FicWad

Chapter One:


Her voice was muffled, but distinctive in it's orders towards her children. She sounded very much like their mother, which proved only to make his heart ache a little. When she opened the door, she looked wane in comparison to memory, and to the woman she should have resembled. There was a young toddler on her hip, nursing on his finger and looking up at him with huge blue eyes; she shifted him slightly, and stared up at him.

"Hey Ginny. Mind if I come in?"

"Sure. Watch your step. Mirel's been a mess this last week, and I--. Well, no point in my complaining. What brings you by?"

She was picking up broken and scattered toys as she spoke. Her flat was larger than he remembered, but not quite large enough for her and her three children. When he didn't reply, she looked back at him worriedly.

"Ron?"

"St Mungo's tried to contact you, but told me you'd taken your fireplace off floo and your Muggle number wasn't listed." Ginny frowned, and shifted her son again, darting a lock of hair out of her eyes.

"Why were you in St Mungo's?" she demanded, her strained voice telling of her concern as she sat down on a threadbare and stained couch. He loitered in her brief foyer a little, before joining her in the sitting room, still trying to find his words. "Ron, what happened? Are you hurt?"

"No, no! I'm not hurt. I'm fine, actually. Just . . . a bit of a mix-up, I suppose you'd call it. Well . . ."

"Ron, you're scaring me." He sighed, and worried his lip a moment, unable to meet her eyes; she looked too much like his mother.

"I'm . . .. Merlin, this sounds odd. I'm /pregnant/, Gin."

She was silent, before breaking into strained hysterics. Her son whined slightly as she shook, and when Ron looked, there were tears on her face.

"That's cruel, Ronald Weasley, lying about a thing like that," she uttered hoarsely through fat tears. "What would mother--"

"I'm not lying. I'm pregnant, Ginny. The mediwitch treating me said I'd be due somewhere around the end of October." Ginny stared blankly at him, tears still rolling down her cheeks. Her son mewled quietly at her, tugging on the neck of her shirt for attention. He sighed, and held out his hands towards his nephew. "May I--?"

"Oh. Yes." She handed over her son slowly, and Ron held him close, looking at his face. The features were somehow familiar, though he doubted even she knew who the father was. "His name is Arthur."

"Where are Sirius and Mirel?"

Harry hadn't been overly pleased when Ginny had told him her first son was going to be named Sirius, but Ron supposed no man would want to hear that a son that could possibly be theirs was being named for their godfather. Ron had thought it a pretty tribute, at the time; his nephew seemed to have lived up to the name, last time he'd seen him.

"They're with Bill and Fluer today. When they came by, asking if I wanted a day off from mothering--"

"And they forgot this one, did they?" Ron asked with a chuckling smile. Ginny sighed, and reached for her son, who Ron passed back carefully.

"He's been a bit colicky lately, and since I haven't had a chance to get him into the doctors, I didn't want to risk him spreading anything to their brood." The way she said the last word made it sound like a hex. Ron shifted a little uncomfortably on the couch. "So, how'd you find out about--"

"Morning sickness. Went in to make sure I wasn't actually sick, and they come back with news that I'm pregnant."

"Do you know who--" He nodded, and she nodded, muttering about how that was a good thing, to know that at least.

She interviewed him from there, and he told her the same tale he'd woven for Bill and Fluer. By the time he'd finished, he was somewhat regretting coming to see his little sister; now he felt obligated to stay longer than he'd like, and to tell her of his gut-feeling plan.

As she offered dinner--and he accepted, which made her face lighten considerably--he cleaned off the table and set it, and she said that Sirius and Mirel would be back in time, no doubt. She spoke effortlessly of her children, and how proud she was to be their mother. Ron was amazed to realize that they were as old as she said--six and four.

Ron never did get around to telling Ginny what he'd meant to tell her the whole time he was there. But he didn't pass up on an invitation to stay, which seemed make his sister's day complete. She forgot about what a mess her house was for a time, and how tough her children made it.

