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Hermione slipped into the booth across from Harry, a butterbeer already waiting for her.
“You won’t believe what Malfoy brought up today during our meeting,” she said as she struggled to untangle her bag strap from her hair.
“I’m sure I would,” Harry countered, flicking his wand at her strap with an expert relashio. Hermione gave him a grin as she set her over-the-shoulder briefcase down on the seat beside her.
“You’re probably right. But I want to tell the story anyway.”
Harry grinned back at her over the lip of his glass of butterbeer. “Well, do proceed then.”
Hermione took a large gulp of her own sugary drink and sighed, relaxing into the soft leather seat in the back corner of the Three Broomsticks, the one that had become unquestionably hers every Friday evening after work. “Thank you,” she simpered, and then spent the next half hour complaining about her week.
It had become tradition. Their tradition.
“...and then he had the gall to ask for my opinion. Can you-- Ugh! He’s the worst!”
“You’re the one who chose to partner with him.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes at Harry from across the table. “And I really wish you would stop rubbing that decision in my face.”
Harry chuckled and motioned the waiter over for another round. “Oh, come on. If I have to listen to you complain about Malfoy every Friday night, then I think I at least get to remind you that it’s all your fault.”
“Hmph.” Hermione folded her arms across her chest and took a nice, deep breath. “Fine. We’re done with me anyway. Your turn.”
Harry shrugged as the waiter set their third round on the table. “I’m good.”
Hermione scrunched up her nose in confusion. “You’re good?”
Harry shrugged again. “Yeah.”
Hermione leaned forward across the table and made sure that Harry couldn’t look away as she searched his face. Harry had never been a very good liar, and this was no different. But clearly whatever he needed to talk about was something he didn’t want to share. Hermione wouldn’t push him.
“Okay,” Hermione finally said, conceding. She leaned back into her seat and slipped her heels off under the table. “Well, can I tell you about how Ron bought a crib? For a baby that we don’t have? We now have a crib in our guest room, Harry. A crib.” Hermione scoffed. “I was like, ‘Why did you buy this?’ And he was all, ‘In case one of my brothers asks us to babysit.’ And okay, I admit that his answer was pretty adorable, but our guest room is more like a study anyway. The crib takes up nearly half of the room!”
“Hmm.”
Hermione glanced up in shock, her glass of butterbeer halfway to her lips. “I’m sorry. Hmm? That’s it? Just… hmm? We have a giant crib in our house with no intention of having a baby any time soon. It’s ludicrous.”
Harry nodded his head. “Right. Yeah.”
Hermione set down her mug. “Okay, what’s going on? You’re acting really weird.”
“Nothing―”
“I know something’s up, Harry. So just tell me.”
“I, uh… can’t.”
Hermione snapped her mouth shut. “Oh… okay.” Harry had a secret, which was fine. He didn’t seem like he was hurt or in pain, so she immediately discounted any serious illness or injury. He also didn’t seem angry or frustrated, so there was probably nothing going on at the office that needed to be kept secret from her.
But he did look nervous… and a little excited, if she wasn’t misinterpreting his crooked half-smile. The thing was, Hermione had been Harry’s friend for fifteen years, and she’d rarely been mistaken when interpreting one of Harry Potter’s moods. If she was a betting girl, she’d say Harry had some good news. Maybe even great news.
News that she was kind of dying to know now.
But she wouldn’t force it out of him.
Knowing Harry, though, he’d spill the beans any second, so she very much doubted she’d have to wait too long.
“Alright then,” said Hermione, smiling around the lip of her drink. “Well… did you hear The Weird Sisters are having a reunion? Lee Jordan’s radio show was just talking about it this morning. Oh! Side note— we need to get Lee to change the name from Potterwatch. I can’t believe he still calls it that—”
“Ginny’s pregnant.”
Hermione was left speechless for several seconds. “Oh my God. Oh my God!!”
Harry winced and ran a hand through his unruly hair. “I can’t believe I just blurted it out like that. Ginny is going to kill me. We were supposed to wait until tomorrow at the Burrow with everyone there, but I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I was dying to tell someone—”
“I can act surprised,” Hermione interjected. She reached across the table, grabbing both his hands and squeezing. “I can’t believe—” Hermione could feel her eyes stinging with joyful tears. “Oh my God, Harry. You’re going to be a dad.”
Harry looked up then, his eyes so glassy she could almost see herself reflected back in them. “Yeah.” He audibly swallowed and he couldn’t stop smiling. “Yeah, I am.”
***
Hermione slipped into the booth across from Harry, a butterbeer already waiting for her.
“Ron is acting like we’re the ones having a baby,” she said without preamble.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s babyproofing our house, Harry. Even our bedroom. Tell me, why exactly would your baby be in our bedroom? And we have so many toys from the joke shop, it’s utterly ridiculous. Yesterday, he brought home baby food, Harry. I mean, so... much... baby food.”
Harry laughed his head off, but Hermione was not in the mood to join him. She, quite honestly, was freaking out.
Hermione wanted kids. She’d always wanted kids. But… not yet. Not until her career was where she wanted it to be. Not until she felt like her solicitor firm was established enough that she could take a step away from it for a long period of time. Not until she was ready. And that could be a long while from now.
Right?
Honestly, she wasn’t so sure anymore. It was getting harder and harder to stand her ground with Ron on this issue, because… maybe she just wanted to sit down.
“Ginny started painting the nursery.”
“What?!” Hermione asked, snapping out of her inner-turmoil for a second. “But I thought you were waiting to find out the gender on the day he-slash-she is born.”
“We are. She’s painting the room… green.”
Hermione blinked. “Green? Like, what kind of green?”
