Chapter 87

Despite having every right to be there, Ron felt very out of place in the large Muggle baby store that he and Hermione had just entered. Not only was there an abundance of small children running around at his feet, more wild and more strong-willed than he'd ever known Victoire to be, but there were also so many things.

Being the second youngest, Ron had no memory of how his parents raised him and his siblings, but he was fairly certain that they didn't need twenty different types of blankets or a ridiculous amount of battery-powered toys or even an endless selection of places for a baby to sleep. He thought babies didn't do much when they were so young.

Upon entering, he stopped just to take everything in. It was overwhelming and he wasn't so accustomed to the Muggle world that he knew what everything was.

From beside him, Hermione extracted a piece of paper with a list of things they'd come to purchase. Frankly, they needed everything. This was their first baby after all, and Ron had flat out refused to accept the offer from Bill for some of the things Victoire and Dominique had grown out of.

His daughter was not going to have secondhand things — he'd make sure of it. So, he supposed he only had himself to blame for finding himself here. He just hadn't realised how much his daughter would need.

"We should probably start with the big things first," Hermione said, studying the list. "It'll be easier to come back and get the smaller things later if we can't get it all today."

Ron nodded. "A place to sleep is the best place to start, I reckon."

Hermione smiled. "Let's go."

They weaved their way down the aisles, pushing past families with small children and past parents pushing even smaller ones in what Hermione called 'prams.' The cots were at the back of the shop, and when they arrived, Ron found a crowd of people already looking, pointing and discussing the different features each one had.

Ron stopped again, looking at the cots. Why so many choices? A baby wouldn't care where they slept. He'd witnessed James fall asleep in his highchair. And he was certain his daughter wouldn't care what the decor of her bedroom looked like for at least ten years.

Couples wandered along the selections, the vast majority of them heavily pregnant. Most looked only weeks away from giving birth, which in Ron's opinion — or Hermione's more accurately — was leaving it a little bit too late.

"Why so many choices?" he asked, coming to stand beside Hermione, who was looking at a wooden cot frame. "This one'll do, won't it?"

Hermione didn't answer immediately. She ran her hand along the top, then bent a little to peer at the bottom. Then she shook her head. "I'm not sure."

"You're not — Hermione, she's not going to care."

"I know," Hermione said. "But I just don't know whether to go with the cot immediately, or use a bassinet for the first few months. But, will it be a waste of money getting the bassinet?"

"Probably," Ron muttered.

"It's just… they've already told us she's going to be a big baby," Hermione said. "Long — will probably grow to be tall like you. So we will probably get even less time in it if that proves to be true." She bit her lip, thinking, while Ron sighed. Had he been expecting anything less from Hermione to go through all the possible options and weigh them until they reached the best conclusion?

He sighed again, shook his head, and… smiled. He may as well enjoy his time here, he supposed.

"Well, if she's going to be long," Ron said, "she probably won't fit for very long in anything smaller than this." He put his hand on the cot Hermione had just been looking at. "So, may as well go with this straight away, right?"

Hermione nodded. "I think you're right. But I just thought it might be easier — you know, early on. I kind of think it would be easier to have her sleeping in our room at the start."

"Well, this will fit in our room," Ron said. "We have heaps of space. So, that's not an issue."

Hermione was silent again, thinking. "I just don't like that one."

Ron laughed to himself. "Well, lucky there's heaps to choose from, huh?" He took her hand and pulled her gently over to the cot beside it. "What about this one?"

The process went on for a while longer, them looking at practically every cot the store had to offer. As Ron didn't care which one, he followed Hermione along as she deliberated the pros and cons until she eventually settled on one she was happy with. It was a dark wooden one, matching the doors in the room that would be their daughter's.

"Now the mattress," Hermione said, writing down the name of the cot so they could come back to buy it at the end.

"Well, there's a good lot of them over there, too!" Ron said, pointing to the pile of mattresses near the cots. They were different colours, thicknesses and who knew what else.

"Hm, probably the firmest one possible," Hermione said.

