Author's Notes: And here I am, a month later… You see, I had a LOT of things going on, so I wasn't able to update. I'm sorry! :-(
Quote by: Doris Lessing, "Laughter by definition is healthy."
Enjoy :-)
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September 3rd, 2001 …
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Andrew crawled around, playing with his new toys. He would occasionally alternate between toys, but every time he thought he found a new toy, he squealed happily and started playing. All the while, the young adults tried to make sure that Matt was ready to leave. His portkey was set to leave in about ten minutes, and knowing the two males, they were bound to forget something or another.
"Hermione, he only brought his bag," Harry told his pregnant wife.
She glared at him. "I know, but it doesn't hurt to be sure." She huffed, turning around so her back was facing his front, and looked at Matt. "Because if you forget something, we aren't going to return until we come back," she told him sternly.
Harry absently wondered if the mood swings were already starting to kick in. Sighing, he outstretched his arms and placed them on Hermione's shoulders, slowly rubbing them. "Hermione, calm down. If you keep on yelling at him, he won't be able to go back to the US."
She sighed, but then retorted, "I wasn't yelling at him," before taking a seat on the sofa. "I must be tired, is all," she murmured.
"Love, if you're tired then you should take a kip in our room," Harry told her, sitting on the cushioned arm of the sofa.
"He's leaving in ten minutes; I can wait that long to sleep." She nodded to herself, sitting on the end of the sofa and leaning her head on his side. He wrapped his arm loosely around her, rubbing her upper arm briskly for a moment before looking at Matt again.
"Do you have any tests coming up?" asked Hermione.
Matt shook his head. "No, but I have a game tomorrow… uh, today?"
Harry shook his head. "The time difference is eight hours, so your game is tomorrow, for you."
"Yeah," he nodded. "I have a game tomorrow, though. We're playing UCLA." Harry nodded, remembering the times his team played them.
Soon, minutes passed and it was almost time for Matt to go. He grabbed his medium sized gym bag and held the portkey, smiling at each of the Potters. They each gave him a hug, and soon he vanished.
Harry, now standing with Andrew in his arms, gave a half smile and let his son on the floor, letting him play with his toys once more. Hermione went to their room to take a kip, and he looked around, not knowing what to do. He sat on the sofa, taking his glasses off and placing them on the side table. Putting his head in his hands, he closed his eyes and let his mind wander for a bit.
They were supposed to meet his mother-in-law, from the few things he and Hermione discussed in their room last night. The doctors, last time, had said that her health was recovering, that the alveoli had most of the liquid pus out, and that the oxygen was returning to her blood in rapid succession. Having known that, there was a chance that she could be released soon, and be put in a nursing home of some sort, because it wasn't very safe for her to be alone. There was the option, of course, that they could stay and take care of Hermione's mother, but they thought that nurses could do better than they. He could pay for a nurse-a stay at home one, if she wasn't able to reside in a nursing home-and she'd take good care of her.
I'm glad she hasn't met with the same fate as her husband, though. He gave the briefest of smiles, thankful yet still saddened at the thought that his father-in-law, a wonderful man, had passed away. Taking a breath, he stood up, put his glasses on, and went into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator. Grabbing the juice he shut it and grabbed a cup, filling it up and putting it back in the spot it was in before. Taking a few sips, he looked at his son.
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As Ron finished off the last bits of his pork, he saw his father walk in. He gave him a smile, still chewing the last remnants of his food. Arthur nodded, unsmiling, and walked past and went up the stairs.
What's up with him? wondered Ron, raising his eyebrows. Shrugging it off, he stood up and patted his stomach, smiling again. He patted his side pocket, making sure that his wand was there, just in case.
"Mum, I'm finished and I'm going!" he shouted, making sure that his mum heard him. After he heard her approval, he apparated away. After having the familiar sensation of apparation go through him, he found himself in the streets of Diagon Alley.
Smiling, he made his way through the throngs of people. He hadn't noticed the odd looks he was getting from a few, but it didn't matter. It was a new day, and he was going to make the best of it. His intention was to meet his brother, George, at his business. As he tapped his fingers against the fabric of his robe, he finally noticed that people were ignoring him, even going slightly out of their way so they weren't in close distance of him.
Odd, he thought. He knit his eyebrows together, seeing almost everyone in his vicinity do the same thing. His eyes widened slightly, though he still kept on walking, ignoring the stares, whispers, and pointing fingers directed towards him. It wasn't about that article Harry and Hermione gave, was it? He shook his head. No, it wasn't possible. They'd believe him, of course. They'd been gone for years, believing that they'd done nothing. But then why were people suddenly treating him like this?
