Chapter 2: Struggles

Harry frowned at the back of the man in front of him. A full head taller than he was, Harry had to crane his neck to read the type across the back of the stranger's ballcap: Puddlemere United. Lovely.

Glancing to his right, Harry noted how Richard Granger was failing to hide his amusement. "Want me to put you on my shoulders, son?" Hermione's father gave him a teasing wink.

Harry scowled, though it quickly upturned into a smirk. "I'll manage, Richard."

On Richard's other side, Jean Granger swatted at him. "Richard, leave the poor boy be!"

Harry hopped once, trying to see over the heads of the other waiters, to no avail. "I can't see a bloody thing! What does the board say, Mrs. Granger?"

Jean peered at the Flights board. "They've landed. I can see their gate from here... Oh, look! There! Richard, Harry, there! It's Ron!"

The three broke through the crowd, Ron raising his hand in greeting upon spotting Harry's signature glasses. Carry-on bag in hand, Hermione danced around her husband and flung herself into her parents' arms.

"Mum! Daddy!"

"Hello, Princess," Richard pecked his daughter's cheek, before moving to shake Ron's hand. "How was the honeymoon?"

"So romantic!" Hermione directed to her mother as they embraced, then moved on to Harry. Smirking in bemusement, she paused to straighten his tie. "Just come from the office, big brother?"

Harry smiled. He could get used to hearing her call him that, now that they were siblings by marriage. "Yup. Ginny's waiting with supper." He kissed her cheek, then hissed in her ear. "Fancy dropping by my office for lunch tomorrow? I want to hear all about it! I'd ask Ron, but he tends to embellish any story he tells."

Hermione laughed. "He does at that. Sure. I'll see you tomorrow, Harry."

More in love than ever, and wanting to keep some of their wedded bliss, Ron and Hermione began trying for a baby soon after coming home. Both were still very early in their careers at the Ministry, Ron with Harry in the Auror Department, and Hermione beginning in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. But no matter what they did, no matter how often Ron and Hermione had sex, a little bundle of joy failed to appear. Meanwhile, the other Weasleys had already begun having families, and were continuing to do so. Hermione did her best to hide her concern, pretend that nothing was wrong.

Unfortunately, the wizarding media did little to ease her worry. After all, controversy sells. And the fact that the married two-thirds of the Golden Trio, the wizarding world's greatest love story, had failed to conceive a child was very controversial indeed.

It was late 2004, and the Golden Trio were meeting up for lunch at their break hour, just as they always did. Hermione bestowed a kiss for her husband, a hug for Harry, as she pilfered a Daily Prophet while moving into the lunch line. It wasn't until the three sat down that she got a good look at the front page article... and slammed the parchment down in frustration, blinking back tears, several lines in.

"Look at this! I can't believe it! She's done it again!"

Harry craned his eyes up over the rim of his spectacles, as he attempted to read the Prophet and its offending article upside down. "Who?"

"Rita Skeeter! Who else?"

Ron quirked one eyebrow as he brought his coffee mug to his lips. "What the bloody hell's the Prophet doing, hiring Skeeter?"

"Free-lance, apparently," Harry reported disappointedly. "Though Luna says she's still mainly with the Quibbler."

"Luna should have fired that tramp a long time ago," Ron muttered darkly, taking a sip from his brew.

"Oh, she would, but Skeeter still has power, whatever you think of her."

"Get a load of this rubbish!" Hermione interrupted the boys. "In what many have deemed a befuddling tragedy, we have yet to hear the pitter-patter of little feet from the Romeo and Juliet of our times, Harry Potter's beloved friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Weasley (nee Granger). Sources tell me that Mrs. Weasley's long-ago suffering under the Cruciatus Curse during the War has potentially left her infertile. Doctors at St. Mungo's refused us access to Hermione Weasley's medical records."

Harry spluttered. "She tried to get into your medical records?! That's bloody illegal!"

"And a load of tripe, to boot!" Ron angrily threw down his napkin. "I'm gonna go down there and have a serious talk with that... woman!"

