Unofficial Portkey Archive

A/N: Here's the next chapter! Again, I would really like to thank those of you who have the patience to stick with this story. I'm a personal fan of angst, but I know not everyone else is, so thanks! Expect the next chapter probably on Saturday or Sunday at the latest.

Thanks to justduck, UKwildcat820, auror_lumos09, Meli, EmmaRadcliffe, and noorelisa for the reviews! And is it just me, or am I typing the same lovely usernames for every chapter? Would love to here more feedback from everyone else I know is reading!

Chapter 30: Falling

Hermione crouched expectantly in front of the oven, eyeing the browning chicken inside with a rather hard gaze. So intent was she on her staring that she didn't hear the door to her - to her and Ron's - flat open.

"You here, Hermione?" Ron called out from the living area. Hermione didn't turn her eyes away from the cooking meat as she heard the already familiar chorus of Ron's entry: the slam of the door closing, the clinking of keys as they were dropped on the coffee table, the heavy thumping of his cloak being tossed over the couch, and the ever-increasing noise of his footfalls as he sought her out.

"Where - oh, there you are," she heard Ron say from behind her. "How's Mrs. Weasley doing today?"

Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes as she gave a small sigh. The continual greeting using her new surname was getting quite old. In fact, it had really gotten old after the first few days. It had been months since they had married, and she was still unused to it. On most days she still had to stop herself from falsely correcting him.

That would be Granger, Ronald.

"My day was fine," she murmured, still focusing on the oven. "How was yours?"

"Eh, same old same old," Ron said. "Though it would be much better if my wife would stop having a staring competition with dinner and give me a kiss!"

She heard the pout in his voice and she stood up, wincing at the cracking of her knees. She turned to Ron and chastely pecked his expectant lips.

"Sorry, Ron, I just don't want it to burn," Hermione said. "I want it just right."

"I'm sure it'll be great," Ron said affably, flashing her a smile. He pulled her closer to him. "I can think of much better things we can do in the meantime."

Hermione felt her cheeks redden slightly. "I don't know, I'm still working on dinner -"

"Don't worry about it," Ron said, still holding her by the waist. "It should be ready after we're through…"

Nope, still wouldn't be ready, Hermione thought, the urge to roll her eyes coming for the second time.

She pulled away from her husband with an apologetic expression. "It's not just the chicken, I've got other things to make as well," she said, turning away and pulling a pot from beneath the counter to prove her point.

"Well, okay then. Maybe for dessert then," Ron said cheekily. Hermione knew he most likely would've winked if she'd been looking at him.

She saved herself from answering by starting to mash potatoes with a blender. She heard Ron leave the kitchen and knew he had probably settled himself onto the couch to watch television, one of the few Muggle inventions he had an appreciation for.

Hermione continued blending for multiple minutes, welcoming the lack of any other noise, and finally stopped to scoop the potatoes into a serving bowl.

Just as she finished this task, she noticed a fine stream of smoke issuing from the oven.

"Damn it!" she hissed, grabbing a dishtowel and throwing open the stove. She fanned away the smoke and then sat back dejectedly as she scrutinized her now blackened chicken.

*************

"Come on, Hermione, it tastes great!" Ron said, taking a large bite of the meat as though to reassure her. Not that it worked - Ron wasn't exactly the pickiest of eaters to begin with.

Hermione nibbled at her own portion, which she had salvaged from the ruined chicken. She nodded mutely at Ron's compliment.

The only sound to be heard for several moments was the scraping of knives and forks.

"Thank goodness it's the weekend, huh?" Ron said eventually. "I'm exhausted!"

"Me too," Hermione said. "Did we make any plans?"

"I dunno…wait, shit! We agreed to help Harry and Ginny with the nursery tomorrow!" Ron said, aghast that he wouldn't be able to lounge the entire day.

Hermione lost her appetite as soon as he mentioned the task. She had forgotten entirely about it…or rather intentionally pushed it from her mind.

Harry and Ginny had announced her pregnancy almost as soon as she and Ron had returned from their weeklong honeymoon in Germany.