After her eldest finally toddled off to bed, she came and collapsed beside Ron on the couch, leaning against him.

"Can I get you something to drink?" He shook his head slightly, and she settled back against him comfortably. "I've missed you, Ron."

"I've missed you too, Gin."

"Except for Bill and Fluer, I don't see much of you guys--I can understand Charlie having trouble getting over, but Fred and George aren't that far. They rarely even stop by for holidays."

"They're busy men, Gin. Running a chain has got to be hard." She nodded a little against Ron's shirt, and he started to feel tears soaking through the cotton and wetting his skin. "Oh, Ginny. You know we love you, right? We try to get around, but it's hard some times."

"Not even Hermione gets around," Ginny complained softly. She wasn't sobbing, Ron realized; the tears were simply finally coming. He wrapped his arms tightly around his little sister, and murmured softly to her until the tears abated. And by then, he'd forgotten about what he'd meant to tell her.
~
Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes--the original Diagon Ally branch--was as packed as always, but Ron didn't mind much. It was nice to be back from under the gloom that had settled following the unexpected news, and his visit to Ginny's flat (which had surprisingly ended up lasting nearly a week, and by the end, it wasn't so bad).

For a while, he simply milled through the place, being careful about what he picked up. He started just a little when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Fred was smiling at him companionably, and proceeded to inform him of the price of the joke item he was holding--a punching telescope which Ron remembered having the opportunity of seeing in action more than once. He set it down, and turned to face his brother, offering a pressed little smile; he was directed to the back of the store quietly, and he weeded his way slowly back, catching George's eyes on the way there.

What had once been an extra room had been converted into a small office. He settled onto a comfortable couch, and sighed thankfully as he sank back into the upholstery. It wasn't long before Fred joined him, collapsing into one of the chairs nearby.

"Been a while, hasn't it? My, you've gotten uglier still." It wasn't the best way to start a civilized conversation, but Ron was used to it. He picked up a pen and chucked it at his older brother as George joined them.

"What brings you around? Don't look like you've got a Knut on you, much less the money to pick something up in Diagon Ally," the other twin stated as he settled onto the arm of his twin's chair. Ron sighed; obviously, Bill and Fluer either hadn't seen them, or hadn't saw fit to tell his secret; he blessed them either way, before shooting into the explanation.

There was no rapturous laughter, as he had expected from the twins. They offered soft condolences, and their general opinion on Bill's opinion--"He can stuff it" was the general consensus--before they offered their two bits on the matter.

"It's sort of what you get for overindulgence, don't you think?" George was saying. "If you hadn't have done it in the first place--"

"It shouldn't have worked though," Fred put in, shaking his head a bit. "So it boils down to the fact that our bloods seems damn well convinced that we should be having kids, unless we're poufs."

"But you two aren't--" He couldn't say the word any longer; he just gestured somewhat wildly at his older brothers, who exchanged glances, and chuckled slightly. George shrugged slightly, but didn't negate either claim. Fred took on a slight color about the ears, and just muttered for a change of subject.

But even after living with those two for so many years, he supposed he wasn't all that surprised to be finding out stuff like that now.

After a while, busy called to the twins once more, and Ron noted that time was calling him back to his own flat. George left the office in a flurry of magenta robes, but Fred loitered back a moment as Ron collected himself a bit. He sighed softly before he spoke.

"I'm sorry this is happening to you, Ronnie. You know, if you ever need anything--"

"I'll be fine." His mind pushed Ginny to the forefront, and he flushed a little, before demanding, "Why offer me a handout when Ginny could obviously use a leg up? You know she's been having it rough since her little girl was born."

"I know, I know," Fred muttered with a wince. He looked out towards where George was shmosing with a wealthy looking customer, and then sighed slightly. Seemingly forgiving Ron's gravely demand, he turned with a winning grin, and bid a fond farewell. Ron left without actually saying good-bye.
~
Days turned into weeks, and the business card he'd been given was now held in trembling fingers. Slowly, he mounted the steps up to the door of the classy looking little clinic; nobody paid him any heed, even as he stepped in.