"Don't bother," Harry shook his head. "I'll pass it along to Ginny, and she'll just do it for you - and in a much more clever way."

Having not thought of that, Ron lowered himself back into his seat, satisfied... until he saw the ashen, fearful look on his wife's face. Gently, Ron took her hand. "Hermione... that story is rubbish! Infertility due to Crucio... why, that's ridiculous!" He brushed a lock of hair out of her face and leaned over the table to kiss her cheek. "We'll have a baby one day soon... I promise."

Hermione smiled at her husband weakly, interrupted by the bell ringing. Clearing away, she kissed Ron goodbye deeply, and buzzed Harry on the cheek.

It was one mid-morning a couple of weeks later when Hermione entered Harry's office with her lunch pail in hand. For a moment, she paused in the doorway, admiring her beloved brother-in-law.

Harry always got into a zone when he was working. His glasses were always pushed down to the edge of his nose, so that he read the type over their rim. His mouth in a hard line, slightly open. Eyes serious with concentration. And the smile he now gave her upon seeing her was one already wrinkled somewhat with age. He looked very much a man - perhaps a little before his time. But, after all he had been through, who could blame him?

"Just in time, baby sister. Pull up a chair."

Smiling warmly, Hermione took a seat on the other side of Harry's desk. Ever since the beginning of their careers, she and Harry had made a point to set aside one lunch a week for just the two of them. They took their meals with Ron every other day of the week, and Hermione always had her husband to go home to for dinner every night (Ron had proven himself to be quite a good cook, and surprisingly judicious in his sharing of the household chores).

"Ron's gone to the shop today. To eat with George."

"Ah, it's George's turn this week, then, is it?" Ron filled his Wednesday lunch times by visiting with his siblings, save for far-away Charlie. He would rotate through his remaining siblings for the month, until the cycle started itself over again.

Hermione nodded. Then, she ventured quietly. "How's the baby?" Ginny had given birth to her and Harry's first child, James Sirius Potter II, just a few weeks earlier, on a blustery March day.

Harry's smile was aged, crinkled, but still warm. "An impossible, loud bundle of joy. But we love him."

"When he's not waking you and Gin up," Hermione quipped. They both laughed. Harry cleared his throat.

"Are you and Ron still...?" his voice trailed off.

Hermione nodded, her lips now pursed and tight. "Still nothing."

Harry raised one eyebrow. "He's been good to you?"

Hermione giggled, gazing at him affectionately. "You're cute when you're protective," she teased sweetly. "Your eyebrows get all scrunched together. Yes, Ronald has been nothing short of wonderful."

"Ruddy better," Harry grunted. "I'm a defensive brother bear, you know." He smirked lovingly, and Hermione laughed, recalling the Trio's recent movie night, just after baby James (and an exhausted Ginny) had gone to bed. They had watched some Muggle Disney movie, she and Harry reminiscing over their shared Muggle childhoods; Ron had only gotten into it when he learned that the headliner of Genesis - some retro Muggle band - had written and performed all the songs.

"I knew you shouldn't have gotten Ron those seventies records last Christmas," Hermione muttered. But she knew - and she knew Harry could tell - that the quip felt forced. Soothingly, her brother-in-law took her hand.

"It will happen when the time is right, Hermione. And you'll be a bloody amazing mother. Can't you just imagine how beserk Ron is going to get? He won't be able to keep his hands to himself!"

Hermione throatily laughed, a laugh which quite unexpectedly turned into a sob. Eyes filled with concern, Harry circled his desk and knelt by her chair, an arm around her shoulders.

"Why is this happening, Harry?" Hermione whispered. "Why can't I...?"

Harry regarded her sadly, heart breaking for her. "I don't know, little sister. But I'll help you, however I can. I promise."

It was difficult to go back to work after Hermione had left. Finally, at about the 3:00 hour, Harry gave up going over paperwork, and headed for the lifts, Flooing home to Godric's Hollow.

Emerging from the emerald-green flames of the fireplace, he found Ginny coming down the stairs, a fussing James on her hip, just up from his nap. She cocked an eyebrow.

