Deep Breath

Green sparks.

Again.

For the sixth time.

Hermione checked the book beside her to make sure she was doing the spell correctly. She was. Down to the last flick of the wand. So she muttered the incantation again, just to make sure it wasn't a fluke.

Seven times can't be a fluke.

Hermione sat down in an armchair in her living room, sighing to herself. She'd gotten home from work an hour before, intending to check her large personal library for information. She'd found the handy little spell in a book she'd had no need of before, but kept on hand because, well, one never knows when one may need a book.

Even her thoughts were rambling. Hermione had a tendency to ramble when she was agitated or worried, and this was no exception.

She took a deep breath and commenced doing the only thing that calmed her down. Remembering. She had found that if she lost herself in her memories, it would relax her to the point where she could think logically.

*

"Don't you dare," Hermione said warningly, backing slowly away. "Don't even think about it, Ronald Weasley."

Ron advanced on her, a rather wicked grin on his face and a snowball in his hand. "Don't even think about what?" he said innocently.

"If you throw that at me, I swear - "

"Oh, is that what you think I'm going to do with this?" Ron cut her off, looking at the snowball, then back at her. "There's an idea..."

Hermione shrieked and ran back towards the castle, Ron hot on her heels. The others stopped to watch the chase, most of them holding snowballs in their gloved hands. The rest of the seventh year boys cheered Ron on.

Hermione ran across the huge, snow covered expanse between the lake and the castle, laughing and gasping for breath, trying not to let him catch up, and at the same time wanting desperately to be caught.

Strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist as Ron barreled into her, turning her so that he didn't fall on her as they hit the ground. Hermione, thinking fast in between laughs, grabbed the snowball out of his hand and squashed it on his head as she got to her knees.

Ron, not wanting to be outdone, hastily grabbed some more snow off the ground and dropped it in her hair. She picked up a double handful and threw it at him, thoroughly dusting his jumper and jeans.

Ron jumped on her again, sending her into the snow as he tickled her mercilessly. She laughed and tried desperately to escape, but was no match for his superior strength. So she tickled him back.

Half a minute later, when they were both out of breath, they could be found side by side, spread-eagled on the snow and laughing like lunatics. Every time one of them caught the other's eye, they'd fall into fits of giggles again.

Hermione turned her head to look at Ron, and instead of laughing she stopped breathing. He had that look in his eye again. That look that, on any other boy, she would swear meant that he wanted to kiss her. But this was Ron, for goodness sakes.

He was still looking at her. But, in addition to that, he was starting to move closer to her, never breaking eye contact. He'd rolled up on his elbow...then he was crawling towards her...now he had an elbow on either side of her...and then he was kissing her.

It was heaven. Pure, unadulterated bliss. Hermione couldn't think of anywhere she'd rather be than right here in the snow, being kissed by Ron Weasley.

"Get a room!" Seamus shouted.

Hermione and Ron looked back towards the lake, where all the seventh year Gryffindors, and some of the sixth years, were watching the spectacle with varying amounts of amusement and disgust. Aside from Ginny Weasley, who was currently involved in chasing Seamus down and beating him senseless.

Hermione felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. Ron hadn't moved an inch, he was simply glaring down at those assembled as if he wished they'd disappear. Which he probably did, as Hermione wanted them to vanish herself.

Ron looked back down at her, a rueful smile on his face. "Sorry."

"Sorry?" she repeated, confused.

"I forgot everyone was there," he said. "I shouldn't have done that."

Hermione smiled up at him. "I'm glad you did."

He just laughed and threw snow in her hair.

*

Hermione smiled, remembering the moment and wishing things were still that simple. She preformed the spell once more, wanting to make absolutely certain she had it right before she told Ron.

More green sparks.

What was Ron going to say? What were they going to do? This complicated things a bit. Actually, this complicated things a lot.

Okay. Calm down.

Deep breaths.

She began to remember again...

*

"I now pronounce you man and wife," the man in the ridiculous head covering intoned. "You may kiss the bride."

Ron and Hermione smiled at each other from either side of the bride and groom, as Harry followed the man's order with enthusiasm. Then the entire crowd started clapping uproariously as he and Ginny made their way down the aisle.

Ron and Hermione moved to the middle of the altar and she took his arm, then they proceeded down the aisle after their best friends.

