Work Text:
NT. HOSPITAL ROOM
RON: The baby's due soon.
He grasps Harry's unmoving hand. His fingers are icy. The nurse said the cold will help him heal, but he can't stop wishing for warmth, any sign that Harry is still alive.
HARRY: ...
RON: Hermione's excited to be a mum. You know she'd be here but... I just needed to talk to you alone.
Ron pushes a strand of Harry's hair up away from his face. It's as unruly as ever, now almost the same length as Sirius's on the run.
RON: This style doesn't suit you, mate. Haven't they been giving you cuts? Bloody fucking facility. You'd think they'd give more attention to the Saviour of Magical Britain or whatever shite they're calling you nowadays.
Ron pulls his hands away.
RON: (chuckles) I guess you wouldn't like that title any better than your old one.
HARRY: ...
RON: Look at me, already acting like a dad. I wish you could be there to see her when she's born. The mediwizard ran an imaging spell and she's so... perfect. No beaks or fins yet, you'll be happy to know.
HARRY: ...
RON: We're naming her after you. Of course, every other baby nowadays is named Harry something-or-another. But this is a little different, isn't it?
HARRY: ...
Ron rests his head on his hands. A noise, suspiciously close to a sob, escapes his lips.
RON: I'll cock everything up, won't I? Just like I always did, back at school. Probably already am. You know Dad had Bill & Charlie when he was younger than me?
HARRY: ...
RON: But I have to try, right? I can't be worse than the Dursleys and you turned out alright. Other than, you know.
HARRY: ...
RON: I love Hermione. I love our baby. I just...
Ron wipes his eyes with his sleeve, grateful his mother isn't here to call him out.
RON: Dammit.