A statement made by his mother started circulating through his mind. "This is Harry and Hermione Potter. Even if people hate them, their word still holds meaning."
He just realized, finally, that what his mother had said was entirely true. Though they were nearly despised, they were Harry and Hermione Potter. Their name held meaning, their words held meaning. It didn't really matter what they had said, but what they had said was true, and people paid heed to it.
"This can't be happening," he muttered softly to himself, but it didn't matter. People were a good two feet from him, clearly making it obvious that they were ignoring him. He locked his jaw, intent on making his way to WWW before he started getting really angry.
He walked just a few meters until he spotted his current girlfriend, the beautiful Bianca. She was born and raised in Utah, United States, but came to the United Kingdom when she found there were plenty jobs offered for witches like her; the ones that liked to model for magazine covers, and occasionally write an article or two in the magazines, just to show that they had brains and not just beauty.
Putting on a small smile (she was his girlfriend, after all), he walked to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, not noticing that she had yet to put her arms around him. Pulling away slightly, he gave her a deep kiss. She didn't respond, however, and he frowned when he realized this.
"What's wrong, love?" he asked.
She sighed, moving out of his grasp. "You're wrong, Ron," she answered, her sparkling hazel eyes boring into Ron. "You lied. You cheated me; you cheated the Wizarding World!"
"What?" he asked dumbly. "I've never cheated on you! I swear!" His anger flared. "Who was the arse that said this? I swear I'll ki-"
"Calm down," she interrupted. "I worded that wrong, I'm sorry. You swindled us, Ron. You lied to us, and you let everyone believe that you and your sister did everything, while those two Potters did everything!"
"You actually believe them?" he asked softly.
"I didn't before," she replied honestly. "I thought they were just trying to `steal the glory' again, but after seeing some of the evidence behind their words, I believed them."
"Why don't you believe me?" he asked, knitting his eyebrows together, ignoring the ongoing stares and whispers behind his back. "Why do you have to believe them? I thought you were supposed to support your boyfriend."
"We've been dating for two weeks," she retorted. "I've got a job with plenty of sources, and they're all pointing to the evidence that Harry and Hermione Potter were the real defeaters of the Dark Lord, not you."
"I-"
"Don't want to hear it," she interrupted, holding a hand up. "Please, Ron. I have a feeling that what you're about to say is going to be a lie. I'll talk to you once you decide to tell people that you've made a mistake, or go on having Magical Europe hate you." She paused, adjusting her purse on her shoulder. "It's your choice, so choose wisely. I'll see you later." And with that, Bianca left, leaving Ron alone and confused.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, a habit picked up notably from Harry when they were still in their school days. What am I going to do now? Bianca isn't talking to be-she might have even implied that we broke up-and I don't know how to fix this. He sighed, making his way towards Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.
Not a minute later did he find their shop, and he opened the door and went inside. There were the usual amounts of people, some looking around while some asked George and his workers what things did and purchasing them afterwards. At the end of the long counter was a picture of Fred and George, the picture taken on their first official day of business. On the frame of the picture, wrote several small words: "Laughter by definition is healthy."
Walking further inside, he heard the jingle of the bells as the door closed. Few people paid attention to him, but when they did, it was only a few children intent on making mischief. He smiled, seeing the various ages of children wandering and wondering what each thing did. He went to the front counter and went behind it, greeting George.
"Hey, brother," said George, taking out a few galleons and handing it to the teenager, his purchased items in a bag. "What're you doing here?"
He shrugged, leaning on the counter. "I had nothing planned for the day, so I thought I'd pop by," he answered.
George nodded, taking the four galleons and two knuts from the woman in front of him. "That's nice. Hey, why don't you hang out in the office for a bit. My shift is over soon, and I'll talk to you then."
Nodding, he went through the back door and towards their office. It was medium sized, with expensive furnishings and a few prototypes George had yet to test out. He sat on the sofa, making himself comfortable with some of the snapping liquorice that was in the bowl.
After a few minutes of idly sitting, he wondered why he was really here. Was it because he really wanted to visit his brother, or something else? Something that he wasn't quite ready to admit. What muck have I trapped myself in? Ron wondered, closing his eyes and cradling his head in his hands. This is the third time I've messed up with my friends, and I'm paying the consequences, yet again. If Ginny hadn't bribed me into this, none of this would've happened. He shook his head. No, it isn't all Ginny's fault. I could've said no.
