I don't know what has gotten into me, writing this thing. Chapters and angst, oh my!
I really am much more of a lover of fluff than this story would suggest. So I'm going to sneak a little bit of that in here. Hope that's okay with all of you!
I own nothing, but that much should be obvious by now.
"Hey, little train! Wait for me!
I once was blind
but now I see"
She wasn't much of a cook, never had been. Their steady consumption of those awful mushrooms while on the run was a testament to that. Things had improved a bit since then, at least where the fungus was concerned, but not by much. Living on her own she had picked up a few more recipes, nothing more than a sandwich or casserole, but luckily toddlers did not possess the most delicate of palates. Ron lifted an eyebrow as she opened the refrigerator, and she wouldn't help but to break into a smile. Little did he know, she could whip up a mean macaroni and cheese now.
"We could always order in, you know." He said, taking Hugo's sippy cup from her after she filled it with milk, and screwing the top on securely.
"Do they deliver to the ministry now? My, things really have changed since I've been gone…"
As soon as the sentence left her lips, she felt the potential it held for taking the conversation down an ugly path. But somehow, Ron seemed numb to its barbed edges, and she felt his easy contentment bleeding into her own mood. Not to say that her heart wasn't pounding, because it was, and though she felt her pulse throb in her ears, it was the familiar, nervous anticipation she used to feel whenever he was in the same room when they were so much younger. It, this, them, him...they were all too seamlessly falling into place to stay that way, but she decided to ignore the logic in that reasoning. Something about the extra presence in the room smoothed over so many things left unsaid, healing long-open wounds like only the innocence of a child could. Though maybe an hour ago Ron would have responded to her by shouting, instead he simply rolled his eyes good-naturedly, passing the cup to tiny, up stretched hands.
"I resent that! I know a thing or two about the muggle world, even have a-" he fished around in his pants pocket, "cell phone now!"
"The question is, do you know how to use it?" She said mockingly, pulling out the cheese and butter to set on the counter, alongside the box of noodles she had taken from the pantry.
He ducked his head, fiddling with the screen on the rectangular object in his hand. "Sure. Kinda…no, not really. Bought it out of curiosity, mostly. It's nice and shiny. Mainly just use it to talk to Harry and Percy, though."
At the mention of the name, she cocked her head in surprise. "Percy?"
"Yeah, that's where I've been picking up on the non-magical way of life. He's engaged to a muggle now, the wedding is this spring. Her name's Audrey."
'Really? Well that's nice. What's she like?"
"Way too good for him." He said with a laugh. "But then again, who isn't? You need some help with that?"
She was filling the saucepan with water using one hand while turning on the stove-top with the other. "Thanks, but I've got kind of a system down." A non-magical one, she wondered if he noticed. She did her best not to practice spells around her son. Speaking of- "However, if you would keep Hugo-"
"From losing a toe?" Ron jumped between the boy and the broken glass he was eying dangerously. "Yeah, I'm right on it. Where do you keep your broom?" He asked, grabbing a few paper towels and laying them on the ground to soak up any whiskey which hadn't concealed into a sticky mess already.
"I'll show you." Hugo said, grabbing Ron's hand and leading him towards the closet. Hermione's heart jumped into her throat at the sight of their clasped hands, ignoring the water as it overflowed the pot she was filling. They looked so perfect together, like a real…
Family.
"Are you sure you can handle that broom? It doesn't fly you know." She teased as they came back armed with a full barrage of cleaning supplies.
"Hardy-har-har." He chuckled, sweeping up the shards into a pile with ease.
"I wanna help!" Hugo exclaimed, grabbing the dustpan and stepping too close to the glass for comfort.
"No!" Both of the adults shouted in unison. Ron dropped the broom he held to lift the boy off his feet and out of danger's way.
They froze, all three of them. Hermione burnt her hand on the stove, unable to tear her eyes from the pair, but the pain scarcely registered as her heart threatened to beat violently out of her chest. Ron's arms shook visibly, though it was hardly from the weight of the child he supported so deftly, and Hugo peered warily down at the distance he was from the ground, before breaking into a grin. His mummy was definitely not this tall!
Tentatively, Ron put a gentle hand on Hugo's head. "You have to be careful, little one. That glass will cut you." He said in a small voice, one that reminded her of long-ago days spent on bed-rest in a cottage by the sea. And he began to stroke that hair now, with a tenderness and familiarity that made the scene seem all too real.
"Sawry." The child answered, quite amiable and not pulling away in the least from the stranger's embrace as his mother would have expected.
When Hermione finally spoke, her voice cracked a bit. "Hugo, why don't you show…Ron, where your room is and get some clean socks and shoes on? I'll go ahead and clean this mess up for you guys."
"O-tay. It's down there." He pointed down the hall with determination, and Ron ruffled his hair affectionately, in exactly the same way she had always done. Their two ginger heads bobbed away from her as they headed towards the bedroom, and she was certain she had never seen anything so lovely.
Rinsing her burned hand under the cold water, she looked around absentmindedly for her wand to straighten up magically before remembering it was still in Ron's coat pocket. She set to work the muggle way instead, just as Ron had attempted, her heart thudding as she swept and mopped.
