This is sort of a micro-chapter. I hope you enjoy it.
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Chapter 10
Hermione sat up, hoping not to wake Ron, who had returned from a weeklong out-of-town mission earlier that day and had fallen practically face-first into bed muttering something about how he hadn't slept in days and how much he fancied a ham sandwich. Hermione had thought about actually making him one until he let out a long, loud snore which indicated his need for sleep was overruling his need for food. So she had settled for merely pulling off his boots for him and, with a flick of her wand, covering him with the duvet. He had thanked her for her efforts with another loud snore.
Now, hours later, she was once again struggling to sleep, as she had done on many a night in these past few weeks. So she stepped into her slippers, reached for her dressing gown and shuffled slowly toward the lounge, pulling the bedroom door closed behind her.
Hermione found herself on these restless nights being drawn to the window overlooking the canal, where even in the dead of night it was still possible to see an occasional houseboat drift past. This night was no different. Through the half-open window, she felt a slight breeze rise from the water's edge, carrying with it the soft hum of a boat's engine. She welcomed the air movement; it had been a hotter than usual summer, but it was coming to a close. She stretched and rubbed her lower back, thanking Merlin or whatever powers may be for returning Ron safely to her once again. She tried not to worry when his work on the Investigations Unit took him out of the country but, as she had come to learn, worry was an inevitable part of any Auror spouse's job.
And then, from across the room, a whisper: "Hey, love — can't sleep?"
She smiled at the sound of his voice and, as he approached her from behind, she leaned into him, clasping the arms that he had wrapped around her middle.
"Mmm," she hummed in acknowledgement of his question, pressing her back against his chest and angling her neck to allow him to drop kisses there, and on her ear, and on her cheek. "I'm sorry. I tried not to wake you," she added softly.
"No worries," he said against her earlobe. "I guess I just sort of noticed that you weren't there and thought I should check on you."
"That's sweet."
He laughed softly. "Besides, I needed the loo. But still."
Hermione swatted his arm and scoffed. In return, Ron tightened his grasp on her middle ever so gently and then flattened his palms against the curve of her belly. "She kicking again?"
Hermione paused to think. "Not so much tonight, truth be told," she said. "But don't worry. I know I'll sleep eventually. It's just that it's starting to be hard to get comfortable."
He thought but didn't dare say that in the week he'd been gone, Hermione had grown noticeably bigger. She was self-conscious about it but, to him, she had never been more beautiful. When he'd opened the bedroom door and found her standing by the window, her hair and dressing gown lit by the moon, the sight had taken his breath away. He'd learned, however, that giving voice to those thoughts sometimes made her testy lately — she was bloody tired, after all. Understandable, indeed.
"Here," he said after a moment, taking her by the hand and leading her toward the dark blue easy chair near the window. Pulling his wand from the pocket of his plaid pyjama trousers — Hermione hadn't noticed until then that he'd taken the time to change out of his uniform — he magically extended the chair into something like a chaise lounge and settled into it, spreading his legs and patting the cushion between them in an unspoken invitation for her to sit and lean against him.
Hermione did as she was bidden, and found, to her surprise, that leaning back against Ron in this manner was actually quite comfortable indeed. Settling in against his chest, she breathed out a long sigh, and Ron resumed his gentle exploration of Hermione's round abdomen, privately hoping that perhaps Rose would give a little kick for his sake. Feeling their daughter moving inside Hermione, he thought, had replaced every other thing as the utmost joy of his life. Even so, he knew very well that Hermione needed her rest, and so he resumed the gentle, slow-moving rhythm of his hands, delicately caressing every curve as Hermione felt herself being pulled inexorably toward slumber.
"Mmmmmm, darling," she breathed. "That's wonderful."
"Good. Just rest."
"Ooh," she said quietly, eyes still lolling shut.
"Yep, there's our girl," Ron replied, smiling like a nutter at the feel of what he reckoned was a little foot or a hand rising to meet his touch.
"She's happy you're home," Hermione whispered.
"So am I," Ron whispered before planting a kiss atop Hermione's head. "Now go to sleep. I've got you."
The only answer Ron received was a long, deep breath, followed by a soft snore and a smack of the lips. At that, he sank himself a little further into the depths of the easy chair. He found that he could just reach his wand if he angled Hermione's arm *just so* and managed to do so without seeming to awaken her. With that, he Accioed the duvet from the bedroom and settled it atop them both — then summoned a pillow as well and positioned it behind his head.
Satisfied that Hermione was well and truly asleep, he resumed his gentle massage of her tummy and counted the days until Rose's supposed due date: Just 18 days away. There was so much to think about. This flat was too small for three, for one thing. He'd have to get that sorted. And he still had to talk with Harry and Brocklehurst about handing off his case load before taking leave.
Just then, he felt another little movement beneath his palms, drawing his attention back to the present. All that other stuff could wait. He was home, all was well, and his girls needed their rest. As another breeze rustled the nearby curtain, he leaned back against his pillow with the top of Hermione's head tucked beneath his chin and felt sleep's gentle pull.
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I know these chapters are short. But I'm still getting my writing rhythm back. Bear with me.
More soon …
Holly.