I should've been stronger. I shouldn't have been fooled, listening to my sister like that. They were right, though. He was out for the superficial life; him and Ginny both. They didn't really care about their family life-they took it for advantage. They took the money, the fame, the glory-everything that didn't really matter in life. Sure, they now had money for plenty of renovations, but their relationship with their father (Molly hadn't relinquished her hold on her children one bit; it'd actually gotten stronger after Fred's death) had faltered, and he knew it was because he and Ginny lied to the press-to the World.
Groaning, he took a few more liquorice and munched on them, trying to remember when this'd all started. How long after was it, that they'd started all of these lies? The rumours about Ginny and Harry's supposed baby had started just weeks after he and Hermione vanished, but the stories about the Second War were after, weren't they? He knit his eyebrows together and closed his eyes, trying to refurbish that particular memory.
This must've been the thirtieth time that he'd written a letter, and it came back unopened. Either Harry and Hermione were dead, or they'd "run away" from someone, or something. He was sincerely hoping for the latter. Having his friends dead and him not even knowing about it would've been horrible. It would've been just as horrible having known that they were dead.
But they weren't, he thought feverishly. They aren't dead, just… somewhere, not with each other.
He heard his bedroom door open, and Ginny walked in, smiling. She sat on the edge of his bed. "Hey Ron, what's up?" she asked, making herself comfortable.
"Wondering why neither Harry nor Hermione will reply my letters," he murmured, hurt evident in his voice.
Ginny sighed, knowing he was just being… Ron. She'd given up writing long ago, having known they were somewhere having a (rather long) romantic rendezvous with each other on some tropical island. It was just a stage they were going through, she reasoned a while back, and eventually they'd break up and live on their lives, perhaps even after time, coming to the Weasleys again. But even then, her hopes of returning with Harry were slowly diminishing.
Shaking her head, she regained her composure. "Don't worry about them. I bet they're having the time of their lives, now that they've abandoned us," she lied.
"What're you talking about?" he asked, his face one of anger. "They wouldn't abandon us! Never, ever would they do that!"
"What have they done, then?" she asked, Ron starting to get on her nerves. He could be so daft sometimes. "Have they simply gone to the market and got lost for weeks?"
He didn't answer. He didn't have a good answer, but the thought that they'd abandoned them had depressed him.
"Exactly," she said, smirking. "Now, are you going to put that letter away, or am I going to have to stash it away somewhere?" Not waiting for him to answer, she snatched the parchment away from him and put it on his desk, which was filled with numerous other letters.
He certainly wasn't in the mood for Ginny's behaviour right now. What was it she wanted him to do? "What do you want?" he asked tiredly.
"I want you to help me out with something."
"Which would be…?"
"We need to up our status in society, and since you helped defeat You-Know-Who, I've come up with a brilliant plan to do just that."
"What, why would I do that?" he asked incredulously.
"So we'd get money," she answered simply. "And fame… and superiority over people."
He raised his eyebrows. "So you want me to trash Harry and Hermione, take all of the credit for myself, and except this to turn out nicely?"
"No." She paused, taking off her slippers and sitting Indian style on the comfortable bed. "I want you to trash Harry and Hermione, take half-most, I guess you could say-and know it's going to turn out nicely."
"I thought you were there friend?" he questioned, giving her a suspecting look. "Why would you do this?"
Her answer was immediate: "Why did you abandon Harry and Hermione during fourth year, during the Tri-Wizard Tournament? Why did you abandon those two who-knows-where, knowing they were in danger? It was to your convenience, wasn't it? You believed Harry put the name in, you got jealous and envious and you left. You didn't get enough food, it was going nowhere, you were fed up and you left."
"But-"
"No buts, Ronald," she interfered sharply, holding up a hand. "Are you in this with me or not?" She glared at him, waiting for his answer. "Imagine what we'll gain," she persuaded. "All you have to say is that you did some of the work, and like magic it works."
The idea did seem nice: fame, fortune and all of the works. But was he really willing to betray his friends like that? He'd already betrayed their trust twice now; this was his third and last chance. The temptation, however, was too great and he accepted, though a bit hesitantly.
"What will we do if they come back?" he asked.
"That's doubtful," she responded simply. "Why would they come back? I doubt they're even in England now."