Was it wrong, what she was doing?
After all, she had never told Ron Hugo was his son…but he had never asked. It would be naïve of her to deny that she knew exactly what conclusions he had jumped to though, and she had done nothing to set him straight.
It seemed a redundant subject to bring up, given all the facts. That they had been intimate and she had left shortly after for fear of ruining his future and had taken his memory of what happened with her…not to mention the fact that she now had a little boy whose hair matched Ron's exactly. It all seemed to point to an answer so obvious it waived the need to voice it aloud.
And yet it wasn't the truth. But maybe it could be.
She had been packing, if you could even call it that, when Ginny came to her that night, dropping in through the fireplace using the floo which connected their homes. The party at Ron and George's had drug on to the late hours of the night, but Hermione had come home early and had the flat she shared with Luna to herself. She couldn't take much with her when she left, since she had little more than a vague idea of where she was going, and all of what little property she could lay claim to was scattered about her small bedroom.
"You're already leaving?" Ginny questioned as she took a seat on what little mattress space remained uncluttered, eyes looking more empty than Hermione could ever remember seeing them. It was a feeling she felt resonated in her own.
"Yes…classes start right-away in America. The approval of my scholarship was delayed, and I've only just received notice. Very last minute." She rambled, a flick of her wand sending socks flying to a duffle bag. Strange how easily it came to her, lying through her teeth.
"Oh."
Hermione breathed in deeply, trying to appear as though she weren't absolutely terrified. Which, of course, she was. "It's been quite a day, hasn't it?"
Ginny gave a lifeless little smile, running her fingers down the cracked spine of a well-loved copy of 'Hogwarts: A History' lying on top of several jumpers. "Quite." She agreed.
"You…you must be very proud of them. For getting into the program and all."
Ginny looked at her sharply, incredulously even, "Yes, just as I would think you must be."
The words hung in the air between them like a poisonous mist, bridging the gap between the two girls and readily infecting the room with its subtle toxicity. Any forced, false pleasantries were killed instantly. Hermione felt decidedly uncomfortable in her own skin, and desperately she itched to get away, far from the unnerving candor of her friend's scrutiny.
"I am." She replied, but the words sounded strained even to her own ears. The redhead snorted and dropped her eyes.
"I'm pregnant." Ginny said bluntly, drawing up her knees and wrapping her arms tightly around herself.
Hermione immediately let go of her wand in shock, her hands flying to cover her gaping mouth as her mind spun with the information. Guilt settled heavily in the pit of her stomach, and an ugly conscience reared its head.
What had she been thinking! She was Ginny's closest friend, her sister for all intents and purposes, really...except that she hadn't been. Not lately at least, or else she would have been there for her long before things had gotten to this point, but she had been so wrapped up in whatever was going on between Ron and herself that she had put too much distance between the two of them. She rushed to her side, embracing the girl she loved tightly.
"Harry?"
"Doesn't know." Ginny's voice was monotone.
"Oh Ginny. He…he loves you, you must know that. You should tell him."
The body in her arms remained unresponsive to her touch. "And Ron loves you. But look, you're the one leaving."
"That's different." She said curtly, drawing back.
"How so? You two are just as much in love as Harry and I- and don't try to deny it."
"I do love Ron, how could I not? He's one of my best friends…just like you and Harry and Ne-"
"Bollocks!" Incensed, Ginny jumped off the bed, drawing herself up to her full height in front of Hermione's seated form. "Don't you dare, my brother loves you madly, and I know you feel exactly the same way, even if you both are so bloody stubborn that you insist on dancing around the issue like you were still in fourth year. So don't you dare tell me that I should face this, when you are the one who is running away!"
"Ron loves me the same way he loves you…like a sister."
Ginny's face scrunched together in confusion at Hermione's statement. "Of course he doesn't! Everyone knows that something happened between you, it's plain as day to anyone, except the both of you evidently!"
"Ron loves me like a sister." She continued unfazed, her face perfectly composed as though Ginny hadn't spoken. "And I've made sure he has no reason to feel otherwise." Reaching across her scattered possessions, she picked her wand back up with care and placed it securely in her lap.
The face above her blanched in recognition. "Oh."
"Yes." She let the single word hang in the air between them, as the enormity of what Hermione was willing to do, of what she had already done, sank in.
Ginny sighed deeply. "I have another year left at Hogwarts…and you know Harry would never go off to training and leave me alone with a baby, no matter how badly he's always wanted this. Same as Ron, they're just too damn chivalrous. That's why you're doing it, aren't you? Leaving him so he doesn't have to leave you?"
The words rang true, hitting the exhausted older girl hard as she struggled to hold the gaze of the woman whose eyes were the same as that shy little redhead she had met on platform 9 ¾ so long ago.
"Hermione, I don't know what to do. Please don't leave me, not yet. I need your help…" Ginny sunk back on the mattress and rested her head against her friend's shoulder. Hermione reached up to put an arm around her small shoulders.
"Don't worry Gin. We'll fix this, I promise."
And now I'm all giggly…"It's a great day to be great." Go Pack Go!