It's late when he returns to their flat, and he's filthy and smells odd and really wants nothing more then to take a hot shower and climb into bed next to his wife.

He unlocks the door—the muggle way, he doesn't really fancy taking out his wand or risking the uncertainty of his verbal spells—and pulls off his shoes to leave them on the doormat. Hermione hates when he tracks in dirt and grime, so he tries to minimize it the best he can.

It's then that he notices a dim light coming from the direction of the sitting room, and he curses under his breath.

He's currently a mash up of things that his wife dislikes; dirty, smelly, and home late. He had been hoping to avoid a confrontation by assuming she was asleep, but now he knows she's awake, and probably sitting bloody waiting up for him.

For a moment, he wonders if he can just turn into the bathroom and go to bed, playing it off that he was so exhausted that he didn't see that the light was on. But then it crosses his mind that she probably hears him open the door, and if he followed his previous plan then he would be labeled as a liar for at least two days. And god knows, in those two days, she would not even look at him.

Hermione's become rather sensitive and very temperamental since they had found out she was pregnant.

So he trudges in the direction of the light, bracing himself for pursed lips and crossed arms and What have I told you, Ronald?.

He got the sitting part right, but everything else was abundantly different.

He was not expecting in the least to see her cradling their half asleep nephew and respective godson, smiling and somewhat absently smoothing down his dark hair. She's completely oblivious to him, and as he moves closer, he can hear her humming some melody that he can't quite recognize.

"Hermione?"

Her eyes move up to him, and immediately the smile disappears.

"What on earth happened to–" She's furiously whispering, obviously trying to keep their nephew in his near slumber state, and then her gaze moves down to his robes, and her brown eyes widen. "Merlin, Ron, is that blood?"

Shit.

He's completely forgot about the liquid that had sprayed across his front since the stickiness had dried and become just another stain. But now, by impulse, he looks down at his chest and sees the deep red mark, understanding immediately why Hermione seems so alarmed.

"Not mine." He blurts, answering the question that he knows first comes to her mind. "Some bloke spilled dragon blood in the elevator and it kind of splattered all over me."

He sees the relief in her eyes, but she's still frowning at him, twisting her torso to fully take him in.

"You're filthy." He smiles, moves to kiss her on the cheek, but she quickly jerks away. "Ronald Weasley, if you think you're going to touch me in your current state, you've got another thought coming." He recoils slightly, moves back and then points an somewhat accusatory finger towards the toddler in her arms.

"Why've you got James?" He asks, and she raises an eyebrow.

"Once you're clean, I will talk to you." With that, she looks back down at James, who's cheek is pressed into Hermione's chest with his mouth hanging slightly open. He's asleep now, full on.

And he knows he's not going to get any answers until he's not leaving a dust trail in his wake.

So he moves to the bathroom, continuing on with his original plans.

:-:-:-:-:

When he returns to the living room, clad now in a clean white t-shirt and plaid pajama pants that he knows clash wonderfully with his hair, it's like the opposite of when he left.

Hermione's asleep, head resting at a rather odd angle against the sofa cushions, and James is up, holding the side of the coffee table and toddling about. He had obviously been sleeping when she had succumb to exhaustion, as her arms were very close to the cradle position they were in previously.

His first instinct is to grab his godson, as their house is not at all baby proofed. But James spots him first, and a smile grows across his chubby cheeks.

"Unca Won!" He exclaims, letting go of the table and running towards Ron's legs. He scoops him up right before he hits his shins, and smiles as the toddler wraps his arms around his neck.

"Hey, buddy." James rests his head against his shoulder, looks up at him with those eyes that he knows exactly match his sisters. "You should be sleeping, you know? It's a bit too late for you to be up." He doesn't respond, just continues looking at his uncle, and Ron expected nothing more. At a year and a half, James only really says names and the occasional yes or no.

He looks up, and sees Hermione looking at them both, eyes halfway open the way they are when she's just waking up. Her lips curl into a lazy smile as she takes him in.

"Much better. Much cleaner." She turns to sit facing him, wrapping her blanket around her shoulders and leaning against the armrest. "And the smell seems to have gone as well. Lovely."

He smirks at her comment, moves closer to her and leans in to kiss her forehead. She obliges this time, her smile growing as she tilts her head up to let her lips meet his, and she tastes sweet, like her cherry lip balm that she insists on having three of to keep in different locations so she'll always have it with her. He could kiss her forever, and never grow tired of that taste layered on top of her soft lips.

And then–

"Ick!" James' shrill voice rings out, and Hermione breaks away, snorting with laughter.

