He Left Handprints on Her Heart

He left Handprints on Her Heart, Chapter 4: Making Amends

Ron walked to the bathroom door and knocked, "Hermione, let me in, please."

She didn't answer him, but when he tried the door handle, he was surprised to find that it wasn't locked. He entered to find her sitting on the floor still sobbing, her face once more buried in her hands.

Ron knelt on the floor behind his wife. When he attempted to wrap her in his arms this time, there was no fight left in her. She simply held onto his arms and continued to sob as he pulled her back against his chest. Even when he was angry, he hated to see her cry.

"Oh, Ron. I'm sorry. I'm a terrible wife and mother. You should hate me for the way I've treated you. I really don't think I'm cut out for this. I'm just so bad at it. You deserve better."

It was clear from the desperate way in which she clung to him, the fight was over. She hadn't clung to him like this in a very long time. He attempted to console her, "Ssh. I got what I wanted. I got you."

Her voice trembled, "Ron, I'm scared. Who am I kidding? I'm terrified. What if I can't handle having another baby? What am I supposed to do now? The baby's coming whether I can handle it or not. I was trying to cook today and I burned dinner and – and—and—I" She was crying so hard, she was having difficulty catching her breath.

Finally, she'd said it. No one more than he knew what it cost her to admit her fear; to tell him she was scared of anything after some of the things they had faced; to tell him she was terrified – Well, that was something he hadn't thought he would ever hear her say. He had suspected she was overwhelmed, even scared, but he had never imagined the degree to which her emotions had risen. She was truly terrified at the prospect of failing as a mother.

He rubbed her back as he held her. "It's normal to be scared. I promise, it's gonna be okay. You won't be doing this alone, you know. I'll be right here with you. Hush, 'Mione. It's okay. No more tears tonight. Come here." There was no resistance when he turned her around to face him. Then, his ever-predictable-Hermione did something completely out of character; something which left him baffled. Through all the sobs that wracked her body and stole her breath, she began to laugh-- and laugh hard. Tears still poured from her eyes, but she was laughing and pointing at his face. Under his breath, he muttered, "These mood swings are completely mental."

Laughing at his comment, she surprised him yet again. She put her hand behind his neck, pulled him down and kissed him. It was a soft kiss on his lips, somewhat timid, as though she wasn't sure she should kiss him. "Oh, Ron, yellow is really not your color." She was half-laughing, half-crying when she looked at him.

"Huh? Hermione, you're not making any sense." He was completely confused.

She took his hand and pointed over to the mirror. "Go and look," she said, as she attempted to wipe the tears from her face.

Ron walked to the mirror. The mystery of his wife's laughter was, quite literally, evident upon his face. On each of his cheeks was a little yellow handprint. "Well, Rosie said I was pretty." He joined in her laughter. "Can I help it if my totally mental wife doesn't recognize true artistic talent? It takes a lot to make a face like this pretty, and our daughter has accomplished it. A genius in the making, I tell you, just like her mother."

"Ron, I am sorry. If you were to run out the door right now and never look back, I couldn't blame you. I have treated you so terribly. I feel fine one minute, and then it feels like someone has jerked a rug out from under my feet. I start to feel scared, terrified that I won't become a better mother. I've never felt like I couldn't do something before, no matter how hard I try-- and I have tried. I don't know any other way to explain it to you. I know that doesn't make any sense, but -- The things I've said to you, the way I've treated you—I – I—There's no excuse. I'm sorry seems pathetically insufficient, but I don't know what else to say."

"Say you'll stay."

She rubbed her hand across his cheek, as Rosie came toddling into the bathroom. "Come here, you," Ron said as he scooped up their messy, giggling daughter.

Hermione watched him with an expression of—Was that awe? Admiration? Respect even? Whatever it was, he was certain she hadn't looked at him that way in what felt like ages.

She was asked him in a voice so unlike her normal, confident tone, "How do you do that?"

