Chapter Twelve: It Still Hasn't Come

Even though it had seemed like hours had passed since they had left Grimmauld Place, what with the Knight Bus darting around every desolate heath in all of Europe, before they finally reached Saint Mungo's. Mrs. Weasley's her fingers' wrapped tightly around her handbag; her knuckles white.

Another hour later, Mrs. Weasley had finally stopped pacing the waiting room, only to be replaced by Hermione, nervously flittering from one robust baby painting to the next. How long did these things take?

"I'll just nip upstairs for some tea?" Mr. Weasley had been silent up to this point, but now stood slowly. "Would anyone else like some?" Mrs. Weasley nodded, and her husband's eyes moved on to Hermione, who had briefly halted at his words.

"Yes, thank-you."

"I'll come with you." Ron jumped up, his drawn face eyeing Fred, who was still seated, and didn't really seem to be paying attention.

"Me too." Harry joined Ron; sending his own worried glance at Fred, who had retreated from Mrs. Weasley's fussing as the time stretched out, and they heard nothing.

"Get Fred some too." Mrs. Weasley's voice was hushed, and the man did not even twitch at the mention of his name.

"Were you like that every time one of us arrived?" Ron asked as the three men walked up the floor flights of stairs from Creature Induced Injuries to the tearoom and gift shop.

"When William was born, yes, and with Ginevra." Arthur conceded after a moment's thought. "Even though magical care is slightly different from muggle." He explained; Harry shrugged, having not ever experienced anything beyond maybe two health classes. "But, we don't live forever, and there are just as many dangers, as you well know, and there are only a few less dangers in this sort of thing…" Mr. Weasley trailed off as they reached the counter of the teashop. "And as her first grandchild your mother is very anxious."

"But Angela will be ok?" Ron's voice was very strained; no doubt, worried about his brother.

How much more death could the Weasley family take? Harry didn't even let himself think about the worse case scenario as he ordered six cups of strong herbal tea.

"I don't see why not, but it's just such a long, painful, and highly volatile event, and it can take so long; it gives you a long time to think of everything that can go wrong." Arthur finished, collecting two cups of tea. "I'm sure you and Hermione will both be ok; we'll be here for you too."

"That's not what-!" Ron sputtered, his ears turning a bright red. "That won't be for a while." He finished steadily, after a calming breath.

"I'm sure your mother will be eager for another grandchild." Arthur replied, with a smirk. "To spoil mercilessly."

"That's not-" Ron stopped, his face rigid with embarrassment, and stalked out of the teashop.

"And that goes for you too Harry, no matter how things turn out." Mr. Weasley added, looking back at Harry as he walked after his son.

Did he know? That comment had been much more like Dumbledore then Mr. Weasley; he did need to give Mr. Weasley more credit though… No doubt Mrs. Weasley had noticed something, as most women seemed to do; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley both cared for Harry.

A small burden seemed to lift from Harry's shoulders as he followed after the pair; Mr. Weasley's warnings about Sirius, at the begging of Harry's third year, and several other occasions that he had stepped into to father him as he grew up into the man he was now.

Fred was staring at the cup of tea in his lap when Harry returned to the waiting room. "Sorry, it might be a little cold." He handed Mrs. Weasley a cup of tea, and returned to the overstuffed chair in the corner across from Ron and Fred.

Silence fell.

Hermione sat down between Ron and Fred, as she sipped at her tea.

Who would have ever thought that it could take this long?