"Sometimes I forget how much he's like Harry." James grins at the mention of his father's name, and reaches out towards his aunt. She pulls him into her arms and wraps the blanket around him as well, which makes him giggle. "You're just like your dad."

"So now," He begins, sitting across from his wife and crossing his arms. "Are you planning on telling me why James is here right now, or are you going to have me guess?"

"You're an awful guesser." She says, and he nods in agreement. "Harry dropped him off earlier. He was taking Ginny to St. Mungo's."

"What?" He's completely taken aback, and she quickly adds on, seeing his reaction.

"Oh no, Ron, she's alright. She's just been feeling under the weather for a bit, and Harry wanted to get her checked out. You know how worried he can get." She reaches one hand out of her blanket nest and rests it on his knee. "I offered to keep him overnight because they've both been so exhausted lately."

"So she's okay?" Her hand tightens around his knee reassuringly.

"Gin's fine, Ron. Promise. It's probably just that bug that was going around." And she shimmies her way over to his side of the couch. He wraps his arm around her, an action that he does consistently and knows that she fancies.

James crawls out of his wife's blanket cocoon and sits right in Ron's lap, clutching onto his free arm. It makes him smile, and, as he looks at Hermione, sees the same expression mirrored onto her face.

"I wasn't ill today." She notes, leaning into him and closing her eyes. Her hair, shorter than he's used to but still curly and soft, spreads across his chest. He moves his hand, runs his fingers through her sweet smelling locks.

He's loved her hair, ever since they were young. Then, he found it fascinating, not quite understanding how it could be so large.

Now, he thinks it's one of the most beautiful parts of her.

"That's good. Really."

"First time in weeks." He kisses her hairline gently, then uses the arm that James has his grip on to point to her flat stomach.

"You see that, James?" Her smile grows as he nudges the hemline of her shirt slightly. Part of her stomach is exposed, and it's not as toned as he's seen it before, and he loves it.

She's only seven weeks gone, so she's not really showing yet, but it's the nuances that only they themselves can notice.

Like her softness in her abdomen instead of her normal, slim figure, and her average, ordinary breasts (Ron disagrees wholeheartedly; he believed her breasts are rather extraordinary in their own right) growing already to a point that her blouses hug her in different places.

Then, of course, there's the morning sickness that's been causing her to skip Ministry work for the past week in fear of vomiting on some important document on her desk.

"Guess what?" James is mesmerized, eyes flicking from his uncle's face to his aunt's stomach. "Your cousin is right in there." His nephew's face forms this open mouthed grin, and he can't help but laugh out loud. And then his laugh turns into a yawn, and he remembers just how tired he actually is.

She sees him and leans away, pushing herself up to standing and subsequently crossing her arms.

"I think it's bedtime." James furrows his eyebrows and forms a very obvious pout, and Hermione raises her eyebrow in response. "For both of you boys."

She's standing in front of him, hip jutted to one side, in shorts that are much too short for her to wear anywhere else but when she's home and one of his old, rather threadbare Chudley Cannons shirts with no bra (he can tell; he's well versed in these type of things).

He wonders everyday how he ended up with such an amazing, gorgeous witch, wonders what he ever did to deserve her.

And he also wonders when he became such a sap.

These exact thoughts are going through his mind when she becomes impatient. Groaning, she reaches forward and scoops a half-heartedly protesting James into her arms.

"Honestly, Ronald." She shifts the toddler to one hip and places her hand on the other.

That's another small change. She is beginning to get proper hips.

"He's not going to want to go to bed if you're against it. Children learn from example, we discussed this."

In response, he leans back and crosses his arms, letting his lips close into a coy smile.

"What's that look for?"

She catches on quick, his wife. There's no doubt in his mind that she's still the brightest witch of their age.

He stands then, moves towards her and presses his lips against her ear.

"You're just very sexy." As soon as she hears his whisper, a faint flush spreads from cheek bone to nose. He takes the opportunity to kiss the entirety of the pink, ending with a lingering one right on the tip of her nose. Then he pulls away, and he's shifted James so he's in his arms now. "And you also deserve to get a proper sleep, so I'm going to put him to bed."

"Ron-"

"I need the practice, too." He winks, shuts down her protests completely. "Go to bed, Hermione. Really. You'll probably be up at six anyways." She shakes her head, and he knows that she's taking them both in, just looking at them.

"I hate you." But, in contrast, she walks to stand in front of him, and, placing her hand on his cheek, presses her lips to his.

"No, you don't."

"I will, if you ever enter my house that filthy again." Her threat is gentle, and she turns to smile at their nephew, who's watching the scene in hesitation. "Goodnight, James. Be good for your uncle, okay?" He nods, and Ron knows that she's own him over, at least for the night.