So, they went around pressing down on all the mattresses to test their firmness. Ron actually found himself enjoying it, because they weren't the only ones looking.

"This one," Ron eventually said, calling Hermione over.

She pressed it and then smiled. "I think so." And she wrote that down, too.

Next, according to Hermione's list, was to finish off the bedding section and they bought three separate sets of sheets that were the perfect size to fit over the mattress. They came in varying colours from pinks to blues to greens and yellows. But the ones that stood out to Ron were the bright orange set.

"Kind of reminds me of the Cannons," he said. "Who knows, maybe she'll be a Quidditch nut like a lot of the Weasleys."

Clutching a plain white set and a pale pink under each arm, Hermione's distaste was apparent in the way she looked at it. Before she even spoke, Ron could hear her telling him how it really wasn't going to match the room and they weren't going to get it. She even opened her mouth and he could see the words forming, but then, she stopped. Her face relaxed and she smiled up at him. "Do you want to decorate her room?" she asked.

"What?" Ron questioned, confused.

Hermione indicated the sheets she was already holding. "You can, if you want. I mean, choose the covers and everything. I've resigned myself to the fact that our children are going to like Quidditch based on the environment they will be growing up in, so… why not give her a Quidditch themed room?"

Ron blinked. Was he hearing right? Hermione, who would look out into the garden and roll her eyes at the unused Quidditch posts that had been there for more than a year, was telling him she wanted to decorate their child's room in bright orange and black.

"Really?" he said after a moment, his tone tentative.

"Yes, really," Hermione said. "If you want. We'll have to probably go to Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade for stuff like that, but… why not."

Ron grinned, dropping the orange sheets into her hands. "She'll know all the players by name before she can even talk."

This time Hermione really did roll her eyes, but she didn't speak. Instead, she passed the sheets back to Ron, took out her list, and ticked them off from it.

"Next, a pram."

"Really?"

Hermione turned to him, confused. "What do you mean, really? We'll need one to get her around."

"Yeah, but…" And Ron hesitated, searching for the right words. When they'd set out for Nottingham city today, he'd been under the impression they'd be returning with a bed, some sheets and maybe a few toys. Until a few moments ago, he'd never even seen a so-called pram before, let alone thought they'd need one. "Most babies — magical babies — are just carried around. You know, in slings or whatever. I just assumed —"

"Well, we can get one of those, too," Hermione said. She looked down at the damned list. "I have it here as a maybe. Both would be good. But we could use the pram to go for walks around the neighbourhood. Let her see the sights."

Ron shook his head. This was once again starting to become a little too much for him. "Alright," he said. "Alright, let's get that, too. No one else has one, but we'll get it."

"Ron, it's —"

"I said, let's get it." It sounded harsher than he intended it to. He wasn't angry with Hermione — far from it — but being here had alerted him to how unprepared he'd actually been for having a baby. He could do beds, because even wizards used beds, but… he'd seen Hermione's list, seen all the other things she'd deemed as essential, and it was far more than he'd ever anticipated.

Until now, he'd thought himself on top of it all. For once, he actually thought entering parenthood was something he could do. His heart was already filled with so much love for their baby; he looked at all the ultrasound pictures on a daily basis. He knew he could handle the feeding, the crying, the nappies, because that was what parents did for their babies. He'd spent a good year and a bit preparing for those moments — looking forward to those moments.

But if he hadn't known that babies needed a seat with four wheels to be pushed around in, then what else hadn't he known about? What other parts of becoming a parent was he unprepared for? He wanted to be the best dad he could be, but he could only do that if he knew everything beforehand.

Hermione recoiled at his words, staring up at him in shock. "Ron, I didn't mean to upset you. I just…" She sighed, shaking her head.

"I said it's fine," Ron answered quickly. "We can get one. You choose, though, because I don't know how the bloody things work. I don't even know how to drive a car."

Hermione watched him for a moment, looking surprised, angry and close to tears all at once. That was Hermione, though, especially now that she was pregnant.

He walked away before she could say anything.. He stopped at the first pram and said gruffly, "What about this one?"

