. . . Chapter 38

. . . An Announcement and Moving Forward . . .

A sound stirred Hermione out of her slumber. In a rush, details from yesterday decanted unchecked. Gringotts for the ring, the prophecy, Ron. She threw an arm across the spot where Ron should be to find it empty and cold.

"Ron?"

In the blackness of the room, Hermione tossed the comforter off of her and heard a muffled noise from the bathroom. The soft clink of a vial. "Ron?" she pushed open the bathroom door to see Ron standing at the sink in his boxers with an empty vial of Dreamless Sleep potion in front of him on the white counter.

He looked at her, long and tortured. All air was sucked from her lungs for a moment before she remembered how to breathe.

"Ron, come back to bed," she whispered, reaching to grab his hand. He let her pull him back into her room and she felt him relax back into his spot. He wrapped her in his arms - tight and almost too warm with her bare back against his warm chest. The potion pulled him into a deep slumber while Ron's arms drew her back into sleep.

Hermione woke up on Saturday morning with the full intention of never talking about the prophecy again. When neither Harry nor Ron mentioned it over breakfast she was slightly relieved but after years of friendship and near constant companionship, she could feel them thinking about it. Trelawney had a bad track record for prophecy with only two semi-correct ones and Hermione was determined to ignore it even if it did have a niggling presence in the back of her mind this tense morning. A large owl tapped on the window, startling her out of her mental wanderings.

"That's Brutus," Ron said standing on his long legs to let the bird into the house.

"Where's Persephone been the last couple days?" Hermione realized she hadn't heard scratching in the attic in a while.

"Sent her with a letter to Ginny," Harry scooped some of the gravy up with his biscuit. "Figure Ginny wanted to keep her for a bit but . . ." He shrugged. Hermione sighed as Ron walked back over. Harry would have been mental about being separated from Hedwig and not knowing exactly where she was. No pet was going to replace that owl for him. It was a sad realization that made her feel lonely for Harry.

"S'mum," Ron remarked gloomily as he looked over the letter. "They want us over for lunch."

Great.

A few hours later after delaying their journey to the Burrow more than was probably appropriate, Hermione stood with Harry and Ron on their rug. It wasn't that she didn't want to see the Weasleys but rather she didn't want to talk. Bill's words from last night "the family knows the gist" were a horrific prelude to what she worried would be a long discussion about that blasted prediction.

"Ready?" Ron asked. Without waiting for her or Harry's responses, he tossed the powder in the fireplace and they went whirling away instantly to the Burrow.

Soon they were all situated around the Burrow's large table with its wonderfully mismatched chairs. The whole family - save Charlie and Ginny - was gathered there. Then Hermione realized that Bill had said they were at the Burrow the night before. Before the prophecy. She glanced over at Bill who was watching Fleur's every movement as she helped Mrs. Weasley plate the food. His mouth twitched upwards in a smile every time Fleur caught his eye.

Mrs. Weasley let them all get the food onto plates before them before laying into them regarding the prophecy.

"It is like one tiny apocalypse after the next! What exactly did Kingsley say?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Mum - " Ron started, frowning over at Hermione. Thank Merlin for Ron.

"Kingsley just said that they deliver the prophecies now to the people they're made about and why. He didn't say anything else, really," Bill spoke softly. Hermione glanced over at him, vaguely remembering him trying to ask her questions at Shell Cottage when she was less than perfectly lucid.

"Well, I, for one, am telling you three to heed those words. Be careful and - " Mrs. Weasley's maternal instincts and worried speech were lost on Hermione. She looked down at the plate of corned beef and cabbage and used her fork to destroy one piece of cabbage after the next.

" - Hermione?" Mrs. Weasley's voice which had been a constant buzz in Hermione's ears halted. "You will, Hermione, won't you?"

Hermione inhaled sharply and looked up at Ron and Harry across from her. Harry nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Yes, I will," she answered the question she hadn't heard. Ron smirked down at his plate - no doubt because she'd just tuned out an entire conversation. His plate was almost as full as it had been a few minutes ago. She wasn't the only one playing with her food instead of eating evidently.

"Well, that's that, then. And you three make sure to let us know about what you get up to," Mr. Weasley ended that strain of talk effectively. Hermione looked up at him and he nodded at her grimly. The table settled into awkward silence for a couple minutes as everyone else ate their food. Tiny, mutilated slivers of cabbage rested pathetically on Hermione's plate.

"Bill and I 'ave some news," Fleur spoke and shattered the silence. Putting together Bill's tender looks and Fleur's coy glances, Hermione knew instantly what Fleur was about to say and grinned. The entire table turned toward Fleur and Bill who were looking at each other with bald love. "We, Bill and me, are 'aving a baby," Fleur chirped happily, earning a kiss from Bill. The whole table seemed to burst with life at the announcement. A welcome relief.

"Oh, Bill, Fleur! How wonderful!" Molly cried, clutching both hands at her chest.

"Congratulations!" Percy said, standing quickly from his chair and moving over to the cabinets. "Toast!"