"You're home early."

"I know, I'm sorry," Harry huffed tiredly, ruffling his son's crown, and pecking his wife on the cheek. "Couldn't concentrate after a while." Depositing his briefcase beside his favorite easy chair, he stalked for the kitchen. He could feel Ginny's eyes on him, and waited for her to say something. In almost four years of marriage - and thirteen years knowing each other - she was beginning to read him almost as well as Ron and Hermione.

He was at the sink when he heard Ginny's voice at his back: "Harry, what's wrong?"

Harry thumped his hands onto the marble countertop, his gaze fixed on one spot by the faucet, brooding. "I can defeat Dark Wizards. I can capture and imprison Death Eaters all the live long day, but I can't help my best mates be happy? I'm Harry Potter, for fuck's sake!"

Ginny came to stand behind him, one hand massaging soothingly along his shoulder blades. "Is this about that tabloid crap from Skeeter a couple of months ago? About Ron and Hermione trying to get pregnant?"

Harry nodded glumly. "And I think Hermione's starting to believe it. She... got a little emotional at our Wednesday lunch today. It's starting to get to her, the desire to want to be pregnant. And frankly, I don't think the family's helping. Molly keeps dropping hints at every family dinner. And everyone else is popping out kids like they're Chocolate Frogs!"

"Never heard that analogy before," Ginny muttered dryly. A pause and then: "Do you believe it? What Skeeter wrote?"

"I don't know!" Harry growled, tossing a dish rag into the sink.

"Well, don't. What happened at Malfoy Manor wasn't your fault."

"No," Harry rapidly shook his head. "I did this. I betrayed my family." He groaned, hanging his head dejectedly. "Vernon was right."

Ginny didn't bother to ask what incident from his hellish childhood Harry might be referring to. Though he had opened up to her about the horrors he experienced at the hands of the Dursleys, Ginny did not take much stock in whatever lies those horrid Muggles might have fed her husband. Turning her husband round, she caught his eyes and held them. "You can't protect Ron and Hermione forever, Harry."

Harry sighed. "But there's gotta be something I can do!"

"Ssh. You don't have that kind of power. You've never bought into your own legend. Don't start now!" It came out as a bit of a teasing jab, yet there was still a serious warning behind it. Harry had always been careful about his own fame, controlling what he could, and setting the record straight on what he couldn't. But this... Ginny could not deny that there was a certain power inherent in just being Harry Potter. And that, when it came to the happiness and parental wishes of his best friends, Harry was more than a little tempted to find some means through which to harness that power for two people she was certain he loved just as much as her and their son. A loophole. Some way. Any way.

Ginny settled to wrapping Harry in a hug, letting him share his burden with her, as she had countless times before.

"They've done so much for me. I just want to do something for them in return."

"You already are. Be their best mate. Lend an ear. The rest will work itself out in time."

Back at the Ministry, the offices were deserted, her colleagues long since departed home for the night. Yet, Hermione was still here, alone, throwing herself into her work, even though her tear-stained eyes and cheeks were begging her for a rest.

A creak of her office door made her start, glance to the clock and the lateness of the hour she had long since ignored. Then back to the open doorway, to find that the hallway backlit onto a unsettling head of blinding white-blonde hair.

Hermione hastily dabbed at her eyes, and tried to sound stronger than she felt as she growled, "What do you want?"

Draco Malfoy shuffled his feet awkwardly, taking a sudden interest in the carpet which he was now scuffing with his dragon-hide saddle shoes. He appeared the meekest and most unsure of himself that Hermione had ever seen him, and when he finally raised his eyes to her, he would not meet her gaze, at least not all the way. And perhaps it was smart that he didn't.

"I... I've been hearing some things. Going around the Ministry. That you and Weasl - Ron - are struggling to have a baby."

Hermione glowered at him, slamming the latest file on her desk shut. It had been with great dismay to silently observe the staying power of Rita Skeeter's gossip from several months before. "That is none of your business! And you shouldn't believe everything you read, Draco!" Though the second chiding had less venom in it than the first.

