This was first chapter I wrote in this story. It's been fiddled with a lot as I now have about 8k before it! I'm still in two minds about how it works... I think it has to do with the lack of Severus. ;-)

Also, I took a little licence with Fleur and Bill…


Hermione looked up from her book as Ron sank down on the sagging couch set before the fire in the Gryffindor common room. He let out a long sigh and his shoulders sagged.

The huge transfiguration tome covered most of his lap and his finger tapped across the intricate swirls and scores cut into the ancient leather. Firelight danced across his resigned expression. "I know why we're doing this, but..."

Hermione frowned. "You want to be an Auror, you need good NEWTs."

Another irritated huff of his breath met that reply. "We could've owled them in." He waved his hand to the curve of darkened glass behind him. "Been out there. Doing...things."

Harry laughed and resettled himself in the chair closest to the heat of the hearth. "Descriptive, Ron."

Ron scowled. "We defeated Voldemort."

Hermione noticed he finally spoke that name without hesitation. But his declaration was a little...embracing. Yes, he –they— were major participants in the battle that ended Lord Voldemort, but Harry had cast the final blow. Not her. Not Ron.

"They should..."

Hermione lifted a disbelieving eyebrow. "Let it slide? Given you a signed waiver from Kingsley? We missed our Seventh Year, Ron. Vital information needed in our adult life beyond these walls. We already have Orders of Merlin."

"As if that means anything. Handed out like sweets, they were," he muttered. "Even Snape got one."

"Headmaster Snape—" Hermione bit off the need to lash out at her boyfriend. Severus Snape had sacrificed most of his adult life to seeing Tom Riddle reduced to so much ash. How Ron could begrudge him a medal, she didn't know. He deserved more.

And she owed him. More than she could ever repay.

Warmth and pain wrapped around her heart at the thought of the…the Headmaster. She had to will herself into thinking that title. He was no longer the friend he had been in those short few weeks... Her throat tightened and she gripped the leather edges of her book.

But she would not let Ron ignore Severus' persistence. His skill. His compassion. No, she would not have him begrudge Severus Snape anything.

"He deserves his Order of Merlin twice over." Hope's sweet little face burned through her memory and the shadowy ache refilled her belly. A bright pain. A deep want... "Especially with the work helping the wizard-born over the summer."

"Squibs..." Ron pulled a face. "Not that again, please, Mione. Your letters were stuffed with it."

She frowned at her boyfriend. "Why are you in such a mood? Was it that owl, earlier?"

His face scrunched and he caught his long fingers in his hair. "Fleur's pregnant."

A bright smile broke from Hermione. "Oh that's lovely. Your mother will be so happy."

Ron rolled his eyes, his sour expression deepening. "It's the start." He flopped his head against the sprung back of the couch and stared up at the curve of the ceiling. "The grandchildren. She wants a small herd."

Harry snorted and Ron jabbed a finger at him. "Laugh now. But it'll be expected. Don't think not being blood will let you escape!"

Harry shrugged and a soft smile touched his mouth. "I like babies."

"Mental, right, Hermione?" Ron grinned at her. "That's not us is it? Careers. A life. That's what we'll have. Not tied to a fistful —more if Mum has her way— of snotty brats. Bleeding away life and money. Children?" He gave a dramatic shudder. "Not for us."

Hermione blinked. Something turned over in her belly. Ron didn't want children. She drew in a breath, fighting the pain and panic and twitched a smile. "You should still revise, Ron. Professor McGonagall is brutal in her tests."

Did her voice sound flat? She couldn't tell. It seemed so far away. She looked back to her book, the firelight illuminating the words...but she didn't, couldn't read a single one.

Merlin she was so rubbish with relationships. Books. Books were so easy to understand. Men -in a romantic way- were a mystery to her.

Their friendship was old, but her relationship with Ron was still so very new. Future plans had yet to be set. Discussed…at all. Had she read this wrong too? Weren't they supposed to be looking towards…towards marriage now? And Ron seemed to be, but without making it a partnership. The assumption there that her goals were the same as his…

Should she have talked to him straight after the battle? But it had all been so confused, chaotic, a whirlwind of awful funerals and guilt. With Voldemort dead, she'd thought only of securing her apprenticeship and prepping to retrieve her parents. Then she lost her summer to the Australian winter.

In the whirl of pulling together her supplies the day before, she'd spent no time with Ron. They'd done little more than kiss, though, with them being back at Hogwarts for three days, Ron was pressing for more. And soon.

