'Ron, I am at work all day, fixing the regulations of House Elf Control and Liabilities, it is a very important and tiring job. All I am asking is that you do the dishes! It's not like I am suggesting you do it by hand, look Scourgify'

The empty, crusty dishes on their kitchen table flew up and were instantly clean. Hermione directed her wand towards the cupboard and as the door flew open, the plates stacked themselves and landed lightly.

She turned towards her husband, who was sitting on the couch in the next room listening to the Wizarding Wireless Network. He stared at her dumbly, 'Hermione, I am just not as good as you at household spells. My mum tried to teach me, but everything either breaks or gets covered in dust. It's not like I'm asking you to do it by hand, all you have to do is wave your wand.'

Hermione sighed deeply and sat down heavily. Ever since she had begun the Elf-Wizard Liaison Company she had been working 10 hours a day while Ron, who umpired for the Nation Quidditch League only worked on game weekends.

'I'm sorry Hermione, I know the past few weeks have been hard on you, and it'll probably only get worse. I'll try harder. Look, I'll ask Ginny to come over and give me run-down on all the house-work stuff. When are you taking maternity leave anyway? Once your home all day you won't be as tired and grumpy.'

'Grumpy? Now I'm grumpy?' Hermione burst into tears, as she had been doing every few hours since she fell pregnant. 16 weeks into it, Ron was still not used to her roller-coaster emotions. He moved forward to put his arms around her and she fell into him, sobbing hysterically.

'I'm so-sorry I'm crying, I am just so tired, and my feet hurt and Madam Malkins doesn't make maternity dress robes, only plain black so I feel ugly and fat and un-appreciated. I just want to go bed.'

'How about I run you a nice hot bath so you can have a soak, then I'll give you a shoulder rub? Sound nice?'

'Ye-e-es' Hermione grabbed a handful of Ron's robes and wiped her eyes. She leaned up on her tip-toes to give him a kiss on the lips. He gently put his hand on her face and used his thumb to wipe away a tear. He kissed her back, then took her hand and lead her towards the staircase. He pointed his wand to the roof, intending to have the bath full of warm water and bubbles when they got upstairs, but instead a wave of pink shampoo gushed down the stairs, soaking the floor, their feet and the bottom of the walls.

'Argh! Ron, I have had ENOUGH! You're spells are sub-standard, you never help out around the house, you don't care that I am at work all day, on my sore, swollen feet! Now you can't even run a bath! That is IT! I am moving into my parent's until you grow up! I wish you could understand how it feels to be pregnant!'

A large bang hurled them both off their feet. Hermione landed on her side near the entrance to the kitchen, Ron on the third step, in the foetal position.

'Ooooo' moaned Ron, 'Oh, it hurts'

'Ron,' she struggled to get up, 'Are you okay?' She got to her feet and ran forward, lighter on her feet than she had been in months.

'My stomach, my feet, my head, my chest...I think I got hit.'

'Oh God, Ron, get up, please be okay! Accio dittany!' The small bottle of midnight silver liquid flew through the air towards her, she stretched out her hand and caught it. 'Ron, open your mouth, if you drink some it will heal you faster than applying it to each different wound.'

He opened his mouth and she poured in three drops. Ron continued moaning, his hands clutched around his middle.

'Hermione, take off my shoes, my feet, I think I twisted both my ankles.'

She removed his shoes as she did so noticing that her cramps had disappeared. She pulled of Ron's socks and gasped; his ankles and feet were swollen to twice their normal size. She felt her stomach, running her hands over and over her torso. Her breasts had shrunk, her feet were no longer sore. She began laughing, the hysterics taking over again. She collapsed next to Ron, gasping for breath as she laughed uncontrollably.

'What Hermione?' Ron whimpered.

'Ron, I think your pregnant!'

'No, Hermione, I'm a man, YOU'RE pregnant. I think you've finally lost it. Can you levitate me to the fire, I need to go to St. Mungo's. I really don't feel well, the dittany isn't working.'

'It's not working because you're not ill, what you're experiencing is perfectly natural.'

'Well how did this happen? Come on, you're meant to be the smart one, how did I get pregnant?'

'I'm not sure. I've heard of pregnant women who get so emotional they cannot control their magic. Perhaps I did this by accident. Hmm...'

'Hmm? Your magic bursts out of you like a fire-cracker and gets me pregnant and all you have to say is HMM? HERMIONE, FIX ME!'

'Ron, calm down, I cannot think while you screaming at me. OK, you're right, perhaps we should go to St. Mungo's, Wingardium Leviosa!' Ron flew into the air, still clutching his stomach and Hermione directed him towards the fire-place. She walked over and reached into the jar on the mantle containing the green powder. 'St. Mungo's!' She cried throwing it into the flames. She helped Ron into the fire and he vanished in a puff of green dust. She threw in another handful and stepped in after him. 'St. Mungo's!' She repeated as her kitchen disappeared.