Remembrance Day

Paracelsus

Rating: PG
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 07/11/2007
Last Updated: 07/11/2007
Status: completed

A one-shot H/Hr story that was canon-compliant, including the Epilogue -- but which doesn't require dead Weasleys, divorced Weasleys, or a cheating Harry or Hermione. That was my goal... read and tell me if it succeeds.

Chapters

1. Remembrance Day

1. Remembrance Day

(A/N: Yes, I have sequels to Restoring Hope and Restitution that I really want to write. But I have a very strange sort of mind: it's actually harder for me to deliberately write an AU story, and I find I need to "work up" to it. Hence this story, which I was determined would be (a) canon-compliant, including the Epilogue, and (b) H/Hr, but without (c) dead Weasleys, (d) divorced Weasleys, or (e) a cheating Harry and/or Hermione. Tell me what you think.

I want to thank Mary Caroline for proofing this on short notice. She pointed out a few errors, and otherwise gave it her official "squeeee" of approval. I hope that's what it was, anyway.)

(Disclaimer: Let's see: I'm not filling the story with deus ex machina. I'm not giving contradictory interviews afterward. I'm not making money off of this. Nope, I'm definitely not JKR.)

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Remembrance Day

by Paracelsus

**

In the heady aftermath of the death of Tom Marvolo Riddle, the wizarding population of Britain clamoured for a special day in May, a holiday, to mark the anniversary of Riddle's death. The restored Ministry, ready to accede to anything that might uplift the public mood (and its own tarnished reputation), took the popular idea and made it official. They came close to naming the new holiday "Harry Potter Day", but the Chosen One quickly put his boot to that idea. Too many others had fought, too many others had suffered and died, he claimed in a paid insert in the Prophet, to name the anniversary after one person. (Or, as Harry privately put it to Shacklebolt, "Do it and I walk.")

"V-Day" was also suggested as a name, the "V" originally intended to stand for "victory". But in the end, the fact that "V" could also stand for "Voldemort" doomed the suggestion: no one really wanted a holiday that could refer, even obliquely, to He Who Could Still Not Be Named Even Though He Was Dead.

No one could say for sure when "Remembrance Day" was first suggested, but it seemed too good a name to forego merely because the Muggles were using it for something else. (In fact, it was pointed out that the Muggleborn could use it amongst Muggles without drawing notice, which was considered a plus in its condescending way.) So wizarding Remembrance Day it became: a day to remember the lessons learned from the Rise and Fall of the Dark Lord, and a day to remember all those who had died. Died at his orders, or died fighting to make the wizarding world a better place. Either way, the name was fitting, an appropriate name to mark a solemn day in history.

And only Harry Potter, with his closest and dearest, would know just how darkly ironic the name actually was.

*

"Andromeda! Thanks again for coming," Ginny said, opening the door wider and beckoning her guests inside. "Wotcher, Ted-head."

"Cheers, Just Ginny," Teddy Lupin grinned at her. It had become something of a running gag between them, ever since Teddy had made the mistake of calling her "Aunt Ginny" some years earlier. She'd corrected him with the fatal words, "Just 'Ginny', Teddy" – said, perhaps, with a bit too much emphasis – and Teddy now used the new sobriquet whenever he wanted to tease her. Which, now that he was eight, was pretty much all the time.

Ginny, in turn, responded with every variation on "Ted" or "Teddy" that she could devise. So far, none of them took the mickey out of him the way "Just Ginny" did for her, dammit.

"Be nice to her, Teddy," chided his grandmother gently. "She's in a delicate state."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You've been listening to Harry too much. I'm fine." She patted her stomach, which under her maternity frock was bulging low. "I mean, don't they say that the second one's easier than the first?"

"Oh, they say that about a lot of things, but I've never believed them." Andromeda Tonks turned her attention to Teddy. "Why don't you fetch James's nappy-sack, while we collect the birthday boy himself?"

"It's in the kitchen," added Ginny, "and I think there might even be a plate of ginger biscuits next to it." She laughed as Teddy barreled from the room. With a nod of her head, she led Andromeda upstairs to the nursery. "I packed some of the chicken baby food. The jar's charmed to warm itself, just tap it twice with your wand. We really appreciate your babysitting him like this, Andromeda…"

"Tush, it's not a problem," Andromeda waved it off. "Considering all the time Harry spent with Teddy when he was a babe. And I daresay you two will want privacy for Remembrance Day." If she noticed Ginny's smile waver at the words, she didn't mention it.