Then she turns, after a lingering glance at the two of them, and heads down the hallway to their bedroom.

And then, it's just him and James, the younger of whom has placed his head on Ron's shoulder and is clutching onto his shirt with a balled fist. He yawns, an action that he's attempting to hold back himself, and then he looks up at his uncle, eyes soft with obvious fatigue.

He's almost asleep, Ron thinks.

Maybe, he'll be able to get a good nights rest as well.

:-:-:-:-:

James, as it turns out, is very much a morning person.

She wakes to him sitting on top of her thigh, jabbering madly whilst attempting to tear the duvet from on top of the bed.

This, she is not expecting.

She has never known Harry nor Ginny to rise before ten if they had the choice, so she's rather curious as to how James ended up with that gene.

She's also rather curious as to how on earth her husband is still positively asleep, snoring even, beside her.

He's curled up, just inches from her, and he reminds her remarkably of Crookshanks when he falls asleep in front of the fire. His head is halfway onto her pillow, close enough to brush her cheek with his nose, and she can feel his warm breath against her neck.

She would love to stay in this position all day, to be lazy and in love and to just be.

But with her nephew now bouncing on top of her leg, grinning at her absolutely non stop, she decides she'll save that for another day.

She sits up and then she's swaying, hit with a sudden wave of vertigo.

Bloody morning sickness. At least she didn't wake up to have to run to the toilet basin.

She's grateful Ron isn't awake, or else she would've been sentenced to bed rest for at least the remainder of the morning. He's very protective, her husband. Ferociously, sometimes. Especially since she's pregnant again.

She's certain he'll be an incredible father.

:-:-:-:-:

He's still asleep by the time there's a knock on the door, so she pulls James into her arms from his place in front of the muggle television (Ron had insisted on getting it; he had been fascinated the first time they had visited her parents) and goes to turn the knob herself.

"Dada!" James throws himself, with impressive force, in Harry's general direction, and Hermione thanks the stars that her friend had retained his agile Quidditch reflexes. He catches his son right as he falls out of her surprised grasp and regains his stance, little arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

"Morning, Jamie." Harry kisses the young boy's forehead and then leans back, meeting his son's eyes. "Did you have a nice time with Ron and Hermione?"

In response, James nods exuberantly, and she lets out a light laugh, leaning against the doorframe and crossing her arms.

"How's Ginny?"

"Alright." He shifts James so that he can sit on his right hip, and frees one hand, holding it up to his miniature. James, in turn, grabs in and begins to fiddle with Harry's fingers, enthralled with shifting his wedding ring up and down. "The Medi-Witch gave her some potions to help offset the nausea and headaches. The night off really helped, thanks."

He seems distracted, somehow. She's only seen him like this a few times before, and it's always ended up that he's been hiding something, usually important.

Her mind flashes to Ron earlier, so easily worried about his sister, and she wonders if she had been wrong to inform him that everything would be fine.

He's furrowing his eyebrows now, shifted his gaze back to his son, and they're left with the awkward silence that only ever rears it's head when they're both hiding something.

She hates the feeling. Always has, always will.

Therefore, she decides to take the initiative to find out what's eating him.

"Harry," She pauses as he looks back up at her, and she leans in, brown eyes meeting green. "Is everything really alright? Honestly?"

It's his turn to pause, and he opens and closes his mouth several times before answering in a rather low voice.

"Yes." And then a smile, a real, true smile, makes its way onto his lips. "Everything's great, actually. Brilliant."

"Harry?"

"She's pregnant." He glances down at his son, as if justifying that what he just spoke is even possible. "Merlin, Ginny's pregnant."

"What?" With a squeal, she flings herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and holding tightly. "Oh, Harry! That's wonderful!"

"Yeah." He's a tad shell-shocked, she can tell. To be honest, she feels the same way.

That's when James, who's slightly squashed between their two shoulders, decides to pat her stomach, very lovingly, and then-

"Cousin!"

She freezes.

Harry pulls away with a laugh, eyes falling, once again, on his son.

"No, James, sibling. You're going to have a sibling."

"Cousin!" The toddler repeats, this time pointing directly at where Ron had been pointing earlier.

She wonders if there's any way that Harry can be daft enough to not be able to comprehend the message that James is conveying.

Then, she watches the expression on his face change to one of understanding, and she knows that her previous hope was not one that would be fulfilled.

Oh, fuck it.

"Hermione, you're not..." She bites her lip, looks down at her sock-covered feet, and gives the slightest nod. His eyes are widening, she's sure, and she watches as his feet take a step closer to hers.

Merlin, she wishes that she could tell everyone.