Hermione came to join him, her mouth moving, but no words coming out. Ron didn't dare look at her, because he knew that he needed to get a hold of his emotions quickly. It wasn't her fault. She'd done nothing wrong. All she was doing was trying to get everything for their baby, who was coming in just ten weeks.

"Ron…" He heard the uncertainty in her voice. "Ron, we need something that… lies flat. This one doesn't."

Ron's hand fell limp at his side as he fought back another wave of frustration. He should have known that.

"Right," he muttered. "Well, as I said, you choose. I'll go and look at more blankets, because apparently that's the only thing I'm capable of understanding."

Before Hermione could say anything else, and before he could say anything to her that he'd regret, he walked away, feeling the immensity of the situation grow within him with every aisle that he passed.

Prams, strollers, cots, highchairs, different types of blankets, breastfeeding pillows, baby monitors… what else were they going to come home with today? What other strange contraptions or necessities were there that Hermione knew about and he didn't? She was going to be such a great mum. And until now, he'd thought he'd make an alright dad. But that was when he had thought the most important thing was to be able to love his baby. That, he could do. That, he could do very easily. But he had no clue how to work a pram, or what a baby monitor even was. He hadn't seen that on Hermione's list. Maybe there was some kind of spell for that instead.

He shook his head and turned, for some reason, down an aisle with racks of tiny items of clothing. Baby suits, tops, pants, dresses, and even little shoes. There was only one other person there and they paid him no mind.

He ran his hands over the clothes, feeling the softness of the fabrics. Everything was softer than anything he owned, but he supposed that was because babies' skin was more sensitive than that of an adult's.

A lump formed in his throat, which he fought back down. Fear was an all too familiar emotion for him. He'd felt fear a lot of times in his life — when he'd faced those giant spiders in his second year, when he'd gone to the Ministry to help Sirius and come face-to-face with Death Eaters who would've not thought twice to kill a group of teenagers, when he'd heard Hermione's screams from above him, trapped and unable to do anything in the cellar of Malfoy Manor to help her. When he'd had part of Voldemort's soul hanging around his neck, whispering horrible things to him, playing on his deepest fears.

But this… this was a whole new level of terrifying, and he was only now beginning to realise it. In two and a half months, he'd be responsible for a whole other human. A tiny, fragile little human who would fit into clothes not much longer than his hands. One who would depend on him for everything, who'd demand his full attention, to feed her, to change her, to protect her.

Why was this only occurring to him now?

It was this place, the shop, that was doing it. He was seeing with his own eyes just how big a job raising a child was.

His fingers stopped on an outfit hanging on one of the racks. It was a pale purple bodysuit with brown teddy bears patterned across it. He picked it up and studied the pattern, unsure as to why it had caused him to stop. There was nothing special about it, nothing overly appealing. But he couldn't put it back either.

He continued on down the aisle, carrying the teddy bear suit. By the end, he was face-to-face with toddler potties, which was something he assumed they wouldn't be needing right now. Though, for all he apparently knew, maybe they did.

As he walked down more aisles, not really in search of anything, his fingers kept brushing the soft, purple fabric of the outfit. It was so small. Had he picked up the wrong size? Surely his baby could not be so tiny. But it said 'newborn' on the tag, so it must have been right. Hermione would know…

He stopped walking.

Hermione.

He'd just left her by the prams, walked away without an explanation. He'd sounded angry with her, even though he hadn't been. He'd been scared — terrified, actually — of it all. But he wasn't usually one to walk away from what scared him. He never had. He'd faced those spiders despite it all, he'd gone to the Ministry, and he'd found a way out of that cellar to get to Hermione.

Although, he'd left the tent that day in the forest… but he tried to come back immediately.

He owed her an explanation. Who knew what she was thinking right now. He walked quickly back down the aisles, still clutching the clothes and sheets. He returned to the pram section, but she wasn't anywhere to be seen.