The receptionist looked up to see him loitering in the doorway, still staring at the card. She popped the gum she was chewing against her teeth, making him look up.

"Can I help you?"

"Ah . . . erm. Well, that is . . . I-I'm here to see--. The thing is, my cousin, he--. . ." He trailed off to a soft snigger from a woman sitting off to the side, and flushed brilliantly, approaching the desk. The receptionist popped her gum against her teeth again, and looked at the card he tapped onto the counter.

He tried again, softer this time: "My cousin Draco told me about this place. The doctor--" Just as the words left his mouth, an older man stuck his head out from his office, looking around a bit. Catching the eye of the young woman who had laughed at Ron's misfortune, he smiled briefly, emerging fully from the side-room.

"Afternoon, Jerri. How are you and the kids?"

"Better, Doctor. But I think this young man is more worth your time. Either that, or he's lost." Ron flushed brilliantly as the doctor turned towards him. He had a dignified air, and smiled winningly, extending a hand.

"Afternoon, son. Would you like to come back to my office? We can talk for a minute." Ron followed, not given the chance to reply. When the door to the office shut behind him, he settled unsurely into a chair facing the large desk that dominated most of the latter half of the office.

The doctor slipped into his chair with a sigh, and clasped his hands before him. They were both silent for a moment, before the doctor removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes.

"Draco? Draco Malfoy, I take it. Didn't know he had cousins. But then, we don't see much of each other, and he didn't talk much the night he showed up here. You are?"

"Uh . . . oh. Ronald Weasley." The doctor nodded subtly, and leaned back in his chair a bit, cradling the back of his head as he stared at the ceiling.

"And what seems to be the problem, Mr Weasley?"

"I . . ." He trailed off for a moment, flushing brilliantly as he looked away, and murmured in a small voice, "I'm pregnant."

"Well, that is quite a problem. So, are you here for a well-baby check up, or--?" The older man cut himself off, chuckling, muttering delicately under his breath. From his desk, he drew a small pamphlet, and handed it over to Ron. "We don't actual perform such services at the clinic itself. The government frowns on it, you see? This tells you what the surgery entails, the cost, where and how it will be performed. All the need-to-know, you understand?"

"Yes." It seemed the only proper thing to say. With a shaking hand, he took the pamphlet, and flipped through it idly for a moment. They were both silent for a beat, before the doctor sighed slightly.

"Do you know who the other father is?" He hadn't heard it phrased as such before. Slowly, he looked up, and then nodded a bit. Draco had mentioned it was all confidential, and the man was a Muggle, so it wasn't as if Harry would hurriedly find out if he went through with the whole idea.

The doctor smiled, and nodded, saying, "Well that's good. I can honestly say I've never had many young men coming in with this sort of problem, but you'd be surprised at the number of young ladies who, regretfully, don't know who the father is."

"Really?" He focused on a particular paragraph detailing the pros and cons of going through with the operation.

"How far along are you?"

"St--." He stumbled, then slowly rephrased his statement. "The other hospital says I'll be due around the end of October."

"Not that far, then. Not far at all. That's good. It's always such a shame when new parents decide to go through with an abortion after the fetus has had time to grow. I'm always amazed the number of girls who wait until the middle of the second trimester to go through with it. You'll be getting on to the end of the first, won't you?"

"Huh? Oh . . . sure." Ron didn't understand half of what the doctor was saying, nor half of what the pamphlet said. He'd have to bringing it up with Hermione.

"It'll be a shame, though." He looked up at the saddened voice, and raised a brow, dropping the pamphlet into his lap.

"What'll be a shame?"

"Well, you'll never be able to have children, most likely. The very few young men I've seen in . . .."

Ron tried not to blanch and flush at the same time as the doctor detailed, quite graphically, why he'd never be able to have children. His hands were shaking harder by the end of it, and he stared off to the side for a moment. Finally, he stood, nearly toppling his chair.