They entered the nursery to discover James Potter in the very midst of a prodigious yawn. A stuffed Skrewt-Buddy was inextricably tucked under one arm. He looked up at his mother's approach, but wasn't quite sure whether it warranted waking up further. "Come here, little man," cooed Ginny, wrapping her son in his favorite "blankie" and lifting him from his cradle. "That's right. You're spending the night with Andie and Teddy, that you are." She gently bounced him on her hip, waited for the grin to appear, then handed him to Andromeda.

"One year old tomorrow," said Andromeda. "He's grown so much…!"

"He's a handful," agreed Ginny. "Not quite walking yet, though, thank Merlin." She patted her stomach. "I only hope this one will be a little calmer."

There was a sudden crash of furniture breaking, and a cry of pain, quickly suppressed. Andromeda looked around in surprise. "Great Merlin! What was that!"

"Oh, shite," snarled Ginny, surprising Andromeda even further.

"It sounded like it came from down the hall!" Surprise was giving way to panic.

Ginny didn't reply, but sped out of the nursery to the master bedroom. Andromeda followed at a slower pace, trying not to communicate her anxiety to the still-drowsy James. She stopped at the bedroom's open door and shuddered as a wave of cold seemed to wash over her. She steeled herself to look inside.

She saw Harry sitting in a massive, high-backed wooden chair, his wrists and ankles bound to the wood with glowing bands of light. His eyes were glazed, his brow feverish, as he twisted and struggled against his bonds. Andromeda recognized the glowing bonds as medical restraining charms, stronger even than the Ferrula spell.

The restraints had held; the chair had not.

One of the chair's arms had snapped away; Harry was wildly swinging that arm, the fragments of wood still bound to it. Ginny was trying to grab Harry's hand as it moved, while protecting her rounded belly.

"Harry! Harry, calm down, it's all right!" she cried urgently. She finally succeeded in capturing Harry's hand and clutching it in both of hers. Harry continued to struggle, but more weakly; his breathing had turned ragged.

"Sweet… mother of Merlin," Andromeda whispered.

Ginny half turned her head to look at Andromeda out of the corner of her eye. "Every year. Every year on Remembrance Day…" She spat the name contemptuously. "He never goes to any of the official celebrations, didn't you ever wonder why? And it's got worse every year…" Harry gave a gurglish moan, and Ginny turned her attention to him again. "Harry?"

For a moment, lucidity seemed to return. Harry fought to focus on her face. "GGGGGinnnnnneeeeeee…" Then his eyes rolled up inside his skull and he gave a long, convoluted hiss in Parseltongue. The tendons of his bound arm stood out starkly as he strained to break it free as well. The room's temperature plummeted, and Andromeda almost fancied she heard… moaning from the walls of the room.

"Ginny, come out of there!" she called, wrapping the blanket more tightly around James. "Think of your condition! Think of your baby! I'll deal with Harry – you come out of there at once!"

Ginny ignored her. "Harry, listen to me! It'll be all right, if you'll just stay with me!" She tightened her grip on his free hand and struggled to hold it to her chest. "Please, Harry…"

From downstairs, Andromeda heard sharp raps at the front door. Seconds later, Teddy came bounding up the stairs, calling over his shoulder. "Come on, Uncle Ron! Aunt H'mione! Something's wrong with Harry, you gotta help..."

This time, Andromeda couldn't help but notice the grimace that flitted over Ginny's face. Pain was there, yes, and resignation, and… humiliation? It was the look of a person about to receive help, desperately needed help, where she'd sworn never to ask for it.

Ginny's features smoothed over almost immediately. "In here," she called, and turned to face the door as Ron and Hermione came into the room. Hermione, carrying their three-month-old daughter Rose, stopped at the doorway; she held the baby closer to her body as the cold of the room became apparent. Behind her, Teddy peeped into the room, unnaturally solemn; his hair had darkened from turquoise to cobalt with worry.

"Good to see you both," said Ginny. "Though I thought you were staying home with Rose this year…"

Ron shrugged. "Last minute change of plans. We didn't think you'd mind… thought you could use us here, being all, uh…" He gestured clumsily at his own stomach, then brightened upon seeing Andromeda. "Oi, Andie! If we'd known you'd be here to help…"

"I was going to take James and Teddy to my place for the evening," clarified Andromeda. "What's happening to Harry?!"