Ron had a huge, foolish grin plastered on his face, and he said to her in a low voice, "That's my little sister."

"I know," Hermione replied amusedly.

"She's married," Ron said, evidently finding it hard to wrap his mind around the fact. "My little sister with the scraped knees and penchant for stealing broomsticks is grown up and married. To my best friend. Who gave him permission to marry her, anyway?"

"I think that was you," Hermione reminded him. "Wasn't that the gist of the speech you gave him right after you punched him in the face?"

"Madame Pomfrey healed those bruises in a trice, you know," Ron pointed out. "But I couldn't have asked for anyone better for her."

"Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione inquired amusedly.

"You know what I mean," Ron said, grinning down at her.

Later, at the reception, they stood side by side as Harry and Ginny shared their first dance together.

"Harry's been taking lessons," Hermione said amazedly, watching her best friend sweep Ginny across the floor. "Wow."

"Hey, he's a married man," Ron said reprovingly. "Besides, I want to show you something."

He took her hand and led her out onto the dance floor. Other couples soon joined them, but Hermione took no notice, as Ron was leading her across the floor with as much skill and grace as anyone she'd ever seen. He smiled mischievously as he twirled her around, bringing her back flush against him and glancing up at Harry.

Harry took the challenge, and soon it was a showdown to see who could come up with the most complicated maneuvers and make their partners smile the widest.

When all four of them were out of breath, they walked off the dance floor laughing. More than a little out of breath, Hermione slumped in one of the rather uncomfortable chairs and grinned at the redhead who'd sat down beside her.

"You've been taking lessons on the sly, too," she accused, and Ron shrugged. "That was more fun than I've had in ages."

"I agree," Ginny said heartily, taking Harry's hand as they sat down in seats across from the other two.

"Congratulations to the lovely couple!" Fred said jovially, walking up to their table with his arm around Angelina, who was looking very decidedly pregnant.

"Yes, congratulations," Angelina added. "May you have lots of little Weasley children and live happily ever after."

"But technically they'll be Potters," Draco added, appearing out of nowhere. A bad habit of his, really. He was largely in the minority as a currently single person, as mostly everyone else was nicely paired off.

"They'll still have the hair," Angelina pointed out.

Draco appeared to mull over this for a minute. "This is true. Very true."

"So, speaking of lovely Weasley children," Fred said, pulling out a chair and offering it gallantly to Angelina, who sat down gratefully, "when are you and Hermione going to jump the broom, Ronniekins?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Come on, Fred. It took them seven years to realize they were madly in love with each other. You think it's only going to take seven more years for them to get engaged?"

"Come on, join the club," Fred said. "Marriage isn't that bad, is it, George?"

He'd used his sixth twin sense to divine that George was approaching with Alicia.

"Not bad at all," George agreed, one arm around Alicia and the other around his toddler, Gin. Named, of course, in honor of his sister. Nicknamed for the drink George was so fond of. That was George for you.

Ron and Hermione shared understanding looks.

"All you married couples are so anxious for everyone else in the world to pair off happily," Hermione sighed. "Why can't you let us date in peace?"

"Hermione, you've known us for fourteen years," Fred reminded her. "We are not that kind of people."

"I'm not that kind of person, and I'm not even married," Draco added, smirking at Ron and Hermione.

"Of course, you are the kind of person who pokes fun at Weasleys," Ron reminded him.

"I keep telling you about the land feud," Draco replied with a martyred air. "It's not my fault. It's tradition. Hang the mistletoe in the dungeons at Christmas, behead the old, tottering house-elves, knock three times on the ceiling on Friday mornings, torture Weasleys."

"Remind me never to let you near my children," Fred said, glowering at Draco as he put a protective hand over his wife's swollen abdomen.

"Knock three times on the ceiling on Friday mornings?" Ron inquired curiously.

"Don't ask," Draco said, shaking his head. "My mother's side of the family is a bit touched. I think it's the Veela blood."

Ginny, Hermione, Angelina and Alicia 'ahh-ed' in comprehension. The men looked at them askance.

"What?" Fred demanded. "What's with the chorus of mysterious noises?"

"Malfoy," Ginny said.

"Veela blood," Alicia added.

"Irresistible charm," Angelina said with a nod.

"Explains everything," Hermione concluded.

The men looked at their wives (and Ron looked at his girlfriend) in indignation. Draco looked amused.