"Skeeter might be right, though!" She glanced at him, dumbfounded, and Draco once again averted his gaze. "About... the Cruciatus Curse. And some of its... physical effects. I've... read some things." Whether or not this reading had been done in response to the rumors about Hermione, Draco did not let on. "And if that's so... I'm sorry. I... I wanted to stop them, that night. Protect you. But I was scared and I didn't know how. You've... you've really made me re-think... what I was always taught... and for the better. So, thank you."

Hermione gaped at her former school rival in astonishment. Never, in all her life, had she ever anticipated that Draco Malfoy would apologize to someone like her. And that reveal, about him wanting to stop her torture that horrid night... Of the little she could remember from the ordeal, Hermione vividly recalled seeing Draco's blank face, as he seemed to sit back and let his sadistic aunt abuse her within an inch of her life. Could she believe him, that his passivity had not been for lack of trying, at the eleventh hour, to find some humanity?

... Maybe. She blinked rapidly, before getting out. "Thank you... Draco. That was... really sweet." Rapidly gathering her things, she circled her desk and moved past her former classmate. But she paused at the door, turned back to look him in the eye. When she was sure she had his attention, she said, quite simply:

"I forgive you."

The minute she appeared with a CRACK! in her and Ron's bedroom, Hermione buried her face in her hands and wept. She wept over the baby that she so desperately wanted with Ron. She wept over the possibility that Bellatrix had left an indelible control over her life, even from beyond the grave. She wept with relief that she had finally forgiven a man whom had long tormented her just because of who she was, and that he had apologized for it.

Hearing her sobs, Ron stumbled from the master bathroom, face etched with concern. "Hermione? Love, what is it?"

Whimpering, Hermione ran into his arms, throwing her limbs around his neck. "Oh, Ron! I'm afraid! Afraid for my life!" she wailed.

"Bloody hell! What's ailing the belle of Ottery St. Catchpole?" Ron chuckled, though the concern remained clear in his voice.

"I'm sorry I'm crying... I can't help it!"

Ron clutched her closer and chuckled soothingly. "You cry your eyes out!" he told her.

"Don't leave me!"

"Never," Ron growled, rocking his wife gently, letting her come apart on his shoulder. At last, when her sobs had faded into sniffles, he leaned back, lifting her chin daintily with a finger. "What is it, my love?"

Hermione gulped, her voice filled with a tremor as she spoke. "Draco Malfoy... stopped by my office. While I was working late."

Instantly, she felt Ron's grip on her forearms tighten. A muscle ticked in his jaw as his entire face contorted into wary concern and little bit of anger. "Did he hurt you?"

"No." Hermione shook her head.

"Did he touch you?" A wolf did not have the growl in Ron's tone.

"No!" Hermione yelped, her insides churning with disgust at the very thought. "He... he heard about Skeeter's article. From a couple months ago. He... he thinks that my torture may have... lasting physical damage. That it might explain why I haven't..."

"Gotten pregnant? Why in the ruddy hell is Draco sodding Malfoy talking to you about this?" Ron snarled.

"He apologized," Hermione blurted out. "For not helping me that night at the Manor. And... I forgave him." The last came out in a whisper, and Hermione found herself still a little shocked that she had in fact forgiven Draco for his sins.

Her husband was peering at her curiously. His brow was creased in thought, and maybe a little lingering bitterness. "Well, you're a better person than I am. Cause I'm never forgiving him."

Hermione rested her hands on his chest. "I don't expect you to," she murmured gently.

"Good. I'm not like you, Hermione. I have so much... anger, especially over what those bastards did to you. And... as much as we bicker and nag, you... you calm me. I love and need you so much for that." Hermione was startled to find tears swimming in Ron's blue eyes, as he gazed down at her with unabashed adoration.

Hermione smiled at him gently. "I'm so glad I do that for you."

"You do, and so, so much more," Ron beamed with love. "That smile, right there - you don't know how many times you've raised my spirits with it." He kissed her, long and lingering. "Merlin Almighty, I love you, Hermione."