"Thank you for your time, Doctor Reed," he uttered very softly, before hurrying out of the office, clutching his pamphlet to his thigh almost desperately.

The young woman was still sitting there, and giggled once again as he passed.

A few hours later, he lay in Hermione's sitting room, his head pillowed on her thigh as she ran her fingers through his hair, tears somehow managing to slip down his cheeks.

". . . and then he told me I'd never be able to have kids!" he snapped, gesturing wildly at the ceiling. Hermione patted his shoulder gently, and sighed a little.

"But it was worth a shot, wasn't it?" Ron begrudgingly nodded his agreement to that statement; it hadn't been a waste. "And it was at least nice of Draco to offer. Have you told your family?"

"Everyone but Charlie." Suddenly remembering, he looked directly up at Hermione as he wiped away his tears. "Did you know that Fred and George were . . . you know--"

"Yes. You didn't?" He shook his head. She flushed slightly, bringing a hand to her mouth. "My. I thought everyone at least in Gryffindor knew. Well, I suppose it makes sense that nobody but Charlie would know; the three of them were the only ones, and your mother was never very much for that sort of lifestyle--"

"She would have loved them any way they lived," Ron grumbled defensively. Hermione ran a calming hand through his hair, and nodded soothingly.

"I know that, Ron. But can you really hold that against them? They were scared. Do you know how long it took before Charlie told your parents?"

"It was after he moved out. I was young. I remember mum crying for days though, saying that he'd never have children and shite like that--like he cared." Hermione pointed out that Fred and George probably didn't want to upset their mother the same way, and Ron conceded the point.

"So what are you going to do?" she asked as they sat down to dinner together some time later. He picked at his chicken idly, frowning at it.

"I suppose I'll just have to put up with the fact that I'm pregnant," he finally uttered. She beamed, but her eyes looked a little sad.

"It can't be so bad, can it? Besides, didn't you used to say that you'd love to carry on the name as well? Now you can." He only shrugged, and ate the food. It didn't taste as good as it should have.

The next morning, he convinced Hermione to take a break from work at the Ministry to take him over to St Mungo's so he wouldn't be alone when he showed up at the god awful maternity ward. She conceded easily, saying she could use the break, and together they traveled to the hospital, where Ron checked in quietly, and was escorted to a small private room.

Two doctors showed up, cast Hermione a brief precursory look, before focusing on Ron. The female doctor extended a hand slowly to him, and smiled as he wiped his sweaty palm on his jeans before shaking.

"It's good to meet you, Mr Weasley. Now, is this . . . Mrs Weasley or--"

"No," they both interjected. Hermione chuckled slightly; Ron blushed. She explained that she was merely there for 'moral support'. Both doctors smiled, and nodded, seemingly well understand the situation.

"Well, Mr Weasley, I'm Dr Monroe, and I'll be your obstetrician. This is Dr Kings, and he'll be in charge of your and your baby's health during the pregnancy."

"How do you do, Mr Weasley?" Kings was a large man with an easy smile and slightly drooping eyes. His robes were brilliantly white, and his skin slightly sallow, though not unpleasant. Hermione cast him a brief, longing look, before deciding he wasn't all that interesting. Ron simply shook his hand, and returned his attention to Monroe--a pretty woman with long blonde-red hair and a light splash of cosmetics that barely hid freckles along her nose and cheeks.

"Now, Mr Weasley, Dr Kings has a few very brief questions that he'll need to ask you before we can get right into the thick of this. If you don't mind?" Ron turned to face Kings, who drew a long sheet of parchment from his robes; Ron blanched a little.

"Don't worry, m' boy. Most of these are follow ups. Now, to begin . . ." And Kings went through the normal check up questions, ones Ron had been asked a few weeks prior, and that he answered swiftly and willingly. About halfway down the list, the questions got a bit more awkward.

"This is your first child, correct?" Ron nodded blandly. "How many sexual partners have you had before the pregnancy?"

