REVISED as of April 2017

Chapter 26: A Great Wave

"Hey there you two, are you decent?" says Bill, his hands covering his eyes as his head appears in the flames of the hearth in the lounge, where Hermione and I have been waiting on tenterhooks for news ever since we woke up this morning.

"Of course we're decent now, you prat," I answer with a grin. "It's nearly noon."

Bill laughs. "Sorry about earlier," he says, but I know he's not really sorry — otherwise he wouldn't be laughing.

"Yeah, well, if you're going to Floo someone's bedroom at midnight unannounced, then you shouldn't be surprised by what you see," I say, and Hermione swats my arm.

"Ron, honestly!"

"No worries, Hermione," says Bill. "I didn't see anything too scandalous last night." Thank Merlin he didn't, but it was a close call.

Even though his head is engulfed in green fire, I can tell Bill's got the biggest grin of his life on his face — and I breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of it. "The baby's here — all's well — come over now. Bring Boris!"

"All right, Bill, we'll be along in two shakes," Hermione shouts in excitement as she runs around the lounge frantically gathering up gifts, packages, a crock of beef stew that she made this morning.

Fleur's decision to give birth at home — with only Bill and a midwife witch for company — was a controversial one when she and Bill first announced it a few months ago. "You know, dear, I do know a thing or two about childbirth," Mum huffed, and Bill says Fleur received a Howler from her Mum screaming — in French, of course — that a hospital is the only safe place to have a baby. Bill and Fleur stuck to their plans, though, and at about midnight last night, Bill's head appeared in our bedroom fireplace at a rather, erm, inopportune time to announce that Fleur was in labor and to stay tuned for further updates.

Fleur's desire for local care, in fact, was one of the things that inspired Hermione's push to have the Ministry create health clinics in every wizarding village throughout Britain. Fleur pointed out — and Hermione agreed — that requiring witches who are so pregnant that they can't see their feet to Floo or Apparate to London for appointments with a Healer is dangerous and also downright inconsiderate. Frankly, Fleur's been big as a house for weeks now. I would have been amazed if she could have even fit in the fireplace at Shell Cottage if she'd tried. Hermione found a surprisingly deep pocket of support for the idea among the Healer Corps. What was lacking, apparently, was someone actually thinking to simply ask for it. And now, a network of Healers and midwives is being set up across the country — and Fleur's midwife Flooed to her this morning from Tinworth.

Hermione and Fleur have bonded so much since the war. I don't think Hermione will ever forget the tender loving care she received from Fleur at Shell Cottage, of course. But the friendship goes even deeper than that, I think. Fleur, after all, was selected as the Tri-Wizard Champion to represent Beauxbatons — people tend to forget that, don't they — so she, like Hermione, is a witch with some serious skills. Beyond that, I dunno … I reckon Fleur and Hermione sort of think alike. And I think they both know what it's like to be resented for things they can't help — like being French, or being muggleborn, or being smart, or being beautiful. And they both married Weasleys, for that matter. Proves they're both a bit mental, if you ask me, and I guess that's as good a basis for friendship as any.

We tumble out of the fireplace inside Shell Cottage and find, to our surprise, that we seem to be the only ones here. The place is incredibly quiet. How is it possible that we beat Mum? I would have guessed that not even a wild Hippogriff could keep Mum from getting her arms around her first grandchild.

Then Bill's head pokes out from over the upstairs railing. "Oi, Ron and Hermione, is that you?" he calls. "Come on up."

Hermione and I exchange a shrug. She places Boris on the floor and the three of us tramp up the stairs, me carrying the piles of stuff that Hermione insisted on bringing — a giant woven basket filled with blankets and nappies and lotions and potions, a stuffed bear, a rattle and whatnot — and enter the master bedroom to find Fleur, looking gorgeous and serene, as usual, sitting up in bed with a tiny bundle in her arms.

