Ronald Weasley had been scared out of his mind many times in his young life. In his first year at Hogwarts alone, he had faced giant spiders and a massive three-headed dog christened Fluffy. But he was pretty sure that he had never been as panicky as he was now.

Healers dressed in mint green robes hurried in and out of the delivery room, never stopping to console the red-headed man who was groaning with his head between his knees just across the hall.

"Why won't they tell me what's going on?" he moaned, straightening up to glare at the swinging doors that separated him from his wife.

"Hermione's having a C-section, Ron," Arthur Weasley told him gently, taking in his son's pale face with a feeling of empathy. "They're very busy."

"Bloody gits are cutting up my wife and they won't even tell me how she's doing," Ron squawked, his voice cracking as he lowered his head between his knees once more. In the seven months since Hermione had revealed she was pregnant, the couple had matured greatly. Hermione had felt relatively calm during the duration of her pregnancy, but it took Ron a while to not be intimidated by her growing belly. Ron had just learned to accept that he was going to be a father when Hermione had gone into labor roughly ten hours ago, and all of his rehearsed calmness had flown out the window.

"How did you do this six times, Dad?"

"Well, I was by your mother's side each time, of course" – Ron grunted – "but you just have to remember that women are very strong creatures. Hermione is absolutely fine."

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O

Hermione felt anything but fine. She fidgeted nervously on the hospital bed, never taking her eyes off the doors in hopes that Ron would come through them. She knew it was hopeless, though; the mediwitches had kicked him out in order to prepare for the surgery. They had given her medicine and were waiting for the effects to kick in, but all Hermione could think about was Ron. She needed him. She was scared and was about to undergo the first surgery – and birth – of her life. Watching the Healers bustle around with their surgery equipment and wands wasn't helping. She breathed in deeply, leaning back into the headboard as her hands rested on her bulging stomach. Her water had broken hours ago, but the baby was being as stubborn as she was.

"Ron," she whispered, beginning to feel the sleepy numbness wash over her. A mediwitch hurried over, checked her blood pressure, and gave her a small smile.

"We're ready to begin the surgery, Mrs. Weasley," she chirped. "Just give into the medicine, okay? Good girl."

Hermione felt her eyelids droop, and she groped blindly at the darkness that was enveloping her.

"Good girl. Okay, Healer O'Hara, we're ready…"

O-O-O-O-O-O-O

"Husband of Hermione Weasley?"

Ron's head snapped up, a bit of drool escaping his lips and he shouted something that sounded suspiciously like "Don't make me tap dance".

The Healer grinned. "We're happy to report that your wife and child made it through the surgery successfully."

"Wife…baby…yeah, I have those," muttered Ron, his eyes wide and dazed as he struggled to put two and two together. Arthur Weasley let out a yawn and looked up at the Healer with sleepy interest.

"Can I help you?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "Ron, would you like to come see?"

"See…yeah. I wanna, um, see." Before he knew what was happening, Ron had stood and was following the Healer through those infernal swinging doors. Hermione hadn't died. He had a baby. Their baby.

Another set of doors – the only ones between him and his wife. The Healer gave him an encouraging smile. "Right in there, sir."

Ron nodded dumbly, seeing as he had forgotten how to speak. With trembling hands, he pushed open the doors, and the sight that greeted him was one of the most beautiful he had ever seen."

Hermione lay on a bed, eyes closed, hair half-sweaty, half-bushy, and she was holding a small blue bundle. One eye flickered open and she gave Ron, who was still standing in the doorway, a heart-stopping smile. It was clear how exhausted she was.

"Come meet your son, dumby."

Ron stumbled to her side, eyes never leaving the small, wiggling bundle in her arms.

"Hermione…"

She pushed away the blue blankets tenderly, revealing a tiny pink face and little fists, which had begun to flail sporadically.

"Hermione," Ron repeated, gaping down at the small, innocent life between them. "That's a baby."

"And it's ours," whispered Hermione reverently. "Do you…want to hold him?"

"Beg pardon?"

"Hold him, Ronald. Relax, will you?

She lifted the bundle, setting it carefully into Ron's reluctant arms.

"Hi baby," he choked, looking down at his son's features. That was definitely Hermione's nose, and her brown eyes, but the tuft of vivid orange hair was undeniably his.

"What should we name him?"

Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully. "Viktor? Cormac? Oh, for heaven's sake, I'm only kidding!" she added upon seeing Ron's murderous glare. "Well, what about Hugo, after that author we like?"

"Hugo…yeah, I like it. It's different. Hugo Weasley, future womanizer."

Hermione leaned over to slap his shoulder playfully, though it wasn't him who winced.

"You okay, 'Mione?"

"Yeah, just a little sore."

He planted a kiss on Hugo's forehead, then his wife's, giving her a reassuring smile. "You're amazing, 'Mione."

Her cheeks flushed. "You're not too bad yourself, Ronald."

"Well, let's not get too greedy. Let's go show off this little guy to his family, eh?" Right on cue, a mediwitch came in with a wheelchair, and helped lower Hermione into it. "Everyone's waiting in the other room."

Ron handed Hugo back to his mother, who held him with a sense of pride as the wheelchair began to roll itself out into the waiting room. There was a collective gasp as the Weasleys (and Harry) saw the newest edition to the family, heads snapping up.

"It's a boy," Ron announced, beaming. Molly let out a squeal.

"Oh, Ronnie! My Ron is a daddy!" She pulled her youngest son into a bone-bending hug; his face turned crimson. "And Hermione! Congratulations, my dear! He is precious. May I…?"

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley."

Molly was handed the baby, and it looked like she had no intention of letting him go.

"Good work, mate," laughed Harry, coming up alongside his best friend and slapping him on the back. "You have yourself a son. Who would have thought on the day Hermione came into our train compartment that you two would be married with children?" He leaned down to kiss a beaming Hermione on the cheek, muttering his congrats to his other best friend.

"Okay, mum, feel free to give up your hostage at any time," George announced, extending his arms for the baby. Ron tensed.

"George, I swear, if you – "

"Relax, Ronnie," chuckled George, "I won't drop my new nephew. Today, that is."

Hermione was surprised at how natural George seemed with Hugo, and figured it was just as well. Angelina was expecting a baby boy too in a few months' time.

"Looks like the little tyke's a hit, 'Mione," Ron muttered as they watched the Weasleys fight over holding privileges. "He's a total stud."

Hermione waggled her eyebrows. "Just like his dad."

"Don't try anything, woman. You just had a baby."

Hermione laughed and took his hand, which was draped protectively around the wheelchair.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

What did you guys think? Too fluffy? Just right? I've always loved the idea of Ron and Hermione having children so I had to write a fic. Leave a review, please! :)