“You want to name our son Hugo,” Ron said, a disbelieving look on his face.

“Yes, Ron. Not only is it for one of my favorite authors, Victor Hugo – and I know you won’t say yes to Victor – it’s my grandfather’s name,” Hermione countered, putting her hands on her hips, leaving back slightly to balance her rounded stomach. “It’s important to me.”

Ron sighed, ignoring the jibe about the name Victor. “I know. But do you know how much I hate Bilius? The kid is going to hate us, Hermione,” he said. He shifted a sleeping Rose from one shoulder to the other.

“He won’t hate it if he’s not taught to be ashamed of it. The only reason you hated Bilius was because of the twins – you told me so yourself,” Hermione replied, trying to be logical. She maneuvered around a trash receptacle on the sidewalk. They were on their way back from the Muggle park near their home, but they needed to find a quiet alley before Apparating back.

“Yeah, but…”Ron trailed off. “Hugo just sounds odd.”

They snuck down an deserted alley, looking over their shoulders to make sure no one was watching.

“Odder than Scorpius? Or what about Calpurnia? Or Juturna? Those are just a few children than were born recently that will be at Hogwarts with him and Rose,” she said, then Apparated back home.

“You know I hate telling you you’re right,” Ron told her, appearing in the kitchen. He moved to go place the still-sleeping Rose on the sofa in the other room.

Hermione collapsed into a kitchen chair, cheeks slightly pink from the crisp Autumn air. “And yet, it happens so often,” she teased.

Ron grinned. “I’m not agreeing to the name yet, so don’t start celebrating,” he told her. “Give me a few weeks, since you’ve just sprung it on me. I reckon I’ll have at least a better argument against it if you give me time to catch up. I’m sure you’ve got a list of pros and cons and counter arguments hidden somewhere in one of those baby name books,” he joked.

Hermione smiled. “Maybe,” she admitted. “But I’ll give you some time. I don’t want to argue about it,” she said.

Ron had learned fairly quick that arguing with his pregnant wife meant he never won, so he agreed. “Me neither,” he said. He opened his mouth to say something else, but was cut off by a loud snore from the living room.

“She got that from you,” Hermione said with a laugh.

“Got the good genes,” Ron ribbed gently. “We can always use her as a tie breaker for a name,” he suggested.

Hermione shook her head, laughing again. “Last week, she told me she wanted to name her younger brother Puffalump after her favorite Puffskein comic character. I think not.”

Ron made a face. “You’re right.”

“I generally am,” Hermione said, smiling.