"Don't you care about them, Gin? I thought you and Harry were strong. I thought you would've been devastated when you knew they weren't coming back."
She frowned, looking away. "I don't really want to think about it," she replied.
"B-"
"I said I don't want to think about it," she responded, her tone bitter. "And if you mention it, that means I have to think about it. And I will not do that. Right now, I'm here to gain help ourselves, not dwell in the past."
He closed his eyes, wondering what he was getting himself into. In the long run, he knew he'd enjoy his choice, but right now it didn't seem so ideal. "So, what's the plan?" he asked, leaning on his elbows, looking at his sister.
Ginny smiled and started to explain.
"Hello, earth to Ron," chuckled George, snapping his fingers in front of Ron. He'd been doing this for nearly five minutes now. "Are you there, or have you finally gone mad?"
Ron blinked, looking around for a second. "What?" he asked.
"I've been trying to get your attention for the past few minutes," he told his younger sibling. "What were you thinking about? That new girl you've been seeing lately?"
"No," he murmured, shaking his head. "I've been thinking about… things."
He nodded, sitting on a comfortable armchair near his brother. "Do tell, brother."
He let out a loud breath. "I think I need to fix this," he murmured after a short while, looking at George.
"Fix what?" he asked, though he had a feeling he knew what Ron was trying to get across.
"What's been going on between me, Harry, and Hermione," he answered dully. He opened his mouth to speak, but George beat him to it.
"Wait," he interrupted sharply, very unusual compared to his light and humorous tone. "So you want to make things better with Harry and Hermione because things aren't looking good for you, is that right? No, don't answer that," he held up his hand, stopping Ron from speaking. He leaned forward giving Ron a stern look, and spoke firmly: "This was your last chance, and you blew it. Back when you were in school, you abandoned him. That was strike one. Then off on your hunt for Volde-you know, and I heard you were back. I know you didn't come back to the Burrow, but Fleur and Bill told us you stayed with them. That was strike two. Now, you've betrayed them, in the worst way. That was strike three.
"Now, how can you expect them to forgive you? Harry forgave you the first two times, obviously, but I don't think the two Potters will forgive you so easily this time. You told them he only killed them, did nothing else. You said that Hermione did nothing but read, while you worked your sorry arse off to defeat the Death Eaters and their Lord. This didn't only hurt them on the outside-their reputation-but also on the inside, I'm sure. Though they were gone, I'm almost positive they weren't expecting this behaviour from you, their best friend."
I knew I screwed up, thought Ron. But I have to show them that I'm sorry. I have to… He sighed softly, waiting for George to talk again.
He didn't speak for a few moments, letting his words sink into his younger brother's thick skull. From the beginning, he knew of their scam, but knew that it was going to bite them back in the arse later, so stayed out of it. He knew he hurt his two friends by not doing anything, but his siblings needed to taught a lesson, and he knew it'd come eventually.
"Now, think about what I've said," George told Ron, standing up. "Feel free to stay here, but I'm going. I'll see you," he said, leaving the office.
Inside, Ron closed his eyes, thinking.
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"What are we going to do?" Hermione asked, trying to tie a bow with the two laces from her shirt. "I feel like I'm showing," she muttered miserably to herself, slumping her shoulders and giving up.
Harry came up behind her, taking the two laces that were dangling from her sides and tied them. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind, leaning his chin on her shoulder. "What do you think we should do?" he asked and then added, "And you're barely showing, love. No one even noticed you were pregnant until you were almost six months along."
She sighed. "I know, but still…" Turning around, she gave him a quick kiss, going to her vanity and sitting, applying some makeup. "I thought we could admit my mother out of the hospital, perhaps. Then maybe," she shrugged, "I don't know, do some things. Maybe take a day off for ourselves-you, me, and Andrew."
He hummed, absentmindedly placing his hands on her shoulders and massaging them. It was nothing new; they've been giving each other massages ever since they'd started dating (even slightly before). Knitting his eyebrows together, he wondered if they'd have enough time. "Don't you think maybe we could take our little family outing for another day, like tomorrow?" he suggested.
She looked at him from her mirror, thinking about it. "I shouldn't take too long, though," she retorted, leaning back until the back of her head came in contact with his hard abs. "Unless you don't want to…"
He kissed the top of her head quickly and then resumed massaging her shoulders. "I have nothing against it, you see, but I was wondering if we'd have enough time."