"Do what, love?" Ron asked.

"Play with her the way you do. You never lose your patience. You don't raise your voice. She messes things up, and you laugh about it. It seems to come so natural to you. It looks so easy when you play with her, but then I try and I just can't do it. Why can't I do it, Ron? Why can't I be like you with her? I want to, really I do. I just don't know how."

"Is that what this is about? You think I'm better at this than you? Well, that's easy to explain. I go to work all day while you and Rosie are here. It's only natural she would test your patience more than mine. It doesn't make me a better parent than you. You're a good mum, Hermione."

"No, I'm not. She makes me so angry sometimes. I yell. I fuss. I cry. She drives me mad most days. I am the exact opposite of a good mum."

"You don't give yourself nearly enough credit. It was the same when I was little. Dad was always the patient one, but he was rarely home. The Ministry kept him working a lot. Someone had to take control of our house, and Mum was the one left to do it. I am sure there were nights—many nights after the twins were born-- when she would finally get us all to bed and sit down and cry. You think that made her a bad parent?"

"Well, no. Of course not, but--"

"Then why does it make you one? You have more in common with Mum than you think. You're both really talented witches who chose to raise your kids and be mothers rather than career women. That doesn't make you less of a witch, Hermione. I can't imagine anything more important than raising Rosie and this new baby. I also can't imagine anything more stressful. Do you remember right before we found out you were going to have this baby, and I took time off to spend time with you and Rosie?"

The blush on her cheeks told him she remembered that week as vividly as he did. They had put Rosie down for naps in the afternoon, and she had spent naptime wrapped in his arms.

"I remember. It was wonderful."

"You thought so? Well, I was exhausted. Going back to work felt like a vacation. Don't get me wrong, I loved every minute of that week, but it made me realize what a tough job you have. I bet our Rosie could give the twins at her age a run for their money, and she was only starting to walk then."

"You were tired? You never let it show." She looked at him, and he could tell she wasn't sure he was telling her the truth.

"I had other things to show you then, didn't I? You know, like how to make the most of naptime." He winked at her. He had made love to her more times in that one week than he could count.

"Um, I guess you did."

"You listen to me complain about my job all the time, and you rarely say anything about what you do during the day. Sometimes, I wonder if you're afraid I'll think less of you if you tell me some of the things you do during the day." The look on her face told him he was clearly on target. "Hell, I want to know what you do all day. Don't shut me out. Vent to me whenever you need to, whether you think you're talking about something silly or not. You've made a lot of sacrifices for us, and I probably don't tell you how much I appreciate you nearly enough. But Hermione, they're not sacrifices you have to make if you're that unhappy. After you have this baby, if you want to go back to work, we'll figure something out."

"I don't--"

"Ssh. You don't have to decide right now. I just want you to know you're not trapped here. Please, stop shoving me away. Next time something scares you, tell me. I'm guessing you thought being scared about a baby would seem pretty silly to me after some of the things we've faced?"

"Yeah, I did."

"If it scares you, it's not silly. I've been pretty scared myself lately. I was worried I was going to come home and find you gone. I knew you were at your breaking point. I just didn't know what to do about it. Every time I tried, you pushed me away."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"I made plans for us tonight, but I can cancel them if you want."

"Plans?"

"Um-hm, unless you're still leaving me."

"You're stuck with me, Ron Weasley."

"Good." He kissed her gently, barely brushing his lips over hers, whispering against her skin as he did so, "Love you."

"Me too."

"I think you, Mrs. Weasley, could use a nice, long, hot bubble bath." He reached for his favorite bubbles, the ones that smelled so good on her skin, and sprinkled some in the tub.

"Ron, what are you doing? I thought you said something about plans?"

"I did. This is part of those plans. It's Valentine's Day, you know?"

"Is it? Oh, I had forgotten. Ron, I didn't—"

"Hush. Listen to me. Tonight, I'm taking care of you, and you're going to let me, even if I have to tie you—"

"Tie me… Please do finish that sentence."

