may 28th, 2006

It had been raining all day, but the rain made no difference to the couch-bound Hermione Granger. She was enjoying the pitter-patter sounds the rain made as she snuggled into the throw blanket with a book in hand. 

Ron Weasley had been quietly cleaning up in the kitchen. He too enjoyed the sound of rain hitting the windows. 

Ever since Hermione had gotten pregnant Ron's maturity sky-rocketed. He stopped drinking during the workweek and began going to bed early. He finally talked to his brother George about becoming business partners with his joke shop, knowing he was ready for the responsibility. He did everything in his power to care and dote upon Hermione. The woman holding his first child. 

Every now and again while washing the dishes he would look back and check on Hermione. She was sitting in the living room lounging on the couch. Her big belly was being used as a book rest as she read. Hermione had become ecstatic when her belly got big enough to support her hardbacks. 

Ron finished cleaning up in the kitchen and went over to take a seat next to his wife on the couch. He placed an arm around her shoulders and she instinctively moved further into his embrace, her eyes still on the book in front of her. 

"What are you reading tonight?" He asked, placing a soft kiss on her temple. 

"I'm reading a collection of short stories about different muggle and half-blood mother's experiences when expecting a magical child," Hermione said, biting softly at her nails as she read. 

"Why, may I ask, did you choose this to read?" He asked, skimming the words on the pages himself. Hermione moved her hand away from her mouth, already having bitten off most of her nails, and was instead picking at the skin around the nail. "'Mione is everything alright?"

"Yes, everything is okay. I just-" her voice hitched in her throat. "I'm not sure how to do any of this."

"Any of what?"

"Being a mother and raising a child. A child of magic that is." She admitted, letting her voice falter at the end. 

Ron pulled her in closer towards himself and placed a kiss on top of her head. Hermione was rarely this vulnerable. She rarely spoke of her insecurities and the anxious thoughts that constantly ran through her head. Ron always knew they were there, the anxious thoughts, and he did his best to help Hermione but it only ever was beneficial when Hermione came to Ron. He could not ease her stress unless she admitted to the stress herself. Something she thought to be weak, but with Ron, it seemed so easy. Ron was always ready to share his anxieties with Hermione. His fears and worry and anything that upset him. The last time he held onto the negativity by himself, the worry and the self-doubt, he had left Harry and Hermione alone in the woods. He knew the Horcrux around his neck had helped in the decision to abandon his friends, but that fact never seemed good enough for Ron. No matter what, he left. If he had just talked to his friends about what was bothering him. If he had just opened up, perhaps he never would've left in the first place. He almost lost them. He would never allow that to happen again. 

So Ron, despite everyone's surprise, became an advocate for expressing and talking through one feeling. Something a lot of people appreciated after the war. 

He became one of the few people George vented to about the loss of his twin brother. Ron always listened, stocking the shelves at the Weasley's Wizards Wheezes shop as he did so, and allowed George to grieve to him. Ron grieved with him but knew the bond twins differed from other sibling bonds. "Don't feel guilty about relaying your hurt to me." Ron often reminded his older brother. "I miss him too. I miss him every fucking day, but I know a piece of you feels empty without him. I won't pretend to know how that feels and I won't allow you to feel guilty about relaying your hurt to me."

Harry came over to Hermione and Ron's apartment quite often to talk with them about everything that went on. About the near-death experiences, the witnessing of death itself, and the battle they all were a part of. Often it was mostly Harry and Hermione that vented about the past. Ron was there to validate their feelings. 

He visited his parents' home almost every weekend to make sure they were doing okay and that the Burrow was stocked with food and being kept. He wrote to Bill and Charlie as often as he could, always reminding them they had a place back in London if they ever so wished to visit spontaneously. He took Percy out of the house making sure he didn't suffer in the darkness by himself and often brought Ginny along to make their older brother feel less alone. 

Ron wanted to help and heal everyone as best he could after the war, but there was only so much he could do. A presence he would always be to those who needed it, but at some point, they needed to admit they needed help. 

So when Hermione bravely and admittedly stated she was worried about being a mother to a child with magic, Ron let her talk. 

"I grew up with muggle parents in a muggle household with muggle traditions," she continued, her eyes staying on the pages in front of her. "I don't know what a childhood looks like when it comes to magic."

"I do," Ron said, absentmindedly playing with the curls of his wife's hair. "I grew up with magic and watched my mum raise me and my siblings in magic."

