Hermione awoke early on Saturday morning. Instinctively, she clutched a hand to her stomach, feeling the familiar wave of nausea rush over her. She jumped up and bolted to the bathroom, leaning over the toilet just in time.
She accepted the piece of toilet roll Ron was holding out for her. Every morning she would wake him as she rushed to the bathroom, and every morning he would insist on accompanying her and making sure she was okay, despite her protests.
"Thanks," She muttered, wiping her mouth and taking a sip from the glass of water Ron had conjured out of thin air.
"You finished?" Ron yawned, stroking her hair.
"I think so," She said shakily, standing up. "I'll go and get some crackers..."
"Nuh-uh," Ron said disapprovingly. "I'll get them, go and lie down, love."
She smiled weakly at him and headed to the bedroom, first sitting gingerly on the bed, and then slowly lying back so as not to upset her stomach, pulling the duvet over her. She hated this. She hated not being able to everything for herself. Whether it was because she had spent so much of her childhood alone, Hermione did not know, but she was a fiercely independent woman. She would rarely accept help off of anyone, even Ron. She hated that he wouldn't allow her to walk down the stairs unattended in the mornings, she hated being treated like someone who was at high risk of falling and breaking her neck or having a breakdown. The only reason she allowed Ron to be so protective of her was because he constantly expressed his guilt about how she had to go through all the suffering when it came to their baby. It wouldn't be too long, however, before she snapped.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Ron came into the bedroom, his wand keeping two mugs of tea and a plate of plain crackers balanced in the air in front of him. The mornings had become a routine. Hermione would wake up and around half five – much earlier than either of them usually cared to start the day – and would wake Ron up in the process. He would hold her and comfort her whilst she was sick and send her back to bed, where the two of them would sip on their tea and Hermione would nibble at some crackers.
"How long's this morning sickness stuff supposed to last?" Ron said thoughtfully, placing Hermione's mug on her bedside table and handing her the plate.
"No more than about four weeks, although it differs from person to person," Hermione recited. She had taken it upon herself to read pregnancy books as though studying for a N.E.W.T exam.
"Right..." They sat in silence for a moment, before Ron said, "So, you've had it for, what, three weeks?"
"Yeah," Hermione said gravely. "And it's not as bad as it was before. I think I can see light at the end of the tunnel."
"Brilliant," Ron smiled, sipping his tea.
"So how's Hermione doing?" George asked absent-mindedly, running his finger over a list of purchases.
"Not too bad," Ron said fairly. "But this morning sickness is a kiler."
"Ha," George laughed dryly. "You haven't seen the half of it, dear brother."
"What?" Ron said, his head snapping up from the stock list he'd been checking.
"You've got the worst to come," George said grimly. "Cravings, hormones and then the actual birth... Merlin, the birth... Labour. Hours and hours of it." He chuckled at the horrified look on Ron's face. "Good luck, mate," He snorted, clapping Ron on the back as he walked through to the front of the shop.
"He's finally asleep," Ginny said, breathing a sigh of relief as she walked into the kitchen. "How we're going to manage with two kids, I'll never know."
Harry simply smiled wearily at her, the silence interrupted by the growling of Harry's stomach.
The noise seemed to awaken Ginny from a trance; suddenly, she leaped to life.
"Sorry," She said, frantically dashing around the kitchen. "Dinner shouldn't have been this late, but I was so exhausted I took a quick nap after I'd written my article for the week and... well, I didn't wake up until James started screaming. That was four hours! Then it's taken me three and a half hours to get the little git to shut up... I'm sorry!" She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, cursing hormones as she shovelled potatoes onto Harry's plate.
"Ginny," He murmured, jumping up and striding over to her. He placed his hands on her hips, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I'm sorry. It's my fault. I shouldn't be working this late; it's not fair to you. I know that little bugger is bloody hard work and I know you being four months pregnant isn't really helping the situation." He paused, kissing her cheek. "I'll talk to Kingsley in the morning and see if I can change my hours so I finish earlier, even if it means getting up at five to fit in the hours."
Ginny sniffed. "You can do that? They'll let you change your hours, just like that?"
"They should do," Harry muttered. "Head of the Auror Office and Harry bloody Potter, I'm pretty sure I can do what I like." He winked at her to reassure her he was joking, kissed her once more and set about laying the table for the two of them.
