Chapter 5

How… how could his brain have forgotten the most important details of that night? It hadn't just been some drunken fling with his best friend. It had been so much more than that and he was only just remembering it.

He could see it all so clearly now, like it had just happened. He could feel her against him, the way their bodies just seemed to fit together. He remembered the overwhelming scent of Firewhisky on her breath and how much he loved the taste of it on her lips.

Her skin had been so soft and warm beneath him, and she had desperately wanted him — as much as he wanted her. As much as he still wanted her. The memories stirred something inside of him — a desire to go back and take her in his arms once more.

She loved him.

She loved him.

Despite everything else that his mind had just been overloaded with — she was pregnant, oh, fuck, she was pregnant — those words were what he held onto. Why did his brain suppress them? He wanted her to love him. He'd always wanted her to return his feelings. It was something he'd never thought he'd ever forget.

Only an hour ago, he thought it had been a random hook-up. He thought that, for some unknown reason, their intoxicated selves had jumped into his bed for a bit of fun. Until now, he'd almost regretted it.

He didn't regret it anymore. He just regretted the consequences of his actions and the fact that he'd spoken so poorly to her.

He leaned against the door of his flat and sank to the floor, burying his face into his hands. He felt ill.

Hermione was pregnant with his baby.

He should have been more careful, more aware of what was happening that night. His desire for her, his want to finally touch her, had made him lose control of everything else. The Firewhisky had assisted, but he could have been stone cold sober and it would have ended the same way. He still would have kissed her back when she kissed him, and he still would have become lost in her, touching her, exploring her body. There was no way he would have thought that a month later she'd be telling him that she was pregnant.

It's your fault.

He buried his face deeper into his hands, feeling nothing but shame and deep regret over his choice of words.

He'd been shocked, terrified, but that was no excuse to say what he had. Sure, she had been the one to come to him that night, but she was right — he'd been a more than willing participant throughout it all. He could have said no at any moment, but he didn't. He hadn't wanted to.

Why would I say no?

"You're a fucking screw up," he muttered to himself.

In one night, he'd finally had her, and he had now probably done everything he could to lose her. They couldn't come back from this. There was absolutely no way in the world that their relationship could withstand something so big. If Hermione didn't keep the baby, then they'd have that hanging over them for the rest of their lives. There'd always be that memory between them, and maybe some resentment. But if she kept it… he couldn't even begin to think about the consequences of that. They'd have a baby. They'd be tied together for the rest of their lives, unable to pursue the natural progression of their relationship.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. This was not how it was meant to happen with her.

Not to mention he was completely and utterly not father material.

His flat was a mess. Pots and pans sat in the kitchen, unwashed for days. Piles of clothes were tossed along the floor, the clean mixed with the dirty. Stacks of paper piled on his table, designs and ideas for new products, all unordered and unorganised. Right by the window there was still evidence of the party from four weeks ago stained on the carpet.

He laughed, feeling so pathetic in that moment that he wondered how Hermione — the intelligent and amazing woman that she was — could have any feelings for him whatsoever. He was in his mid-twenties and he was still hosting parties for all of his friends, serving so much Firewhisky and who knew what else so they could get wasted. And she'd decided he was someone she liked?

She was mad.

There was only one thing he had going for him, and that was that he was successful. The shop brought him a lot of money and financially, he could support a child.

Which was ironic, considering he'd grown up with almost no money whatsoever. At least his kid would have money.

No. It wouldn't. Because Hermione wasn't going to go through with the pregnancy, which was for the best.

And he'd be there to support her through it. Despite everything else, he loved her. He loved her so much, and he was just as responsible for what had happened as she was.

He pushed up to his feet again with a trembling body. Every part of him shook. It was nearing midnight, but he had to go back and see her. He couldn't leave things how he had with her — with her believing he thought it was only her fault and that she had to handle it by herself.

He spun where he stood. When he landed on Hermione's doorstep once again, he knocked. The door opened as if she'd been standing behind it, waiting for him to return.

Her eyes were red and swollen with tear tracks running down her cheeks. They just stared at each other, neither speaking, neither moving.

Then Ron said, his voice strained, "I remember."

She swallowed, nodding back. "I remember too."

"Can we talk?"