What a pleasant surprise that had been, Hermione thought somewhat bitterly.

She had thought she was above such feelings - she had reestablished a somewhat normal relationship with Harry again, she had moved on and dated Ron, she had married Ron…

But something about this revelation had made her feel as though she had been slapped across the face.

She hated herself for the feeling of jealousy that had arisen from the announcement. She should be happy for Harry - it was what he had always wanted, really…a family he could love and cherish in a way that he never got to experience.

But the finality of it all was almost too much for her to bear.

"You know Ginny's gonna be a right git about all this too," Ron was saying, and Hermione pulled herself to the present.

"Yeah…you're probably right," Hermione said. "She certainly seems to appreciate the power-boost she's gotten."

"Of course she does!" Ron said, cutting his last bit of chicken into pieces. "And Harry doesn't help matters by completely doting on her hand and foot!"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't he?"

Ron backtracked quickly. "You know what I mean! You'd think she'd lost her arms and legs!"

Hermione nodded. Ginny had indeed been living the good life for a while now. Harry was throwing himself whole-heartedly into the process of preparing Ginny and himself for the new baby, and Hermione couldn't help but find it ridiculously sweet. He was constantly flipping through baby books whenever he had a spare moment, and seldom was an outing achieved without stopping to pick up a new toy or trinket for his child.

"It won't be so bad," Hermione said, attempting to console them both. "Ginny'll be fine."

"Yeah, right," Ron snorted. "And I'm the king of England."

************

"Alright," Ginny said diplomatically from her rolling chair in the middle of the room. Her belly was already quite swollen. "Let's try to get this thing finished. Harry," she said, pointing at him, "you'll be in charge of rolling the paint on the walls. Hermione, you can do the trim. Ron…unpack the crib or something."

"Right, not bad at all," Ron muttered to Hermione, and she shrugged helplessly.

"What are you standing around for," Ginny said with a cheeky grin. "Hop to it!"

"Ma'am yes ma'am!" Harry said, saluting his wife before proceeding to pour the pale green paint into a tray.

Ron grunted in annoyance at Harry's enthusiasm and plopped himself in front of the cardboard box contained the parts to the baby crib. Hermione picked up a brush to begin cutting in the trim.

"Why didn't you want to find out what the baby was, anyway?" Ron said, using his wand to slice through the tape on the box. "Green's such a copout."

"Because we wanted to be surprised!" Ginny said. "It'll be amazing to just wait and find out when the day comes."

"And green's not a copout!" Harry said. "It's just more unisex that yellow."

"And the final touches will be added afterward!" Ginny said. "Though I still liked yellow," she said as an afterthought.

"I refuse to allow my son feel as though he's been born into a world made of dandelions," Harry said, beginning to roll the paint.

"But it's so sunny and bright!"

"Exactly! Not manly like this light pastel green," Harry said, tapping the wall.

"Yes, so manly," Ron said sarcastically.

"Shove off, Ron! If you had your way you'd blind any child of yours with Chudley Cannon orange!" Ginny said.

"What's wrong with -"

"Nothing, Ron, nothing at all. So how's work been?" Ginny said sweetly, switching topics.

Ron's face fell. "Exhausting. I feel like I'm doing the job of three people for half the money. It's a bit of a letdown. Do you have any motherly-type advice for me?" he said, grinning at her.

Ginny shrugged. "I could give it a go, I guess. Might as well get a little practice in." She cleared her throat and then fixed Ron with narrowed eyes. "Shake it off, you big wuss! What d'you expect? You just passed your Auror's test! Did you expect the Ministry to just hand you everything on a golden platter? You've got to work at it! And you can pass that tidbit of wisdom to the grandchildren you won't be having!"

She settled herself back into her chair, looking smug.

"How was that?"

"God-awful," Ron said. "I can tell you're not going to be very good at this."

Ginny waved her hand airily. "Eat broccoli. Whatever."

Harry and Hermione laughed at the exchange.