It was half eleven by the time they had finally sat down to dinner. Harry stabbed his fork into a piece of beef and raised the fork to his mouth, preparing to savour every mouthful as he ate for the first time since breakfast.
Then the doorbell rang.
"You have got to be kidding," Harry sighed, dropping his fork onto his plate with a clatter. Ginny made to get up, but he pushed her down gently. "Eat," He told her, tucking in his chair and heading for the door.
As he walked down the hall, an angry fist began to pound at the door. James' screams soon filled the house, and Harry cursed whoever it was that had awoken his son as Ginny dashed from the kitchen up the stairs to sooth him.
He opened the door to see Ron standing there.
"Thank you," Harry scowled. "I don't know what the hell you're here for at this time, but you've just woken my son, when your sister spent the best part of three hours trying to get to sleep. You also interrupted our dinner, before I'd even taken the first bite, when I haven't eaten in nearly eighteen hours. So thanks, Ron, thanks a lo- What's wrong?"
Ron looked absolutely terrified. But not terrified like Harry had seen him before. It wasn't death he was scared off this time, it was something a lot scarier.
Harry took a deep breath. "Come into the kitchen," He sighed, beckoning for Ron to follow him through. He sat down at the table, pulling his plate towards him greedily, then stopped, remembering Ginny upstairs trying to comfort James and, as a wave of guilt washed over him, he pushed the plate away.
"Tell you what," He said, standing up. "It's my turn to comfort James. Come up with me and I'll send Gin down to eat her food."
Ron shrugged, following obediently as Harry trudged up the stairs.
"Gin," Harry whispered as he walked into James' room. "Gin, darling, go and eat your dinner."
"I'm alrigh'" Ginny said. She was feeding James, sitting next to the cot on a rocking chair that had once belonged to her Uncle. Her head was resting on the wooden bars and she was barely awake.
"Ginny," Harry's voice was firm. "Ron wanted to talk to me. I'll feed James, you go and eat your dinner." He stroked her face and she nodded slowly, standing up and passing James to Harry, before practically dragging herself from the room, throwing Ron an angry look.
"Right," Harry said, sitting down in the rocking chair and gesturing for Ron to take the smaller, much less comfortable chair on the other side of the room. "What's up?"
"I was talking to George," Ron muttered.
"And..." Harry encouraged, moving James so he sat more comfortably in Harry's arm.
"I was telling him how bad morning sickness was..."
"Okay...! Harry said slowly, gently easing the bottle into James' mouth.
"He said that's one of the easiest bits," Ron said quietly. "Is he telling the truth?"
"Oh yes," Harry said whole-heartedly. "Oh, God, yes. I mean, soon, Hermione's hormones will be all over the place, and she's angry at the best of times. Then the birth... Ooh, you'll probably break a couple of fingers and then faint. Honestly, it's one of the most disgusting things I've ever seen – don't let anyone talk you into that miracle of birth crap." He paused, grinning wickedly at the expression of pure terror on Ron's face and giving his best friend time to revel in his new discoveries.
"But then," Ron gulped. "Then it's okay, yeah?"
"Ohh, no," Harry chuckled, tipping up the bottle so James could reach the milk. "She'll be ridiculously emotional, you'll both be more tired than you thought possible, you'll have to do night feeds, you'll go back to work and fight you have loads of catch up on, you'll be given the guilt treatment for spending so little time with the baby, you'll be shouted at every time you say something wrong. You'll be a mess, you'll be exhausted from working all day and staying up all night. Good luck, mate," He grinned, cradling James and tucking his son into the crook of his neck so he could burp him.
"It does – it does get better thought, right?" Ron asked.
"I wouldn't say that," Harry was prolonging his speech; Ron's face was becoming more and more anxious with every word Harry uttered. "I mean, you'll have toddler tantrums and sibling squabbles and God knows what else."
"Right. It's worth it though, isn't it?" Ron said beseechingly.
Harry looked at his best friend and remembered how he had felt a year ago when Ginny had told him she was pregnant – scared, guilty and severely self-doubting leapt to mind.
"Yeah," Harry said finally, kissing James on the forehead and lowering his son – who was drifting into a deep sleep – into the cot. "It's totally worth it."