The Object - R/Hr - PG
Title: The Object
Author: shocfix
Pairing: Ron/Hermione
Rating: PG
Word Count : 800

Happiest of birthdays, my darling mrsquizzical.

You are the queen of domestic het, but I thought I’d blunder my way through it.


The Object
****
Books are good.

There is a huge pile of babycare books, both Wizarding and Muggle, on my bedside table.

Things in books are True.

Even things that have practical applications, well, it’s only when an imperfect human tries to implement things that Things go wrong.

I’m not sure how this applies when one book says Baby must be fed on demand, and another says Baby must be woken every four hours for a bottle heated to body temperature.

When one says Baby must be left to cry itself to sleep and another says Baby should sleep with you, as and when it’s sleepy.

I do know that Husbands should not be permitted to hide those books that make the Wives cry, especially when he has absolutely no idea what she is crying about.

Once more, I am the weak link, once practical applications are… applied.

It’s always my fault when things go badly wrong, under pressure, and what could be a more high pressure situation than sitting here, in my bed, staring at the Object beside me.

The Object is currently asleep, wedged against a large orange toy rabbit, and Ron has taken the opportunity to go and take a shower, which leaves me In Charge, and I don’t know what to do. Well, keeping absolutely silent seems prudent, because any sudden movement or noise could wake the Object, requiring definite Action on my part, and it’s much less than four hours since It was fed.

If only It would wake every four hours, to be fed on demand.

Part of me yearns for a colour coded timetable, with rows of bottles ready in the fridge.

But that part hid its face in shame at the look on Ron’s face, when I mentioned it.

I’d cleverly deflected his defence of breastfeeding by throwing a tantrum about his enthusiastic support of Fleur’s natural mothering methods and overabundant breasts, and he’d been so flustered that he hadn’t known how to fight back.

The door opens quietly and I look up, in panic, not wanting my visitor to disturb the Sleeping Object, but it is only Ginny.

“Ron said you were resting,” she says quietly, sitting heavily in the rocking chair beside my bed and arching her back against the weight of her belly.

“I can’t sleep,” I whisper. “It’ll wake up the second I fall asleep.”

“She,” Ginny says gently and I squirm. Then I flinch and resquirm as my tender flesh protests.

“I can’t do this,” I say in a low voice. “I have no idea what I’m doing, and I hate having no idea what I’m doing.”

“Hush, Hermione, you’re doing beautifully,” my sister-in-law says. “Look at her.”

I regard the Object.

It’s primed to go off, at any moment.

“You take her,” I say earnestly. “You’ll do a much better job.”

Ginny tuts and shakes her head.

“I had absolutely no idea what to do with James,” she says. “I held him like a Quaffle for weeks.”

I choke on a suppressed laugh.

“You will get the hang of it,” Ginny assures me.

“But all the books say contradictory things,” I admit, shame faced.

“Aha,” she says.

“What?”

“Get rid of them,” she says grandly and I reach out to put a protective arm around my pile of books.

“No,” I breathe.

“Seriously, Hermione,” she says. “If you’d rather get rid of the baby than the books, then something is wrong.”

“It is too random,” I say. “I don’t know what to do when It wakes up.”

“Feed it,” she says. “Her.”

“Every time It wakes up?” I ask.

“Can’t hurt,” she says. “If she’s hungry, she’ll take some, if she isn’t, she won’t. Think of her as a tiny Ron. He’ll happily take proffered food at any moment.”

“Oh, Ginny, what sort of advice is that?” I protest.

“Ron is closer to nature than most of us,” she says seriously. “I’ve always said he’s a big baby, and now it’s clearer than ever. What has he done since Rose was born, besides eat and sleep?”

I am about to defend my husband when the door opens silently and Ron and a breakfast tray slip into the room.

“Mum made breakfast and then I told her you were asleep and sent her home,” he says and Ginny laughs.

He puts my tray on my knees and, as I touch a piece of toast, the Object stirs.

“Eat your breakfast,” Ron says, lifting It… her in his large hands and jiggling her clumsily. “Gotta keep your boobs topped up.”

The baby… Rose squawks and Ginny takes her from him, draping her over her bump and rocking slowly.

“You’re much better at this than Harry was,” she says comfortingly, as his face falls. “He held James like a Quaffle for weeks.”