"And I love you," she sighed, melting into his embrace and resting her head on his chest. There was a moment of silence, where the couple just let themselves be together and in love, before Hermione spoke again:

"I had lunch with Harry today."

"Hmm?" Ron's chin shifted in her hair from where he had been resting it on the top of her head. "Oh, right. Wednesday. And what did you two geniuses talk about?"

"About James. He's getting so big! I... mentioned how we've still been trying. He asked," she explained when Ron peered down at her. "He seemed really concerned that there's been... nothing." A sudden thought struck her, specifically recalling something that Harry had said, and her eyes searched her husband's face. "Do you think... Harry might be able to help us?"

Something in Ron's expression was now unreadable. His jaw had hardened, and he seemed flat-footed over how to respond. "We don't need his help," he got out at last, and his vehemence shocked her. Ron kissed her again, passionately, and Hermione allowed herself to melt into in, setting aside for the moment Ron's strange reaction regarding their best friend. Her best friend. Her brother. The father of their nephew and godson.

Ron waited until Hermione had fallen asleep in their bed, before quietly stealing out of their room, down the stairs and Flooing into the fireplace.

He emerged inside the Potters' living room, in Godric's Hollow, to find lights on in the kitchen, and both his sister and a frazzled Harry attempting in vain to quell a fussing James.

Ron started straight for his brother-in-law, ignoring Ginny's startled, "Ron, what are you doing here? It's the middle of the night!"

"What did you say to Hermione?" Ron demanded, also ignoring how his sister's husband was currently otherwise engaged with their son.

"Say what? What are you talking about?" Harry frowned, as he wrestled to get James into a clean nappie - apparently, the source of all the ruckus.

"You said you wanted to help us have a baby! Now what did you mean by that?"

"What I said. Just that I wanted to help her!"

"How?"

Harry's eyes widened a little as he clued in, thinking back to the lunch from earlier that day. "Oh. I just thought..." and he all at once seemed to flush red. "I didn't mean anything specific, but I was thinking... maybe I could be a... a donor? You know, sperm?" At Ron's gaping look, Harry added quickly. "The thought only just occurred to me this evening! I hadn't even decided whether or not I was going to bring it up. To you, or Hermione."

Ron's entire face tensed. Harry eyed him warily, not even noticing how Ginny's mouth had fallen open in shock and that James had even stopped squirming, as if he could sense the solemnity in the room.

"Ron -?"

"I'm not raising your kid, Harry. For once in my life, I want something that's mine and Hermione's!" And Ron stormed back out through the Floo, leaving a gaping Harry and Ginny in his wake.

Christmas Eve was always a magical night at the Burrow. Hell, the whole holiday season was, but Hermione had to admit that the festivities grew bigger and bigger each year. Molly Weasley had now gotten into the habit of cooking two dinners, one for the Eve and one for the actual holiday.

"Mum, you work yourself too hard," at least one of the children or children-in-law would say. Mrs. Weasley would just brush this off, and sit back satisfactorily as her family dug in and someone would then say how she had outdone herself from last year's dinners.

The family had already begun to expand. Bill and Fleur had welcomed their second child, Dominique, in July of 2003. Percy and Audrey had had a girl, Molly II, in April 2004, and George and Angelina had gotten married that summer. Oh yeah, and little James Potter II also came along, in March of 2005, just under a year after miniature Molly. At nine months old, he was already a little devil. Hermione recalled that Harry had been as nervous as a cat on the day his son was born, running around frantically trying to get Ginny to the hospital. At one point, he had tripped, crashed into Ron and both men fell down the stairs, fracturing several bones. It had been quite a mess at St. Mungo's that day, but was now a baby story that was sure to be followed by more funny ones to come.

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted as George suddenly stood up and chinked his glass to get everyone's attention. He then turned to his wife, obviously looking to her to tell whatever it was that had to be told. Angelina looked like she was about ready to burst from excitement.

"I'm pregnant!" she squealed. Everyone smiled and started to applaud, as had now become standard procedure, when a sudden shriek made them all jump.