"I don't see what that has to do--" Hermione began to break in. Ron waved her off, and offered a strained smile to his friend.

"Just two." Hermione blinked at that. Kings nodded, and moved onto the next bunch of questions.

"Have you been tested for sexually transmitted infections within the last year?"

"Erm . . . no. But both my partners were clean, I think." Kings gave Ron a look, and shook his head slightly, but continued with the questionnaire.

"Are you a homosexual?"

"Now, I don't see what that has to do with /anything/," Ron stated in a clipped tone. Kings sighed slightly, and rubbed his brow.

"Answer the question, Mr Weasley. It's a simple one. Yes or no?"

"No, I'm not. Though I don't see how that has--"

"Have you ever participated in homosexual intercourse?"

"I don't have to answer that!" His voice rose half an octave as he snapped the words. Kings looked up from his paper, startled. Ron seethed a moment, before continuing, "That had nothing to do with my health, or the health of my child. And even if I had, that's my own business, and was most assuredly not what got me pregnant."

For a moment, Kings was silent, before coughing delicately, and turning to look at Monroe, who seemed to give him a 'you-deal-with-it' expression. Kings sighed slightly, and straightened himself almost indignantly.

"I'll be back in a while with a proposed nutrition sheet." He left in a hurry. Monroe sighed, and shook her head, moving up to Ron's side.

"I apologize for Dr Kings. He can get a bit fixated with those 'answers' of his. Now--" She pulled out her own slip of parchment, and scanned it briefly--"The mediwitch tending you last check up placed a projected due date towards Halloween. I'll have to do a few check ups, but how does that sound to you as a birthday?"

"I . . . get to chose my kids' birthday?" Monroe nodded, smiling slightly as she rolled up her parchment and tucked it away.

"You're a special case, Mr Weasley. Because of your rather obvious lack of a uterus--" Ron blushed--"you won't have contractions when the baby's full grown. So you get to chose the actual day when your son or daughter is born."

"Wow." He looked over at Hermione, who smiled a little.

Maybe being pregnant wasn't all that bad. He'd let time decide.
~
By the time he was five months pregnant, he was beginning to regret not taking up Draco's proposal of an abortion.

It had taken several direct notices from Dr Monroe and Dr Kings before his boss had let him have time off for maternity leave, even if that wouldn't be for a few more months. He ached all over, and had been told to not only abstain from alcohol, but also from several of his favorite foods, as well as visiting Fred and George's shops--the stress, Kings had told him, was bad enough as it was.

But most of all, he wished he had taken his first option because he was going through a new pill regimen. Estrogen. Progesterone. And more vitamins than he knew existed.

Hermione chuckled as he counted off each pill he took, and passed him a glass of ice water. He nodded his thanks, and sighed, sinking back against the hard wooden seats of her kitchen.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like a hippogrif did a tap dance on my bladder for the past six weeks. Merlin, this kid is going to drive me absolutely up the wall. And I'm getting breasts!"

"That will happen when you put estrogen into your system." Ron grumbled and made a slightly vulgar motion at Hermione's back. She turned around, and handed him an orange from her fruits' basket. "So, have you thought of names?"

"I've still got four months until it's /born/, Hermy."

"Well, yes," she conceded slowly, darting a lock of hair out of her eyes. She leaned her elbows onto the table, frowning a bit. "Do you know what sex it is?"

"Not yet. They say I'll know by the start of next month. I'm pretty sure the damn thing's a Beater though." Hermione chuckled slightly, but her eyes were distant. He reached a hand out, touching her arm gently. "Hermy? What's wrong?"

"Are you going to keep it?" she asked very softly. Ron blinked. After he'd cut abortion out of the running, he hadn't thought he wouldn't be able to take care of a kid. Slowly, he settled onto a shrug.