She nodded, leaning forward again so she could finish her makeup. "Well we should," she answered, putting the cap back onto her eyeliner. Putting her hands over Harry's, she stood up and turned around, placing his hands on her hips. "It's only nearly one, so it shouldn't take too long."
"But there's finding what your mother needs," he argued, letting go of her. "And where she's going to go, how she's going to do things while her only child is continents away," he continued.
"We can call up the nursing home, and get Mum at a later time," she answered, walking towards the door so she could get Andrew, who was playing around the flat. "It seems reasonable enough, don't you think?"
"I guess," he muttered, sighing. "But I still think we should have our outing tomorrow," he told her, leaving the room with her. "I think tomorrow would be a better day."
"If you say so," she murmured, looking around for her son. He was in his room, she saw, and playing with his toys that he got for his birthday. "I guess it wouldn't be a problem. We could take a rest after and let our bodies rejuvenate."
He nodded and walked towards Andrew's bedroom.
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Hermione hung up the phone, just having finished affirming the details of where her mother was going to stay. In a few days time her mother would be staying at the St. Thomas Nursing Home. They would've taken her earlier, Hermione knew, but they had to clean her room and get everything ready. She shook her head. No matter, at least she has a place to stay.
"So, it's all settled then?" asked Harry, Andrew sleeping in his arms, his head resting on his shoulder.
She nodded. "She'll be a resident at St. Thomas' on the sixth," she informed him.
"So I suppose that's when she'll be leaving the hospital?" he questioned, and she nodded. "So we'll talk to her today and tell her about it-"
"-then sleep," she murmured, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I've been so tired, lately."
"Okay," he said, raising an eyebrow. "If you want to sleep, then sleep. I'll go shopping for groceries and diapers-nappies, whatever-when you decide to take your nap. And maybe I'll clean up a bit; Andrew's really messy."
She nodded, standing up. "What about Andrew?" Hermione asked. He knit his eyebrows together in confusion. "He's sleeping and I don't want to wake him up," she told him, looking at their one-year-old child.
He stood up gently, making sure he was still sleeping. Walking towards the door he handed Andrew to Hermione (trying to make sure he stayed asleep) and quickly put his shoes on and getting the stroller. Hermione reclined the seat so it was nearly all the way down and put Andrew in there, pulling the little hood over the stroller after so he wouldn't have any sun in his eyes.
"Walking will do us some good," said Hermione, slipping on her shoes that she used to play volleyball. "And maybe I won't be so tired," she continued, taking her light jacket and putting it on. He did the same, grabbing the same items he always took before leaving anywhere.
Soon, they were on the streets of London, walking towards the hospital. Andrew stayed mostly asleep for the whole thing, though he awoke in and out of slumber when something loud happened. In just under fifteen minutes, they made their way to the main entrance of the building and went in.
"You remember what room Mum is staying in, right?" Hermione asked, going towards the lifts again. He nodded, pressing the `3' button.
"I hope she's feeling much better," he murmured absently, leaning on the wall of the lift. Hermione gave him a half smile, her hands momentarily squeezing the bar of Andrew's stroller. Moments later, they'd finally reached the proper floor and they went towards Hermione's mother's room.
A doctor was in there, checking up on her while a nurse stood on the other side of the bed. It seemed like a regular check up, Hermione supposed; however, the Potters waited until the Doctor left the room until they would go in.
"Miss Granger?" wondered the doctor, raising an eyebrow, seeing them go inside.
This was a different doctor, she knew right away, and he didn't know who she was, so he was just guessing. "Previously, yes," she answered, turning around. He raised an eyebrow. "I'm Misses Potter now, but you were saying?"
"Well, if you don't mind, can I talk to you for a moment?" he asked, holding a few papers in his hands.
"Sure," she answered, turning to Harry. "I'll be back in a moment, love." He nodded, having heard the conversation and opened the door, taking himself and his son inside.
She turned towards the Doctor again. "Yes?"
"Well, Misses Potter, your mother's health seems to be recovering quickly. She'll be able to be admitted out within the next few days," he told her. "The pneumonia is nearly gone, and we'll just have to give her a few prescribed medicines for her until she's completely cured."
She nodded. "Doctor, I've talked to a few nursing homes and one's taken her in," she informed him. "My husband and I don't know how much longer we'll be staying in England, so we've chosen to take that decision. Are there any other options, rather than nursing home?" she asked, then quickly adding, "Though there isn't any problem with them, I was just curious."
