"Mummy?"
Little Jamie poked his head into the living room. Hermione was sitting on the couch, re-reading 'Hogwarts, A History'. The sight her of her son sent a spark of pain up her heart. He looked so much like his father it hurts every time she looked at him. Her mind started to flood with memories.
Hermione walked hesitantly into the Great Hall, exhausted after hours of fighting. She was scared to find out who was lying in here, side by side, their families-or in some cases, no families, just friends, or simply people who are there, feeling sorry for them-crying at their side. She was scared to find out whose lives this war had taken, even when it hasn't even finished yet.
Her fear grew even larger as she spotted a group of red-headed people at a spot somewhere in the middle of the Hall. One of the Weasley's have died? Who? Please, not him, not him...now now. Anyone of them would be terrible, but...Her hand found and laid itself on her stomach. Not now.
She walked over quickly, terror filling her up as she spotted one of the twins bent down over the body. No...it can't be. She quickened her pace, though she was dreading the knowledge. She got close enough to notice everybody was there. Mr and Mrs Weasley, Percy, Bill, Charlie, Ron, Ginny, and a twin...who was missing an ear, the bloodied bandage standing out clearly, even through all his new injuries. So that means... Hermione felt dizzy.
"George..." she breathed, close enough now for him to hear her. George looked up at her, tears streaming down his face.
"Hermione," he said, grief and pity on his face. He was the only one who knew. Hermione looked down the unmoving body on the floor. It was exactly what she had feared. Fred's body lay, unmoving, eye closed, his last laugh still etched upon his face.
The tears started to spill. Hermione collapsed to her knees. George put an arm around her. Hermione cradled Fred's face with her hands, feeling the scarred skin on hers.
"Fred...no..." she cried. Their relationship had barely even begun, and now he's gone. "You can't go now...Not now."
Suddenly, she felt something hit the inside of her abdomen softly.
She gasped, and her hand fell to her stomach again. This was the first time she had felt anything like it. Tonight, when Fred had died, was the night she got the first sign of the living being inside her. This only brought more tears to her eyes. She took one of Fred's cold, limp hands, and placed it on her tummy, next to hers. She placed her other hand on his cheek, and whispered to her dead lover.
"Our child just kicked, Fred."
No one but George had known about their relationship until that point. While Harry and Ron had been running around the country, she was helping the Order, doing missions and gaining intelligence. She and Fred had fell hard, for each other. Eventually, their relationship was taken further, albeit in secret (although she had no reason as to why), and they had gotten a child. They only found out about him a few days before the Battle. They entered the Battle of Hogwarts fighting for the chance to live with each other, and with their baby. They were planning to spill the beans to the family at the end of the Battle, but Fred never got that chance. Hermione did it the same way she had raised little Jamie all these 7 years; alone. She had help from all the family, who had taken it surprisingly well, but she never married. She still ached for Fred.
The healthy cry of a newborn filled the delivery room. Hermione sighed as the labour pain started to subside at last. A wide smile graced her features as her child was set into her arms.
"It's a boy," the healer announced. She turned to George, who had been helping her through her labour. He, too, was wearing a huge smile, watching his nephew fondly.
"Well done, Hermione," he said to her. Hermione looked back down at her little boy, and tears filled her eyes. "Hey, what's wrong?"
"I just-I wish Fred was here to see this," she choked out.
"He can see this," George reassured her. "He's watching this from wherever he is right now, and he's feeling extremely proud of you, and he's so excited about his son."
Hermione let herself smile again.
"Thanks, George," she said.
"I'm here for you, Hermione," George said. "Everybody is. You know that."
"I know," Hermione said, as the family spilled into the room. She handed the baby boy to Molly, who was beaming, and cooed at her grandson as soon as he was in her arms.
"Oh, he's beautiful," she said. Turning to Hermione, she asked, "What's going to be his name?"
She had thought all her pregnancy for it. It was perfect.
"Jamie."
"It's perfect."
"Mummy?"
Her heart wrenched with maternal care when she saw her son's face. He looked like he was about to cry. It was obvious something had happened. She held her arms open and Jamie ran into them.
"What's wrong, dear?" she asked, cradling her son's face, like she had cradled his father's nearly eight years ago.
"The kids at school are teasing me," Jamie explained.
"Why are they teasing you?" Hermione asked concernedly.
"They say I don't have a daddy," Jamie pouted. "I told them what you told me, that daddy has gone to a happy place with Uncle Harry's goddaddy and Teddy's daddy and mummy, and he'll come back one day, but they don't believe me."
"Oh, Jamie..." Hermione didn't know what to say.
"Mummy?"
"Yes?"
"Is daddy dead?"
Now she didn't know what to say. Should she tell him? Or should she leave him with his simple innocence and blissful ignorance?
"Jamie..."
"The other kids says he's dead. He's dead, isn't he, Mummy?"
Hermione saw tears in Jamie's eyes.
Well, he'll find out sooner or later.
Hermione lifted Jamie up and sat him on the couch next to her. She felt sad just thinking about what to say, and how to explain it to her beautiful boy. How do you tell a 7-year-old that his father is dead?
"Jamie-do you...do you like it here?" she asked. "Do you like this world, that we're living in?"
Jamie nodded tearfully.
"It's a very happy place, isn't it?" Nod. "It's very peaceful." Another nod. "Well, a long time ago, before you were born, it wasn't very much like this."
Jamie's eyes widened. Hermione continued.
"It was dark, and scary, and...and there were-bad people, making it scary. And your dad, he died fighting those bad people."
"Did they kill him?"
"No, no, no." Hermione hastened to say. "There was a really big battle at Hogwarts, and he died in an explosion. He died courageously. He died fighting alongside his brother, Uncle Percy. He died laughing." Tears came to her eyes at this. She tried pushing them back. "He was always a brilliant joker, your dad, always coming up with the best pranks, and making everybody laugh. And he died laughing at his brother's joke. He died with a smile on his face."
Hermione pulled her son into a hug, tears she couldn't hold back streaming down her face now. Jamie wound his small arms around her and hugged her back. She stayed like that, letting her tears fall, holding her son.
"Mummy," Jamie said. "Please don't cry."
Hermione sniffed, trying to stop her crying. She pulled away, and looked down at her son's face.
"Okay," she said.
"Mummy," Jamie said, "am I going to be like daddy?"
Hermione smiled.
"You're going to be exactly like him. You are the spitting image of him, there's not a single difference. And you're going to be just as funny and a good joker, your Uncle George will make sure of that," Hermione laughed lightly at the thought, at the fact that it was blatantly true. "And you'll grow up to be just as brave."
Jamie beamed.
"So if the other kids tease you about daddy, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Okay?" Jamie nodded. "You tell them that your dad died fighting bad people, trying to make your life easier, and the world you live in a better place. You tell them that your dad was a brave man."
Jamie nodded, his wide smile still on his face. Hermione smiled back, proud of her son. As she watched him bounce away happily, she realised the truth of her words. Jamie Weasley will be exactly like she had said. He'll be just like his father. Like Fred.
A/N: So, just a little one-shot for you guys while waiting for the next chapter of Dreams. I just got this idea sort of randomly. I cried thinking about it. Then I remembered that I could write it down, so I did.
Hope you guys enjoyed that.
Review? Please? Pretty please? EVen though I know that "the physical appearance of the "please" does not make a difference".