Harry had stopped flailing, but there was a quivering tension within him that caused his entire body to shake. His fevered eyes darted around the room, finally coming to rest at a point just before the wardrobe.

Hermione hadn't said a word. Without taking her eyes from Harry, she passed Rose to Ron and strode briskly into the room. She stopped directly in front of Harry's chair, but he paid her no attention – Andromeda wasn't sure that Harry even knew she was there.

"You killed him," he snarled hoarsely at the wardrobe. "You killed them. You were a petty, vindictive bully. She'd never have loved you."

"And he's dead," Hermione said, slightly louder than normal. "Right, then, Harry, that's quite enough. Let it go now. Do you hear me? Now." She put her hands on her hips and regarded Harry sternly. "You know you have to."

Harry blinked at being so addressed. "Hermione?" he whispered. Every nerve and sinew seemed to unclench, all at once, as they watched. Heavily, he slumped in his chair, with only the remaining bonds holding him in place. For the moment, his seizure seemed to be over.

Ginny straightened her back and let go of Harry's hand. "Do what you can for him, Hermione, would you please?" she asked evenly. "See if you can get him to sleep. I'll come in to relieve you in a couple of hours." She gestured for Andromeda and Ron to precede her out of the bedroom. Andromeda had a last look at Hermione, seating herself on the bed close to Harry's chair, her eyes searching Harry's face, before Ginny closed the door behind them.

"Harry's gonna be all right, isn't he?" a wide-eyed Teddy asked Ginny.

It was Ron who answered. "'Course he is, squirt. This is Harry Potter we're talking about. He faced a mountain troll when he was only eleven... you watch, he'll be fine in the morning."

Together, Teddy and Ron headed downstairs. Andromeda deliberately slowed her pace, forcing Ginny to pause. "'Fine in the morning'?" she asked.

Ginny gave a small, weary sigh. "If by 'fine' you mean 'joints dislocated, muscles pulled, and in general like a werewolf who went through the full moon without any Wolfsbane Potion', then yeah, he'll be fine in the morning." She rubbed her brow and sighed again. "I suppose you're wondering what all this is about?"

"Well, yes. I've never heard of anything like this…!"

"No, we've tried to keep it quiet – Harry doesn't want it known. It happens every year, on the day of You-Know-Who's death. Some sort of possession, maybe? I think it's a parting gift from You-Know-Who, something he did to Harry in the Forbidden Forest."

Andromeda considered this. "Would that make it some sort of curse, then? I'd think your brother Bill would be able to help him. Or the Ministry's Spell Reversal experts…" She paused. "Oh. Right."

"Right. Harry really doesn't want it known. It's a once-a-year problem, he says, and the rest of the time he doesn't talk about it…" Ginny gave a final, hard look at the closed bedroom door, before turning and starting down the stairs. And the end of her sentence, unvoiced but perfectly clear, rang inside Andromeda's mind: At least not with me.

*

Andromeda, on reflection, didn't know why she should be so surprised at how comfortable Ron was with Rose. After all, as the uncle of Teddy, Victoire, and Ulysses – not to mention James – he'd had plenty of practice with babies. He held Rose now, absently rocking her as she slept, while he kept up conversation. "Really, Gin, you should've owled us. No one expects you to deal with this alone. 'Specially now, with you being, uh… and all."

"'Uh'?" Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother's eloquence. "The word is 'pregnant', Ron, I'm sure you've heard it before. Hasn't he, Rosie?"

"Yeah, and I wouldn't have let Hermione deal with this alone when she was pregnant."

"And you would have stopped her how, exactly?" Andromeda put in dryly.

Ron's face turned scarlet, but he replied readily enough. "Wouldn't have had to… it wouldn't have come up."

"It couldn't have come up," said Ginny. "This time last year, she wasn't even pregnant." There was a hint of challenge in her voice… not enough for Andromeda to be sure it was there.

Ron certainly didn't seem to hear it. "Might've been a few days either way," he grinned, waggling his hand. "We only went to the Healers when Hermione missed her period. And that was, what, June? Anyway, it wouldn't have mattered. You were at St. Mungo's popping out James…"

"A-hem." Andromeda gave the slightest of nods at Teddy, ensconced in a corner with James and a set of enchanted blocks, seemingly not paying attention to the adults' conversation. The adults all knew better.