Had she left already? Or was she somewhere else in the store? It was so big, there was so much…

He began passing every aisle and looking down each in an attempt to find her. He considered maybe calling for her, but thought better of it. That would look pretty pathetic. The only time he'd seen that occur in a Muggle store was by a child who'd lost his parents. The store workers had made an announcement over a speaker and everything.

After what felt like forever in searching, but really, probably only a few minutes, he spotted her by the change tables. It was obvious that she knew he was back, but she didn't acknowledge him, nor did Ron speak. He didn't know what to say.

Then, without a word, she wrote something down on her list and walked off, leaving Ron to follow after her.

The rest of their time there was spent in complete silence. There was no discussion, no wondering; it was just Hermione looking and then making decisions on her own. Like Ron had told her to do.

Eventually, after loading a basket with smaller things such as baby wipes, baby soap, some bath toys, and passing the basket to Ron, she made her way to the counter.

"I'd like to place an order," she said briskly to the worker. Ron thought that was a bit unfair. The worker hadn't done anything to offend her — that was all on Ron. He'd lost it over a stupid pram. "I'd like to have it delivered on Tuesday. My husband will be home then."

That startled Ron. Had she checked his work schedule, or was he now required to ask for the day off for their furniture to arrive?

Rather perplexed by the way Hermione was speaking to him, the worker fumbled for a piece of paper.

"S-sure," he said, though he didn't look sure. In fact, he looked rather nervous. Hermione did have that effect on people who didn't know her at times. It was what made her such a great boss.

"What would you like?"

For the next few minutes, Hermione listed off the big pieces of furniture she'd recorded. Along with the cot and mattress, she had a pram, a change table, a bath and a list of other bits and pieces that were going to go in the baby's room.

Ron just stood beside her without saying anything, no words coming to him even if he'd wanted to speak.

Once the delivery time had been organised (between ten and two on Tuesday), Hermione paid for everything in Muggle money (she had a card to do that with) and then left the store without a word.

Ron went to follow her, but then remembered the teddy bear suit he was still holding. He dug into his pockets, extracting a bunch of Muggle money Hermione insisted he carry at all times. The outfit was fifteen pounds, and he had fifty. The worker gave him change and then Ron hurried after Hermione.

He found her almost at the bus stop.

She must have heard him approaching, because she turned to face him, eyes wide and furious.

"Hermione —" he began, quickly searching for the right words to say.

But before he had the chance, she spoke, her tone cold. "I can get the bus home myself. You can Apparate home."

"Hermione —" Ron said again. "Listen, I'm so —"

"I'll see you at home." She turned on her heel and stalked away before Ron could stop her.

He closed his eyes, the clutching the suit through his pocket, which he'd hurriedly stuffed in there.

After a moment to gather himself, he followed her. He didn't care how pissed off she was with him, he wasn't going to let his thirty-week pregnant wife catch a Muggle bus home alone. He'd seen the unruly Muggles who lived in this area — some would consider her a weakness just because she was pregnant (and Hermione would never draw her wand on a Muggle, even in self defence).

He fell inline beside her, but neither of them spoke. They just walked to the bus stop with an icy silence hanging over them.

What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to explain to her that he'd had a moment of panic — of doubt — about his own abilities to be a good dad? He was okay now, the moment of panic subsiding, replaced with a whole load of regret at how he'd reacted. But did she know that? If he looked at things from her point of view, he knew that she thought he was upset with her for wanting to buy a pram and then he had walked off because they couldn't agree. He'd left her alone in the shop to do it all herself, when really, it was something they'd come to do together.

He shook his head at his own stupidity.

Sitting down at the bus stop and waiting for the bus to come, they still sat in silence. Ron watched her, but she refused to even acknowledge him. So, rather than attempting to rectify the issue now, he just stayed with her.

In silence.

Who else had an insance December? We did sooooo much driving, we had cancelled flights, so more driving, Christmas, New Year... it was a busy second half of the month! But here I am with the next chapter, now that life has settled down (until I move interstate in April).

I had to add a small amount of drama here, and Ron's insecurities are playing up on him about parenthood (even though he'd make a great day!).

I hope you all enjoy and hopefull I can get the next chapter up soonish!