"Oh my goodness," Hermione breathes and, in an instant, she sits on the side of the bed, and Fleur clutches her close with her free arm while Hermione pulls Fleur into both of hers, and, bloody hell, they're both crying like nutters. Hermione hasn't even stopped to look at the baby yet.

I put down the load in my arms, barely avoiding tripping over Boris, and cross the room to hug Bill, who's been standing on the other side of the bed with one hand resting on the headboard, looking at Fleur like she's the most amazing thing he's ever seen. He cocks his head toward the girls and shrugs. It occurs to me that maybe their tears at a time like this are just one of those things a bloke will never understand. They seem to be happy tears, though … at least I hope they are. I've been nervous about how Hermione would handle the day the baby arrives. But judging by the watery grins she and Fleur are giving one another now that they've pulled apart, I'm starting to think that maybe I needn't have worried so much.

"Let me see her," Hermione whispers, and Fleur holds up the baby, an incredibly, amazingly, frighteningly tiny little thing with round pink cheeks and the smallest hands I've ever seen.

Fleur wordlessly places the baby in Hermione's arms, and, well, the expression that comes over Hermione is one I'll never forget. The smile that's lighting her face, the way she looks the baby over … it's a gaze that's so sweet and warm and tender, it's almost like a caress, though I know I sound like a tit for saying so … I've never seen anything quite like it, and I've become quite the expert on Hermione's expressions.

"She's beautiful," Hermione murmurs, her eyes never straying from the baby's face. "Absolutely, positively beautiful." Hermione gently brushes back the blanket that's been covering the baby's head and strokes her tuft of wispy hair. "She can't seem to decide if she wants to be a blonde or a ginger, can she," Hermione says, still grinning.

"No," says Fleur. "She is somewhere between my color and Bill's right now — which is fine as far as I am concerned."

"Absolutely," says Hermione, still looking the baby up and down. "What's her name?"

Fleur reaches up and grabs Bill's hand. Bill sits down next to Fleur and plants a kiss on her forehead. "Her name is Victoire," Fleur announces proudly.

"Victoire," Hermione repeats in a soft tone. "Victoire. That is as it should be," she adds, fingering the baby's fist. The baby, surprisingly, opens her fingers and takes hold of Hermione's.

"How do you mean, love," I ask quietly, crossing back to Hermione's side of the bed and settling down next to her.

"I mean," says Hermione, her eyes still trained on the baby, "her generation is the one we fought for, isn't it? Her generation is why we had to win."

"Indeed," says Bill.

There's a long silence as all four of us just sort of, well, stare at the baby. It's one of those moments when words seem like more of a nuisance than anything else. I can't really concentrate on words, anyway. Everything about this little creature is just sort of … mesmerizing. It's hard to believe she's real, she's so small and quiet there in Hermione's arms. And, bloody hell, she is just as gorgeous as I'd always imagined she'd be. She's a dead ringer for Fleur right now, but there's Bill in her, too. Half the fun, as I look at her, is figuring out which bits resemble which parent.

It's the most common thing in the world, isn't it, a baby. I mean, one's literally born every second or something like that — I haven't checked the stats. So you'd think the arrival of another one would hardly stop the world from turning 'round. And yet, here the four of us sit, hypnotized, as the baby's lips twitch occasionally or her fingers stretch and curl. She's a ruddy miracle, she is.

"So," I say after a while. "I reckoned Mum would be here in a heartbeat to snatch this child from your arms and run off with her. Where is everybody, anyway?"

Bill leans back against the headboard and drapes an arm around Fleur's shoulders. "Nobody knows she's been born yet," he says. "You two are the first we've told."

For the first time since Victoire landed in her arms, Hermione tears her eyes from her. She gives me a quick, astonished look, and then we both turn to Bill and Fleur, who have matching little grins on their faces.

"There's method to our madness," Bill continues. "You see, we wanted you to meet Victoire privately so we could ask you something important."

He looks to Fleur, who adds, "We would be honored if you would be Victoire's godparents."

Godparents?

