Chapter 5: All Good Things

Hermione awoke in the large bed, snug for the first time in months. The draft of the bedroom tickled the parts of her naked body that weren't covered by the blanket. She shifted to see her one husband, propped up on his elbow and smiling down at her.

"Good morning," she whispered to Harry.

"Morning," he returned and bent down to kiss her.

"We made love all night," Hermione breathed against his lips.

"Yes we did," Harry smiled, continuing to kiss her. Kissing turned into heated snogging until a thought came to Hermione and she tore herself away.

"We made love all night," she repeated, panicked. Her hands instinctively flew to her rounding stomach, until she let out a bark of laughter.

"What is it?" Harry asked, concerned. "Is the baby hurt?" He reached around his wife with his foot and kicked Ron in the shin. "Oi! Wake up, you!"

Ron jerked awake. "Huh? Wasn't me," he groaned.

"Calm down, guys. I thought that I couldn't have sex with either of you while I'm pregnant because it might hurt the baby. But, then I remembered my doctor telling me that's not true."

"So, we can still do it and the baby won't be harmed?" Ron asked, now fully awake.

"Yup."

"Good," he grinned. Then he jumped on top of her.

"Ron!" Hermione laughed. "What are you doing?"

"Getting my fix with my sexy wife," Ron answered and began to do it with her. Hermione tried to get away, but Ron locked her in a tight embrace. They rolled around the bed, Ron kissing the life out of Hermione and Hermione trying to squirm free. They rolled back again…right onto a laughing Harry.

"Hermione sandwich!" the boys crowed, and began to get her off simultaneously. Hermione gave up as usual. She never won these cute little battles. Threesomes always turned her on; she was a sucker for them.

That summer began as a good one. The Golden Trio still had work, but at least Harry and Ron had not been assigned to any more missions yet. So, the three had plenty of quality time together.

Harry and Ron soon took it upon themselves to cater to Hermione's every whim. They cooked meals for her, did most of the household chores, and ran errands for her. Hermione resisted at first, then let them have their way. She thought it was sweet that they devoted so much time to her well being. It gave her time to prepare for the new addition to the family. At night, she would sit by the fire and pour through books on baby names. She had to pick two, as she had learned she was carrying twins. Occasionally, she would run a set of names by her husbands. Harry was very picky, always asking what a name meant or postulating that it sounded wrong. Ron had only one condition: that the baby not be called Victor if one or both were boys.

At the close of August, work renewed in earnest. Hermione was just nearing the end of her seventh month, and had officially been placed on maternity leave. She was getting very round. One evening, as she was cooking dinner, she found it difficult to stir the pot with the ladle.

"Having trouble?" came a voice and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"You startled me!" she gasped as she pulled Ron in for a hug; she must not have heard them Apparate into the house. Ron chuckled.

"Well, excuse me for wondering if you and the babies are safe."

Hermione laughed. "One of them - she keeps kicking."

"She?" Ron wrinkled his nose as he frowned. "What makes you think it's a girl?"

"My motherly intuition," Hermione teased. She knew how much Ron wanted a son. Indeed, he was convinced that any baby of his would be a boy; his argument that the Weasley line almost always produced men was obvious, but nevertheless compelling. She guided Ron's hand to her belly. His hand almost snapped back as soon as he felt the kicking within.

"Whoa!" he smiled. "With a kick that strong, it's gotta be a boy! I reckon we have a future Beater on our hands!" Hermione laughed, and he laughed with her. This is how it should be, always she thought, as she melted into Ron's arms and sighed in contentment. Husband and wife then finished dinner once the other husband complained that he was "bloody ready to eat a hippogriff, I'm starving so." Over dinner, the men discussed work. After a moment of silence, Ron cleared his throat.

"Hermione, dear….we have something to tell you. Harry and I have been assigned to another mission."

Hermione sighed. Not again. She was just starting to relax from the fear that had held her captive over that entire spring.

"A group of us are being sent on an ocean liner over to the States. We are wanting to investigate Death Eater activity that's been spied by the American Ministry of Magic along the coast. It shouldn't take as long as the last one – just some cleansing of illegal dealings," Harry explained. "We have to board tomorrow, but to get to the port, we need to drive through the night. Our bags are packed; we'll be leaving in an hour."

Hermione got up gingerly from the table, and Ron and Harry encircled her in their arms. "What's bothering you? Tell us," Ron asked.

"Oh, Harry, Ron: I'm afraid." Afraid of this work. Afraid for our children. Afraid for both of you.

"Have faith, our love. Everything will soon be set right," Harry assured. "These Death Eaters will be gone soon. We're going there to end this violence. Wait for us until we return; things will be different, I promise." They each kissed her, long and lingering. "Please, wait for us."

"I will," Hermione sighed, and hugged each of them hard. After a few more minutes of kissing, Harry and Ron went upstairs to get their bags. They came back down, each snogged Hermione senseless and went into the garage to the waiting Ford Anglia. Only when Hermione heard the car pull out of the driveway did she let the tears fall. She was deeply upset, but she didn't know why. After all, she still had her boys.