Christmas Eve 2006
The Auror Office was on the second floor of the Ministry of Magic. Currently under the Head of Gawain Robards, it consisted of cubicles covered with Wanted Posters and maps. Ron had stopped by to pick Hermione up from work. It was Christmas Eve. He had a plastic bag on his arm.
"Ghastly weather," Ron complained to Harry, his coat dripping.
pitter-patt-pitter-patt
He crossed the floor over to Harry. "Apparated into snow up to my knees just a second ago. Then a taxi splashed icy water all over me! Happy Christmas to all and to all a good -!"
He made a rude hand gesture but then chuckled. Indeed, his trousers were soaked up to his knees and his hair was sopping. Ron had the Weasley trademark fiery red hair and freckled complexion but he had blue eyes. He still had large hands and feet, though he had grown into them somewhat over the years.
He had a long nose and his ears were known to turn red like Ginny's face when feeling strong emotions. Due to his partiality to sweets, he was not as thin as he was in his youth. His face was less thin than Harry's.
Harry glanced up from his watch, smirking at Ron drying his clothes using a hot-air charm, "Shift's nearly over. I've got to meet my family in Godric's Hallow soon."
Doubled over to aim his wand at his shins, Ron gazed up, "James still - er - difficult?"
"He's three months old." Harry replied. "He's sleeping through most nights. Reminds me of my nights with Teddy. I'm like a veteran now."
"In more ways than one." Ron nodded, "Hermione's still under the weather. I suggested that she should stay at home but she accused me of 'ordering her around'. She wouldn't hear of it."
"I just passed her. She still looks a tad green," Harry agreed. "I said 'hello' to her. But, I don't think she heard me."
"Odd, isn't it? Hermione never gets ill," Ron worried. "She's too weak to -?"
"She's not 'weak', mate. Her mind's just fuzzy."
"Hermione's mind doesn't get 'fuzzy'!"
Harry regularly ran into Hermione on the Second Level. It was as close to the old times as they could get though Ron was no longer working with him. Ron and Harry had been partners on the Auror force, off to complete dangerous and reckless tasks, still willing to put their lives on the line to keep the world safe. Now Ron was co-managing Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes with his older brother, George.
Ron cursed, "She wouldn't miss a day of work even if a Blast-Ended Skrewt took her left -"
He broke off, distracted. Harry followed his gaze and saw that Hermione had just entered the Aurors' office with her purse hanging from her shoulder, bouncing on her hip. Hermione had her long bushy brown hair tied back in a plait. She had dark doe eyes and perfected teeth. Popping a mint into her mouth, her face had a faint sheen of sweat.
Though she gave them a smile, Harry could tell that she felt absolutely miserable.
"Ron, honey." Hermione looked positively pale, all bossiness in her tone absent. "Can we hurry?"
It was like Harry was no longer there.
Ron stooped slightly for full eye contact, "Has it gotten worse, Hermione? Do I need to take you to St. Mungo's -?"
"No, no. Don't be silly." Hermione shook her head, trying to smile. "Percy's packaged kale salad made my head spin. Babe, I just can't read another word before needing to ... you know." She looked faint. "Besides, Kingsley's been insisting I take the day off all day. It was annoying. Like because I'm a woman, I can't do my job properly." She sighed, "Why do I just want to sleep and do nothing?"
Harry agreed with Ron. It was unusual for Hermione to abandon her work. Now Ron was paler than usual. Even his gazillion freckles appeared to fade.
"It's Christmas Eve, Hermione. We're Apparating to the Burrow tomorrow afternoon. " Ron reminded her, worried. "For Christmas supper? The whole familys' gonna be there -"
Hermione hissed, "Right. Slipped my mind. See? I'm ... 'fuzzy'. I'll be more comfortable at home." She cleared her throat. "I don't want to get the children sick."
"They'll be fine," Harry assured her. "Please, come tomorrow." He gave her an empathetic smile, "It won't be Christmas without you two there."
Hermione wrinkled her nose up at him, "I'll try." She turned to Ron, "So are we ready, Ron?"
After wishing Harry a happy Christmas, Ron departed with Hermione. Almost like a Christmas miracle, the famous couple were not bothered by the Daily Prophet paparazzi ... at least not up-close. They took their photos from a considerable distance and didn't shout at them other than "Happy Christmas!".
"Can I carry that for you?" Ron asked, pointing at Hermione's purse.
Hermione blinked dozily, "What?"
"Never mind," Ron smiled and took it off her shoulder. "Let's get you inside."
Since the war about 8 years ago, they were made nearly as famous as Harry. Nearly. Ron was bullied in the tabloids when he left the Aurors after two years, especially by Rita Skeeter. She spun a story that he was mentally-damaged since the war. Though they all were, she had no right to spread gossip about such a private matter.
The newlyweds lived in an intimate condo within walking distance of the Ministry of Magic. It was protected by many powerful enchantments since Hermione was one of the most elite employees at the Ministry. The hassle was worth the privacy. Not even their next door neighbors knew that they lived there. The entry corridor passed the coat closet and their kitchen, flowing out to the joint living and dining area. Off the living area was their one bedroom, their master.
It had a bathroom and walk-in closet which Hermione enchanted to go deeper than the muggle construction restricted. Off the dining area was a short corridor leading to another bathroom in the hall. They decorated their place with compromises as they had very different tastes. On top of Hermione's many books was a pamphlet on the dining table detailing the new items being sold at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.