I look at Hermione, holding that tiny, helpless, irreplaceable creature in her arms. Hermione's mouth has dropped open — and, in a second, I realize that mine has, too. Then Hermione's sniffling and looking at me with tears in her eyes, her lower lip quivering. And suddenly, I know in my bones that we're both thinking the exact same thing. This is it. No matter how much healing Grendys says he's seen, no matter how many potions and spells and sodding medi-bubbles he may throw at the problem, he's offered us no guarantees. I know it, Hermione knows it, and Bill and Fleur know it. So this moment, right now, may be as close as Hermione and I ever get, the nearest thing we'll ever feel to being parents. It's very possible we'll never have the chance to share a little being who's half her, half me, and that thought breaks the scars on my heart open just a crack. I'm surprised all over again that having a kid is something I even care about — blokes my age aren't supposed to even be thinking about stuff like that — but … hell, I just do. I can't explain it, and I'm sorry, but I don't think it's weird, not really. Hoping for a moment like this … well, it's what got me through the ruddy war, isn't it.

I look down at the baby, still sleeping in Hermione's arms, her little fist still clutching Hermione's pinky, and I feel a surge of warmth rise inside me. What Bill and Fleur are offering us is an honor, but it's also an opportunity, and it's also a tremendous responsibility. Once we do the spell, this baby's welfare becomes almost as much our responsibility as it is Bill and Fleur's. I don't even have to think about it — yes, of course, I'm in. I'm all in. And, as the realization of just how much I want this hits me like a wave, it occurs to me why Bill and Fleur chose to ask us this privately. Normally, the godparent thing is a big ceremony with family and friends and food and booze — but, well, our situation isn't normal, is it. Soon, my vision of Hermione and the baby is blurred by the tears welling up in my eyes.

"Right," I croak. "Hand me my goddaughter then, will you?"

Hermione lets out a watery little half laugh, half sob and places the baby carefully in my arms, caressing her head one more time before sitting back and letting me hold her. Gods, she's so tiny, not much bigger than a Quaffle. And I'll be damned if she doesn't smell good, like the candy floss at Fortescue's. Her little feet, now sticking out from her blanket, look like tiny biscuits. Bloody hell, I think I'm hungry.

I look up at the others and notice that there's not a dry eye in the place — well, all except Victoire's, that is. Her eyes are closed gently, like she's just taken a draught of Dreamless Sleep.

"So," Bill says, his voice a little choked. "Shall we do this, then?"

Hermione takes Fleur's hand in hers. "It's entirely up to you two, of course, but if you'd rather do the spell with the family here, it's really quite all right, isn't it, Ron?" says Hermione, looking back at me for a moment to be sure.

I nod my agreement.

"Are you certain about that?" says Bill. "I mean, we just thought that since, you know … that maybe you'd prefer privacy, but …"

Fleur caresses Hermione's hand in both of her own. "My love, we can do the spell any way we like. I know it is the tradition to perform it with family present, no? But as we saw during the war, it does not always have to be that way. The godparents do not even need to be present — consider how Lupin and Tonks made Harry the godfather of Theodore. They must have used a Remotio version of the spell, I am thinking, since Harry was away."

Hermione places her free hand on top of Fleur's. "It's OK — honestly, it is. I can handle it. You worry about me too much."

"How can I help but worry about you, my darling?" Fleur says. "You were my patient once, after all."

Hermione chuckles. "Yes, but what's the worst thing that could happen if we do this with all the family around?" Hermione replies. "I might shed a tear or two as the spell is cast. I'll survive — and besides, I'm guessing your mothers will both be crying so much, no one will notice if I get a little misty."

Fleur grins widely and Bill reaches over to give Hermione a quick hug. "It's settled, then. I'll Floo the family — Fleur's family first, since they'll need a little extra time to Portkey here from France — and we'll do it tonight."

Fleur, content to let me hold the baby while Bill goes downstairs to notify the family, settles down in her pillows and closes her eyes, and Hermione pulls the blankets higher and tucks her in. "Rest for a while," Hermione whispers. "It'll be mayhem here in a few minutes."

