Chapter 80

It was the first true sunny day of the year, and Ron had opened all the blinds and curtains, declaring it was time to start letting the sun in to warm the place up.

Winter had been rather long and very cold, stretching all the way through to mid-April. Just last week, Ron had spotted a few flakes of snow landing on the window pane when he'd been preparing dinner and a sense of dread had washed over him. No more snow, no more cold, he thought.

But now… it was bright, there were few clouds, and he didn't think he'd need his coat to step into the garden anymore. The weather channel on the TV had told him not to expect anymore cold weather, and Ron always listened to them. They weren't always exactly right, but he found whatever system the Muggle TV people used was better than the poor attempts wizards had used to predict the weather over the centuries. There just wasn't a spell that could do it.

The first warm day happened to be a Saturday. He'd woken up around six, most unusually, and after kissing a sleeping Hermione gently on her cheek, he'd slid out of bed and come into the conservatory once he'd brewed himself a cup of coffee.

He wasn't used to being alone like this, Hermione generally being up long before him, but she'd been unusually tired the past few days and had been struggling to get herself out of bed. Even the simple task of cooking dinner had exhausted her last night, and she'd spent the evening lying with her head in Ron's lap, dozing, before he'd insisted she go to bed.

She wasn't getting sick, she assured him, because she never got sick. And, on the rare occasion she actually was sick, she'd go straight to the Apothecary and get one potion or another so it didn't interfere with her day.

"I suppose it's just been a busy week," she'd yawned, trudging from the living room and upstairs.

Ron wasn't complaining. She was finally allowing herself to rest when she sensed she was being overworked. Hermione had learned to look after herself more and more, so he wasn't going to deter her.

He sipped at his coffee, staring out through the glass windows and down onto the makeshift Quidditch pitch. The middle post was lopsided, and he made a note to fix it later, not that it'd make any difference if he did it today or in a year. But he always liked to imagine that one day it would get used.

By eight o'clock, Hermione pulled herself from bed. Her movements were slow and she yawned, even after sleeping for a good ten hours.

"Still not feeling well?" Ron asked as she sat in the chair beside him.

"Just tired," Hermione said. "I feel fine otherwise."

Ron waved his wand and a moment later the coffee pot and an empty cup came into the room, setting down on the small, round table between them. "Sounds like you need coffee," he said, pouring a cup for her.

Hermione accepted it, warming her hands on the mug, her eyes taking in the view from the conservatory windows.

"It really does look good," she said, smiling.

"What? The pitch?" Ron asked.

She nodded. "If I knew the first thing about playing Quidditch, I think I'd like it. It looks enticing."

"I could teach you, you know," Ron said, a small dot of hope forming in his chest. "I've always said I can teach you."

Hermione laughed, shaking her head. "Flying and I just… don't go well together. I'd probably land on the neighbours' roof."

Ron grinned. "We'd set up charms to prevent that. You'll be fine. You'll be with me."

Hermione's smile remained, and she turned her head to look at him. Dark circles had set under her eyes, and even her usually wild hair wasn't as bushy as usual — especially after waking up. "I think I might stick to attending games when we can. That's enough Quidditch for me."

"You've come to like Quidditch, I see," Ron said, unsure on whether or not he should comment about her appearance. Maybe he should send her back to bed, let her rest for the day…

"It's always fascinated me," Hermione replied. "I like watching it. I just… well, I'm not Ginny, am I?"

"Is anyone?" Ron asked with a snort. He drained his second cup of coffee that morning. "So, what do you want to do today?"

Hermione was silent, contemplative. She continued to watch the unmoving pitch outside, her fingers tapping thoughtfully on her steaming cup of coffee. "Alright," she said.

"Alright, what?" Ron asked, eyebrows raised.

"You can teach me. Teach me how to fly. It's probably about time I learnt."

Ron stared at her, incredulous. "Are you serious?"

She nodded, her smile widening. "Before I change my mind."

"You want to learn how to fly. Like… properly?"

Hermione nodded. "The weather's good, I'm in the mood for it, and… you're laughing."

"I'm not laughing at you," Ron assured her. "I'm just… laughing. This is great. I've been asking you for years and you've always resisted, but now you suddenly want to learn. This is great!"

"So, are you going to teach me, then?" Hermione asked, beaming.

"Of course!" Ron said. "Get dressed, and I'll teach you. This is great," he said again.

…

Hermione seemed to regret her decision the moment Ron placed a broom in front of her. It wasn't like she had never been on one before, but now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember a time since maybe first year that she'd ever been on one by herself. It was just something that she didn't enjoy.

She eyed the old broom as if it had personally offended her, and then looked up at Ron, her mouth opening.