"Point is," Ron finished in a lower voice, "with you in hospital, there was no way we were gonna leave Harry alone on Remembrance Day."

"Well, I'm not in hospital this year," said Ginny. "And being pregnant doesn't mean being helpless," she added swiftly, forestalling Ron's obvious objection. "I mean, I appreciate your being here and all, but did you think I can't handle Harry on my own?"

"No, no, Gin, no one thinks that…" Ron back-pedaled. "It's just…" He turned and appealed to Andromeda. "You saw him, Andie. After all Harry's been through, to have to suffer like that every year…? We have to do something to help him, don't you see?"

Andromeda interceded at this point, borrowing from her years of growing up as a Black. "I think what Ginny's saying, Ron," she said in patrician tones calculated to end dispute, "is that, now that you've a family of your own, no one would expect you to drop everything and come help out…"

"Oi! Teddy!" yelled Ron suddenly. "What'd I tell you about copying family, midget?!" Looking over her shoulder, Andromeda saw that Teddy had morphed into a Weasley likeness: red hair, freckles, lanky. A certain set to the jaw suggested that he was imitating George at that age… which meant he also looked like Fred. Even now, seven years later, Fred's death was keenly felt in Clan Weasley.

Ron stood, prepared to descend in wrath upon his errant "nephew", but hesitated with Rose in his arms. Ginny raised her arms and accepted Rose. She settled the baby in her lap as Ron marched to the corner, where Teddy was hastily rearranging his features to resemble a young Harry. If he'd hoped to deflect Ron's indignation that way, he was sorely mistaken.

Ginny watched him deal with Teddy, then turned back to Andromeda. "Ron's a little sensitive about that," she said, quite unnecessarily.

"Understandable. Remind me to tell you about the Hallowe'en when Teddy wanted to try morphing into a werewolf. That sent shivers down me, let me tell you." Andromeda hesitated… she was still disturbed by what she'd seen in the bedroom earlier – quite apart from Harry's seizure – but she knew well that Ginny's relationship with her family were none of her business.

"It's silly of me, I know," Ginny said in a very low voice, and Andromeda realized that the young woman had guessed her thought. "Chalk it up to an expectant mum's mood swings, if you like… but…" She looked down at Rose's sleeping face, avoiding Andromeda's gaze. "I'm his wife," she blurted. "I should be able to calm him, take care of him. Better than… than anyone else. What am I doing wrong?"

Andromeda measured her words before she replied. "No one says you're doing anything wrong, Ginny. It's simply that Hermione's known him longer. They wouldn't stop being friends, now they're married, and you wouldn't want them to. Would you?"

"No," said Ginny shortly.

"Well, then, there may be times when she can deal with Harry more quickly than anyone else. From what I saw upstairs, tonight was one of those times, yes?"

"Yes."

"So it's well she was here," concluded Andromeda, in what she hoped were tones of sweet reason.

Ginny didn't reply. She was still looking at Rose's face, an oddly searching look. Andromeda was suddenly reminded of Ginny's earlier remarks… about the timing of Rose's birth…

"Oh, now you are just acting hormonal," she said sharply.

Startled out of her reverie, Ginny quickly looked up. "Wha…?"

"Look at her face," Andromeda said, quietly but bluntly. "Look at her hair. Look at her eyes. There's no way Rose can be anyone's but Ron's and Hermione's."

"I never said…!"

"No, but you were thinking it, weren't you?"

"Thinking what?" Ron asked, as he rejoined them. He stopped, glancing from Andromeda to Ginny and back, and abruptly lost all trace of humor. "Uh huh. That."

He seated himself, took Rose from Ginny, and spent a moment making her comfortable in his arms. Only after the baby had settled herself again did Ron add, quietly and coolly, "You wouldn't be the first."

His blue eyes flashed up to meet theirs – Andromeda couldn't recall ever seeing Ron's eyes so cold. "Even if you think Harry 'ud do such a thing, do you honestly think Hermione would?"

It was Ginny's turn to back-pedal. "Harry, well, you know I love him, Ron, but Harry's a bloke." She winced even as the words left her mouth. "I didn't mean it like that, I only meant…"

"You meant Harry would think with his 'other head' and shag his best friend's wife while his own wife was in hospital giving birth," Ron said brutally.