Fleur laughs and sinks deeper into the pillows. Meanwhile, Hermione budges closer to me and rests her cheek on my shoulder, and we both sit and take the sight of Victoire in together, every amazing inch of her.

"She's perfect, isn't she?" Hermione whispers.

"Hmm."

She is perfect. Her lips are deep pink … her eyebrows arch like Bill's … and I just noticed her fingernails, which are barely bigger than the head of a pin. Her skin's the color of milk. Blimey, I am hungry.

Soon, there's a commotion downstairs — Mum, Flooing in from the Burrow, and Ginny, Flooing in from Hogwarts, must have collided in the fireplace, because suddenly there's a loud clattering and a lot of high-pitched yelling. But it doesn't last long, because a minute later, we hear the sound of feet running up the stairs and Ginny, by virtue of her youth, I reckon, beats Mum into the room and demands with a grin, "Hand her over!"

I'm actually a bit put out that I have to let go of Victoire, but I figure I'll get my chance again soon enough. Hermione and I step aside and allow Mum and Ginny to take our places on the bed as Fleur perks up and accepts congratulations from them both.

Hermione asks Fleur if she would like anything, and Fleur responds, "a cup of tea would be lovely," and, with that, the two of us head down to the kitchen to start setting up for what's likely to be a pretty raucous party.

Dad Floos in next, weighed down by a pile of parcels. "Your mother dumped these on me and took off at a sprint when we got your Floo," he says to Bill before plopping the packages on the dining room table and pulling Bill into a giant hug. "Congratulations, son," he says. "Welcome to the club."

My heart pangs a little bit to hear it, and I turn to Hermione, who takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. "It'll be all right," she whispers. "We have much to be thankful for — like Victoire — don't we."

I kiss her on the forehead. "You're right, love. Of course. You're always right."

"And don't you forget it."

Harry arrives next by Floo from Grimmauld Place, followed by Gabrielle Delacour Portkeying in from Beauxbatons, and soon, the house is full of Weasleys, Delacours, and enough food and drink to feed an army. Fleur remains in bed as a steady stream of visitors pop in two or three at a time to ooh and ahh at the baby. As the party kicks into high gear downstairs an hour or so later, Bill is bouncing between the bedroom upstairs and the kitchen below, but I notice he's starting to look a little ragged. After all, he was up all night. Soon, in the kitchen, Hermione gives me and Bill a nudge and says, "You know, it's lovely to have everyone here, but maybe we should get this show on the road so we can shoo everyone home soon and you and Fleur can get some rest."

Bill smiles and nods. "Yeah, that's a good idea," he says. "Though thank goodness Fleur's Mum and Gabrielle are staying over with us for a few days to help out, so we should be in good shape tonight. You guys gather everybody, and we'll do this, yeah?"

While everyone assembles in the lounge, I pull Hermione aside in the kitchen, the only place in the whole house where we can have a moment's privacy right now. "You OK?"

She nods. "I am. You?"

I nod back. I'm feeling a little shaky — and, truthfully, she looks a little shaky to me, too, but I kiss the backs of her hands and try to sound confident. "We'll get through this," I whisper.

"Of course we will. I'm thrilled to be doing it. Honestly," she says.

"Me, too. So, do you know the gist of the ceremony?"

"I've read about it, of course … I mean, I know that the father says the incantation, and if the godparents aren't present, there's a different way to do the spell so that it takes effect remotely. And I know that we'll basically be bonded to the baby as a result. But, no, I've never seen it done, so I'm actually dying to see what happens."

Hell, she actually knows more about how the Berakah Goneus ceremony works than I thought. Should have known Hermione would have read about it somewhere. But, reading's one thing — doing it is something else again. "It's a pretty cool ceremony, actually," I tell her. "We don't really have to do much. This is Bill's show. And, as a matter of fact, you don't have to do anything at all other than hold the baby. The men do all the talking in this one."