"It's alright," he said. "I'm not going to let you up on your own straight away. We'll have to build up to that." He grinned at her sceptical expression. "Having regrets?"

"No!" Hermione said quickly. "No, it's fine."

Ron chuckled. "You're a terrible liar. Listen, it's alright. You've just got to… you've just really got to believe you can do it. Flying comes naturally to so many witches and wizards. Think of Ginny. She was flying just about every day as a profession."

"Ginny also learnt how to fly before she could walk," Hermione said.

"Alright, fair. Come on." Ron grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. "Here, let's just practice holding it first." He passed Hermione the broom. He watched her peer around nervously, as if she had an audience.

"This feels so ridiculous."

"I'm a good teacher," Ron assured her, not sure if that was completely true. "I taught you how to play chess, didn't I? You can play decently now."

Hermione looked at him for a moment, and apparently having no counter argument, mounted the broom.

Ron grinned. "It's not even off the ground and you're gripping it like you're going to fall off." He moved her hands further down and rearranged their hold. "First rule is to not think you're going to fall off."

"That's a bit hard," Hermione said quietly.

Ron smirked. "I never thought you'd be this scared."

"I'm not… I'm not scared. I just don't know how to do it. Are the enchantments up around the yard? The neighbours…"

"Stop making excuses, Hermione. Of course they're up. They're always up, and I update them once every three months to make sure. Our neighbours have absolutely no idea what we're doing."

Out of reasons not to do it, Hermione nodded, and Ron picked up another broom lying on the ground. He mounted it and smiled at her.

"Trust me?" he asked.

Hermione nodded silently again.

"We'll just go about a foot off the ground today, alright? Nothing big. You've done this before."

"Not for a long time, though."

"Well, really, neither have I —" Ron admitted. "Just lift your feet up — have the determination to leave the ground, and… hover."

"Hover," Hermione repeated.

"Ready?" Ron asked.

"Yes."

"One, two… three."

He saw Hermione close her eyes, but she did as he asked, because that was who she was. It wasn't in her nature to not do something just because it frightened her, though this seemed to be the one thing that might stall her. He found it ironic that she didn't seem to have any qualms about going in that Muggle metal contraption she called an airplane, but a broom was a big deal.

Ron reached out to steady her broom as it floated a foot into the air.

She breathed heavily, opening her eyes.

"You have good control already," Ron told her cheerfully. "You didn't even go any higher than I said."

Hermione looked around, hovering slightly above Ron. Her grip of the broom had returned to the one of hanging on for dear life, but Ron let it slide for the moment.

"See, not so bad, is it?" he said, grinning. "Wanna go higher?"

"No!" Hermione said quickly, and she tried to land back on the ground, though her attempt to do so resulted in her being jolted to the side. Ron held onto the broom, steadying her.

"Next lesson," he said, finding that he was enjoying teaching her. He liked the time they were spending together, the closeness between them. It just reinforced within him how strong and how amazing their relationship still was. She trusted him with something that clearly terrified her — she felt safe with him, comfortable.

His chest swelled with love for her.

"How do I get back down without crashing?" Hermione asked.

"Tilt the broom down slightly," Ron instructed.

"Won't I nose dive?" Hermione questioned.

"Just do it," Ron said.

Hermione looked at him for a moment, her eyes questioning. But then her expression softened and she once again did as he asked. She was a bit wobbly, but she ended up landing well for her first time.

"Not so hard, is it?" Ron said, beaming at her. "The higher up you are, the more you have to tilt."

"That was…" Hermione seemed unable to find the right words.

Ron chuckled. "You're a natural," he said.

"Oh, I'm not!" Hermione protested. "Harry was a natural. I think, no matter how well you teach me, I'll always prefer to keep my two feet on the ground."

"Flying is a good way to get around, you know."

"I'll stick to Apparition."

Ron looked at her for a moment, a smile playing on his lips. Her hair had returned to its wild, bushy self and colour had returned to her cheeks.

Without thinking much, Ron took the broom from her hand, tossed his own aside and grabbed her around the waist.

He kissed her, unable to help himself. Why did every little thing she do — no matter how insignificant — just make him feel something he didn't know he was capable of feeling? Why, after so many years, was he finding something new to love about her, or falling even more in love than what he already was?

How was it even possible?

But it was possible, because it was what happened to him every single day. Every day that he woke up — another day of spending his life as her husband — his feelings just grew. They changed and they grew stronger and it seemed that his heart just grew and adapted along with him.

The flying lesson appeared to be finished as Hermione flung her arms around his neck, sinking into his kiss as if they weren't standing in the middle of their garden.