"I suppose. Don't see why I shouldn't be able to, if Ginny can--"

"We all know how much trouble Ginny has raising her kids," Hermione pointed out, giving Ron a sad little look. He shrugged again, picking apart his orange and nibbling on a slice with an absentmindedness that spoke volumes of how much he wanted to not have the conversation. "Ron, you know I just want you to be happy--"

"So what if keeping the kid makes me happy?" She sighed a little, but he pressed on: "I know Ginny's not as together as she could be, but that's because H--her kids' dad is an arse. She loves those kids, and wouldn't trade them in for anything. And look at Bill and Fluer; they love their kids more than anything else. I . . . want to have that."

"Are you afraid you won't? You're the one always spouting how straight you are."

"It's not that I'm afraid I won't find a bird, Hermy," Ron muttered, flopping hopelessly back against the chair again as he sucked the juice out of an orange slice. "I just don't think one'll have me after this."

"And why wouldn't she?"

"Let's see. Maybe because I have breasts?" Hermione grinned and giggled a little bit. Ron smiled back, though he knew he hadn't won the argument. Nevertheless, she let it drop, and offered to feed him dinner and house him up for the night. He declined, and flooed back to his little flat in Reading.

He didn't sleep much that night--but then, he hadn't been sleeping much since he'd begun showing his pregnancy. The few bits of alcohol in his flat--butterbeer and firewhiskey, most of it--seemed to call alluringly to him. Instead, he sat before his fireplace for some time, before bringing up the nerve to break out the floo powder once again and pay a visit to a couple of people.

Harry's flat was dark, but light spilled from the bedroom. Ron strode confidently towards the bedroom door, and leaned against the wall there, listening for a moment. He couldn't hear anything, but that didn't mean a whole lot, he knew. Self-consciously, he knocked on the door.

There was a rustle, and Harry arrived at the door bare chested and brandishing his wand. When he caught sight of Ron, he blinked owlishly, and rubbed his eyes, summoning his glasses to get a proper look.

"Merlin, Ron. You look like someone shat in your coffee. And you're bleeding /huge/."

"Tends to happen when you're pregnant. But you never saw that, did you?" Harry cringed a little, and leaned against his doorjamb. Then, he smiled winningly, his eyes sparkling and his glasses catching the light from his room a bit, so they dazzled.

"You didn't come to talk about Ginny--"

"No. I didn't come to talk about my sister. I came to talk about me." Harry rolled his eyes, the smile gone as he gabbed his jaw a moment in a mocking fashion. Ron bristled.

"Come off it, Ron. Look, I'm not happy about what happened, and you know that. You weren't too happy when you found out either. That doesn't mean I'm going to come around now and be all lovey-dovey on you. Any ideas what the Prophet would do if they got a hold of it?"

"Who cares what the Prophet would do if they got hold of it?" Ron hissed. "Something's bound to come up about you eventually. There's gotta be hundreds of birds talking shite and proclaiming their children the Immaculate Conception of the Boy Who Lived. But you and I, we know there's one girl who has those kids. And now there's a bloke too. Are you gonna turn your back on my kid as well?"

"You so sure it's mine?" Ron gaped slightly at his friend, before throwing his arms up with a growl of exasperation.

"I can't believe you! I had to answer a questionnaire about this stupid thing, you know, and they asked me who I'd slept with. Lo and behold/, it was Lavender and /you of all people."

"Fancy that. Can't remember ever sleeping with a bloke." Ron growled venomously, his fists clenching into fists. He consciously willed them open, and rubbed his brow vigorously, before cursing creatively under his breath.

"Fine. You want to keep your head shoved up your arse, be that way. But this isn't going to stay a secret for forever, Harry. You understand that, right? Eventually, people will find out about it." Harry only rolled his eyes, and disappeared back into his room. Ron returned to the sitting room, grabbed a fist of floo powder, and called for his next destination.

Draco was actually sitting in his front room, reading a book. He looked up, a bit startled, as Ron whirled into view on his hearth rug, and sprang to his feet, helping steady the redhead, who grumbled a thanks.

"What are you doing here? No, no, more important: how'd you know where I /live/?"