"I know! Why is that?" Hermione says with a smirk.

"Oh, some rubbish about how the baby is already closely bonded to the mother because it's sort of, you know, been inside her for nine months and how the magic of the Berakah Goneus helps strengthen the bond to the father or whatever," I say, realizing how daft that sounds. "I don't know, I mean, I wasn't around when this shite got written, was I. It's thousands of years old. Don't blame me."

She chuckles. "All right, all right. You're off the hook."

"Good."

A few minutes later, we're all squeezed into the lounge, chattering away and passing the baby around. Dad and Mr. Delacour Levitated Fleur down from the bedroom a little while ago, and she's now sitting in one of the big cushy chairs by the fireplace. Somewhere along the way she somehow managed to extract the baby from Mum's arms.

"Right-o," says Bill as he sits on the arm of Fleur's chair, and the room quiets down. "Thanks, everybody, for being here for the ceremony. I know both Fleur and I seem a little tired and out of it, but we're both over the moon, truly, and, well, it means the world that you're all here with us. We'd like to get started now, though, and afterward, I'm hoping my lovely wife here can get a little sleep."

"Get it while you can," Dad says with a wink, and Mum swats his arm while Conjuring a handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes with it.

"OK, so," Bill says, looking around at everyone in the room. It's quite a scene, all of us stuffed into this cozy little space. Ginny is sitting on Harry's lap in the armchair across from Fleur. George and Mr. and Mrs. Delacour are on the sofa across from the loveseat where Hermione and I are sitting. Charlie is standing behind them, holding Boris, and Gabrielle is standing next to him petting Boris's ears. Percy and Audrey are tucked into the window seat, holding hands. Mum and Dad sit down next to them. "Fleur and I asked Ron and Hermione to receive the Berakah Goneus," Bill continues. "We're thrilled they said yes."

I wrap an arm around Hermione's shoulder and pull her close. And, sure enough, Hermione's prediction was spot-on: Both Mum and Mrs. Delacour are already weeping. I look down at Hermione and she's a little teary, too. Hell's bells.

Bill turns to Mum and Dad. "Uh, you two have done this a few times, right?"

Mum and Dad chuckle. "Plenty," Mum says.

"You'll straighten me out if I screw it up, yeah?"

"You'll do fine, son," says Dad.

"OK. Here goes."

Hermione, I notice, looks a little lost all of a sudden. I stand, pulling her along with me, and Bill stands too, turning to take Victoire from Fleur's arms. He steps toward us and hands the baby to Hermione. That look of total adoration comes over her face again, and it knocks me on my arse all just like it did the first time she laid eyes on Victoire. She'd be a hell of a mother, Hermione would, and that thought hits me hard because, for some reason, the possibility seems so remote to me just now. I thank Merlin that I've got a task to do and there's a roomful of people watching, because otherwise I might break down right here and now. So I stuff these thoughts down as quickly as I can and try to concentrate on Bill.

He takes out his wand and I take out mine.

"Do I need my wand?" Hermione whispers.

"Nope, boys only," Bill answers with a cheeky grin.

Hermione rolls her eyes and smiles.

Bill clears his throat and looks to me. I place an arm around Hermione's shoulder and pull her close to my side and hold my wand out about a foot over Victoire, who is wide awake now, sucking her fist, and wiggling her feet. Bill raises his wand and holds the tip of it against mine.

"Do you, Ronald and Hermione Weasley, agree to be godparents to Victoire Weasley, to offer guidance and comfort, friendship and sanctuary, home and hearth, in times of doubt or difficulty, in times of joy and sorrow, and, if necessary, to raise her as your own?" Bill says.

"We do," I answer.

"Do you accept the honor and responsibility of guiding this child into adulthood and beyond, to stand with her today, tomorrow and beyond?"

"We do."

"Then cast the spell that binds the three of you in eternity as godfather, godmother and child," says Bill, raising his eyebrows and nodding to signal he's ready to say the first part. I nod back. I'm ready, too.