Ron didn't even know how long they were like that for, but his mind was now on things that the charms did not prevent the neighbours from seeing.

He broke away and was about to suggest they head inside, but Hermione pulled completely away in that moment, her eyes flicking to something behind Ron.

"Harry," she said, going slightly pink. "Hi."

Ron whipped his head around to see Harry standing by the open door of the conservatory, grinning like an idiot.

"Don't let me stop you," he said. "Should I come back another time?"

"No… Ron was just… just teaching me to fly." Hermione's voice trailed off and she flushed again.

"Funny," Harry said, "that's not how I remember learning."

"Do you have a reason for being here?" Ron asked irritably. "Or are you just going to make a habit of walking into our house unannounced?"

Harry suddenly looked rather guilty. He shifted where he stood. "Listen, I can go. Sorry for not letting you know I was coming. I know Saturdays are for the two of you." He turned to leave, and Hermione looked up at Ron with a determined look.

He sighed. "Wait… what's up, mate?"

Harry turned back. Now that he was looking properly, Ron realised that there must have been a reason Harry had come over. It wasn't like him to just come by unannounced — especially on a Saturday. As he stood by the conservatory door, he shifted from one foot to the other as if he was nervous.

"Nothing," Harry said, unconvincingly. "I just thought I'd come to see my two best friends — see how you were going, you know…"

Ron and Hermione stared at him, but said nothing.

Harry wiped his brow and once he realised that neither of them had believed a word of that, his shoulders slumped, his face taking on an expression of defeat.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Hermione asked. Before Harry could answer, she moved towards Harry, heading back for the house.

Ron followed, shooting Harry a questioning look as he passed. With his wand, he closed and locked the conservatory doors and joined Hermione in the kitchen, who was just boiling a pot of water with her own wand.

"Er… everything okay?" Ron asked Harry tentatively.

"Yes," Harry said. "I mean… it should be, but… is it normal to feel… concerned?"

"Concerned about what?" Hermione asked, pouring water into three separate teacups.

"What's to come."

"You mean the fact that you're having a baby in less than a month?" Ron guessed.

Harry nodded.

"I think it's pretty normal," Ron said, smiling. "I mean, your whole life is about to be turned upside down for the next seventeen years at least. It's not going to be a walk in the park, is it?"

Hermione passed around the tea, though Ron didn't even feel like it. He was still watching Harry.

"What bothers you about it the most?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head. "All of it. I mean, I've got no idea what I'm doing. I didn't exactly grow up with strong father figures in my life, did I?"

"You did alright considering," Ron reasoned.

"What if I'm terrible at it?" Harry blurted out suddenly.

Ron could only sympathise with his best friend — sharing an understanding that he'd never voiced himself. Over the time that he and Hermione had been trying to have a baby, thoughts such as what Harry was voicing had entered his mind on more than one occasion. They terrified him at times, and he wasn't weeks away from having a living, breathing human in his care. He could only imagine Harry's sudden terror at becoming a father.

"You won't be, Harry," Hermione said. "You'll be far from terrible."

Harry shook his head again. "I was excited to begin with. I was thrilled, actually. I thought it was great. But these past few weeks, I just keep getting these thoughts in my head. Ginny seems so calm, so on top of it —"

"She's probably freaking out on the inside," Ron said.

"She'll be great. She's so confident. But me… what do I do?"

"Love your kid?" Ron said with a shrug. "That's a good start. I'm sure the rest will come to you."

"It's not something you're supposed to have all the answers to," Hermione added. "Not from the beginning." She considered her words for a moment. "You probably won't know every answer… ever."

"So there's not some huge book you've found, Hermione? That has every question asked by every parent throughout all of time?" Harry groaned.

She smiled. "I don't think so."

"I just can't help but continuously think of everything that could go wrong. I've had Teddy, yeah, but… well, Teddy's older now. And I always had Andromeda to go to if I didn't know. I also never had him longer than a few nights at once. This is completely different. More…"

"Terrifying?" Ron guessed.

Harry nodded. "And then I just worry about… well… I worry about what would happen to our baby if something were to ever happen to me and Ginny… you know…" He looked between them, shifted, "like what happened to me." The last part was said softly, as if Harry was ashamed to say it out loud. Ron suspected that he'd not voiced these concerns to Ginny, which really, she should have been the first person he told.

The idea that his son would grow up without parents was probably more terrifying for Harry than facing a group of Death Eaters or Black Robes alone. His childhood had been horrendous — filled with neglect and abuse — and if anything were to ever happen to him or Ginny, then it would be a natural concern of Harry's about the fate of his child.

"That won't happen, Harry," Hermione said gently, seeming to understand like Ron had.