For the second time that night, she stepped aside to allow him in. He was hit immediately by the stark differences of their flats. Where his was messy and unclean, hers was tidy and almost hospital grade clean. There were no clothes left out, no plates unwashed. The benchtops in her kitchen were sparkling.

She, he realised in that moment, would be a wonderful mother if that was what she decided to do.

They sat on the same sofa where he had accused her of screwing things up for them. He wanted to reach out and tuck her hair behind her ears, to dry her tears and tell her everything was going to be okay. But was everything really going to be okay? Why give her false hope?

She stared at him, not speaking. She looked so sick, so tired from everything. He couldn't begin to imagine what she was going through right now — having carried this news by herself for a week, too terrified to tell him, to be so sick from something she never planned, and then to have him say what he had.

Seeing her in such a vulnerable state really put things into perspective for him. Hermione was never vulnerable.

"I… was a jerk," he admitted after a moment. "A real big one and I'm sorry for what I said and for being a huge dick about it. I remember how it happened — we both fucked up. I'm sorry for what I said and the way I behaved. I was just in shock."

Her eyes flickered down to her hands, which were wrung together so tightly that the tips of her fingers had begun to turn white. "Thank you," she said. "That means a lot. But… I just want you to know… I didn't tell you because I suddenly want us to be parents together, or for you to feel like you have any responsibility. I told you because… I thought you needed to know."

"And I'm glad I do now. So I can be here for you. In any way you need. You might have been the one to come to me that night, you might have said what you did, but it wasn't anything that I haven't thought or felt or wanted to do for like the past ten years."

She looked up at him, eyes glistening with fresh tears. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I mean, it wasn't on my mind at that moment. I wasn't thinking, 'I really wish Hermione would come and see me so we can screw tonight'. But twenty drinks or no drinks, it would not have changed my answer when you said… what you did. It wouldn't have changed what we did or my willingness to do it. The only thing it would have changed was my ability to remember it. I wish I'd remembered sooner."

Now that he could remember their night together, his whole body tingled from being so close to her. It seemed ridiculous given what was unfolding, but he couldn't get the feel of her out of his mind, nor the desire to do it again.

"It was so stupid of me, though," Hermione said. "I was feeling lonely, I was so drunk and my brain got an idea that I couldn't let go of. And… now look what's happened. I'm pregnant. And still alone."

Ron reached out a hand and rested it on her shoulder. "You're not alone. You've got me. You've always got me. You know that."

She nodded. "Listen, Ron. I've thought about it some more and… I've decided that I can't… I can't do it."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked.

"Whenever I think about ending things, I just get this sick feeling inside me. It doesn't feel right. I don't know why, because a baby is definitely not something I want or need right now, but I just… I don't think I can consider any other options. I'm going to keep the baby." She looked up at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I know that's not what you want to hear, but… I just can't."

Ron dropped his hand from her shoulder. "Right."

"I'm still not expecting anything from you, Ron," she explained, her voice cracking. "You can be involved as little or as much as you want. This is my decision, and I know it's not one you agree with."

Ron nodded, unsure of what to say. He'd thought that she would come to this decision — he'd seen her break down when she suggested terminating her pregnancy before. He'd just hoped…

"I know it's a lot to take in," she murmured.

Ron swallowed. "And you're sure about this?"

She nodded. "I am."

"Okay. Well, I'm in too." Ron couldn't quite believe the words that were coming from his mouth, but despite her insistence that he had a choice, he didn't feel like she had left him with much of one. And to say he didn't want to be involved would mean losing her, and he wasn't ready for that. He couldn't not be part of her life and watch her raise a child that he knew was his and not have any involvement with.

He wasn't an asshole, despite his actions tonight suggesting otherwise, but that would be the number one way to make himself one.

Her eyes widened. "Ron, I'm not expecting —"

"I know, but I want to do this with you. I'm not saying it's going to be easy — and it's going to take me some time to wrap my head around it — but I'm willing to try. I can't make any promises I'll be good at being a father, but I'll do it. With you."

She looked completely amazed at his sudden turnaround. He smiled.