Ginny hung her head. Put like that, there was no way she could believe it.

Ron watched her for a moment, then gave a satisfied nod. "And on top of that, Hermione would never cheat on me. I really don't think she's capable of cheating, quite frankly."

"It's as I told her. You only have to look at Rose to see she's yours." Andromeda made it a statement, like the conclusion of a line of argument.

That got a slight smile from Ron. "And besides, I was here last year, too. I think I'd know," he said, in an excellent copy of Andromeda's dry tones.

*

"They crowd me, Hermione."

Having said this, Harry closed his eyes and tried to relax. He was unsuccessful: His facial muscles twitched erratically. The fingers on the hand still bound to the chair drummed a nervous tattoo on the chair's arm.

Hermione regarded him without speaking. As much as she wanted to, she didn't ask whether he'd yet told Ginny what caused these annual attacks. It would only be nagging, and there was no point: she knew Harry. She knew he hadn't, and wouldn't. It was as though he was determined to keep this one last part of himself away from prying eyes… for good reason. Bad enough, after all, that the public knew Harry by his other titles: The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the Defeater of Darkness. Harry would never again be left in peace if his secret title, the one that brought on the attacks, ever came out:

Master of the Deathly Hallows.

Harry still kept the invisibility cloak bequeathed to him by his father. The Resurrection Stone and the Elder Wand might be gone, lost in the Forbidden Forest or re-buried in Dumbledore's tomb – but Harry had been the last person to use them, and they acknowledged no other master. Even without the Hallows physically in hand, Harry wielded the powers of life and death, if he so chose. And the dead knew it.

And on this one night of the year – the night Harry had died and returned to life – the Hallows exacted their price. Tonight, the powers of life and death tried to wield him. And so he fought to keep them in check: resisted the magic that thundered painfully through his body. If he ever fully lost control, then a smashed chair would only be the beginning.

"I took Rose to meet my parents last week," Hermione said after a pause. She took advantage of the moment of calmness to detach the bits of wood from Harry's wrist. A quiet Reparo restored the chair arm, before she continued, "I think the fact they have a granddaughter now has finally broken the ice a little."

Harry half-opened his eyes and kept his gaze lowered. "You were trying to protect them," he muttered.

"In the most high-handed manner possible. Obliviating them? Can you blame them for hating me? I'm just grateful they seem willing to let bygones be bygones."

He smiled wistfully. "Like I'm glad you are." He shivered slightly. "I put you through such hell…"

Hermione stood at once, leaned over him with one hand propped against the back of the chair, and thrust her face into his. "Do we have to go through this again, Mr. Potter?" she demanded fiercely.

"Uh, sorry, conditioned reflex." Shyly, Harry raised his eyes to meet Hermione's. "Thank you… again."

Her expression grew gentle. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead tenderly. He closed his eyes and seemed to soak in the kiss, as parched soil soaks in water.

When she broke off and eased back, she fixed him with the determined look he knew all too well. "Now then, speaking of bygones…"

He immediately turned his face away, his lips compressed.

"Harry," she said firmly. When he still didn't respond, she took his chin in her hand and forced him to look at her. "You refuse to get rid of the cloak. The ring's probably lost forever, so no one else can claim it. And while you could stop being master of the Elder Wand by being defeated in battle…"

"… given the kind of battles I fight, if I lose, I'm dead. I know, Hermione, I know." The corner of his mouth quirked upward. "Which would solve my problem twice over, I guess."

"Not even remotely funny, Harry."

Harry jerked his chin out of her hand and looked away again. Hermione snorted. "So if we can't get rid of the Hallows' influence, the only way to end these… these episodes… is to make your peace with…"

"… with my visitors." His voice was starting to grow wild again. "You've told me before. But you don't have any idea, Hermione… you don't know what they're like. What they want. And I can't… they try to…" His muscles began to strain as his gaze snapped to a corner of the room. "Shut up. I won't. Go awaaayyy…"

"GODDAMMIT, HARRY!" By sheer volume, she succeeded in bringing his attention back to the Now from the Hereafter. She took the opportunity to re-bind his free hand to the chair. "You know what you have to do," she continued more calmly. "You have to forgive… and I don't mean just saying the words, you have to show your forgiveness. Somehow. If my parents can forgive, you can, too."