Hermione glanced at Ron to see if he was excited or not. His face was practically glowing as he grinned over at Bill and Fleur. He seemed to feel her gaze and turned to look across the table at her. Still grinning, he bit his lip slightly and tilted his head to look at her almost appraisingly. Breathless in that instant, Hermione saw a flash of her future laid out before her: tiny ginger children, Christmases, taking them to King's Cross for Hogwarts, Ron would dote on them endlessly and so would she. The room seemed to get quiet. Hermione knew without a doubt that Ron would be thinking along the same lines as her. She nodded and grinned at him. He hid and tried to stifle his growing grin behind his hand.

Percy passed out glasses of red wine to the table - water for Fleur - and raised his in a toast. "To the newest Weasley!" The table let out a chorus of laughter and agreement. Hermione glanced away from Ron. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were crying as they hugged Bill and Fleur. Mrs. Weasley touched one hand to Fleur's still perfectly flat stomach. Hermione tried to picture her round with a baby and had trouble imagining.

"When are you due, Fleur?" Mrs. Weasley sniffed through happy tears.

"O, on May 4th, 'ealers say," Fleur said, smiling serenely. Hermione frowned slightly at the scene. She'd lost so much weight last year that her cycle had gone a bit haywire: there some months, not there the next. Surely if muggle medicine had ways around that then wizarding medicine would. . . Wouldn't it? She felt the weight of a new worry press her shoulders down before deciding to worry about more important things and setting her shoulders, putting it out of her mind.

"Oh that's wonderful! You're not far along at all, then? Two months or so?" Mrs. Weasley said, looking in vain for any sign of a thickening waist on Fleur's perfectly slender form.

"Oui, mum," Fleur leaned against Bill who had moved to stand behind her. Hermione smiled at them. What a beautiful little family, baby makes three and all that.

"Another toast," George spoke up, "To Bill and Fleur." His toast wasn't as exuberant or boisterous as Percy's had been but was equally well received. The table erupted in "Here, here!" and "Bill and Fleur!" Hermione took another sip of her wine. Something about seeing new life grow out of the terror of last year was like a balm to her soul. This baby would never know war like they had seen. Would never know death and young lives mingling so viciously and frequently. Would never know torture. This baby was a new generation. The next generation. What they'd fought for. Teddy and Fleur and Bill's baby were the first two of the new generation of her friends. Hermione felt tears gather in her eyes and wiped them away quickly, glancing away from everyone to try to conceal her sniveling.

"Hermione?" Harry whispered. "Alright?"

"Yeah," she turned back to him with her eyes brightly sheltering tears, "just really happy for them is all." She noticed Ron beaming at her. Maybe this would be them soon, announcing for their friends and family that they were going to be parents. Hermione shook herself out of that train of thought. Missing a key step there, Granger, she thought ruefully to herself. First comes marriage. She thought back to finding those rings of Harry's. Did wizards ask the fathers' permission? Well, would Harry was the real question? Yes. Without a doubt, Harry would ask permission from Mr. Weasley. She wondered how long he'd wait. Obviously he wouldn't be asking today. After entirely too many toasts, Hermione pushed her chair back from the table. The group of the nine of them: Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill and Fleur, George, Percy, Harry, Ron and herself, had successfully taken out three bottles of wine. Scratch that, Fleur had water. The eight of them had taken out three bottles of wine. They'd joked about names and what if it's a boy and what if it's a girl. Hermione secretly hoped it would be a girl. Mrs. Weasley would flip over a girl. They all needed more things to flip about.

The group of them said quick goodbyes and Hermione noticed Ron was keeping a hand on her to steady her. Tipsy at the Burrow didn't sit as wrong with her as she would have thought it would. A quick Floo ride that made her head spin and the three of them were back in their comfortable house. Houses always smelled different after being at someone's house. You didn't notice it going from home to work to home but when you'd been in someone else's home. . . Home smelled so good. Hermione stumbled a bit.

"Whoa, alright, there?" Ron's voice divulged his amusement.

"Yes," she answered tartly.

"Here," he put an arm around her waist and led her to the couch. "Lay down. How many glasses of wine did you have?"

"Three."

"You're joking!" Ron scoffed at her. "Harry, she's a lightweight. Three glasses and she's drunk!" Harry's chuckle was muffled and Hermione saw him laugh behind his hand down at her.

"I'm not drunk. Tipsy," she correct. They were both complete idiots.

"Yeah, that's what they all say," Harry said. "I'll go get you some water."

Hermione let herself get babied with crackers and water and decided to take a nap on the couch while Ron and Harry played Exploding Snap like they were second years again on the rug. She stirred after a while and stretched. Her mouth felt like sandpaper.

" - and when mum was talking?"

"No, I know. I've never seen her act like that before," Harry whispered. She could practically feel her ears burning. They were talking about her. "Like she was off somewhere else."

"She just didn't want to talk about it. Doesn't want to talk about it at all. Wants to pretend it didn't happen, that we don't know," Ron breathed.

Their voices were coming from the kitchen. Anger bubbled up in her chest.