He starts. "Berakah…"

"Goneus," I answer.

"Aldas," he says.

"Vazba," I answer.

"Afeto," he says.

"Sanctuarium," I answer.

As I say that word of the incantation, a green light appears between our wands, and Bill and I point our wands upwards toward the ceiling. Bill steps back and the green light breaks away from his wand, even as it continues to spill out of mine, and soon a shimmering green cylinder of light, a lot like the one we experienced in our bonding ceremony, surrounds Hermione, Victoire and me. It slowly cascades down from the tip of my wand to the floor, until Bill utters the final word of the incantation.

"Netsach," he says, and the green light sinks into the floor.

And, at that point, everybody jumps to their feet and rushes us. There are hugs and kisses and tears all around — and we raise enough of a ruckus that, suddenly, Victoire is crying and screaming her lungs out.

"So much for getting some sleep," Hermione says sheepishly as she hands the baby back to Fleur.

When we exit the bedroom fireplace back at Vine Cottage a few hours later, Hermione is still buzzing and happily talking a mile a minute. She sets Boris down, then lights the fire with a swish of her wand, then hangs her cardigan in the armoire, then steps into the loo, prattling all the way about how beautiful Victoire is and how sure she was that the baby would be gorgeous because how could she not be with parents as handsome as Fleur and Bill and how proud Mum and Dad looked and how nice it is that the Delacours are staying for the next week and how moving the ceremony was and how sure she is that Harry is starting to think about popping the question to Ginny and how she wonders what their kids might look like and how sweet it would be if they had Ginny's red hair and Harry's green eyes — never noticing that I'm still standing where I landed, my hand gripping the mantlepiece, trying to pull my head together.

The talking in the next room only stops when she pauses to brush her teeth. That's when she must have noticed my silence because, in a second, she leans out the bathroom door, her toothbrush still in hand, and says, "Ron, are you quite all right?"

Am I all right? I don't know. I don't really know if I'm all right. I'm just standing here, thinking. Well, feeling more like. But what? I'm happy about everything that happened today … and I'm proud … and I'm humbled, I know I am — I love Victoire already, almost like I was born loving her, which is the way I feel about Hermione and Harry. But then, why do I feel like I'm drowning, like I'm standing on the bottom of the Black Lake with 100 feet of water between me and dry air?

I see Hermione's expression change as she slowly sets down her toothbrush and approaches me, then wraps her arms around my shoulders and, before I know it, she's sitting on the sofa and I'm splayed out on my side with my head on her lap, my arms coiled tightly around her waist, my face pressed against her belly, and I'm gulping for air between the most gut-wracking sobs that have come out of me since the war and Fred's funeral.

Grief is crashing over me like a great wave, and I can't stop it. I tried at first but then thought, sod it, it's just too deep, and I just sank into it, and now … shit.

Hermione is stroking my hair, my face, my shoulders, my back. "Oh darling, my sweet darling," she murmurs. "It's all right. Let it out, darling."

I hate it that she's seeing me like this but then, if I can't let her see it, who can I let this out with? And the way she's being so kind and strong and understanding right now … it only pulls more sobs from me, because I love her so much and I can't believe how lucky I am that I can lose my shit like this in front of her and she's not horrified. Pretty soon I start to pull out of it, feeling more embarrassed as I do, but she keeps whispering sweet reassurances in such a gentle voice, it makes me feel like maybe I haven't made a complete and total berk of myself in her eyes. At least I hope so.

I gradually loosen my grip on her waist and eventually flop over so that I'm lying on my back with my head still resting in her lap, and she's cupping my cheek in her hand and wiping away my tears, a look of such tenderness and concern on her face. Gods, I love her so much.

"Merlin, I'm so sorry, Mione," I say with a creaky voice. "I don't know what came over me just then."

She shakes her head. "No, don't apologize, Ronald. Please. It's been a long, exhausting, emotional day."