Ron, by this point, had already finished unpacking the pieces to the crib and stood up with a flourish. "All done! Can I go now?"

"Absolutely not," Ginny said. "You can help Harry roll."

"Or he could help me trim," Hermione said.

"I don't trust him that much," Ginny replied.

"Why? Am I the only one around here who knows how to paint in a straight line?"

"No, it's just that you do it so well that the rest of us feel unqualified," Harry said with a grin.

"Is that so, Potter?" Hermione said, still focusing on her careful paint strokes.

"'Tis the truth, Granger," Harry replied.

"Weasley," both Ron and Ginny corrected.

"Right," Harry said.

Ginny sat up a bit straighter in her chair as she surveyed their work.

"Harry, could you go fetch me a glass of juice, please?" she said.

"Sure," he replied, standing up and placing the roller carefully in its tray. "Apple, orange, or grape?"

"Apple. And when you come back, wear your tool-belt."

"Because it's sexy?" Harry asked, furrowing his brow.

"That would be between you and the unassembled pile of wood that will become the place our child will sleep for the first year of his or her life."

"Well that's a ego-buster." He turned to Hermione. "D'you want anything, Hermione?"

"Um…just a water's fine," she said.

"Great. Two waters and an apple juice coming right up."

"Hey, what about me?" Ron said, looking wounded.

"Last time I checked your legs weren't broken," Harry replied cheekily.

"You're getting them something!"

"Completely different." He pointed to Ginny and then Hermione. "Wife slash child and best friend." He gestured towards Ron. "And, well, you."

"Well don't I feel appreciated," Ron muttered under his breath.

"Oh, and bring the sonogram of the baby," Ginny called as Harry exited the room. "I want to show Hermione!"

"And make me a sandwich!" Ron yelled.

"Okay, Gin, and get off your lazy arse and make your own sandwich, Ron!" Harry shouted back, the sound of clinking glass heard as he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets. "Just a water, right Hermione?"

"Right," Hermione called back.

He reentered the room a moment later with drinks and a few tools and handed Ginny her glass of juice. "I brought an extra bottle of water if you want it, Ron," he said.

"I don't want your pity drink!"

"I'd take it if I were you," Ginny said, taking a sip of her drink. "No one else will give you any."

Ron shot a glare at his sister.

"Anyway, did you get the picture, Harry?" Ginny asked, swiveling her back towards Ron.

"Yeah," he said. He slid down to the floor and sat cross-legged next to Hermione. He handed her the bottle of water she had asked for and pulled the sonogram from his pocket.

He held it out rather gently to Hermione, who took it carefully and then gazed quietly at it for several moments.

Ginny rolled her way over to the duo in her chair and pressed a finger against a light part of the grainy image.

"I'm one hundred percent positive that it's a head," she said. She then cocked her head. "Unless it's a foot."

Hermione smiled and pressed the picture back into Harry's grasp. "He's going to be beautiful," she said sincerely, looking into his eyes.

Harry held her gaze and gave her a small smile. "He?"

Hermione shrugged as she picked up her paintbrush again. "He."

"You know it most definitely is going to be a boy now, right?"

"Why is that?" Hermione asked, dipping her brush into the pail of paint.

"Because you're always right about everything," Harry said with a grin. "What makes this any different?"

Hermione laughed. "The fact that it has absolutely nothing to do with logic?"

"So?"

She shook her head at his superior tone. "If you say so," she said. She brandished her brush at him with mock-impatience. "And you should probably start on that crib if you expect him to have a place to sleep."

"But I was painting," Harry said. "Ron can start on it - he unpacked everything anyway."

Ginny choked on the mouthful of apple juice she had just swallowed, coughing profusely as she fixed Harry with an appalled expression.

"My brother build my first child's crib? I don't think so."

"Why not?" Harry said, glancing at Ron.

"I don't trust him," she stated bluntly. "Why do you think I had him unpack the crib instead of paint? He does what I like to call the `relatively unimportant' jobs."

"Catchy," Ron said, disgruntled. "You've just been a ray of sunshine lately, Gin."