"Makes it hard to pretend it didn't happen when you two are gossiping like old witches about it over there," she called out, rubbing her gritty eyes. She glanced up at the clock. Almost midnight. They went silent and Hermione ran a hand through her tangled curls, sitting up on the couch and glancing over the back of it at them. They were both blinking at her in bewilderment. She found she wasn't actually that upset with them, her whole system seemed relaxed from the wine still. She grinned at them, remembering what she'd said in first year.

"Now, if you two don't mind, I'm going to bed," she did her best impression of her younger, slightly bossier self. Ron smiled but Harry didn't. She stood up off the couch and shuffled clumsily over to them and gave Harry a pat on the shoulder. Ron got a hug from behind his dining chair. She leaned to kiss him on the cheek. "You coming?"

"Yeah, just a minute," he answered back, watching her head into her room. She closed the door slowly and it let out a soft click. Her bed had rarely, if ever, seemed more inviting. She yanked her wand out of the pocket on her jeans and popped it down on her bedside table before collapsing onto the bed. A twinge reminded her that she should brush her teeth but she didn't care enough to make her body function.

Something tugging on her leg woke up her. She groaned. Ron laughed.

"Your shoes, dummy," he said, chuckling.

She tried to say, "I don't care, leave them on." But it came out a lot more like a bellyaching complaint without any indistinguishable words or phrases.

"You want a little cheese with all that whine, Hermione?" Ron joked and she grinned with her eyes still shut.

She coughed once to clear her throat and head. "Good one. Now shut it and snuggle me. "

"Boss-y," he teased her with a singsongy voice but she felt him lean into her bed and move so that they faced each other. Her face itched suddenly but her arms were wound around Ron so comfortably. She leaned up and brought her smooth, itching cheek to Ron's stubbly one and rubbed her face against his until she'd scratched her face to her heart's content.

"Excuse me but what exactly the hell did you just do?" he asked after a couple moments.

"My face itched. I scratched it," she opened her eyes and grinned at him.

"Yeah, on my face! I'm not a scratching post over here," he laughed at her and squeezed the spot just above her hip with his fingers. Dangerously close to a ticklish spot. She narrowed her eyes at him and rubbed her face against his again. He laughed and pushed her back and held her down by her shoulders on the mattress. Ron chafed the stubble on his face all over Hermione's face and neck while she laughed at his playfulness. Finally, he quit and they lay there with him on top of her smiling at each other.

"You want to scratch your face on mine again?" he asked with a smirk.

"Not right now, thank you," she heard the slur permeating her voice and knew Ron had too.

He chuckled and shifted so that he lay on his side beside her.

"That's something about Bill and Fleur," Ron whispered.

"Yeah," she turned to look at him. "I'm so happy for them."

"Me too. . . you think she'll be a good mum?" he mused.

"Yeah, I think so. . . with the way she tended me and everyone - "

"Right, yeah," Ron cut her off before she could say 'at Shell Cottage'. "You think it'll be ginger or blonde?"

"Blonde," she answered immediately. "And a girl."

"Fine, placing bets now: I'm betting it's a boy with red hair," Ron said, pulling her against himself.

"And what does the winner get?" Hermione asked against his neck.

"Bragging rights," he kissed the side of her head.

"I think the winner gets more than that. Winner gets," she paused to think. "Winner gets . . . If you win, you get that new set of Keeper gloves. If I win, I get a new book from Flourish and Blotts. Deal?"

"Yeah. . . 'Mione, how'd you know I needed new gloves?" he whispered.

"Heard you telling Harry, why?" she snaked her fingers under the back of his shirt to brush over his skin.

"No, it's - it's a deal," he breathed against her curls. Between Ron and the wine, Hermione was asleep in moments.

Over the next couple weeks, Hermione was surprised but relieved when Ron didn't bring up the prophecy with her. They resumed their usual routine and Hermione learned that both Harry and Ron had gone out on a few of the more routine raids that Aurors outside of war-times seemed to go on. One night when Ron was out on a raid of some man who was altering the properties of Muggle cameras, Hermione had walked into Harry's room to put away some laundry and found Harry holding the small crystal ball in his hand.

"Harry Potter!" she shrieked at him. He jumped at dropped the ball. It rolled noisily across the floor. "What're you doing?"

"Just - I was just. . . " Harry faltered and she noticed the bloodshot tint to his eyes.

"Harry! It doesn't mean anything," she said frantically, willing him to believe it. "It's stupid! Leave it alone." She jerked open his t-shirt drawer and dropped in his shirts. When she turned back around Harry was studying her carefully.

"Hermione, she's been right before," he said softly.

She clapped her hands over her ears. "I don't care! A broken clock is right two times a day, Harry."

He nodded and didn't move to speak so she lowered her hands.

"I'm serious, Harry. I don't believe in it and it wouldn't do for you to either. Alright?" she wanted to hug him but was almost angry that he was contemplating the prophecy.

"Alright, but - "

"NO! No buts. Move on. You have socks downstairs, I think. I can't always tell yours and Ron's apart. Come go through them," she commanded before turning quickly to leave the room.

One day at a time, she thought to herself with a forced optimism as she descended the stairs, it will get easier one day at a time.