As was she. She was. Fighting a war had put her whole life on hold. She'd been focused, pushing down her needs, especially in that last year...but then fear and hunger and the pervasive stink of teenage boys had aided her there.

Unbidden, the last memory of Severus in her parent's sitting room rose through her thoughts. Long windows reflected the soft burn of lamps and the lights of the nearby buildings as he talked with her mother. He'd gone muggle. An immaculate suit, his long hair caught back at the nape. Calm and cool. Golden light caught in the endless dark of his eyes and his pale skin was almost ethereal. He was everything magical…

Hermione stared blankly at the words on the page before her, shoving away the hot pang in her chest. It had simply been a long overdue awakening to her burgeoning sexuality. Nothing more. And he had pulled back, hadn't he? Denying them even friendship. Her throat tightened. He…he did not want her.

Wand movements swam before her eyes on the page and she scrubbed her hands over her face, before catching her fingers in her wild hair. Harry lifted an eyebrow and she gave him a short smile, before she slumped on the couch and hid behind her book.

The instructions on the page were forgotten. Her mind was in a darkening swirl.

She had been waiting for Ron. Had waited for him. Faithfully. And as utterly frustrating as that was, she'd known Ron was her future. Not simply boyfriend and girlfriend. She loved him. They were supposed to be each other's forever. Weren't they?

She'd planned to sleep with him on Saturday —two nights away— but now he'd exploded this at her.

The feeling in her chest twisted. Tightened.

Ronald Weasley didn't want children.

As she'd told her mother, the one factor that had always drawn her to him –always— was his big family. Like her mother, Hermione loved children and she'd been honest with herself. She wanted a tribe.

She was all too aware that everyone looked at her and saw bookworm and spinisterish career woman. Yes, she wanted, needed a brilliant job...but she ached for a whole mess of children. Her mother was the same, but biology had stopped that dream. Granger Hall had given her a second chance.

The feeling of Hope in her arms rose again. In that moment, it was a torture…a future that was dying before her eyes.

Hermione had been thorough and had herself checked over by both muggle and magical healers before she left for Australia. She'd taken hard curses in the war…but everything was fine. Perfect, in fact, according to a Healer at St Mungo's. Her exact words had been "My dear young woman, you could pop out a fistful without blinking." It had made her belly swoop…but now that joy was tainted. Lost.

Hermione had assumed that coming from such a big family, Ron would want the same. To replicate his own happiness as a child. It'd been accepted by her, unspoken. It seemed Ron had made the same assumptions. An only child of educated, wealthy parents, bookish and career-focused. Obviously, to him, on the outside, such a woman wouldn't want children. Ever.

Hermione closed her eyes. Her throat ached. She'd had everything planned out. Everything. Even a plethora of names that went well with 'Weasley'.

She rubbed at her face again, denying the fall of tears. The memory of sitting in Severus' —in the Headmaster's— office, ready to get her parents, with her future work and love life set, seemed a world away. She couldn't help the groan that escaped her.

"It's only Thursday. You're already studying too hard, Mione." Ron's solicitous voice stabbed at her.

She closed her book and a cloud of dust plumed. She twitched a smile. "I still think I'm caught in different time zones. I'll head to bed. Night." She piled her books into her bag and gave both boys a half wave. She was on the final stone step of the spiral staircase before she realised she'd not dropped her night time kiss on Ron's forehead.

Her fingers caught in the tangle of her hair and she let out a longer groan. Would he change his mind? Could she carry on with him, knowing this, wanting him to change? And if he didn't? Could she give up the idea of a family? Of a gaggle of little boys and girls chasing each other on brooms, reading, playing, fighting, of a home full of noise and laughter?

Or the quiet moment at the end of the day. A single moment of peace, with a fire, tea, a book and the happiness of knowing the little monsters were all fast asleep. And the dark-eyed look from her husband, with the offer of just one more...

Hermione stumbled into the single room Professor McGonagall had secured for her. All the returning Eighth Years were given the privilege. That hideous night, she was thankful for it.

She sank onto her bed, dropped her bag and pressed her hands to her face. She had to know exactly what Ron wanted before she slept with him. It was more important than finally discovering what sex was all about. Leading him on would be wrong, especially if they had diametrically opposite ideas.

Maybe he'd just been in a mood before Professor McGonagall's test? She snorted. The thought of school again after he'd not cracked open a book since the end of Sixth Year had to burn. Typical Ron.

Tomorrow. After supper.

Hermione flopped back onto her bed and stared up at the heavy velvet swag of the canopy. She'd talk to him then. And find out what her future would be.

Fuck.


Let me know that you think! :)