"Ron, I really am sorry about what I started. If I hadn't been so drunk, I wouldn't have —"

"But I'm glad you did," Ron said. "Really, I am. If you hadn't come over that night, then we wouldn't have had the night that we did. And it was a great night. Until recently, I could only remember small bits. I remembered it being good, but it was better than good. It was everything I'd imagined it to be and more. I know things are a mess right now, and that probably won't change, but I wanted that to happen. You know that now."

The corners of her mouth curved up ever so slightly, but she didn't speak.

Butterflies filled him, and his leg took on a nervous twitch. "It… it was good for you too, right? I mean, it wasn't just… I wasn't just… a guy, was I?" The very thought was like a dagger in his chest. He'd been living in the memory of them together that he hadn't actually stopped to think whether the experience had been the same for her. While he could see a small positive in this disaster, maybe it was just a disaster for her all round.

"It was amazing," she said softly, reaching for his hand. "It felt…"

"Right," Ron supplied, relieved that they were on the same page.

"So right. So… good." She flushed from embarrassment, barely meeting his eyes. But she still smiled ever so slightly.

"I'm glad you agree." He squeezed her hands. There was so much he wished to say to her now — things that he'd hidden for many years in fear of losing her, even as his friend. But so many lines had now been crossed that he didn't think they could ever just be friends again. They were going to have a baby, for Merlin's sake.

"I need to know," he began, pausing to consider his words, "if what you said to me that night… when you said you loved me… if you meant it?"

"I meant it." She didn't even miss a beat.

Ron swallowed. "I meant it too." He squeezed her hands tighter. "I love you. I've loved you since we were kids. There hasn't been a day that's passed since where we have been alone together and my thoughts haven't wandered to what we could be. We might have messed up a month ago, but it was a good screw up. I finally got to know what it was like to be with you and…" He shivered at the memory. "It was everything. If I'm going to do all that stuff — like have a baby — then… I'm glad it's with you."

"And I'm glad it's with you," she responded.

Ron gave her hand another squeeze and scooted closer to her on the sofa. "Then… then why don't we do this together?"

Hermione tensed, her hand loosening against him. "Y-you mean… as a couple?"

Ron hesitated. That hadn't been the reaction he'd hoped for. "... yeah. I mean, we don't have to, but I'm willing to take things really slow. Like… really slow. Snail's pace, if that's what you want. I just want to be with you. If that's what you want too."

She bristled, and for a terrifyingly long moment, he wondered if he'd seriously misunderstood the situation. He wanted nothing more than to be with her, to be able to hold her and love her and do all the things they'd done a month ago again. But he realised now that just because she loved him didn't mean that she was ready to enter a relationship with him.

In fact, this was probably the absolute worst time to even contemplate such things.

He withdrew his hand. "I'm sorry," he said. "I got ahead of myself. We don't have to —"

Her feather-light lips brushed his to silence him, deepening the kiss after a moment, her fingers caressing his cheek.

Ron's body was on fire from her touch. His fingers wound into her hair as he breathed her in, feeling her once more against him. He could stay there all night just holding her and loving her. He didn't want to be anywhere else.

She broke away, her thumb running down the side of his face, eyes pouring into his. "I want to be with you," she whispered. "I'm just not very good at being a girlfriend… so I've been told. So, you just need to be patient —"

"He was a jerk," Ron answered, closing the gap between them again. "I never liked him. You always deserved much better than that asshat. You deserve someone who appreciates you for who you are, who loves all your little quirks…" This kiss was better than the first. She kissed him with more passion this time, and he managed to extract a small gasp from her.

She pulled away again, smiling. "Like you, you mean?"

"I love everything about you," Ron said.

She had the most beautiful brown eyes, and in this moment, they were more beautiful than they'd ever been looking into his own blue ones. After a moment, she whispered, "Stay with me."

"Are you sure?" Ron asked.

She nodded, continuing to smile. "I don't mean stay like I stayed with you. Just… stay. Be with me."

Ron kissed her again, unable to get enough of her. Against her mouth, he mumbled, "I'll stay with you for as long as you want."

In that moment, he didn't care about anything else. In that moment, it was just her and him.

Everything he'd always wanted.

Thank you all so much for your support of this story. And thank you to cheesy for betaing! Writing slow burns are not my forte, so it's a miracle I made it to chapter 5 lol.

I hope you all enjoyed.