(harry potter) panic prone
Title: Panic Prone
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Ron, Hermione, Harry
Timeline: post Deathly Hallows
Author's Note: The week after the release of Deathly Hallows, I was still on a Harry Potter high. A friend attempted to feed my Harry Potter hunger by prompting me to write about a certain moment post-Deathly Hallows. This is the result.
Ron brushed the cinders off his shoulders as he stepped out of the fireplace and into the study of his London home. He smiled when the familiar fragrance of rose petals and leather-bound books washed over him. He would never tire of the feeling he got whenever he surveyed his surroundings and knew that everything he saw belonged to him: the plush furniture that reminded him of the good old days at Hogwarts; the stairway in the foyer leading up to two more levels of his Gregorian home. And most importantly, the beautiful, brown-haired woman that emerged from the doorway to the kitchen. She was the thing he was proudest to call his own, though it was likely that if he ever put it to her quite like that, he would get an earful. Which he was sure would be coming his way tonight.
Hermione had spoken to him earlier that day at the Ministry, letting him know that she would be leaving a few hours early and not to wait for her as was their usual routine. It had all seemed rather suspicious to Ron at the time, coupled with the fact that she had become unusually distant in recent days. Their months of unbroken nuptial bliss seemed to be fizzling out like a poorly cast Patronus.
He had mentioned it casually to Harry as the two were queued in front of the Ministry fireplaces and was met with one of Harry's all-knowing grins. "Maybe she's pregnant, mate."
Ron had stopped in his tracks at that and had to be pushed along by a tall, horse-like witch standing behind him. Harry laughed and clapped his arm around Ron's shoulders. "I know that look. I’ve had that look. Come on, I'll buy you a pint."
Two hours and one trip to the Leaky Cauldron later, Ron was standing in the hallway just outside his study, looking into the eyes of his wife. He was sure that he would be in for it for having been two hours late, but instead of a furrowed brow and tightly-pursed lips, her face was very pale, with traces of what appeared to be worry peering out from her brown eyes.
He stepped forward to approach her, switching on the charm and a smile as he did so. When he reached her, he leaned down and pressed an affectionate kiss ‘hello’ to her lips, his smile broadening when he felt her stand on the tops of her toes in order to be level with him. He expected her to pull away with a huff of anger, but instead, she seemed to cling tightly to him for a moment before finally stepping back and turning into the kitchen.
Ron followed her inside and what he saw nearly made his jaw drop. Set on their dining table was a grand feast that would have put the house-elves at Hogwarts to shame, and he could feel his mouth watering despite the four pints of Onesimus Borden Ale that was resting comfortably in his stomach. He gazed at Hermione with a look of wonder. She never ceased to amaze him.
“Honestly, woman, you are more than I deserve.”
A smile cracked the unease from her face, and she rolled her eyes. “No argument there,” she joked with a soft laugh.
Hermione gestured toward the table and he sat down in his usual chair and began to devour the well-prepared meal. Ron looked at her from across the table, over the mounds of steaming food and frowned. She had scarcely eaten a bite, and apprehension had found its way back onto her face. And suddenly Ron understood. He was about to be given unsettling news, something that Hermione thought would upset him so much that she had laid out a feast of his favourite foods in order to soften the blow, to bribe him. He could feel his face growing hot, and the fact that she was avoiding his gaze quickly pushed him over the edge.
“What’s going on, Hermione? What is all this?” he asked in a voice that came out much sterner than he had intended.
He was immediately fraught with regret when Hermione went as white as a ghost. He scowled at his own petulance and stood up from the table, rounding about to slide into the chair beside her. He reached out and pulled her small hand into his larger, freckled one.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, “That came out before I had the chance to think.”
“No, you’re right,” she replied, glancing down at their clamped hands, “There is something I wanted to tell you-need to tell you.”
Hermione paused for a moment and looked away, and in that instant, Ron had a sinking feeling in the pit of his beer-saturated stomach. All common sense and his earlier conversation with Harry vanished, leaving only the idiotic feeling that had been nagging at the back of his mind. She was going to leave him, wasn’t she?
“Hermione, listen…” He began to scramble for words at the exact moment that Hermione pulled hers together.
“I’m-I’m pregnant.”
They both froze, staring wide-eyed at one another. Suddenly, Ron was on his feet.
“What?”
“I’m pregnant,” Hermione repeated more slowly. She looked as if she did not know whether to be fearful or infuriated. Her face was contorted into a mixture of both.
Ron paused, and for a fraction of a second, looked reminiscent of the time he had belched up slugs years ago. But then his lips quickly curved into a toothy grin and he pumped his fist into the air.
“What?” he repeated, crouching down so that he was at eye level with her. “Say it again.”
His reaction had completely caught her off guard. She found her breath as one soft, musical laugh escaped her throat.
“I’m going to have your child, you half-wit.”
Ron let out a triumphant whoop, snatched Hermione up from her seat and twirled her around in a circle. By the time he had placed her back on her own two feet again, she was laughing as tears drained down her reddening cheeks. Ron was immediately attentive, cradling her face in his hands and brushing away tears with his thumbs.
“Oh, Ron,” she cried in what sounded more like a sob than a laugh. “Are you really happy? I was worried that-”
“You thought that I would hit the roof like I always do.”
She nodded ruefully.
“Honestly,” he said with a smile, “I thought I would, too. But now… I can’t imagine a time when I felt more happy.”
Hermione’s eyes brimmed over with tears once more, and she cupped her hands together and brought them to her chest vulnerably. “Do you really mean that?”
“Of course I do!” he replied, leaning down to kiss her tear-moistened lips. “I’m going to be a father!”
Hermione flung her arms around Ron’s neck and buried her face in his chest. He held her tightly, his chin resting upon the wild curls of her hair. He would have to remember to thank Harry.
Hermione looked up at him with love in her eyes, and he rewarded her with a slow, lingering kiss.
But for now, celebration was in order.
- July 27, 2007