A very round Hermione sat knitting on the sofa in her apartment. Well, she wasn't knitting so much as just clicking her needles together, very bored. She was sick of daytime TV and she was horrible at knitting. The sweater she had been trying to knit was beginning to look like something a three-legged dog would wear. She decided to get her book from the bedroom. But she had to do it quietly. Harry was working in the kitchen and he hated her doing anything for herself. Apparently Hermione was a ticking bomb and the slightest movement on her part would send her into labor right then and there. Of course, Hermione knew better and set her needles on the cushion next to her.

She leaned forward gingerly, but quickly decided that was no way to go about it. She put a hand on the sofa behind her and the other on the arm for leverage. She tried easing up at first, but fell back down every time. She decided to go for the push-and-run technique, giving herself a good hard thrust, but once again only flopping back into the sofa. She blew away strands of hair that had fallen into her face and began to think hard about different ways she could get off her arse without Harry's help. She furrowed her brow for a few seconds and an imaginary light bulb went off above her head. Her face lit up and she sat up to position herself.

Hermione scooted low on the sofa so her legs were nearly straight out in front of her and her lower back was on the edge of the cushion. She began rocking back and forth, and on the third rock, she pushed herself all the way over, now on her knees facing the couch. She smiled a triumphant smile and began to stand. But even that proved to be a struggle. Her huge belly seemed to get in the way of everything. Just as Hermione was almost standing, Harry walked into the living room, wiping his hands on a tea towel.

"Hermione!" he shouted. "How many times do I have to tell you?! You don't need to be doing anything. I can get you whatever you need." He helped her up and she glared at him.

"Harry, I'm perfectly capable. Now bugger off," she muttered, stomping off towards the bedroom. She began to mutter something to her belly, but he didn't catch all of it, though he thought he distinctly heard the phrase, 'whether you like it or not'. He laughed and tossed the tea towel back in the kitchen, hoping it landed on something. He picked up her knitting and chuckled at her "good effort" before following her into the bedroom.

"So what was so important that you had to have so quickly it couldn't wait for me to be done with the dishes?" he asked good-naturedly.

"If you must know, Potter," (He knew it wasn't a good sign when she called him by his last name.) "I wanted my book. And I could do it on my own, you know. I don't need you waiting on me hand and foot. I'm not a baby," she finished with a pout.

"I know you're not," he said crossing the room and placing a hand on her stomach. "But this is. And we've got to be careful. The doctor said no strenuous activity."

"Oh, I doubt getting up off my fat ass counts as 'strenuous activity,'" she said with air-quotes and a huff.

Harry was quite used to these moods and dismissed her gruffness. "So do you want some tea?" he asked with a smile.

"No, I don't want any tea," she said condescendingly. "I wanted my book, and I've got it (by myself, mind you!)so ppllbbhh," she said with a raspberry and a menacing look. He chortled at the face that used to put so much fear into him. But he had seen it so much lately he couldn't take it seriously.

"Fine, then. I'll have some tea. You can go out for some cross-country skiing later and maybe some laps at the Y after that. See where that gets you, missy. I'll be in the pub watching football muttering 'I told you so' while you're up at St. Mungo's pushing away," he joked, walking towards the door. But when he heard a sniffle instead of a sharp retort, he stopped in his tracks and turned towards her.

"You wouldn't really leave me, would you? Make me do it alone?" Tears were beginning to fall down her face.

"Oh, Mione," he said quietly as he gathered her in his arms. "I'm sorry, it was just a joke. Of course I'll be there. Wild horses couldn't stop me. I'm so sorry. I'll never joke about something like that ever again."

"I know. I'm sorry. I over-reacted. Damn hormones," she said with a forced chuckle. "It's just that, you're the…only…my…," Hermione stuttered. She couldn't find the words.

"I know. It's okay." He shushed her and held her until they heard a pop and a familiar voice from the living room. "Uh-oh. They're early." He glanced at his watch.

"What? What are they doing here? You never told me they were coming over. Harry, I'm a mess!" she said with a stomp of her foot.

"Oh, they're just over for some tea. We haven't seen them in a while. Um, stay in here and get yourself cleaned up while I go put the kettle on," he said, moving towards the door.

"Oh, there you are mate," Ron said, turning at the sound of a door opening. Harry closed it quietly behind him. "Thought you two had gone out, or something."

"No. I don't think Hermione's quite in the mood to go out today," he said with a smirk.

"What? She's in a bad mood? Well, now she won't have any fun at the shower and she'll blame me for throwing her a horrible shower and she'll never forgive me and then every time she looks at her kid she'll think about the horrible shower I threw her and how horrible a friend I was. So then she won't talk to me ever again and I'll never see my god-niece or nephew and I'll—"

"Luna! Calm down! It'll be fine. As soon as she sees what we've done she'll brighten up," he said to the airy blonde that had become their close friend (and Ron's girlfriend) over the years. He patted her shoulder as he crossed the room and went to the kitchen. He got halfway there and motioned for them to follow.

"So," began Harry in a hushed voice as he started pulling trays full of cold cuts and h'or deurves out of the refrigerator. (He had magicked the refrigerator to hold more food, but to also hide it away whenever Hermione went into it.) "She doesn't suspect a thing. I told her you two were over for tea. What time is everyone else supposed to get there, again?"

