Chapter One

It was snowing and he was soaking wet but Ron didn't care. He gripped the oversized handle of the sword in his right hand, still reeling with adrenaline.

He had felt like shit these past seven weeks, and he deserved it. But finally here was a chance to make things right.

They came into view of the tent, and a wave of warmth washed over him as he spotted Hermione keeping watch in the entryway. She was pouring over a book, wand alit in one hand, the other hand resting over her abdomen on what looked like a fold in her blanket, but as they got closer he saw there were no blankets at all.

"Harry? What's she holding?"

"Err, I thought I should let Hermione explain." Harry ducked his head and turned away, a slight blush creeping up the back of his neck.

Ron's stomach lurched as they got closer.

Hermione stood up, brightening her wand's light. "Harry? Is that you?"

She was wearing Muggle clothing, a pair of jeans and a snug long sleeve shirt that displayed a rounded abdomen that stuck out several inches.

It felt like someone had punched the air out of his lungs. He dropped the sword and ran to her.

"Ron?" Her eyes widened in incredulous shock. "Ronald Weasley, you complete arse!" She chucked her book at him and it struck him in the chest.

He ignored it.

"You're pregnant."

She reached into the tent for something else to hurl. "I'm perfectly aware, Ronald."

"But—when? How long are you?" He dodged a copy of Hogwarts, a History. "Is it mine?"

"Is it yours?" Hermione turned a fantastic shade of red. "When, you pea-brained little git, do you think I would have had the time to go and find someone else?"

"It's not Harry's?" The image of Riddle-Harry and Riddle-Hermione entwined in each other's embrace flashed before his eyes.

"That's a firm no, mate," Harry interjected from a few feet behind him, well out of Hermione's throwing range. He had picked up the sword Ron had dropped.

"Why on earth would you think I was sleeping with Harry?" Hermione screamed. "When have we given you any indication of mutual interest?"

"But we only—that one time—this summer," he choked out his words, trying to do mental calculations at the same time. "That was six months ago."

Hermione gestured at her stomach. "And this is six months later." She went into the tent and sat down, defeated or tired, Ron didn't know which. She looked exhausted. There were large bags under her eyes, her skin wasn't glowing at all. Her hair was pulled back in a bushy bun. He could tell she was wearing a pair of Harry's jeans, which seemed only a few sizes larger than her own.

He slumped down onto the floor next to her chair, all previous elation at his potential redemption gone.

"I'm going to change into some dry clothes and go to sleep," Harry said, ducking out of the main room of the tent so they could have some privacy.

They sat there in silence for a good minute. Ron thought about pulling his change of clothes out of his rucksack, but he still had more questions.

"When did you realize?"

"Right after you left. I've always had irregular cycles, I started suspecting maybe a few weeks before, but I thought it was the horcrux building up my anxieties."

"Wait, you knew?" Ron rose to his knees. "Why did you say something as I was leaving? I would have stopped for that."

Her eyes brimmed with angry tears. "That's not fair. What was I supposed to say, 'Wait, stop, I might be pregnant'? I begged you to stay, and you left regardless." Her voice was nothing more than a hiss.

Ron opened his mouth to tell her about the Snatchers, but his story seemed small in comparison. "I know. I wanted to come back the second I left, but I couldn't find the tent again. I can't believe I missed this—" he gestured at her stomach before buying his face in his hands.

A hot lump grew in his throat. He had turned what might have just been an extremely inconvenient situation into the pregnancy from hell.

Hermione sighed. "I missed a lot of it too. I'm nearly six months along and I've only known for a month and a half. What kind of..."

Ron watched her struggle to say the word. "You're going to be a great mother," he said. "Enough to make up for terrible father." The words felt foreign to him too, but he said them nonetheless. "You've been here on the front lines, while I've been a deserter. In more ways than I knew." He placed his hand over hers and the touch sent quiet sobs racking through her body.

"I'm here now, okay, I'm not leaving again. I swear."

She nodded but removed her hand from under his. "I know. I'm still so mad."

"That's okay." He hesitated to even ask, but he had lost so much time already. "Can I feel?"

She sobbed harder she nodded and lifted her shirt. Her abdomen was lighter than the rest of her, showcasing blue and green veins that sprawled just under the surface. She had extended the waistband of Harry's jeans with a hair elastic, but it looked like that solution was nearing the end of its days.

"I don't have any stretchmarks yet, but they should show up soon enough," she said, tracing the still smooth upper half of her stomach.

Ron felt the underside of her belly, below her navel, where he could tell there were quite a few stretchmarks forming, but he kept quiet.

Hermione grabbed his hand and placed it on the side of her stomach where a little hard bulge protruded.

"I think that's an elbow," she said, sniffling. It pulled away and Hermione moved his hand to the top of her stomach, just under her rib cage. "That's its bottom."

Ron felt his own insides squirming. This was all too much, as if he had stepped into the wrong tent, with some other man's wife waiting for him instead of Hermione. They were supposed to be hunting horcruxes, he'd just destroyed one, but now instead of telling Hermione all about it like he had planned, he was feeling his child's bottom.

All it had taken was one perfect stolen moment at the Burrow, before they had retrieved Harry, before members of the Order had shown up and started filling up bedrooms. It had just been them, slightly tipsy on strawberry wine, like normal people were supposed to do. They had been taking a break from planning and packing, debating the merits of storing Polyjuice Potion when they could pack a back-up pair of wands instead. The house had been miraculously empty for a few hours and they had stolen just a moment of a normal life.

That moment had demanded interest.