"I work at the Ministry," Ron supplied, giving Draco a pointed look. The blonde made a soft sound, and pulled back, before his eyes dropped to the bulge of Ron's stomach; he chuckled a little.

"I take it you didn't see Dr Reed?"

"I did. But the idea of having kids that are accidental is better than the idea of never having kids." Draco shrugged slightly, obviously disagreeing. They were both silent a moment, before Draco sighed a bit, and pushed an errant lock of hair out of his eyes.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

"Water, please. Or a virgin /anything/." Draco chuckled a little, told him to dust off, and disappeared into his kitchen.

His flat was nice, if a bit smaller than Ron had expected. There was very little that reminded him of the Malfoy brat he'd known at Hogwarts, though the distinctively rich air that hung over the entire place seemed to compensate for that. He supposed it was suitable, considering that, up until the final battle, most of the Wizarding world was convinced he'd go the way of Snape and his father; it had been a pleasantly unexpected surprise when he hadn't.

The kitchen sported a small bar area, which Draco stood on the kitchen side of. Ron settled with a soft sigh onto a stool on the living room side, and took the glass of water the blonde offered, muttering a thanks.

"So. To what do I owe the pleasure, Weasley?"

"Harry's a fucking prat," Ron growled towards the glass tumbler. Draco blinked for a moment, before chuckling slightly.

"You went for a confrontation? And you thought you'd win? My dear, dear cousin. You've become every inch the woman."

"Want to come around the bar and say that?" Draco waved off the growl slightly, and sighed, leaning against the marble countertop, idly tracing patterns.

"He had me between goes at your sister, you know? And then once afterwards. Never did say why."

"Because he could have you," Ron supplied. Draco shot him a cold little look, and Ron frowned, muttering a curse, taking a long drink of the water. He thought for a moment, before rephrasing his words: "Harry wouldn't give you a moment's stop since about third year. Don't know what it was, but he just wanted to get at you, or something. That's about when he started having goes at me, but I wouldn't have it. After sixth year, he got real obsessed about you. Kind of stalker-like, really."

"Why are you telling me this?" Draco interrupted as Ron took another drink. The redhead gestured with the glass for more, and blonde obliged, asking again when he returned.

"Because Harry's a fucking prat, I already told you. Anyway, he got with Ginny that year--hence Sirius--and then broke up with her before leaving school. Hermy and I went with him, of course. That's when he figured out the polyjuice that I was taking so that he could have goes at me.

"After Voldemort died, he had a go at Hermione--that fell through--another go at Ginny--which is where Mirel came from--and then a go at you, I guess. He jumped around like that, got Ginny pregnant again about two years ago, gave up on you I guess--"

"He didn't give up on me," Draco muttered, picking his nails idly. "I told him to piss off."

"Well, anyway, he had another go at me. And now . . . well, we see what that ended up going." He gestured down at his swollen belly, and downed the rest of his water. "Got anything stronger?"

"Not unless you want to poison your child." Ron actually thought about it for a moment, before waving a hand, grumbling to himself. Draco was staring at him oddly; he demanded an explanation.

"Why'd you come to me? Even after I proved myself, you still didn't trust me. You could have gone to one of your brothers', or you sister's. But you came to me. Why?" Ron thought about it for a second, before shrugging slightly.

"After I got out of St Mungo's, I looked up your house and everything. The information sat on my desk at my office for four months--I told my family about my pregnancy, I went to your damn clinic and talked to Reed, I did everything I could to make sure I kept the doctors and myself happy. And I was talking to Hermione today about all this stuff--putting the kid up for adoption, keeping it, what I should name it. I knew I had to talk to Harry. And when I got home tonight, I noticed that I'd brought all that information home. So . . . here I am."

"Here you are." Their eyes met for a moment. Ron looked slowly away, a little flushed suddenly. Draco coughed subtly into his fist, and muttered something about the late hour.

Ron left, and wondered why he'd gone at all.