Fate, My Friend, You Say the Strangest Things

"I still can't believe that you're here, that we just made love ten minutes ago, and I'm now in your arms," Hermione said, quietly as Harry kissed her neck.

"It's been a week, Hermione," he laughed.

"I know, I know. It's just... Oh, Harry, you were gone, and I was just so worried all of the time," she sighed, running her fingers through his hair. "I think that if I didn't have Jamie, I would have gone insane."

"He's a special boy, isn't he?"

"He's our special boy," Hermione reminded him.

"I want more children, Hermione," Harry said, looking up at her face. "I want to buy you a house in southern California, like the huge ones I saw. I want to share the rest of my life with you."

"Then let's get married."

Harry smiled. He propped himself up on his elbows so he could look down at her. "Right now."

Hermione laughed. "You are daft, Harry."

"Right now, let's get married, right at this moment. I don't care that we're naked, a bit sweaty, and it's three fifty-eight in the morning. Let's get married right now."

Hermione sat up and grazed her teeth on his ear lobe. "No, we need to plan it. I want a perfect wedding with you, Harry James Potter."

Harry nodded in agreement and took her hands in his. "Then perfect it shall be. Anything for you, Pookie."

"Thanks, Har- Wait. 'Pookie'?"

***

Ron hadn't even given Harry the chance to explain why he was gone, why Dumbledore hadn't let him reveal his whereabouts, or let alone, even take notice of him. The old jealous Ron was surfacing, and Hermione hated it that her two best friends were fighting once again. She tried to explain it all to Ron, but he refused to listen.

"You're a stubborn prat, Ronald," Hermione calmly told him.

She was sitting in his flat, sipping on some tea, and he was pacing around the room. She had gone over to see if she could try talking some sense into him, and Harry stayed at her flat, spending time with Jamie.

"I am not," he snapped. "It's just-"

"You're still jealous of him, aren't you?" she questioned, interrupting him.

Ron threw his hands up in frustration. "Now why would you get a stupid idea like that?"

"It's obvious, Ronald," she stated with a quiet voice. "You've been jealous of him for the past ten years, and you know that. Ron, he's your best friend. Can't you even try and let him explain himself?"

"He said he loves you, but he ran out on you, Hermione. I was always here, and you never bothered... You never... Oh, fuck it."

"Ron..."

Ron walked over to her. "I want you to think back three years ago. August sixth 1998, to be exact."

"Ron, why do you-"

"Better yet," he cut her off. "Here." He walked over to the bookshelf and pulled out his Pensieve. "Look in there. Maybe you'll remember this much clearer."

***

The hospital lights in the St. Mungo's delivery room were bright. Hermione remembered that now. She looked around the room she was in, and she realized this was her room, three years ago. She saw Ron and Mrs. Weasley on either side of her bed, each holding on of her hands.

"Okay, Miss Granger, we're going to use some charms on you to help the baby out. It may be a little cold," her Healer told her.

Hermione remembered this so clearly now. She remembered looking up at Mrs. Weasley and Ron, wishing they were her mother and Harry, but her parents were dead. Just after the fall of Voldemort, the remaining Death Eaters, before being caught and shipped to Azkaban, did a small killing spree, and the Grangers had been victims to that.

"You're doing just fine, darling," Mrs. Weasley assured her, wiping a sweaty strand of Hermione's hair from her forehead.

"Squeeze my hand, Hermione, when it hurts," Ron said.

Seeing Ron at her side didn't make a difference to Hermione, as she stood there, watching the birth of her son, James Ronald Granger (soon to be Potter), that morning at 3:46 on August sixth, 1998. Ron never truly loved her, like Harry did.

"This is enough, Ron," she said sternly.

Ron appeared next to her. "I thought maybe seeing the fact I was here, and not Harry-"

"Just shut up, Ron!" she snapped. "You're being such an arse, you really are. Accept the fact Harry's here! Accept that he and I are getting married! Accept the fact you're being a stupid, childish prat!"

Hermione left the Pensieve, and Ron was there in the flat with her. "I'm sorry," he said. She was fuming.

"As you should be! I want you to go and talk to Harry, okay?"

Ron nodded. "Okay, okay, I will."

"You promise?"

"I plomise."

Hermione crossed her arms. "Ron, you were with me when we watched that episode of That 70's Show, so don't try that with me."

***

A/N: Sorry this is short, but yeah. Thanks for the reviews, guys! You kids are rad.