She was right. She lay in the bed she had come to think of as her own in Ginny's room till it was well past two in the morning when she finally gave up on sleep. Hermione got up, wrapped a robe around herself and managed to tiptoe out of the room without interrupting Ginny's regular breathing.
She was just about to curl up with her favorite muggle book (The Lord of the Rings) when a soft cry came from Bill and Fleur's room. It was the unmistakable wail of a newborn baby, waiting to be noticed. Hermione hurried over- the door was left ajar, and little Victoure was awake in her crib, crying for attention. Bill and Fleur were both fast asleep and Hermione felt slightly uncomfortable, disturbing their privacy like this- but how could she leave the little baby alone to cry? Silently, she picked up Victoure and hurried out into the living room. The baby was still wailing slightly. Hermione knew nothing about babies- but she instinctively knew about rocking and cuddling and that sort of thing. In no time the baby was sleeping again, nestled in her arms, the little blond head buried in her chest. Spellbound, Hermione watched the little creature breathing in and out, very much alive. It was a miracle- magic beyond anyone's comprehension.
It might have been an hour later, and it might have been five minutes. Hermione was afraid to move for fear of waking the little baby sleeping so deeply in her arms, but she attempted nonetheless to open her book. She succeeded in opening it to the right page, and so she sat, curled up in mr weasley's favorite armchair, reading her book in the light of the moon and holding the tiny thing in her arms tightly, carefully and lovingly. It was in fact, an hour that would always be etched in her memory as a wonderfully magical hour. Understandably, she was unaware of anything else around her and therefore did not notice the tall, lanky figure watching her from the bottom of the stairs.
Eventually, when he made his way silently into the room, she looked up in surprise, noticing him.
"Why are you up?!" She whispered.
Ron sat down on the arm of the chair. "Couldn't sleep."
"Neither could I."
There was a silence.
Ron looked down at the bundle in her arms. He reached out a hand and stroked the fragile little cheek, transfixed. Watching his face, Hermione felt her heart clench. The gentleness she saw there, the softness and tenderness, were perhaps what made her whisper- "sometimes reality is better than dreams."
Her tone made Ron look down at her again. The same gentleness and love on his face was mirrored there.
He put his arm about her, and kissed her.