"Doth my ears detect sarcasm, brother?"

"Of course not!" he replied with a roll of his eyes. "And you don't have a right to talk about sarcasm…in fact, you should probably nip that habit before the kiddie arrives."

"It's probably genetic," Hermione said in amusement.

"Either way," Ron said to Ginny, "you should probably resolve to lose some of the, er, snippiness before the kid can hear you."

"And you should probably resolve to stop being a loser," Ginny replied solemnly.

Ron raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "I'm only kidding."

Ginny chuckled as well. "I'm not."

"Play nice now, children," Harry said good-naturedly. "We don't have the time for you two to keep bickering."

"Look who's practicing the daddy card," Ginny said. "Excellent job, full points!"

"So did we ever establish if you wanted Ron or Harry to help me with the painting?" Hermione interjected a bit more harshly then she had intended.

Ginny spoke without hesitance. "Harry definitely has to build the crib."

"Well, let's try to finish this, then," Hermione said, pushing the tray of paint and roller towards Ron. "Just do it the way Harry was."

With a grunt of acknowledgement Ron picked up the roller and Harry relocated himself within reach of the wooden assembly pieces.

**********

After a while, Ron tossed the roller back into the tray in agitation. "This is ridiculous!" he said. "Why in the bloody hell can't we paint with magic?"

"Because the entire room would end up green," Ginny said. "There's no way to be accurate enough when you use a spell."

"Well, I still think it's stupid," Ron muttered. "You could've kept it the old color."

"I'm sure dark gray would've been so stimulating to an infant," Hermione said, now standing on a ladder to trim around the ceiling.

Ginny looked like she was bored out of her skull. She had hardly budged for the last hour and was quite restless.

"Merlin, I really want a cigar right now," she said wistfully.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all fixed the redheaded girl with odd expressions.

"Er…" said Hermione.

"You don't smoke," Harry pointed out.

"Oh, did I say cigar?" Ginny asked vaguely. "I meant pie."

"See, that makes much more sense," Harry said, screwing one of the bars onto the crib. "But I'm afraid we have nothing of the sort."

"Fate is so cruel," Ginny muttered, heaving herself from her chair. "I think I'm gonna go get some."

"Did you want me to go pick it up?" Harry said.

"Nah, I need to get out of the house for a little while," Ginny said. "Plus, the other furniture needs to be picked up as well."

"I could go get the furniture then while you go to the store," Harry said.

Ginny shook her head. "I'd rather you stay and finish the baby's crib."

Ron stood up quickly. "Why don't I go then, sis? It would be my pleasure!"

"Yeah, your pleasure to ditch the work," Ginny snorted. "But I could use the help, so why not? But you're not going by yourself. You can come get pie with me and then we'll go to get the furniture."

"Fine by me," Ron said, slipping on the jacket he'd brought with him as Ginny left the room to get her own coat. He turned to Harry. "You might as well finish up the painting once you get done with the crib, mate. Don't want you slacking off and leaving Hermione with all the work."

Harry gave a derisive snort. "Wouldn't dream of it, Ron. Not after seeing your work ethic."

"Gotta lead by example," Ron shrugged. "Anyway, see you two in a bit!"

"See you later," Ginny said, now reentering the room with a coat. She bent and kissed Harry as he continued screwing together the crib and she and Ron left the house. The door shut with a final slam and all was quiet.

Hermione continued to trail her brush ever more carefully along the wall as she heard Harry rustling among what was left of the unassembled crib. She and Harry had not been alone for more than a few minutes at a time since the day Ron had proposed to her.

She glanced over at him and was a bit surprised to find him watching her as well. His gaze made her unrealistically uncomfortable. She turned back quickly to the wall and nervously continued to trim.

After about ten minutes Harry let out a triumphant yell.

"Done!" he said proudly, and stood up next to the completed crib. "What d'you think?"

Hermione angled herself on the stepladder and scrutinized Harry's creation. "Looks good to me," she said.

"Great," Harry said. "Now I get to finish up Ron's crappy paintjob."

