Hermione awoke on her own bed, lying right in the middle of the quilt Mrs Weasley had made them in her usual Autumn colours. Turning her head to the right of the small double bed she spotted her husband looking back at her. Ron's expression was blank until she met his eyes. He smiled softly, raising the back of his hand to stroke his knuckles across her forehead.

"Hey" he whispered- a word which had become an ongoing joke since the days of the Horcrux hunt.

"How did we...?" Hermione began, but her husband interrupted before she could finish,

"I just disapperated, hoped that since you couldn't really think of going somewhere else that we'd be safe."

Hermione nodded briefly. Her expression flat.

Ron looked serious, worried about her fainting, but on the other hand there was a twinkle in his eye, a look of excitement, of joy.

Then Hermione remembered. A baby, another baby inside her body. Her hand went of its own accord to her stomach, Ron grinned.

She loved it when he did that, it reminded her of the little boy she had found such a challenge, and of the young man she had slowly fallen in love with.

Hermione snatched her own hand back to its side and got up, leaving the bed quickly so her head once again spun and for a second she thought she was going to collapse once more.

"It'll only happen again Ronald, we need to face the facts!"

She heard herself snap before she realised the words had left her mouth at all and automatically turned to apologise, but she was left instead with a door allowed to bang in her face.

She was in the bath when he returned. Her head under the water, her eyes closed. She ran her fingers through her hair, feeling it soft and free in the low gravity water. The water was cold, stone cold and she was aware her lips would be turning blue. She didn't care. She needed to forget, to stop thinking about it altogether. In a few weeks she would undoubtedly bleed again- as she had every month until her Mum insisted on putting her on the pill at sixteen- even though Hermione had insisted magic was more efficient. She felt herself smile as she thought about the reality, that she had never tried a contraceptive spell, from the time her and Ron first spent the night she had known that carrying his baby would have made her so happy.

She tried to push the thought back down, tried to forget the whole thing- forget her very first pregnancy, forget her very first miscarriage. The emotions were too hard, too strong and she dug her nails into her palms to stop tears from streaming from her eyes and into the icy bath water.

She could feel the water starting to suffocate her, her airways closing off, her brain screaming for air.

Reluctantly she lifted her head from the water, her skin slowly breaking the surface and her hair starting to drag behind her rather than float in line with her face.

Her eyes opened and she saw Ron's face staring down at her; she blinked.

"Bloody hell Hermione!" Ron's words tumbled out on top of each other, "you were lying there and you were still and I know your upset and I thought. Jesus!"

He stopped, his eyes searching her face for some trace of emotion. There was very little.

"Look, I know this is hard for you but, you know, think of me sometimes yeah?"

Hermione shot upright, the water streaming of her body.

"Think of you? Your not the one who has to deal with the pain, the blood, the tiny bodies!"

Hermione reached over the edge of the bath, groping for her towel. She needed away.

"So you think I don't have the N pain? Think I'm inadequate?- all my brothers have kids! Ginny has kids!"

"Oh of course," Hermione growled, finally reaching her towel and lifting herself from the tub. She slipped slightly and Ron went to grab her, his hands wrapping around her waist before she slapped him away.

"Oh for the love of God Hermione! You're pregnant! I'm not letting you hurt my baby out of spite!"

Hermione snatched herself from her husbands grasp, pulling her towel around her and tucking the corner in atop her breasts. She stalked into the bedroom.

Ron followed suit lunging forward and grabbing his wife's left wrist.

He exposed the white scratches and groves on her arm, the words that were scored into her arm eight years ago.

Hermione flinched. Ron let go.

He breathed out deeply.

"Look," he began, crouching down and taking Hermione's hands in his.

"I, I'm not worried about never having a baby, not really. Yes it would be hard- not just to watch Harry and Ginny have the perfect family but to see it hurt you." He stopped, looking at the floor and shaking his head once.

"This is it, I promise. If it doesn't work this time then we stop trying. We have each other. I love you Hermione Granger, and I always will."

Their eyes met; a brief silence. Hermione nodded, starting off slowly but getting faster till eventually she locked eyes with Ron once more.

"You mean that?" She challenged, her voice strong but unsure.

He nodded once in reply.

"Definitely, your happiness-your health- is more important." He hesitantly lifted his hand, carefully cupping her cheek and giving her a gentle, watery, smile.

She lay awake in bed, her arms across her chest -which was only loosely covered by one of Ron's old quidditch jumpers. Her breasts were tender, very tender, and her head hurt. She should've taken something, got out of bed but she was inprisoned between a thick forearm of Ron's and his fuzzy ginger chest. She reached up, running her hands over his arms, down his chest. Back when they had first slept together he still has defined chest muscles from his quidditch days, those were mostly gone now. If anything he'd got fatter.

Her hands reached his belly, he snorted in his sleep causing Hermione to pause before continuing to stroke a finger down the trail of ginger hairs leading from his belly button.

He snuffled again, his pyjama trousers rustling as he wriggled, irritated.

She withdrew her hand. She knew what she had to do. It felt wrong, felt cruel to do it behind his back. If he didn't know, it couldn't hurt him she thought. If he didn't know then it would seem natural, seem like there has always been a little problem.

As much as she hated to do it she had to put herself first, had to think about the pain she could prevent.

She reached around Ron's arm to the bedside table and grabbed her wand.

"Nepotentia vitum."