"So, what you're saying is," Draco hazarded, "I'm utterly dashing, witty, and wonderful, and women are incapable of resisting my charms?"

"Except for us happily married ones," Ginny said quickly, as Harry was looking a tad put out. Angelina and Alicia nodded their agreement.

Ron glowered at Hermione. She gave him a reassuring kiss on the cheek.

"I love you the best," she assured him.

"Get a room," George quipped.

Later, the crowd at the table had dwindled down to Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry. They were laughing and reminiscing about their school days, remembering the fond times and not dwelling on the bad ones.

Harry had just finished the story of Ron and Hermione's first kiss from his own point of view from down by the lake, and Ginny's subsequent thrashing of Seamus Finnigan, when Ron stood up.

"I'll be right back," he said, and trotted off to the bar. He returned with four flutes of champagne, and handed them to Harry, Ginny and Hermione.

"I propose a toast," Ron said as he sat down and lifted his glass. "May I never have to punch Harry's lights out again."

"Hear, hear," Harry murmured as they all drank from their glasses.

"You'd better not," Ginny quipped. "Besides, we're nicely married off now. He's not going to be besmirching my honor or anything."

Ron looked vaguely sick at this. Hermione, following his train of thought, patted him comfortingly on the arm.

"It's alright, Ron," she said soothingly. "She didn't mean it that way."

Ginny, realizing the problem, abruptly spewed champagne all over the table as she burst into laughter. Harry looked on in apparent nonchalance, although he did avoid meeting Ron's eye.

Hermione sighed. They were best friends, but tonight Harry was simply the man who was going to be carrying Ron's little sister off to bed. He couldn't help but feeling that it was a tad strange.

Ron groaned into his hands. "Excuse me for just a second," he said, and hastily exited the room.

Hermione fixed a rather formidable glare on Ginny. "I think you did that on purpose, Ginevra Molly Weasley."

Harry looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"Potter," she added hastily.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley Potter," Ginny replied musingly. "It's got a nice ring to it, don't you think, Harry?"

Harry smiled at his new wife and said, "I think it's wonderful."

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "I'm going to go make sure Ron doesn't punch anything."

"You do that," Ginny said absently, still smiling foolishly at Harry.

Newlyweds, Hermione thought with a sigh as she left to find Ron.

*

Hermione had always been old fashioned. Save sex for marriage, that's what she believed. It had worked out quite nicely, she thought. Not that she hadn't had her moments of temptation, but, being her, the iron will won out every time.

Ten to five. Ron would be home soon. She performed the spell on herself once more, just in case. Just in case. She checked the book again, making absolutely sure she'd gotten it right. She muttered the incantation and...

Green sparks.

Her stomach was twisting painfully. The clock was counting down the time until she had to tell Ron. She never entertained for a moment the idea of keeping this from him, as the thought of deceiving him frankly made her stomach twist even more.

Plus, she thought sardonically, he'd eventually find out anyway.

Relax. Take a deep breath. Sit back down. Occupy yourself.

Think happy thoughts.

*

Ron had surprised her with a picnic dinner, and then brought her here. To the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. As it was the middle of August, there was no one at the school. They were alone in the world, it seemed, just the two of them lost among the grass.

Ron set up the picnic, insisting on doing it by himself. They sat down and started eating, their sandwiches cut into little heart shapes. Ron really was a romantic at heart.

"Ron, this is wonderful," Hermione said honestly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Ron said, grinning at her with his eyes twinkling. "Do you know why I brought you here, Hermione?"

"Old times sake?" she guessed.

"No," Ron said, shaking his head with a strange look in his eye. "This was the place where I finally realized that I was head over heels for you."

Hermione grinned at him. "Really?"

Ron nodded. "It was fifth year. I made the team that year, remember?"

Hermione nodded, a fond smile on her face.

"I was so nervous before the first game, and I thought I was going to drop the Quaffle or fall of my broom, like Fred and George kept predicting," Ron continued.

"You shouldn't have listened to them," Hermione chided, indignant on his behalf. "Look how great you turned out to be! Keeper for the Cannons, honestly! You lead the team to their first winning season in years!"

"Thanks," Ron said, getting a bit red around the ears. "But none of that mattered. Because that was the first day you kissed me."

Hermione smiled reminiscently, meeting his gaze and again noting that strange look in his eye.

