Part 2

Ron had been distant with him for some time now.

Harry had first noticed it when he and Ginny had learned of Hermione's pregnancy three months ago, when an especially exuberant Pigwidgeon nearly shattered the windowpane in their kitchen, trying to deliver Hermione's letter which bore the good news.

Ginny had squealed aloud when she read the opening line. "I'm going to be an aunt!" she cried out. She ran back into the kitchen, where Harry had finally managed to settle a fussy Emily down after Pigwidgeon's outburst, and showed him the letter. "Harry, look--Hermione's going to have a baby!!"

Harry pulled Ginny onto his lap as Pigwidgeon pin-balled around them in the room, and they read the rest of the letter together. "You're going to be the baby's godfather," she read on. She turned to their daughter and smiled. "Did you hear that, Em? You're going to get a new cousin..."

Emily giggled, spraying bits of mashed bananas onto Harry and Ginny, who simply laughed as they toweled themselves off, and continued to read the letter. Hermione apologized profusely in it for not being able to deliver the news in person--her duties at the Ministry these days had kept her far too busy for travel--but promised to visit as soon as she and Ron possibly could.

"Well, if she can't come here," Ginny said, "we should go see them... What do you say, Harry? End-of-year exams will be over next week--we could take the next train after the banquet." She laughed, then added, "I bet Ron's dying to ask you for tips on fatherhood. He's probably scared to death."

They had not seen Ron and Hermione since the Christmas holidays, and excited at the prospect of seeing his best friends again, Harry agreed. At the end of spring term at Hogwarts, he, Ginny, and Emily took the train to King's Cross and traveled to the small, semi-hidden village where Ron and Hermione had settled after they married two years ago.

Harry could hardly wait to congratulate both of them, not to mention reassure Ron, who he suspected was probably as anxious over the prospect of becoming a father as Harry had been when Ginny was pregnant. Ron, though, had been oddly formal with him during the entire visit--enough to make him take notice, but not enough for Ginny or Hermione to pick up on it.

In retrospect, Harry should have said something then. But Ginny had assured him that Ron was probably just overwhelmed by everything, and Harry decided that perhaps he had just been reading too much into things.

But now he wished he had spoken up earlier.

"Hermione, where are you..."

The wind had begun to pick up outside, causing branches to smash against the windows, and the sound of glass rattling only made him more antsy. He glanced at his wristwatch; it was only ten after five, but he had arrived earlier than the designated time in the hopes of catching Hermione, and it seemed as if an eternity had passed since he'd gotten here.

Helplessly, his eyes wandered down to her letter once more, the words, "You have to help me Harry--you're the only one who'll understand" sending a shiver up his spine. He had done as Hermione had asked, keeping this from Ginny, though he hated keeping her in the dark over something. He knew she would be worried sick if she knew something was wrong with Ron.

He certainly was.

A voice startled him from his frazzled thoughts.

"Harry?"

He turned around and saw her in her Ministry robes, eyes bloodshot from crying, and without hesitation, he crossed the room to take her in his arms. She collapsed into sobs as soon as he held her, and all he could do was let her get it all out.

"Hermione," he said gently, for he needed to know, "what's happened to Ron?"

He knew she wasn't asleep yet when he walked into their dark bedroom and found her lying in bed already; he could tell from the way she was breathing that she was still awake, but didn't want to fight with him. He didn't want to fight with her either.

She was lying on her side, her back to him when he lay down beside her. Gently, he ran a hand down her arm, waiting for a sign that she wouldn't push him away, and after a few moments, she slid her hand on top of his, interlacing their fingers. With his other hand, he brushed her hair away from her face, and finally placed a light kiss on her temple.

"I'm sorry."

He heard her draw a shaky breath, then say, "Me, too."

For a few moments, neither of them said anything, and finally, she shifted her position to face him. He brought a hand to her cheek and wiped away a stray tear from the corner of her eye with his thumb. "Blimey," he whispered, "I hate seeing you cry."

She let out a small laugh. "You should," she said. "Since you're the reason, more often than not."

He laughed along with her, grateful that they seemed to have made up after their earlier fight, guilty at the knowledge that though she had only been teasing him, it was probably true.

As if reading his mind, Hermione lifted his chin so their eyes met once more and smiled. "Hey," she said, "I was only joking."

"Hermione, am I..."

"What?"

"Am I a terrible husband?"

"Oh Ron, you know I didn't mean what I said--you don't go around making me cry, I was just-"

"No, it's not about that, it's..." he broke off, suddenly realizing how close he had come to letting something slip that he could not afford to let slip.

"Is this about the baby?" she said.

"The baby? What d'you mean?"

"Look, Harry told me you'd be anxious about becoming a father... that you'd have fears... And Ron, that's okay, because I've got those same fears too."

She sat up and leaned against the headboard. Ron propped himself up on his elbow to look up at her as she spoke.

"I worry about what kind of a mum I'll be too, Ron. I mean, this isn't like studying for the O.W.L.s... I can read all the books on pregnancy and parenthood I can, but I don't know how I'll do..."