Hermione debated with herself whether this was the proper time to offer Harry her idea for showing forgiveness… then noted with amusement that his eyes had regained focus, this time on her breasts. Looking down, she saw two wet spots on her blouse – her last furious shout had caused her milk to leak. One of the disadvantages of being a nursing mother…

"Oh, don't worry," she assured him, "Rose has had her dinner already." And she couldn't help smirking when Harry, eyes still on her breasts, unwittingly licked his lips.

*

"'Scuse me, Just Ginny," Teddy said with an unexpected show of diffidence, "but I think James had an accident."

A single sniff of the air confirmed Teddy's report. "I'll deal with it," Ginny told Andromeda, rising from her seat. "Scen-Ted, where'd you put James's nappy-sack?"

Teddy scowled, but chose not to make an issue of the new nickname (guessing, quite rightly, that to do so would guarantee Ginny's use of it forever). "Over here," he said, and led Ginny to the corner where James sat, a puzzled smile on his face.

Andromeda made certain they were out of hearing range before turning back to Ron. "Please don't hold it against Ginny," she advised quietly. "You know about pregnancy mood swings as well as I."

"Nah, it's all right," Ron shrugged. "Like I said, she's not the first to've thought it… reckon she won't be the last. Forget it."

"Oh, I give it no credence. It's just that… well, you seemed upset by the suggestion."

"'Course I was. Impugned my wife's honor and my best friend's honor. I mean, Hermione cheat on me? Harry cheat on Ginny? You only have to say it out loud to realize how idiotic it is!"

"Indeed. Although…" Andromeda fell silent, one word too late.

"Although?" Ron's voice had regained a hint of frost. After a moment, he added, "Go ahead, Andie. I won't hold it against you any more than Ginny."

"Nobody knows about Harry's… condition," Andromeda said slowly. "But if they knew… well, no one would hold Harry responsible for anything he did while he was… shall we say, not in his right mind?"

Ron snorted; Andromeda was relieved to note that it was with amusement. "Yeah, hadn't thought of that. But that still wouldn't excuse Hermione, would it? She still would've had to know what she was doing. And she wouldn't, that's all. She's probably the most moral person any of us'll ever meet."

"Well, certainly among the top ten," Andromeda agreed. She rose from her seat as Ginny returned, bearing a freshly-changed James.

"Exactly." Ron glanced at Ginny and pitched his voice for both of them to hear. "Hermione has never cheated on me," he said firmly. "She would never cheat on me." His tone carried absolute conviction.

"You-you're right, Ron." Ginny had a hard time meeting Ron's eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, I forgive you… you being, 'uh', and all." That got a laugh out of both of them. Andromeda smiled in relief.

"Come along, Teddy," she called. "It's time to go home. I'll bring James back in the morning," she added to Ginny, as Teddy made his appearance carrying the nappy-sack (and hastily stuffing one last ginger biscuit into his mouth).

"I'll see you out," said Ginny, and they walked to the door. Ron shifted his weight, making himself more comfortable in his seat, as he gave another fond look at Rose. Her crib was in his pocket, Reducio'd to matchbox size for convenience, but Ron was in no hurry to bring it out. He never tired of simply holding her in his arms.

I think I handled that pretty well, he thought to himself. Hermione'd be proud of me.

A tiny bubble burst on Rose's lips as she stirred, on the cusp of waking. Ron tenderly wiped the drool away and rocked her some more.

Word will get out now. I can't imagine Ginny won't tell some of her friends… who'll tell their friends. Even if Ginny and Andie don't actually say anything, people will see the way they act with Rose now. It won't scotch the rumours, but maybe it'll slow 'em down. It's only fair to Hermione. Because it's just like I said, Hermione would never cheat on me. And that's the truth.

Rose yawned hugely and half-opened her eyes. They were brown, like her mother's, though a lighter shade of brown – some might call them hazel. Ron rocked and made silly noises until Rose contentedly closed them again and fell back into slumber. He looked up as Ginny approached again, and smiled encouragingly at his sister. Ginny smiled back, drew a deep breath, and determinedly began to make small talk – erasing the awkwardness of the last few minutes. Ron had time for one more thought before he buried it amidst chit-chat.

It's not cheating if she has my blessing.

"So tell me," he grinned, "have you and Harry settled on any names for your oven-bun yet?"