Harry looked at her. "You don't know that," he whispered.

"Yeah we do," Ron said. "You made us godparents, didn't you?"

Harry said nothing.

"Nothing's going to happen to you or Ginny, mate, but if it ever did, you have us."

"You always have us, Harry," Hermione added.

"Your son — our nephew and godson — would never find himself in a place where he didn't feel loved. Surely you know that."

Again, Harry didn't speak. Despite it being incredibly obvious, it seemed to be news to Harry. Like he hadn't actually expected them to take the role they'd been assigned seriously.

"He'd live with us," Ron continued, spreading his arms around the kitchen. "Here. In this place. I hope it never comes to it, but he'd live with us until he wanted to leave. He'd go to school, he'd have everything he could want and ask for."

"He'd be loved no matter what," Hermione said. "He will be loved. By you and Ginny, by us —"

"By the ever-growing Weasley clan."

"You have nothing to worry about, Harry."

"You know that, right?"

Harry looked between them, his fear about what might happen to his child seeming to dissipate ever so slightly. A small smile crossed his lips. "Thanks," he said.

Ron and Hermione both nodded. Then Hermione said, "I think it's pretty normal to feel a little nervous as it gets closer. You start worrying about every little thing, I could imagine."

"A little," Harry said, now a little sheepishly.

"And probably worse for you," Hermione added, "considering everything that's happened. You'll be great, Harry. You really will. You're so good with Teddy and he loves you. And so will your son."

Ron patted Harry's arm comfortingly.

"I'm sorry to bother you," Harry said. "I just… I couldn't shake the feeling of something going horribly wrong."

"You know you're welcome over here whenever you want," Ron said.

Harry smiled. "Well… I suppose I should get back. I did tell Ginny I was coming over just to return this to you." He pulled a quill from his pocket and gave it to Hermione. Ron had given it to him once when Harry had been over and needed to scribble a note down. It was insignificant — one of many Hermione owned and would never miss.

"I forgot you even had it," Ron said. "You can keep it if you want…"

"I'm good," Harry replied. "Got plenty myself, thanks."

"Harry," Hermione said, rolling the quill between her fingers. "You're going to be fine. Really… you will. Nothing will happen. He won't have the life you did. He will…"

"He will know a much better one," Ron assured him. "We'll all make sure of it."

"Thanks," Harry said. "I think… I think I needed to hear that." He looked between them, smiling for a moment, before his smile faltered. "Listen… I'm sorry…"

"Stop apologising, Harry," Hermione said. "You know you can come whenever you want. We don't mind." She hugged him. "Now go back home and try to stop worrying. In less than a month, you'll have your son and he'll be perfect. You'll love him so much." She hugged him again and after thanking them one more time, Harry finally left.

Once they heard the woosh of the fireplace, Ron leaned his arms against the kitchen bench and looked at Hermione. "You've got to feel for him," he said. "It must be some kind of torture to have all that going through your head so close to the birth of your first kid."

"I understand it, though," Hermione said. "I mean… I think if I had grown up like Harry, I'd be worried about history repeating itself, too."

"Yeah… I mean, it's hard not to think about it, even for me. I don't want our future kids getting into the trouble we did. Couldn't imagine not wanting them to not even grow up like I did on top of all that."

Hermione smiled vaguely, then frowned briefly, before smiling again and leaning across the bench to kiss Ron. "Thanks for this morning. I enjoyed it."

Ron laughed. "No you didn't. But, it was fun. Especially the end. Can we continue that? I liked that part."

Hermione kissed him again, but then pulled away — a signal that no, they could not continue.

"I'm just feeling a little tired," she said. "I might just go and lie down… I'm sorry, Ron."

"It's alright," Ron replied, standing back up straight. "Are you sure you're alright?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I think so. Just work getting the better of me. What's new?" She left the kitchen and Ron listened as she ascended the stairs.

Yes, what was new? At least now she actually allowed herself to rest. A few years ago any amount of pestering wouldn't have convinced her, let alone her doing it on her own accord.

He smiled to himself. Maybe he was a better teacher than he realised.

Hello! I am here, I'm still alive and I'm posting a new chapter. I'm sorry for making everyone wait. I've been through a bit of a writing slump where I haven't even wanted to update, even if I've had the time. But I've beeen rejuvinated and inspired so I'm here to post!

And no, I have not abanded this story. I have 40 more chapters written and about another 40 planned and still more to come. It's just not going to be as frequent as it once was for an abundance of reasons.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and also, if you want to join a book community, I host one on Discord. You can find the invite link on my profile! We have monthly book club reads, regular book discussions and even book exchanges! Anyone is welcome :)