He rolled onto his back, shifting his shoulders until he found a comfortable place against the cool, hard stone that would be his bed for the evening. Muttering under his breath, Ron surveyed the tent pitched around him in all its muggle glory. His Auror training told him, logically, that it was harder for dark wizards to track a muggle tent as opposed to a nice comfy wizarding one, but that didn’t make him feel much better.

It had been nearly three weeks since he had the luxury of sleeping in his own bed at home, nestled beside his beautiful wife. A beautiful wife who had remained as stoic as ever when Ron had received this mission to go out into the field for an unspecified amount of time. Closing his eyes with a sigh, her face swam into his vision; the way her hair blew in the wind as she tugged on the bottom of an old Weasley sweater that was far too big on her, lip held firmly between her teeth as tears pooled at the corners of her chocolate eyes.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal; it wasn’t a big deal any other time. Hermione had been there every step with Ron through his training and his missions while they were dating, and nothing had changed since they had gotten married.

But something had changed, Ron chided himself inwardly. He ran a hand back through his dirty hair and then attempted to shift his makeshift pillow (his pack) into a more comfortable shape. Everything had changed since their wedding, a few for the better and a lot more seemingly for the worse.

At moments like this, left alone with his thoughts, Ron wished he had someone to share a tent with, but as the leader of a three-person mission, that wasn’t always possible. Because his thoughts always ended up going back to Hermione, and how much of a prat he felt like for leaving her when she needed support.

That was his job as a husband, right? To support her, to be there for her and wipe her tears and kiss away her fears and let her know that he was with her every step of the way.

He had vowed those things to her not a year ago, and already he had gone against everything he intended to uphold by being here. Again, the logical side of Ron made mention that this, being an Auror, was his living and he just couldn’t not go.

But why hadn’t he set out a time-frame he was willing to be away for, why hadn’t he suggested a co-leader so he could skip off once in a while to see her, why hadn’t he just said 'sod the force' and said no for once in his life?

A flapping at the opening to his tent had Ron sitting upright in a flash, wand at the ready as he inched forward. There was no shouting from the outside; Robinson and McArthur weren’t rookies so much that they would stay silent if they had been attacked.

But there was hooting, and as Ron carefully drew back the flap he was met face to face with a familiar owl that with age had calmed down a considerable amount.

"Pig?"

Hooting happily, the creature settled onto his pack and with a look of intense accomplishment stuck out his leg. A leg, which, Ron noted with a sudden tight constriction of his chest, contained a rather large roll of parchment.

"You tracked me down on Hermione’s orders, didn’t you? Status updates from the Force aren’t this bloody long!"

Settling himself back down onto the ground, Ron watched as Pig flew around a few times before finding a suitable perch in the corner, before unrolling the parchment and taking in Hermione’s wonderful lovely script.

Dear Ron,
I know quite well that on missions as dangerous as this one I’m not to contact you in fear of giving away your position, but I hope you’ll forgive me for bending the rules just a little bit this time.

It’s been nearly three weeks since you left, and although I have so much to do I don’t know how I sleep or even breathe, I find myself missing you terribly. It’s funny because you being away on missions isn’t something new, I know they’re part of our lives, but this being your first big one since the wedding has gotten me so tangled up.

The twins said that it was because now I’d be a widow if you died, and Ginny then Bat-Bogey hexed them both good for it. They can be horrible, insensitive prats sometimes, you know? Of course you know, you grew up with them, but I felt so awful afterwards I went up to your old bedroom and had a cry.

I seem to be doing that a lot lately, and so I think my eyes are in a perpetual state of puffy now; maybe it’s good that you’re not home to see what a wreck your wife is turning out to be.

I mean that jokingly, love.

I’m doing much better than I expected from the way I carried on after you left; your mother of all people found me sitting in the living room with a half-empty bottle of wine watching muggle soaps. I half expected her to lecture, but she just sat down with me and we both had a good cry.

She’s quite the remarkable woman, your Mum.

Since then I’ve just tried to keep myself busy, and heaven knows it’s not a hard task. Harry and Ginny, as I’m sure you’ve figured out, are safely back from their Honeymoon and are content and happy and radiating and glowing with that newly married sparkle. Ginny’s not back to her regular bookstore hours though, so I’ve been picking up some of the slack. It’s not all so bad, and the store’s booming with customers so much that I’m thinking it might be the right time to think about expansion into Hogsmead.

I think I might have to let Ginny handle that when she gets back though, as I’ve been (obviously) spending quite some time at the hospital each day. Dad is doing as well as can be expected, going through the treatments he’s been. Honestly, I think it’s harder on Mum and I to see him this way. The doctors are still giving him only a 50 chance, which devastated Mum, but made Dad smile because “at least it’s not worse.”

His sense of humor through all of this has been my shining ray of light. We had a conversation the other night, just the two of us, about me and you, and how he’s so pleased to see that I’ve married someone that can make me laugh just as hard as he can. He said when you get back you’re to see him, and he’ll explain airplanes more to you. He’s been reading quite the book about them to help pass the time.

Mum has stopped going to the hospital as much for Dad’s treatments, she stays at home while I take him and when I bring him back. Like I said, she’s devastated about the whole thing, and it’s starting to show, but she’s still resolved to do everything she can. Dad has been insisting that she come with me to the Burrow for Sunday dinners, and my aunt stays with Dad while we go.

Your mother, of course, delights in having her there and I think that the activity and hubbub of the dinners are helping her. Charlie and Caroline and the baby came last week, and little Cassidy seemed to brighten her whole face.

Everyone of course says hello to you; there were plenty of questions abound as to if I knew when you would be getting back, and how you were doing and if I had marched into the Auror Department yet demanding answers about what was going on.

All in all it was a very boisterous dinner, what with Charlie and the girls, and Mum, and Harry and Ginny being back, and several explosions (courtesy of your brothers), and a rather loud announcement that Fleur decided to shriek while we were eating our deserts.


At this Ron chuckled, shifting position for what was probably the thousandth time, giving his chin a little scratch. It would be of course Fleur to shriek some important announcement about someone. Looking over a Pig, sleeping soundly, he let his mind wander to what he had read between the lines; Hermione’s obvious need for an ear to listen unabashedly to what was going on, the parchment crinkled in places from stray teardrops, her fear of her father’s illness but raw determination to do it all and more, and bits and pieces of her heart being sent to him in hopes that he would come home alright.


Of course, the whole family is there eating in happy silence (or as silent as the Burrow will ever get), and I'm sitting just across from Fleur sandwiched between Ginny and Angelina (who's wearing an engagement ring now), and all of us are talking with Caroline a few seats down about Cassidy and how wonderful children are.

And then Fleur looks at me, and she dropped her fork to her plate, and do you know what she announces?

That I’m pregnant.

And I don’t know whether I’m more upset that she announced it, or that I didn’t get a chance to tell you first.

Which really is why I decided to bend the rules… because I miss you, and I want you to know I’m pregnant, Ron, so you better not die out there because I will be very, very angry at you.

So close your mouth, and stop berating yourself about leaving me, and just focus on coming home.

For both of us at home.

Be careful. I love you, my favorite prat of a husband. Don’t make me come looking for you out there.

Love always,
Hermione

It took Ron only a second to register what he had just read, head tilting slightly to the side as his eyes re-focused on two words: 'I’m pregnant'. Shouting, he rolled the parchment quickly and grabbed his pack, Pig hooting sleepily around his head as Ron stumbled outside the tent.

"Robinson! McArthur! Change in plans! Pack up camp! We’re going home!"