He rolled up his sleeves and picked up Ron's discarded roller. After re-coating it with paint he went back to layering the pale green walls, seeming just as enthusiastic about it has he had when he'd first started. Hermione found the attitude both refreshing and contagious and a smile spread over her face.

"You're really excited about this," she stated. It wasn't really a question, but Harry responded anyway.

"Of course! I'm still in a state of shock that this is happening at all!"

"It's what you've always wanted…" Hermione said softly, her brush pausing on the wall.

"Right," Harry said. "I guess I really want him to have the childhood and family I never got."

Hermione swallowed at the burning sensation in her throat. "He's going to get that and a lot more. You're going to be a great father, Harry."

"You think so?" he asked, a note of hesitation in his voice.

Hermione glanced down at him, curious at his uncertainty. "I know so. You are easily the most protective and lov-compassionate person I've ever met." She turned away and blushed at what she had almost said, hoping Harry hadn't registered the abrupt change of adjectives.

"Is that it, though? I feel like there should be more to it then that."

Hermione actually crouched on her ladder at this point to look Harry straight in the eyes.

"Do you love him?"

"Completely," Harry said, staring back at her.

"Then that'll be enough," she said. "The best dads just love their children unconditionally…I know you'll provide him the greatest life possible with just that."

Harry nodded and looked away as Hermione stood back up.

"What about you and Ron?" he asked. "Have you talked about having kids yet?"

Hermione shook her head. "He's discussed it. But we've only been married for a few months…I think it'd be better if we waited."

"Probably," Harry said. "But for what it's worth, I know you're going to be a great mum when the time comes."

Hermione shrugged noncommittally, not looking at him. "I hope so."

She raised her brush once more but felt Harry's hand envelop her left one. Her eyes met his for what felt like the thirtieth time that night, but this time she didn't turn away.

"I know so," he said earnestly.

Before Hermione could respond, however, a loud splintering crack resounded through the room and the stepladder collapsed from beneath her. She felt her feet begin to give with the ladder, but Harry jerked her away from the top just before she fell. However, given her higher position and the speed with which Harry had pulled her towards him, they both crashed to the ground, upturning the paint-can in the process.

Hermione quivered as the adrenaline coursed through her body, but this was nothing compared to her quivering after realizing that she was lying on top of Harry. They were both splattered with paint and Harry groaned at the hard contact with the floor.

"Ow," he muttered, but grinned nonetheless. "That was a close one, Copper."

She smiled slightly at the use of the nickname. She noted that Harry's arms were still wrapped around her waist.

"See what I mean?" she said. "Protective."

"I couldn't've let you fall," Harry said.

"You never have before," Hermione said quietly. Their closeness was beginning to make her nervous.

"No…but you went and broke my ladder, Granger," Harry said, still smiling.

"Weasley," she said even more quietly.

"Right," Harry said again, but just as before made no move to correct himself. "Doesn't change the fact that you broke my ladder."

"Apparently I need to lose of few pounds," Hermione joked.

"No you don't," Harry said, reaching up with one of his hands to brush away a spot of paint on her cheek. He didn't remove his hand. "You're absolutely perfect the way you are."

Hermione felt as though her heart were in her throat as she stared into Harry's vibrant eyes. She knew she should move, remove herself from temptation, but she felt frozen in a sea of emerald. She could think of nothing else.

Their faces were mere inches from each other. If either of them leaned forward the slightest bit…

But just as Hermione began to lower her head, she noted in the periphery of her vision the green paint pooling onto the floor…the pale, pastel green that they were using to paint the room of the child Harry was having with another woman…his wife who also happened to be her friend and the sister of her own husband…

Hermione rolled off Harry abruptly, still shaking slightly. "W-we should probably clean up and finish this up before Ginny and Ron get back," she said with a forced nonchalantness. With a quick Reparo she fixed the stepladder and set in up in the corner of the room. She climbed it carefully and used Accio to summon her still wet paintbrush to herself.

Then she began painting as though nothing had happened.

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