"Just full of cheek, aren't you? No back talk."

As if on cue, Rosie let out a high pitched squeal. Ron shook his head, chuckling under his breath, "The women in my life always insist on having the last word; even the ones who can barely talk."

He thought he heard his wife giggle behind him. "Was that a laugh? Huh?"

"Yes, it was. Ron, would it ruin your plans if I said I didn't want to go anywhere? I'm tired, and I don't want to have to drag Rosie out tonight."

"No, it won't ruin my plans. I just wanted to spend some time with you alone. We can stay here, but Rosie's going to Harry and Ginny's house for a sleepover."

Ron turned to his daughter, "You will learn, Rosie, there are few things in your life a bubble bath can't fix—or at least that's what your Aunt Ginny says," Ron laughed when Rosie started chattering in the baby talk that still spilled from her lips when she got excited. The chattering and squealing only grew louder when Ron turned on the taps, and Rosie noticed the bubbles starting to form in the tub. She stood on her tiptoes, clapping her hands and pointing into the tub. Ron held her so she could see better, and both he and Hermione laughed at the look on Rosie's face when she reached for a bubble and it popped.

He felt Hermione's hand as it touched his shoulder. She kissed Rosie's nose. "Mummy's sorry," she whispered.

The child smiled and held out her painted yellow hands, "Mummy, look. Pretty."

"Yes, baby, very pretty."

~ ♥ ~

When Hermione was chest-deep in fragrant bubbles and warm water, Ron knelt down beside the tub and put his hand on her stomach. The baby growing inside gave a hardy kick. "Did you feel that?" he asked.

She nodded, placed her hand on top of his, closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the edge of the tub. "I really didn't mean what I said about this baby being a mistake. I want this child. I'm just so-- I feel so overwhelmed, scared—I feel so many things-- I don't even know what I'm feeling sometimes. You know I didn't mean it, don't you? Please say you do, Ron." Her hand moved to stroke down the stubble on his jaw, and the tone of her voice told him how truly upset she was by her own words. She had faced dangers most would never face, yet the thought of another baby was terrifying to her.

He didn't answer right away. He couldn't deny the things she had said were hurtful. But he loved her, had always loved her, had forgotten what it was like not to love her. He softly kissed her lips, then rested his forehead against hers. "I know." His hand moved from her stomach to rub the inside of her thigh, and he kissed her again, sliding his tongue past her lips to dip inside of her mouth. When they finally broke apart, Hermione cupped his face with her hands. He turned one over, placing a kiss in the center of her palm. All was forgiven.

"Did you hear something?"

"Hm?" Ron's voice was husky with desire. It had been the first time she had allowed him to kiss her like that in such a long time, and he really wanted to do it again. Then he heard a loud meow from the other room, followed by the sound of their daughter's voice saying, "Pretty Kitty."

"Uh-oh." Before rushing off to rescue Crookshanks, Ron said, "Relax and enjoy your bath, love. I'll clean up our daughter's mess," he pointed, indicating the handprints on his face, "then take her to Harry and Ginny's house. Don't try to get out before I get back, okay. You might slip. Promise?"

"Promise."

"It's Valentine's Day, and I'm spoiling you tonight. Now, don't go getting used to it. It's a one time deal. Got it?" He was using his mock-firm voice, and laughed when she rolled her eyes. He winked at her, then turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

~ ♥ ~

When Ron brought Rosie in to tell Hermione good-bye, her eyes were closed. Ron realized how tired she looked. She needed to rest, so he put his finger to his lips and whispered, "Ssh, Rosie. Mummy's sleeping."

"Be right back, love," he whispered before he tossed some Floo powder into the fireplace. He laughed as their daughter saw the green flames and clapped her hands. Rosie loved to travel by Floo powder.

End of Chapter 4