But she's remembering last time, when they told everyone early on and how horrible of a mistake that had ended up to be, and how both she and Ron had vowed that, if put in the situation, they wouldn't tell anyone until it was as safe as could be.

"You're pregnant." His voice is softer now, and it reminds her vividly of sixth year, when she had been upset over Ron, and he had sat on the stairs with her for hours, occasionally whispering things about how he was being a thick git. "How far?"

"Just seven weeks." It almost comes out as a whisper. "Not really far enough to..." She trails off, leaving the air between them thick with what she didn't really fancy saying.

Not far enough to be out of the woods.

But before she can dwell on the thought for too long, he's pulled her into a tight embrace. He's put down James somewhere, as he's got her with both arms, but she barely notices.

She just wants to cry, even though there's truly nothing to cry about.

Not yet.

Having his arms around her is different than with her husband. With Ron, it's romantic and sweet and beautiful and everything she loves about him. With Harry, it's a brotherly comfort that no one else has ever (or will ever, she suspects) been able to provide her with.

They stay like that for a while, Hermione resting her head on his shoulder and clutching the back of his jacket. It's not until James, who Harry evidently placed on the floor and has stayed unusually quiet, begins to whine when he finally removes his arms from around her waist. He picks of James, bounces him gently to help him settle, and then turns his attention back to Hermione.

"Does Ron know?" She nods, curling her torso in towards itself by wrapping her arms around her stomach. "How's he?"

"Protective." It's the first word that comes to mind, and she immediately wants to backtrack. "I mean, he's happy and excited and all, but he's been watching me like an owl. Usually he's up before me, so if I'm ill, he'll know." She looks back in the direction of her bedroom, where she suspects he's still snoring. "We agreed that not telling anyone would be best. Just in case."

"I won't tell a soul." Her eyes meet his again, through his old, round glasses, and he's smiling, as wide as he was when he told her his news. "Ginny wants to keep it quiet as well. I guess we'll both be hiding the same secret."

He reaches forward and takes her hand in his, and she wipes hastily at her eyes, feeling the slightly warm wetness that she knows come from tears.

"It'll be alright, Hermione." His thumb strokes the curve of her knuckles, and she looks at their hands. "You can't let the past scare you. Well, you can't let it care you that much." He smiles as her gaze moves to James, who's got his head in the exact spot that hers was just a minute ago. "But you learn from it, and you move on. You're smart, Hermione. Brilliantly smart. But don't dwell on the past."

"Thank you." She sniffs, takes a deep breath, and then smiles at her godson. "You take care of your Dad, James. He's wise and I think I'm going to need him around."

James nods, his face the portrait of complete seriousness until Harry begins to tickle him under his chin.

"We better get going." He's speaking more to James then to her. "Mummy's going to be wondering where we've got to."

"Give Gin our love." She says, moving to give him a quick side hug. "Tell her to come over soon."

"Of course." As she pulls away, she sees him give her a quick once over, and she wants to laugh because he's just such a man. "Congratulations, Hermione. Take it easy."

"Of course." She repeats his words, and adds on as he's beginning to leave. "You too."

She sees his smile grow, and he uses James' little hand to wave goodbye just before he disapparates.

:-:-:-:-:

She's just climbing back into their bed as he's beginning to wake, letting his eyelids open just slightly. The light from the door that's ajar irritates them for a second, but they adjust, and he can feel her curling into his side.

He lets his arm slip lazily around her shoulders, and she blinks before looking up and seeing him looking back at her.

"Hey." She smiles, letting her head rest on his shoulder and her hand on his chest. "Where's James?"

"Harry's just picked him up." Her voice is thick, and she yawns before she can finish her sentence. "Gin's just got the virus, she's got the potions she needs now."

"And how about you?"

"Not sick. Don't worry."

It's clear that she wants to sleep, not talk, and so he shuts up and watches as her eyelids flutter shut and her breathing steadies to deep, even breathes. He presses his lips, as soft as a butterfly, to the top of her head, and she shifts slightly, her head drifting so that her lips are nearly at the base of his neck.

He's well aware that it's cliche and also rather creepy, but he loves watching her sleep. She looks as though she's at peace, almost like an angel, and she's beautiful, so beautiful that he often has to remind himself that she's his.

And she's carrying his child.

And this time, even though she's not even two months in, he loves this baby more than almost anything. The almost exception, of course, being the baby's mother.

And he's going to do everything in his power to be able to hold this baby in his arms, and have him or her sit in his lap and clap their hands and laugh at his faces and listen to her stories.

Just like they did with James.

Only this one will be theirs.

Reviews are like the Ron to my Hermione.

xoxo,

J