Hermione felt so lethargic, she could hardly focus on anything anymore. She felt like she was in another tailspin and dove for closest bathroom. She had chosen well to tie her hair up in a plait that day. She had felt too miserable to do much else with it. Crookshanks gave a raspy meow, waddling into the bathroom after his owner.
"What the bloody hell is wrong with me?" Hermione croaked out Ron's choice curse, her voice echoing in the toilet bowl.
Hermione walked over to their bedroom. She was of average height and build. Ron's drawstring sweatpants hung off her wide hips and bunched up in rolls over her painted toenails. She removed her subtle makeup and unlocked her bra. She felt much warmer in Ron's clothes so she borrowed one of his cotton sweaters.
Hermione took a wary sip of water and wondered what was the cause of her nausea. Ron came out of the shower smelling of gingerbread and musk. She felt him kiss the top of her head and she watched him drag a chair closer to her. He sank down into it, wearing only his boxers.
Ron set the bag he had been carrying in the Ministry on the table, "How are you feeling, sweetie?"
"I don't know what's wrong with me," she admitted to him, indicating her emptied glass of water. "It's not food poisoning 'cause I can stay hydrated. It's not -"
She caught sight of the label inside the plastic bag: Clearblue Pregnancy Test.
She gazed up at her husband, "Ron?"
"It's what it is, Hermione." Ron held out the bag to her. "At least, I hope so. Look, I bought both kinds: the one with the lines and the one that says 'pregnant' -"
"I haven't finished!" Hermione exclaimed shrilly at the word. "How can I finish translating The Tales of Beetle the Bard? All those runes! And I have to work at the Ministry -!"
Ron's chuckle distracted her, "Hermione, babe. You don't have to stop reading or writing if you're pregnant. You could do that on top of your belly! It'll be like a portable desk!" He waited for a moment to see if she'd smile. "... A-And no one is asking you to take time off from work."
Hermione rested her forehead on the heel of one hand, her bushy hair bouncing, "I know, I know. You'd never ask me to do that. It's just ... are we ready?"
"You're talking to me like the test is already positive. Do you have another secret Time Turner, Hermione?" Ron jested.
"Impossible. We destroyed them all. You were there," Hermione reminded him, missing his joke. She looked away, distracted, "Ginny may have had James when she was twenty-three ... and I'm twenty-seven now ... we're certainly old enough. Definitely." Her eyes locked back onto Ron's, "But, we both have our careers to think about!"
Ron tried to reassure her, "Harry juggles it all just fine. He even finds time for Ted-"
Hermione was like a runaway train, "How will we have the time? Your parents have six grandchildren already! Six, Ron! How can we ask them to look after ours while we're at work, too?"
Ron did the math in his head and knew there was an extra, "You're counting Teddy, aren't you?"
"Of course I'm 'counting Teddy'!" Hermione confirmed crossly. "He's Harry's godson!"
"Victoire and Dominique live out on the coast of Tinworth, Hermione. Mum and dad only see them so often. " Ron tried not to let her panic seep into him. "Molly II, Fred II, and James II are probably the only ones they see a lot." He saw that 3 was still too large of a number to her, "But, mostly James, I expect. So, it's just one tiny chap -"
Hermione cut across him, "And the money! You know a baby costs a thousand galleons and a hundred and fifty sickles a year?"
Ron could see that he could do very little with words to calm his best friend and wife. Hermione was working herself up into a panic. He smiled, remembering how Hermione volunteered to help Ginny and Harry with the budget when Ginny found out she was pregnant with James.
"Stop laughing at me!" Hermione snapped and Ron flinched, his smile vanishing. "That's just the first year, Ron! We have at least seventeen more to plan for! There's doctor appointments, dentists, schooling -"
"They'd go to Hogwarts! See? One plan done. And your parents will take care of their teeth -"
"What if they're a squib or a muggle?"
Ron took her hand and Hermione fell silent. When nights got difficult, they would go to sleep holding hands. They started that about nine years ago when they were searching for the Horcruxes. They both had their trials and nightmares sometimes haunted them. She started to stroke his hairy knuckle fondly, turning her glazy doe eyes to his blue after he knelt down on one knee.
"How about you take the test first." He suggested. "We could be fretting over nothing."
Hermione sighed and took the grocery bag into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She dumped out the two tests onto the sink countertop. She opened the digital box first, fishing out one of the packages. She conjured a plastic cup and went to do her business. Ron paced outside the bathroom door, wringing his hands.
He felt anxious but excited all at once. He hoped he wasn't wrong about this hunch. Something in his heart assured him that he was not wrong. Hermione placed the absorbant tip of the test inside her liquid and waited.
... Pregnant.
Hermione let out a shaky gasp, the corners of her lips turning up. She was smiling. Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth, fighting back her giggles. She then got ahold of herself. She decided to take the second test as well. When both tests came back positive, Hermione wilted against the countertop. She stroked her flat belly.
She could feel nothing different but she knew that there was life blooming inside her womb. While she had been worrying at the table, she had never considered she would feel this much joy at the positive result. Hermione realized she had been a while in the bathroom. She opened the door to Ron seated at the foot of their bed.
"Hey, did the sun come out?" Ron grinned. "Or did you just smile at me?"
"I took both to be sure." Hermione revealed a test to him, "Happy Christmas, Ron. I'm pregnant!"
Ron was on his feet so fast that Hermione had not registered him moving. Only that his lips were now on hers and that her feet were off the floor.