me.

Not sure what was going on, Ron took a few hesitant steps toward her.

I mean it, Ron. Stay away from me. You bastard.