A Stitch In Time by Anastacia
This story is a series of short stories composed into one novel. It is not in chronological order.
Chapter One – Unexpected – February 14, 2006 by Anastacia
Chapter One – Unexpected – February 14, 2006
Glancing up quickly from his morning issue of the Daily Prophet, Ron Weasley quickly forgot about his sister’s installment on the bleak outlook for the Chudley Cannons in the next season of Quidditch. Instead, he found himself unnerved by the sound of his wife’s irritated voice firing through the halls of the newly bought home. He had been so pleased at first, because their salaries in the Ministry of Magic had neatly paid for such a large home. No more would he feel so suffocated and tromped on as he had in the Burrow. Unfortunately, it seemed to echo when tempers flared. And this was a sound that he had become familiar with, but that had been before their betrothal. In fact, he was certain that her infuriation with him had been his first solid memory of her when they had met on the train destined for their first year at Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Or perhaps it was the way she haughtily identified the smudge of dirt crossing the bridge of his freckled nose… Nonetheless, a friendship had blossomed between them through the help of a good friend. Then, by their own doing, love had sprouted. And in seven years he had managed to woo her through a series of carefully planned mishaps and blunders and… So it had been pure dumb-luck that he had managed to snare such a feisty beauty, but no charm had been instilled in this marriage.
They genuinely loved each other—
No Felix Felicis potion needed when it came to their romantic encounters—
Grimacing, Ron pondered if he should he truly answer to her deranged outcries of what would most likely be his fault—
Perhaps a trip to Hogsmeade for some butterbeer was in order? Hearing a sharp moan of disbelief, he quickly decided that firewhiskey would do him better. In fact, Harry Potter, his long-time friend and work-mate, owed him for taming the fires of his sister, Ginny, during the birth of their son. Though he’d never admit to the man that he had been lucky in casting a spell over the laboring woman—
“Ronald Bilius Weasley!”
Groaning at his inability to disapparate as quickly as he had first intended, he slowly turned to meet the burn of dark chocolate eyes that belonged to his usually charming and considerate— Honestly, who the Hell was he kidding? She was on a rampage and not even his Amortentia could take away the sting of her fury. By Merlin’s Beard, he loved her dearly, but she drove him nutty!
“You’re not that charming, Ronald—”
“Because you never give me a chance to be—”
“Because you can’t even manage to bring home a bouquet of flowers without having a bunch of bees chasing you out of sight—”
“It was one time!”
“And a nasty trip to St. Mungo’s for that allergy you refused to warn me about—”
“You didn’t have to bother!”
“I thought you were on your way to your death bed!”
Groaning, Ron pushed his fingers through his lengthening burnt-red locks He had just hoped to spend a quiet day at home with his beautiful wife. Perhaps con her into a game of chess that always ended with a grand gesture of sweeping her into their master bedroom for a victory celebration. Heated kisses turning to the melting of skins and sweet lovemaking in the dappled afternoon sun filtering through the airy curtains framing their bedroom windows. “And you’re not my mother, Hermione, so stop with the bloody guilt trips—”
Frustrated tears watered her smoldering brown eyes as her fists clenched and were pushed to her sides in a powerful force as she pushed herself to a towering height. Though she only managed to gain a few inches to stare up at her husband’s chin. Her lips thinned as they were pressed together in attempts to control whatever words had sprouted from her incensed mind. Her usually tidy French braid looked messy from repeated tuggings; chestnut curls falling to frame her face. Her cheeks were tinted pink with the exasperation of the moment. Even in fury she was beautiful to him. “But you’ll have me be someone’s mother without even asking my permission about the entire matter!”
“I can’t make you do anything, Hermione! You made that obvious when I first asked you to—” He reeled when he realized the weight of her statement and his sapphire eyes widened. “What?”
“I’m pregnant!” Hermione exclaimed, gesturing clumsily to the second story of their home where her pregnancy test lay upon the sink of the master bathroom. The simplicity of the word could not even begin to describe the heaviness of what it meant. A child would be growing inside her. A child that she and Ronald would be completely responsible for. Ron… Responsible… Tears began to race down her pink cheeks as she scoffed once more, “Pregnant, Ronald! I’m pregnant! Two months pregnant!”
“Bloody brilliant!” he exclaimed with excitement, reaching out with every intention of embracing his love. He had wondered when they would be able to conceive a child. Babysitting James, Harry and Ginny’s eldest son, had proved delightful. But at the end of the day, the boy would always toddle back into his parents’ arms. Being an uncle and godfather was something he cherished, but being a father? It was something he desperately wanted. And for Hermione to so willingly give herself to provide him with his dreams… Grinning, he beckoned her close once more. But her hand immediately shot up and a wand was pointed directly at the tip of his nose. Suddenly, he recalled the attack of yellow canaries that caused him to shrink back. “What’s wrong?”
“We can’t possibly be pregnant at this point in time!”
“Hermione…” Ron started, elongating her name into an irritated sigh as if they had been through this conversation far too many times. “We’re married now.”
Blinking in confusion, he glanced behind him as if there would be a muggle to translate her annoyances. “…What?”
“I’m married and pregnant!”
“And in that order, which, according to my mum is very important.”
“I love you, ‘Mione,” he murmured softly as he gathered her into his arms. He could feel the fine tremor to her slowly weakening form. The energy she had exerted through a rush of anxiety crumpled beneath the weight of her raging hormones, transforming her to that of a frightened child. And she welcomed his embrace, tucking herself against him as her forehead pressed tightly to his chest. Bending down, he pressed soft kisses to the crown of her silky chestnut locks. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother and there’s no need to fret over it. James absolutely adores you and I think he’d be permanently attached to your hip if he could just figure out the right spell—”
She offered a tight sigh as she wrapped her arms tightly about the waist of her thin, lanky husband. Though she had faulted him for many things during their relationship, she welcomed the strength he provided. The way he held her proved that he would never allow any sadness to enter their lives again. They had been through too much agony and she feared delivering that same sadness to the child growing inside. She had been an only child and knew nothing of raising children. And to fail at child rearing seemed worse than receiving horrible grades on her O.W.L.S. “But—”
“Don’t worry,” he interrupted softly with a knowing grin. “They’ve got hundreds of books on parenting.”
Coffee-brown eyes widening in shock, she reached out to deliver a sharp smack to his shoulder. “Ron!”
“I love you so much,” he crooned just the same, wrapping her within his arms once more.
“You damn well better, Ronald Weasley,” she muttered with a sharp sniffle, though she lifted her chin to catch his lips in a thankful kiss. “Because someone’s going to need to hold my parenting books for reading when I’m having a terrible craving for chocolate frogs, pickle-flavored beans, and strawberry ice cream!”
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