"I know -"

"Just because we hare having a child who may possess magic does not mean we have to only go by magical traditions," his lips curling into a smile. "Who knows, we may birth a Squib. And I know nothing of muggle childhood. Regardless if our child possesses magic, we can raise them with both muggle and magic traditions and customs. You know this Hermione-"

Hermione matched the smile her husband adorned. "Yes, but, I have so many questions about magical upbringings. What do I do when the baby starts showing signs of magic? When is it normal for a child to show magic? How do I teach them to cater to their power and keep it in check? How do I expose my child to both muggle customs and magic at a fair rate? I want them to know muggle life, but what if it gets overshadowed by the magic?"

"'Mione," Ron groaned as the rain hit harder on the windows. "You should know better than any of us with the rate you are reading those 'what to expect when expecting' book that all we can do is guide our child to do what's right and to be safe."

Hermione finally turned her head to look at Ron in his hazel eyes. "You've got such a level-head about all this."

Ron's smile turned into a smirk as he pulled her into a kiss. "Always the tone of surprise." 

+++

The rain continued throughout the day and into the night. 

Hermione laid on the white linen bed sheets with a blue knitted blanket thrown over her. She laid there peacefully, her frizzy brown hair covering the entirety of the pillow. The bright moon that appeared through the window showed the sheen of sweat across her forehead. 

Ron sat in the corner of the hospital room on a plump brown armchair. His arms held a bundle of pink blankets that warmed the sleeping infant. 

When Rose Weasley-Granger was born she cried for hours. It wouldn't stop. 

The Healers noted that a crying baby was a healthy baby, but as the hours went on and Rose continued to scream into oblivion, the Healers worried faces were harder to hide. The baby was fed, cleaned, and wrapped in a warm blanket made by her grandma Weasley. What else was there to do?

Hermione coddled her and Ron cooed, but Rose continued to cry. She cried until her voice gave out and the tears continued until she finally fell asleep. Still asleep, Ron held his new daughter, his firstborn, with such care as they basked in the moonlight and watched the rainfall. 

He stared at Rose's red face wondering what caused her to be so sad. Wondering what made her cry so much. 

Yellow light beamed into the room as a new visitor came into the Hospital room. 

"There she is!" Harry softly whispered as he entered. 

Quickly and quietly, he walked over to the beaming new dad and sat in the armchair opposite his friend. His dark black hair looked as if he had just been through a tornado, and his clothes still supported the attire fit for an Auror. A black trench coat with a silver wand etched on the right chest area.

"Tough day at work?" Ron asked, noting the uniform and the disheveled-ness his friend supported. 

"You'll have a fun time reading about it all in the Prophet," Harry sighed, his green eyes stationed on his new niece. "Finnegan told me about Hermione as soon as he found me. I rushed right over here."

"Everything all right?" Ron asked as he pulled his daughter closer to him. 

Harry looked over to the sleeping Hermione and sighed. This was to be a joyous occasion. This was their first child. Their first daughter. He didn't want to ruin the night by telling Ron about what he had just been up to. The cracking of the arch, Ravana on the run with the power of the Veil, the loose souls...

Finally, Harry turned back to his ginger-haired friend, knowing the frightful look would not go away until he confided in his friend. "There was a break-in at the Department of Mysteries and an attempted breakout at Azkaban. We believe the breakout attempt was to distract us, and it worked. We barely got to the department in time when we saw what they had done to the Veil -"

"The Veil?"

"The one we saw in our fifth year," Harry's voice soften, his eyes gazing every now and again towards Hermione. "The stone archway with the black curtains. The place where Sirius died."

A lump formed in Ron's throat. "What did they want with the Veil? You said they cracked the arch?"

"I don't know the reason, but what I do know is having that archway broken can't be good," His green eyes shifted to the newborn. "We only have one suspect. The others got away unidentifiable."

The pair sat there quietly, unknowing how to continue. 

"Ron... I watched as the souls the Veil had taken rushed out. The souls of the dead. They all attacked Ravana, but when he proved not to be strong enough to hold them all they all went somewhere else. I still don't quite understand what I saw, but what I can guess is that wherever the dead go... that place is broken." 

Ron nodded and looked out the window at the rain coming down. "Choas seems to be happening once again."

Harry nodded and looked at the peacefully sleeping baby in Ron's arms.

"Of all the days she had to be born..."