Ron gave her his lop-sided grin. "You'll ace motherhood, just like you've aced everything in your life. Including..." He reached up to kiss her on the lips. "... being the best wife in the world."

Even in the darkness, there was no mistaking the blush that crept along her cheeks. "Really?"

"Who else would put up with a bloke who's gone so much of the time?"

She laughed. "Well," she said, leaning in close so that he could feel her breath on his face, "you're not so bad yourself." She kissed him and added just before she turned over to her other side, "Even if you are gone so much of the time."

"I love you, Hermione Weasley."

"I love you too."

It was well after midnight when he woke. His forearm was burning, stinging so badly that it took all of his strength not to curse out loud and wake Hermione. Checking to make sure that she was still soundly asleep, he slipped out of bed and left their room.

He walked in darkness, knowing that if he turned on any light in the house, Hermione would surely awaken. In time, his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he found himself standing in front of the fireplace. His eyes went instinctively up to the mantel, where Hermione had placed various photographs, Wizard and Muggle ones alike. It was the photograph next to the one of him and Hermione on their wedding day that caught his eye in particular. It was one of him and Harry in their seventh year, taken just after Gryffindor had won the Quidditch Cup. They were both sweaty and out-of-sorts in the photograph--Harry from a hard-fought game; Ron from celebrating himself hoarse in the stands. That was the year he had been made an alternate on the house team, though he never did get to play in a game that season. They looked like a pair of giddy fools in the frame, laughing and waving, and both pumping their fists in the air.

Ron had just picked up the photograph when a fresh wave of pain knifed him in the forearm again. Startled by it, he dropped the frame, breaking the glass. "Bloody hell," he muttered, listening for any sounds coming from the bedroom. But moments passed, and Ron realized Hermione hadn't woken after all. He bent down to pick up the frame and the remnants of glass off the floor and set them aside on the table for repair later. His arm was beckoning him at the moment; he rubbed at it, clutching his forearm as if the mere action would stop it from burning, though he knew it was useless.

He stared at it, waiting for the tell-tale mark to appear. And it then did.

Slowly, like ink spreading on the inside of his forearm, a picture of a skull materialized. The sight of it still felt foreign to him, as if he were looking at another man's arm, but nevertheless he had conditioned himself not to make a sound when it showed itself.

He knew what it meant.

"Ron?"

He gasped slightly, turning around to see Hermione staring at him, worried.

"Are you all right?"

"Hermione..." He pulled down the sleeve of his pajama top to conceal the mark for good measure, though he knew it would have disappeared by now. "What're you doing up?"

"I saw you weren't in bed anymore, so I thought I'd see where you were..." She walked over to him, noticing the broken frame on the table as she passed it, then looked at him. "Ron, is... is everything okay?"

He took a deep breath, and took her hand. "Hermione," he said, "I have to go away again."

She didn�t say anything at first, but she didn�t take her hand out of Ron�s either, which gave him some encouragement. Still, there was no way around it; he didn�t know how she could not be furious with him at that moment. He had only just come back a few days ago, and now he had to leave again.

How could he keep doing this to her?

�Hermione, say something,� he said softly. �Please...�

�What do you want me to say, Ron?�

�I... I dunno... anything... Tell me you�re mad at me, tell me you hate me, just.. please don�t stop talking to me...�

He finally let go of her hand and tentatively cupped her face. She didn�t protest, and in fact came closer, tilting her head up to look at him.

�Please just don�t stop talking to me,� he said, �because I couldn�t take that. It would drive me mad...�

�You know I could never do that Ron. It�d be like cutting off my arm-�

She laughed shakily, as if embarrassed at how the words sounded, but to Ron, it sounded like poetry. He smiled and kissed her forehead.

�Well good, I�m glad we established that, then.�

After a while, she said, �Ron... Why do you have to go again?�

Part of him was tempted to just reveal everything to her right then and there, then all this lying and secrecy could finally come to an end. But he knew he couldn�t. Not if it meant she�d be in danger as well.

�You know I can�t tell you, Hermione... I�d give anything to be able to, but-�

�Damn it!�

She pushed him off her and turned her back to him. He placed his hands on her shoulders, gently kneading them, and said, �I�ve been a bad influence on you all these years. You�ve even taken to cursing now...�

�Will you stop it?� she said, facing him again. �This is not a joke! I am not laughing as you can bloody well see...�

He sighed and nodded. �I know. But... Blimey, I don�t know what else to say, Hermione. I don�t.�

�How about telling me what this is that keeps taking my husband away from me.�

He just shook his head, and finally took his eyes off her, unable to stand seeing her in so much pain. Why did things have to be this way?

She slipped her hand in his, interlacing their fingers, and said, �Just tell me one thing, then.�

�What?�

�It�s dangerous, isn�t it?�

He could have lied, to spare her the agony, but he decided not to.

�Yes,� he said quietly.

She took a deep breath, clearly doing so to hold back her tears, then kissed him, burying her fingers in his hair and pressing him so close to her that it made him ache to break contact.

�Please be careful,� she whispered. �Because I�ll kill you if you don�t come back to me.�

He smiled, brushing away a lock of her hair from her forehead, and kissed her again. �I wouldn�t expect anything less from you.