"We told everyone to get there at 3:30. Said we'd be there about four," said Ron as he and Luna took seats at the table.

"Good. And you've got your folks picking up the Grangers at their hotel, right?"

"Oh, yeah. Don't worry. Dad's got a car from the ministry. All taken care of," he said with the 'okay' sign.

"Great," he mumbled as he licked the thumb he had accidentally stuck in a deviled egg. "And Ginny's at the Leaky Cauldron getting everything set up?"

"Yeah, she's got Mum helping, as well as Lav. Harry, calm down, everything's fine. Hermione will love it," he said reassuringly. Harry was flitting around the kitchen, trying to think of anything he'd forgotten.

"Okay, okay," he sighed. He glanced at his watch again. "Well, we've got an hour before we need to get her there, so we'll just have some tea and be very cool about it all. Don't let her on to anything, remember," he said with a pointed look at Ron. He could never keep his mouth shut about anything. Harry was amazed he'd gone this long without spilling the beans. "Oh, we've got to get these dishes to Ginny." He flicked his wand and muttered "aparatum Leaky Cauldron" and the plates were gone. "I'll go get her. Luna, can you set the kettle?"

"Sure," she replied, standing up and walking towards the stove.

Harry tiptoed towards their bedroom, but paused with his hand on the handle when he heard low music from inside. He pressed his ear to the door, and thought he heard singing. He inched open the door and peeked inside.

Hermione was sitting in the rocker, lovingly rubbing her huge belly and softly singing a lullaby to it. It was an Irish lullaby her grandmother had sung to her when she was little, and Hermione wanted her baby to grow up with it. No one knew, not even Harry, that whenever she was scared or nervous or upset she would hum it or sing it to herself. Unless of course she was around anyone, in which case she would just play it over and over in her head. She had sung it to herself the night before she left for her first year of Hogwarts, she had listened to it in her head during their adventuresin their first and second years, and had hummed it nearly constantly for the rest of her Hogwarts years while she was worrying about Harry.

Harry stood there, leaning against the door, watching Hermione peacefully singing to her unborn child. He knew Hermione wasn't much of a singer, but she made the song sound absolutely beautiful. The last few notes fell from her throat and she smiled a small smile before Harry's slight cough made her quickly look up.

"H-Harry," she stammered embarrassedly. "How long have you been there?"

"Long enough," he replied.

"Oh." She blushed. "That was just, well…I was…I thought…" Why did it seem like she couldn't finish a sentence today?

"'Mione," he said sweetly, slowly walking towards her, "I think it's terribly sweet. What song was that?"

"Oh, just a lullaby my grandmother used to sing to me. Nothing special. Some old Irish tune," she said nonchalantly with a wave of her hand. She didn't want to tell Harry it was so special to her. She may have loved him, but there were some things she would always keep to herself. That was one of them.

"Well, Ron and Luna are here. Are you ready?"

"Yeah," she said with another smile at her belly and a nod.

Harry offered her his hand. And this time she took it. They lightly kissed before Harry led her into the living room.

"Oh, hello, Hermione!" Luna squealed when she saw them enter. "It's been so long! How can we see each other so little and live in the same city?" She jumped up to hug her large friend and pat her belly.

"Oy, 'Mione!" Ron shouted. "You're bigger than ever! Looks like Harry did a real bang up job, didn't he?" he asked jokingly with a slap on Harry's back. Harry and Hermione exchanged a guilty glance before she gave a nervous laugh and told Ron he still had the mind of a teenager.

Harry and Hermione had decided not to tell anyone, not even Ron, about who the real father was. He would go even crazier than Harry and insist on going to New York to give Lionel a piece of his mind. Plus, it would be an easy enough secret to keep. Still, they couldn't help but feel guilty for keeping this huge piece of information from their best friend.

The four chatted and laughed for awhile before Harry glanced at his watch and gave Ron an expectantlook.

"Oh, hey. I've an idea," Ron began. "Let's go to the Leaky Cauldron for a while. We haven't been there for ages. Might be fun. I could really go for some pea soup," he said with a wink. Harry and Luna voiced their approval and began to get up to get their coats.

"Oh, I don't know, Ron," Hermione said cautiously. "I'm not sure if I feel much for going out tonight."

"Oh, Mione, come on. It won't kill you. You haven't been out forever. Plus, we might bump into some old friends and you can rub it in their faces how you snagged The-Boy-Who-Lived ," persuaded Luna.

"Well…"she drawled undecidedly.

"Oh, come on, Mione. I can show off the 'bang up job I've done', as Ron so eloquently put it," said Harry.

"Oh, okay," she agreed with a smile. Once again she attempted to get up, but to no avail. Harry was busy gathering their coats, so Ron came to the rescue.

"There we are, Hermione," he said, placing her on her feet. Harry helped her into her coat and guided her towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked, perplexed.

"To the car," Harry said, matter-of-factly. "Aren't you coming?" he asked when Ron and Luna just stood there, very confused.

"But…can't we apparate?" Luna asked.

"Some of us can't anymore, Ms. Lovegood," Hermione replied coolly. Ron and Luna both turned red under Hermione's hot stare and muttered apologies as they followed Harry and Hermione out to the car.