"No way!" Audrey cried. "Me, too!"

"Moi aussi!" Fleur suddenly cut in, looking disappointed that someone had already beaten her to the punch.

Ginny grimaced. "I guess this is a bad time to, uh, fourth that?..."

Charlie, the only Weasley son who had not married, threw back his head and groaned. "Oh my god!"

Mrs. Weasley burst into tears. She jumped up and ran to her daughters, hugging the life out of them. Her husband laughed heartily and threw his arms over Bill and Percy's shoulders. "Oh, wait 'till I tell this at the Ministry!" he chortled.

Hermione bit her lip as she watched her family devolve into chaotic excitement. All the women were asking each other how far along they were; it seemed the babies would be born within weeks of each other. Hermione felt truly happy for everyone, but could not shake the feeling of being left out. She tried hiding it for a little while by passing congratulations all around. Eventually, though, she could not contain it any longer and promptly left the table for upstairs with a small "Excuse me." Harry and Ron quickly noticed her departure and looked at each other. Both simultaneously got up, but then paused and regarded each other. Without saying a word and communicating only with their eyes, they slowly sat back down again. The family had stopped all chatter to watch the exchange. Ginny just shook her head, amused.

"I swear, sometimes I wonder if you two share a brain when it comes to her!" she observed. Everyone chuckled knowingly and resumed eating and discussing babies.

The moon was high in the sky that night when Hermione was pulled out of sleep. She had been dreaming of babies and one had not stopped crying. Now, she realized there actually was a baby crying. Assuming that one of the parents would take care of it, she waited for the wailing to abate. When it didn't after several minutes, she quietly got up to investigate.

Slipping down the hall, she gently pushed on the door that led to the spare room. It had been converted into a guest nursery for the grandchildren, and currently housed three cribs; at 5 years old already, Victoire slept in a trundle bed in the guest room that belonged to her parents. The whole family always spent a few nights at the Burrow over the Christmas holiday. Hermione identified the source of the cries immediately.

"Ssh, ssh, James, it's alright. Aunt Hermione's here. Did you have a bad dream? Aw, well I did too. Come on, Aunt Hermione will hold you." She grunted a little as she picked him up; he had already gotten quite big, and began to rock him gently. Her nephew and godson slowly began to calm and let out a yawn. Turning his face into her nightgown and gripping it with his tiny hands, he fell asleep. Hermione smiled. She would never forget when she had first held him, after Harry had asked her and Ron in a heartfelt request to be James's godparents. She wondered if she would feel the same when she had her own child. If she ever had her own child…

"You're his favorite, you know." Hermione jumped at the voice and whirled around to see a bleary-eyed Harry leaning against the doorframe. He smiled softly. "He won't fall asleep that fast for anyone else – not Audrey, not Fleur, not Angelina… hell, not even Ginny."

"I'm sorry," Hermione began. "He woke me up and no one was coming right away, so…"

"That's alright," Harry interrupted, as he strolled over and watched as Hermione gingerly placed his son back into his crib. "You're his godmother; he'll give you good practice for later when…" He paused when he saw Hermione visibly stiffen. "'Mione? Are you alright?"

Hermione, whose back was now to him, nodded. "Yes, I'm fine. It's just…" A brief silence, and then she burst into tears. The next second she was being pulled into Harry's arms, and he was rocking her back and forth like the baby she had just lulled to sleep. Hermione buried her face into her brother-in-law's nightshirt, so as to muffle her sobs and not wake the grandchildren. Besides her husband, Harry was the only man who could hold her like this and she would still be comfortable.

"Hush, now. It's all right." Harry soothed.

"Oh, I want a baby so bad!" Hermione blubbered.

"And you and Ron will get there eventually. Trust me. You'll make amazing parents."

"But what if we don't get there? What if there really is something wrong in our ability to conceive? What if I became sterile because of my torture? What if I – if I can't – Ron won't want to stay; he'll leave me!"