"I've had Thestral rides with fewer ups and downs," I say, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes and letting out a deep, shaky breath. "Sweet Merlin. I reckon I was so worried about how you would manage this day, I forgot to worry about me."

She chuckles softly, misty-eyed, and rubs my chest. "Oh, Ronald …"

We just look at each other for a while. I'm not sure what to say and, I reckon, neither is she. It just is what it is. We're sad. Most days, it kind of settles into the background, so much so that you almost don't notice it. But at a time like this, I dunno … I guess it just caught up with me.

"How did you get through it without falling apart?" I ask after a while.

She thinks about it for a minute, then smiles and wipes her eye. "I spent the last few weeks preparing for it, to be quite honest. I suppose I just decided to force myself to focus on Fleur's happiness, how much I wanted this day to be perfect for her, and I think it was. I was happy about that, and that was enough to carry me through, at least for today. But don't forget, my sweet knight, I've had a lot more opportunity to grieve this situation than you have."

I grimace. "How do you mean, love? I've known about your, um, condition just as long as you."

She shakes her head. "I'm not talking about time so much. It's my body, first of all, so I couldn't help but more or less obsess over it in the beginning. No, the difference is you, darling, how much help you've given me. You have spent so much energy worrying over me, trying to be sure that I'm all right. You even talked me into going to see a Mind Healer, which was so helpful. Obviously I haven't done as good a job looking out for you."

"Don't say that," I answer, sitting up and settling in next to her. "Let's face it. It's been tough for both of us in different ways. Today was … well, it was wonderful, and I'm in love with that baby already, Hermione, believe me. Today just brought up some feelings that went a little deeper than I bargained for, I reckon."

As she takes my hand and lifts my arm to wrap it around her shoulder, she says, "We can't lose hope, darling."

I look down into her face and soak her in for a long time. "I don't think I've been completely honest with you," I say, my eyes feeling watery again. God damn it.

She crinkles her forehead.

"Hermione, I…" But then, I'm stuck, my throat constricting as I think of everything that's in my heart. "I don't know if I've ever … if I've ever really come clean with you about just how much … just how much I want … I wanted … someday … to have a kid with you."

"Oh, Ron," she whispers in a shaky voice. "Don't worry. You've never had to say it. I've always known."

"Really?"

Hermione takes my hand and stands, then takes my other hand and steps back as her lips bend into a sad half smile. She takes another step backward and I stand and follow her as she leads me to the bed. She lays back on it and I climb in above her.

I press my forehead to hers, our noses rubbing. "I love you, you know," I whisper. "You're enough for me. Honestly. You know that, right?"

She lets out a sob and presses her lips to mine. "You're everything to me, Ron," she says. "I love you so much."

We make love that way, slowly, gently and, oddly, both with tears falling from our eyes. I've never felt closer to Hermione in my life as I do right now, because I know she's the only other person on Earth who shares this private thing with me, this quiet mix of sadness and hope. And as I move inside her, the motion is calm and unhurried. I'm not looking to get off so much as to be joined with her, to be one with her, surrounded by her, and to think of things that still might be if Luck is on our side.

oooOOOooo

A/N — A quick thank-you to a few readers who have just been so amazingly sweet lately. I got lovely notes of appreciation and holiday greetings from heronlove and Nichole O. Onyx Obsidian, banzi, jmacsa, chemrunner57 and JeanAndBilius have been such faithful reviewers … in fact, I believe JeanAndBilius was one of my very first reviewers. And flowerchild33 referenced this story in an author's note, inspiring randver to come on over, read this piece, and write a totally thoughtful review. I couldn't be happier!

It's wonderful to hear from all of you. I would love to hear what you think of this particular chapter — I'm kind of partial to it, to be honest. Please do share your thoughts about this or any other part of the story that strikes your fancy. I value your feedback.

If you're in the mood for more Romione reads, check out TMBlue's story list. She's been cranking out some fresh stuff these past few weeks, all worth reading.

Cheers,

Holly.