“Umm… Holyhead Harpies green.”
Hermione tried to hold back her grimace. “Oh. That’s… nice?”
“I think the word you were trying to go for there was ‘horrible’?”
Harry laughed and this time Hermione laughed with him. “I’m so sorry,” she said, shaking her head.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Hermione picked up her mug of still frothing butterbeer and sighed her end-of-a-long-week sigh. “Weasleys are weird.”
Harry grinned as he picked up his own mug. “But we love them.”
Hermione smiled and clinked her glass against Harry’s. “But we love them,” she repeated.
***
Hermione slipped into the empty booth at the Three Broomsticks and flagged down a waitress. The girl who hurried over was new.
“What can I get you?”
“Two butterbeers, please.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back with your order.”
“Thank you so much.”
Just as Hermione lost sight of the waitress behind the bar, Harry slipped into the booth across from Hermione, setting James Sirius in his little baby carrier on the table between them.
“Apparently there was a Daily Prophet emergency, so Jamie will be dining with us tonight. Hope that’s alright.”
“Of course!” Hermione might have said that with a little more exuberance than was strictly necessary because Harry looked up at her with a brow raised. “Of course,” she repeated, more subdued. “Why wouldn’t it be alright, Harry?”
Harry’s brow lowered a fraction. “Alright, if you’re sure. I have to use the toilet,” Harry announced, standing up from the booth. “I’ll be right back.”
Hermione paled the second she was alone with Jamie. Obviously she wasn’t being as conspicuous as she’d hoped in regards to her feelings about the new baby in the family.
She loved this child so much. He was her nephew. He was the most precious thing in this entire world and she would do anything for him. She would kill anyone who would harm a single hair on his dearest little head. All she wished was to be his aunt.
But she couldn’t enjoy her time with him.
Every single time their eyes met, Hermione’s legs turned to mush and all her convictions about child-rearing melted away. She just wanted to sit. James Sirius Potter made her want to sit down so badly.
Jamie started fussing in his little carrier, and what was an aunt to do when faced with such an adorable show of emotion?
Hemione gently extracted the boy from his crib and curled him into her chest. “Hush now,” she whispered, bouncing the baby gently in her arms. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
Jamie stopped his fussing and Hermione was suddenly struck speechless when his big green eyes opened wide and looked up at her. He looked just like Harry.
“Your dad is the best,” she told him. “He’s just the best. You’re the best.”
Somewhere along the way she’d started full on crying and that’s how Harry found her when he returned from the toilets.
“Hermione, oh my—” Harry was by her side in less than a second, pulling her into his arms just as she’d done for Jamie mere moments ago. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
“I want one,” she admitted through her tears.
“What?”
“I want a baby. I think I’m ready. I am ready.”
There. She’d admitted it. She felt a hundred times lighter. Her legs had finally given out and she was falling. She just needed to sit down and the ground where she once stood tall was as good a place as any.
But Harry was there to push a chair underneath to catch her fall.
He hugged her tighter and pulled her head of bushy hair into the crook of his neck. “Wow,” he murmured. “Wow, that’s… terrifying.”
Hermione shot out of Harry’s embrace with appaul. “Excuse me!”
“What? No. No, no, that’s not what I meant, Hermione. Hey, come here,” he said, resting his hands on her shoulders and pulling her toward him again.
“What did you mean, then?” she asked, incensed and not budging an inch.
Harry sighed and gave up on pulling her back into his embrace. “I meant…” Harry groaned. “Okay, look, you always said that you’d only be ready to have a kid if you felt like your career— your company— would be fine without you for a bit while you were on maternity leave.”
Hermione blanched. “I’ve said that out loud?”
Harry snorted. “Multiple times, Hermione. Multiple times.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. And so you just said you were ready, and... my mind immediately went, ‘Wow, she must really trust Malfoy with the firm.’”
Hermione’s eyes widened and she let out a little gasp. “Yeah… wow, that is a terrifying thought, isn’t it?”
Harry smiled. “A bit.”
Hermione chuckled and looked back down at the tiny baby she was holding. Jamie had fallen asleep.
“I’ve kind of been freaking out recently because I didn’t want to admit that I was ready,” she said.
Harry leaned over and kissed his son on the forehead. “I noticed.”
Hermione rolled her eyes and shooed Harry out of her booth. “Go, get back on your side of the table or people will think we’re a happy family.”
Harry slipped into his soft leather seat in the back corner of the Three Broomsticks, the one that had become unquestionably his every Friday evening after work. He was grinning from ear to ear. “We are a happy family.”
Hermione glanced up to meet her best friend’s— her brother’s— gaze. She matched his grin.
Two mugs of butterbeer were set down in front of them. “Sorry these took so long. The mixer stopped working and we had to get Madam Rosmerta to help fix it. Is there anything else I can get for you?”
“I think we’re good. Thank you so much,” said Harry, and the new waitress was blushing as she walked away.
Hermione stood up to gently place Jamie back in his little carrier and then sat back down. She picked up her mug of freshly made butterbeer and clinked her glass against Harry’s. She brought the mug half-way to her lips before a realization struck.
“Oh my God. Will I be able to drink butterbeer when I’m pregnant?”
“Umm… I’m sure we can request non-alcoholic.”
Hermione frowned. “Boo. Maybe I can just… wait a little while longer before having a baby.”
Harry laughed as Hermione took a large gulp of her drink. “Sounds like a plan, Hermione. Sounds like a plan.”
“So…” Hermione said, setting her drink on the table, the contents of which were already halfway gone. “Can I tell you what Malfoy did today?”
Harry grinned around the lip of his mug. “Always.”