"Now stop it!" Harry hissed, a dash of firmness in his voice. He gently pushed her back and gave her a little shake. "If there is one thing you're husband is, it's that he's loyal – to the end. Nothing can change the way Ron feels about you. Nothing." He pulled her back into his arms. "I highly doubt Bellatrix could have damaged your reproductive system with the bloody Cruciatus Curse. And if, by some cruel twist of fate, she did, it's just one more reason for Ron and I to hate her, for me to blame myself, and for Ron to ride my ass about how it's my fault when he's had one too many butterbeers."

Hermione wanted to refute his culpability in her torture, but she could only laugh and hiccup through her tears. She looked up into his face. "I love you, big brother."

Harry grinned. "I love you too, little sister."

"Everything ok?" Both turned to see Ron in the doorway. Hermione slipped out of Harry's arms and flew into Ron's. Her husband did not seem fazed. He had learned long ago to not worry about his wife's feelings towards Harry. His two best friends cared for each other like siblings. When Hermione wouldn't let go and remained quiet, Ron glanced at Harry, and his brother-in-law filled in the details.

"Don't worry about it anymore," Ron murmured to his wife. "You are already a fantastic godmother and aunt – and you will make a bloody amazing mum when the time is right. Come on, let's go back to bed." They crept down the hall to their guest room and slipped into bed. Harry made to follow them out, then glanced back at the nursery. He could already imagine it a lot more full by this time next year. Smiling, he closed the door.

Hermione nervously pinched the pregnancy test between her thumb and forefinger. She had followed the instructions, peed on the stick. Now all she had to do was cast the charm. With shaking hands, she waved her wand over the test. The Muggle strip of paper said she was pregnant, but would magic - a more reliable indicator - back her up? A green light on her wand tip would tell her she was pregnant. A purple light meant no.

When the light turned green, Hermione burst into tears. She squealed, practically dancing around the privacy of her and Ron's little bathroom. At last, at last! She was pregnant with Ron's child! Beaming, Hermione hurriedly dressed, and raced over to the Ministry. She had called into her department sick that morning, which had been the truth (thanks to yet another bout of nausea into the toilet), but she didn't care. She had to tell her husband! And she had to tell Harry!

It was luck that she found them huddled together in Harry's office, going over what looked like some intelligence briefings. Her smile wide, her heart nearly bursting with happiness, she glossed over their surprised faces at finding her out and about, as she closed the door and happily huddled them around her.

"Hermione? What are you doing here?" Harry blinked.

"Love, what is it?" Ron asked, caressing her cheek worriedly.

"Nothing's wrong," Hermione assured them, glowing. "Something wonderful has happened." When she was only met with perplexed stares, she took Ron's hands in her own and gazed up into his face. "Ronnie..." using her pet name for him. "I'm pregnant."

At her side, she sensed Harry's mouth fall open, as she watched Ron's blue orbs alight with hope. "Are... are you really?"

Beaming tightly, blinking back tears, Hermione nodded vigorously. "Yes, Ronald. I am."

A moment of silence. And then:

"BLOODY BRILLIANT!" Ron crowed, picking his wife up and spinning her around in his arms. Hermione held on, laughing and shrieking. Harry was whooping, hopping up and down on the spot, all professional demeanor forgotten.

And then Ron was kissing her, desperately, his hands ghosting over her still-flat abdomen, although he now knew that a baby lay within.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" Ron mumbled against her lips, between frantic pecks.

"Wait and see," Hermione giggled.

She drew away after a moment and gazed up into Ron's face, her soft eyes searching his. "This gift is for you," she told him quietly, resting his hands on her abdomen. "I forgive you. For leaving Harry and I all those years ago."

Ron looked close to bursting into tears. "I don't deserve it," he whispered brokenly. Hermione tilted his chin.

"You do," she countered. "You came back."

Harry took Hermione's hand and squeezed it. "I promise as godfather that I will protect your baby from anyone or anything," he solemnly vowed. Then, the gravity of the statement was gone, as he threw his arms around both of his best mates. "Oh, wait till I tell Ginny! She'll go mental!"

Finally, finally, Ron and Hermione were going to have the child - the family - they had always wanted.