A/N: Thanks again to iLoveRomance2o11 for your review- I'm glad you like the chapter, and the way Fred behaved. It just seemed like something he'd do. I'm also glad you're enjoying the stories, and I hope you like this one as well.

Thanks to laneanne for adding my story to your story alert, I appreciate it.

Once again, I remind you that requests and suggestions are welcomed, and please enjoy the next, rather long, drabble/story.

Was it you who caught me staring?

"Can I help you?" Fred approached a boy, probably no older then a third year, who was browsing the shelves of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. "Erm…" The boy thought for a moment, before nodding and holding up a product. "What are these?" Fred studied the box for a moment before recognising the brightly coloured label. Those are skiving snackboxes," He smiled, thinking back fondly on his Hogwarts days. "My brother and I invented them while we were at Hogwarts," he whispered conspiratorially to the boy, who looked impressed. "Really?" George walked up then, slung his arm around the boy, and said, "Yep! I'll tell you all about it if you like." The boy nodded vigorously, his eyes wide. "Just a sec," George told the boy, and turned to Fred again, speaking in a low voice. "We just got an owl from St. Mungo's, Gred. You might want to read it, it's in the back room." Fred felt like his insides had decided to turn to lead. "Do you think it's-" He broke off, suddenly feeling more frightened then he ever had in his life. George shrugged and led the boy away, telling the familiar story to the still wide-eyed youth. Gulping, Fred turned toward the back of the store, passing Lee and Verity, who looked overwhelmed by the crowds. He mouthed, "Cover for me," to Lee, who grinned tiredly, shot him a thumbs up, and disappeared into the crowd. When he reached the back room, he found the letter, sitting unopened on the table. Nervously, he reached out to take the letter, opened it, and read it. Yelping, he dropped the letter, ran to the fireplace, took a handful of floo powder and tossed it in the flames, shouting, "St. Mungo's!" When he arrived in the lobby of the hospital, he ran to the front desk and shouted at the (very frightened) receptionist. "She's in room 210, floor 4, Mr Weasley." She squeaked out, pointing him in the right direction. "Thanks," he called out, already running in the direction she pointed.

A few minutes later, he burst into room 210, panting slightly. "Sorry I'm late-" He quieted immediately, both occupants of the bed were asleep. He sunk into a chair beside the bed and smiled at his wife and newborn child. The baby had the familiar shock of Weasley hair, flaming orange and wispy. The woman holding it looked drawn and her normally bushy brown hair fanned limply over the pillow. He laid his hand on top of hers and watched her sleep, feeling proud and amazed. Ron and Harry walked in a few minutes later, smiled and left him alone. The baby stirred and woke, eyes the same shade of brown as his wife's blinked at him. The baby opened its mouth and began to cry, the high-pitched noise filling the room. Panicking slightly, Fred reached over and took the baby, cradling it the way he had seen his mum do to a baby Ginny. He rocked the baby gently, because it was still crying, and began to sing softly to it, the same song his mum had sung to him and George when they were young. The baby now quieted, and blinked at him some more, before yawning and closing its eyes. Breathing a sigh of relief, he looked up and watched his wife, who had begun stirring when her baby had started crying. Her eyes blinked open, and met his. Smiling when she saw the baby in his arms, she said hoarsely, "Hi, Fred." "Hi, 'Mione," He answered, kissing her forehead. "He's beautiful, isn't he?" She asked him, reaching out a hand to stroke her son's face. "Yes, he is." Fred agreed, "And I'm going to teach him to be just like me and Georgie!" Hermione looked shocked. "You will do no such thing! Frederick Gideon Weasley, I'm warning you-" He put a finger to her lips, "Shh… Don't wake up our son," He grinned. She glared at him for a moment before her expression softened. She scooted over on the bed to make room for him, and he obliged, his son (His Son!) still nestled in his arm. Hermione leaned into his other side, sighing contentedly, and he kissed the top of her head. "Er… What's his name, Hermione?" Fred asked, but she was already asleep. Looking down at the sleeping baby, he decided that whatever Hermione had named him would be perfect.

Or was it me who caught you?

"You did very well, my dear," The healer told Hermione, handing her now-clean baby to her, "We're going to send an owl to your husband to inform him about the birth of his son, and I think you should try to get some sleep." Smiling sleepily, she nodded at the healer. She gazed down proudly at her son, who already looked like a Weasley, his wisps of hair a bright orange. The boy blinked up at her, and she realized his eyes looked like hers. His little fist closed over her finger, and she smiled, tears of happiness threatening to leak out. She looked toward the door, hoping Harry and Ron would come back soon. They had left the room, Ron looking faintly green, when the healer had come bustling in, and hadn't come back since. She was happily surprised to see a pair of bright green eyes peeking in carefully, as though worried about what they might see inside the room, from the doorway. "Harry!" she called, and her raven-haired friend burst through the door. "'Mione!" He replied, stooping to hug her carefully, "How are you?" His eyes were serious as he sat beside her. "Fine," she said, "A little tired, but fine." He smiled then, something she never got tired of seeing. "How's Ginny?" Hermione asked, realizing belatedly that she hadn't asked about her sister-in-law earlier. "She's fine. James is giving her trouble," He chuckled at this, "especially now that she's pregnant again," He told her, the first she'd heard of it. "Oh, Harry! Congratulations!" She smiled fondly at her friend, thoroughly happy for him and his family. "Thanks, "Mione." He laughed, then, as though he'd just thought of it, asked, "What are you going to do with him while you're both at work?" Hermione thought for a second. "I think I'll take some time off… work from home, you know, and then when he's a little older, I'll bring him to work with me. I've made some serious headway on House-Elf rights," She confided in him, "I think pretty soon they'll be given proper wages and everything!" Harry looked as though that was something he didn't want to hear about. "Tell you what," He said, standing, "Why don't I go get Ron? He'll be glad to know you're… done." Hermione laughed. "Thanks, Harry!" she smiled at him, and he left. Yawning, she decided to take a bit of a nap before Harry returned with Ron (she was thoroughly knackered, after all), and was glad to see that her son seemed to have the same idea.

She was awakened by the sound of her son crying, what felt like only a few seconds later. She stirred, ready to comfort her son, but the gentle pressure of him in her arms was removed, and she wondered if Fred could possibly be here now. She heard him singing softly to the now-silent baby, a song she didn't recognised but was beautiful nonetheless. Finally prying her eyes open, she was met by his, blue and sparkling with their usual supressed humour. "Hi, Fred," She said, her voice hoarse. "Hi, 'Mione," he replied, kissing her forehead. "He's beautiful, isn't he?" She asked, reaching out reflexively to stroke their baby's soft cheek. "Yes he is," Fred replied, "And I'm going to teach him to be just like me and Georgie!" Shocked, Hermione struggled not to shout at him. "You will do no such thing! Frederick Gideon Weasley, I'm warning you-" She was cut off by his finger, pressing gently against her lips. "Shh…" he said in a low voice that made her tingly, "Don't wake up our son!" He grinned, and she glared at him, her anger melting in the face of his cheeky grin. Sighing, she scooted over on the bed so that he could lie with her, wanting to be close to him. He quickly obliged, their son still cradled in his arm, sleeping. She took his other side, nestling in and sighing contentedly. Her eyes drooped and she felt him kiss the top of her head. 'I hope he's just like you, Fred,' She thought, before sleep claimed her again.