Always- a Hinny / Romione fanfic

Chapter Fifty Eight

Hermione was quite different than Ginny when it came to being pregnant. Ginny always complained about not being able to work, or to move, to play quidditch and hated any feeling , however slight, of incapability.

Hermione however, absolutely loved being pregnant. She enjoyed having an excuse to be snippy and bossy, for one. It avoided many fights with Ron. All she had to say was "I'm pregnant, leave me alone," and he would apologize.

After finding out that their baby was a girl, Ron and Hermione struggled to pick a name for her. Hermione wanted to name her Ginny, but Ron stamped on that one.

They were more aggressive on name choosing than any couple yet. Certainly more so than Harry and Ginny. Some nights, a feud over a certain name would be so intense that they spent an entire night in silence until one of them would give in and say that their desired name was out.

Hermione was six months pregnant before they decided on Rose. It was also six months later that Ginny came to them with some news.

She burst into their apartment (Ron never bothered to lock the door) shaking her hands.

"Oh my God. I'm pregnant again."

"That's a joke. Again?" Ron asked incredulously, face contorted in surprise and slight disgust.

"Save the lecture. Oh my God."

Ginny grabbed Hermione, whose big brown eyes were wide with shock, by the shoulders.

"It hurts so bad oh my God I can't go through with this another time!"

Fortunately though, the choosing of their child's name would be much easier, because Ginny was a lot less controlling than her best friend. Her and Harry had resorted yet again to rock-paper-scissors, and Ginny had yet again lost.

"Not Ron," was her only request. The only problem was that Harry had no idea what else to name his son. He wanted to name him Ron, but obviously, Ginny despised that idea.

He didn't think of a for sure name until late one night, quite near when Hermione was due. It was in the middle of a nightmare. They were rare these days now, as they were for everyone, about once or twice every month.

He was sweating, twitching. It had been many years now, almost ten, since he had sat there on that tower, but he saw everything in his head, like a movie he could re watch whenever he wanted to. Which was never.

He could see the old man, the old man with the silver beard. Pleading and weak. He saw him fall, like a crumpled skeleton, to the ground.

The image changed. He saw the same old man, from a view as though looking up at him. He was smiling kindly through twinkling eyes.

Everything flickered. He saw the old man, tired and worn, saw him through flashes of his own hands, tearing apart his things in anger, bit by bit.

He was falling again.

He was drinking a potion that was killing him. His face was contorted with agony and sorrow and he was dying.

He had died for Harry.

Harry shot straight up, wide awake and gasping for breath. He wiped his brow furiously, and saw his and Ginny's room come into focus as he put his glasses on. Ginny snored quietly next to him, sleeping like a rock.

The house seemed eerily quiet to him. He heard Teddy cough in the next room.

"Albus." He whispered. He knew what he was going to name his son. He was going to name him after a man who had spent most of his life fighting, a man who was wise and kind and tried to make everyone belong.
***

Hermione grimaced through the pain that was keeping her awake. She had cramps all over, but didn't feel like waking Ron up. She contented herself with running a hand over her pregnant stomach. She enjoyed feeling the press of her daughter's foot, knowing that there really was a life form inside of her.

It wasn't until, after she'd been drifting in and out of sleep for almost an hour Hermione found herself in sharp pain, and a pool of wetness that could only mean her water had broken, that she realized she must be going into labor.

"Ron!" She shouted, panicking. She had read hundreds, maybe even thousands of books, both muggle and wizarding ones, about pregnancy, about labor, about raising children and everything in between, but her mind was blank as she gripped her husband's wrist.

"Ron, I-I think Rosie, I mean...the baby-"

Ron sat up straight, red hair a mess. He threw on a pair of pants, and rushed to get his wand.

"C'mon 'Mione. We'll get you to St. Mungos."

Hermione nodded weakly, forehead creasing as she grimaced. She kept a tight hold onto Ron's wrist, feeling like she could never let go.
***

Hermione screamed yet again, her face contorted in pain and her forehead sweating, her hair frizzed out and her knuckles white. Ron squeezed her hand and whispered softly, comfortingly, "Breathe,"

"I AM!" She snapped. Ron bit his lip, stopped talking and closed his eyes. He hated to see her in pain. He hated it so much. He wanted to help her, to hold her, to protect her, but he told himself he didn't need to, she was safe here. They were not at Malfoy Manor. She was not being tortured. It was not one of his nightmares. He hadn't had one in awhile. Ron took deep breaths. She was okay.
***

Later, after strenuous hours of labor, Ron held his tiny little daughter Rose in his arms. She was perfect and beautiful in every way, no bigger than a loaf of bread.

"Bloody Hell," Ron breathed. Rose's fingernails were no bigger than a grain of rice. He sat himself at the edge of Hermione's bed, watching the healers walk up and down the ward for a moment.

He have his little girl a cautious kiss on the forehead, lightly, so lightly it seemed like he was afraid of breaking her. Rose's eyes fluttered open. Both Hermione and Ron caught the breathtaking blue of them before they shut again.

"Hey," a slow grin spread across Ron's face. "Her eyes are just like mine!"

Hermione looked at him knowingly.

"Ron, all baby's eyes are blue when they're born." She bit her tongue to stop herself from saying more.

"Well," he said, rolling his own blue eyes. They sat in contented aliens for the longest them, both of them rubbing Rose's tiny, soft, warm hand gently. Finally, Ron said,

"Actually, I hope she looks just like you."

Hermione rested her head on Ron's shoulder, a smile on her face.

"I love you." She whispered breathily.

Ron kissed his wife's cheek.
"I love you too 'Mione."

Rose's tiny fingers wrapped around his calloused forefinger, as Ron held, in his opinion, the two most beautiful girls in the world.

"I promise you Rosie. He whispered into his newborn daughter's ear. "I will never let anything bad happen to you."