"'Good luck, Ron,' you said," he remembered. "And you reached up and kissed me on the cheek."

"You were already so tall," Hermione said amusedly. "I had to stand on tip-toe to reach your face."

"I was in a daze," Ron confessed. "Harry kept talking to me all the way down to the Quidditch pitch, but all I could think about was the way it felt when you kissed me. And that's when I realized that I had it bad."

He was rummaging around in the basket now. Hermione was a tad confused. It wasn't often that she felt wrong footed, but now was one of those times.

Ron pulled a small jewelers box out of the picnic basket, and comprehension hit Hermione.

"Ron - " she breathed.

"Hermione, I've loved you for the last fourteen years," Ron said, sitting on his knees in front of her. "You're the most amazing person I've ever met, and I don't think I could ever live without you. You make me feel like I'm a better person when I'm around you. You brighten my life, and I never want that to go away. I love you, Hermione." He opened the jewelers box to reveal a small silver band with a sparkling diamond imbedded in it, and held it out to her. "Will you marry me?"

Hermione took the box and stared at the ring, momentarily rendered speechless. Her eyes filled with tears as she looked back up at him, and her powers of speech returned to her as she uttered a loud, happy, vehement, "YES!"

Ron laughed and engulfed her in his embrace, holding her tightly. She returned the hug, laughing as well with the joy of it. She was getting married. To Ronald Bilius Weasley, the man she'd loved since she first met him.

She'd watched him grow from a scrawny, smart-mouthed eleven year old boy into the competent, caring, witty and wonderful twenty five year old man he was now.

And she had loved every minute of it.

*

Deep breath.

It was going to be okay.

The sound of someone apparating in the kitchen came to her ears, and Ron's voice called, "Hermione? Are you here?"

"I'm in here," Hermione called, in a rather strangled voice. Her stomach was twisting painfully again. Now she was nervous.

What would he say? Would he be happy, or would he resent the freedom they weren't going to have any more? Would he handle it maturely, or would he panic? What was she saying? This was Ron, of course he'd panic. But he'd get over it. He always had gotten over things before.

But there had never been a situation quite like this.

Deep breath.

Ron walked into the room and saw Hermione's pale face.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" he asked worriedly, coming to give her a comforting hug. "What's the matter?"

Deep breath.

Just tell him.

It will be alright. Calm down.

Hermione closed her eyes briefly, gaining control of herself. She opened them to find Ron staring at her in apprehension.

"Are you sick?" he asked, in a tone that made her want to hug him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong...exactly."

"Then what's going on?" Ron asked, cupping her cheek in his large, warm hand.

Hermione met his midnight blue eyes, his brow now crinkled in worry.

Deep breath.

Tell him.

She smiled and bit her lip. "Ron...I'm..." she broke off, the nervousness getting a hold of her again.

Deep breath.

"Just tell me, love," Ron said comfortingly.

Tell him.

"Ron," she said, screwing up her courage. "Ron...I'm...I'm pregnant."

Ron looked at her in astonishment. "You're sure?"

Hermione nodded and bit her lip.

Ron laughed, grabbed her around the waist, and spun her around the room. "Hermione, love, this is great! You're really pregnant?"

"I only did the charm nine times," she said wryly, elated that he was so happy about it.

Ron laughed again, flashing her that lopsided smirk that, even after all this time, continued to make her heart skip a beat. He kissed her, letting all his happiness flow into that kiss. Hermione's knees practically melted.

"Have I mentioned how great this is?" he said huskily.

"Have I said how much I agree?" Hermione inquired, kissing him again briefly.

He tightened his hold around her, resting a cheek on the top of her head. "We're going to be parents," he said in wonderment.

Hermione smiled into his robes. "Yes we are."

This little bundle of cells in her abdomen was part of her. It was part of Ron. They had done this together, they had created a life that hadn't been there before. A whole new person.

She and Ron would get to take care of this new little life they'd created, and raise it to believe all the things they believed. To explain how the world works and watch it's eyes light up as it discovered new things about the things and people around them.

To clean the child's cuts and scrapes, to teach it morals, to help guide it along the way to becoming an adult. To take pride in it's accomplishments and cry all of it's tears, to always be there. To always love each other and their child.

The thought was so staggering that it made her slightly dizzy.

Deep breath.

It'll all be okay.