"Understandable," he said, nodding. "There is the option of having a full-time nurse, though I'm not too sure your mother would need that. She'll be healthy, though she'll need to keep track of her health a bit more than usual.
"She's a healthy woman," he continued, "and for her age, I'm surprised she hadn't contracted anything serious before. A nursing home isn't even fully necessary-she might want to continue her work. She's a dentist, is she not?"
"Yes, she is. But she's getting old, and I don't want her to get sick."
"No one wants their parents to get sick," he told her. "But it happens. If putting your mother into a nursing home is your choice, then so be it."
"Okay," she murmured, taking all of the information in. "Thank you," she smiled.
He nodded, giving her another brief smile. "Now, if you don't mind I have to get to a few other patients."
"Okay, bye."
He nodded and walked away.
Turning around, Hermione walked into her mother's room, firstly noticing that her mum was talking to Harry, and that Andrew was still quite soundly asleep. Her mother noticed her first and she held out her hands. She went into her arms, giving her a hug as she smiled widely.
"Hey, Mum," she greeted, sitting on the edge of the bed. "How're you feeling?"
"Fine," she answered. "Harry told me you have something important to tell me?"
Hermione shot Harry a look and he shrugged innocently. Sighing softly, she nodded. "Yes, we've decided that it'd be best if we placed you in a nursing home," she told her quietly.
"Why?" was her question.
"Because I was frightened that you could get sick again and…" she trailed off. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "I didn't want to put your health in jeopardy again-"
"You did no such thing," she intervened sternly. "It was my fault that I got sick, not yours."
"I know," sighed Hermione, looking her mother in the eye. "I was just saying that I didn't want you to get sick again, so I decided this option was the best."
"What about our dentistry?" she asked. "Have you thought about that?"
"You're supposed to be retired, Mum," she argued. "You're supposed to be on some foreign island playing solitaire and sipping juice out of a coconut; you're not supposed to be in a dentistry giving people root canals." Quietly, she continued, "I just don't want you to die like dad…" A tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it away quickly, turning away.
"You're so concerned about me," Celine Granger murmured, sitting fully up (with slight difficulty) and placing her hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Sometimes people just send their parents to nursing homes and live their lives," she said, "but not you." She paused, "But Hermione, why don't you just let me take care of myself for a bit," she suggested, smiling softly. "I've still got a bit left in me until I really do need help." She chuckled, hoping to lighten up the mood.
Harry cracked a smile. "We're just concerned about you, is all. We didn't mean to constrict your life suddenly," he told her.
She nodded. "I understand that, but I got sick because I was in cold weather, without taking any preventive medications, without wearing the proper clothing. Perhaps I just need a vacation, like you two," she kidded.
Hermione chuckled once, turning to look at her again. "So I'll call St. Thomas-the nursing home-and tell them that there's no need for you anymore?"
She nodded. "If you don't mind, please do," she said.
"Okay, I'll remember to call them when we get back," she told her.
"Thank you," she said sincerely. "And when I'm ready to be placed into a nursing home, I promise you'll be the first to know."
Hermione chuckled, shaking her head softly.
"So, how've you been lately?" her mother asked hoping to change the mood, looking back and forth between her daughter and son-in-law. "Did you find out the sex of the baby yet?"
"No," answered Harry. "But I'm sort of hoping it's a girl," he confessed, giving a brief smile.
"I think we're having a boy," Hermione offered, touching her stomach. "I'm not too sure why, but I have the same… feeling, like I did with Andrew. I just have this inkling that we're having a boy."
He sighed, but then grinned. "At least we're having one more."
"Oh," sighed his mother-in-law, "I'm going to be a grandmother twice over." She smiled happily.
Hermione and Harry blushed, for reasons unknown to them. He turned his attention towards Andrew, remembering when he was just born, and smiled.
"Anyway," said Hermione, turning so she was turning towards her mother and her husband, "the doctor said you'll be released in just a few days."
"Yes, he told me." She paused. "But, enough about me, what are you two planning on doing after you return to the United States?"
Harry shrugged while Hermione opened her mouth and started to talk. He smiled briefly, savouring the moment between his family.
Author's Notes: Well, that was corny. Oh well, whatever. At least I finished. (I had no idea how to, so I just wrote something :-P)
I'm not that great in the medical field (thank god I'm not majoring in that), so forgive me if I got any medical terms wrong. And I've never sent anyone to the nursing home before, so I seriously have no idea what I'm writing. If I have anything wrong, pardon my ignorance and don't lash out, please.
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