Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own Felix Felicis. Though I wish I owned both. Nope, that's all JKR.

Author's Note: This is just a quick one shot which was supposed to be funny, but as I wrote it, it became serious. I don't know how these things happen, but it's wonderful when the plot takes over the story, and you have no control.

Liquid Luck

"Are you going to be home tonight for supper?" Hermione asked, sounding far more chipper than usual.

Ron took a deep breath and scooped up the rest of his eggs with his fork. "I don't know – it all depends on where Felix wants to take me. Don't you think the air just smells… great this morning, 'Mione?"

She nodded, allowing her bed-head to get frizzier and she tightened the belt of her pink cotton bathrobe. "Alright, well let me know if you decide to come home. I feel like I haven't seen you in a week." Hermione wasn't exaggerating, either. It had actually been almost two weeks since Ron had come home before she'd fallen asleep on the sofa waiting for him. Just then, Ron turned his back on his wife and she noticed him slip something into his coffee. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Ron snapped, quickly spinning back to her.

"'What was what', really Ronald? You just uncorked a vial and tipped it into your mug!"

"No, I didn't!" Regardless of the severity of their conversation, Ron was still grinning. "I'll see you later, okay, love?" He kissed her gently on the forehead before swinging out the front door and closing it swiftly behind him.

In his speedy exit, Ron had dropped something from his coat pocket. Hermione didn't hesitate in stooping down to take a look at the clue; it was the small vial. She examined the little bit of potion he'd left in the bottom – peered into the vial, sniffed it, took a small taste. "That prat!"

It was pitch black when Ron was whistling his way back into their house, so much so that he didn't even notice Hermione sitting stiffly at the dining table. "Oh," he gasped. "Good to see you up, 'Mione! I'd love to tell you about the day I had…"

"Felix Felicis?" she asked, sternly. When his response was a crestfallen face, she repeated much louder, "Felix Felicis?"

"Merlin Hermione, would you be quiet! We have neighbours!"

"When did you start… where… no, when… No." Hermione's mind was jumbled. Finally, she decided to ask, "Where did you get it?"

Ron huffed. "I know a bloke, okay?"

"You know a bloke? God, Ron, you sound like…" Then a thought hit her. "How often and how long have you been doing this?"

"I don't know – maybe a month."

Which brought Hermione to her next question: "What have you been doing after work these past weeks?"

If the answer had been anything but what Ron had told her, she would have had a fit. "Just been invited to have drinks with a few of the people in my department. I didn't want to say no. I thought it would be good to get to know them."

She took a deep breath, which came out very shaky, and said, "Ron, I'd like it if you stopped relying on the potion."

"Why?"

"Do you drink it to make you happy? Why do you drink this so often?"

Ron didn't answer. He growled, mumbled obscenities under his breath and stomped violently up the stairs to their room. Hermione rolled her eyes and fell onto the couch. She burrowed her face into her hands and sighed loudly, "What am I going to do…?"

Every night since then, Ron came home late – a look of ecstasy filling his big, blue eyes. Hermione knew he hadn't stopped sipping on the Liquid Luck, but it was how she was to deal with it that was the issue. She thought he would have listened to her the first time she confronted him, but her husband was far deeper into this addiction than Hermione could have imagined.

Another week had passed when one day Ron came through the front door, and instead of seeing a baffled and distraught Hermione, he came face-to-face with something much worse: every friend he'd ever had was in his living room.

"What the bloody hell is this?"

"Language Ronald," Hermione said pointedly. "And it's an intervention. Your friends have all come to tell you how worried they are about your most recent… habit."

Ron scanned the room to see exactly who he figured Hermione would contact: Harry and Ginny, whose hands were tangled in his sister's lap, Neville, Luna, George, Dean, Seamus, and…

"How could you, Ron?" Mrs. Weasley sighed. "I never thought you'd get caught up in that. Why do you need luck; didn't I raise you well enough to know you can be happy on your own?"

"Mum, please…"

"She's right, Ronald," said Harry, the smile on his face indicating his not taking this whole thing very seriously. "You should know better than to indulge in things that make you happy for no particular reason."

Ginny turned to her fiancé and shouted, "Shut it!" Then she turned to Ron. "What made you do it?"

Ron could feel the awkward silence buzzing in the room. Everyone wanted to know the answer as to why. So he gave it to them, straight up. "I just wanted to see what it was like. That time Harry won it in Potions class, he looked like he had not a care in the world… I wanted to feel that. So I tried it once after the war."

"And?" George prompted. Hermione couldn't tell if he was trying to get Ron to continue, or he was curious himself as to how it was.

"It felt wonderful – no worries at all. Not worrying about money, not worrying about the possible status of my relationship… Everything was just expected to fall into place." There was a silence. Ron realized he'd begun the story, but that was when he tried it. That was years ago. "Then I got to thinking about that feeling recently. Work has been hard… I just wanted to remember what it was like. So I got some off a bloke at work, and then… Then I couldn't get enough of that feeling. Even on the stuff, I feel like I can't be happy enough."

"You have a great life, Ron," Ginny cooed. "You have such caring friends and family," she motioned at the people around the room, "you have a wife who has loved you for nearly nine years; you have a job with the ministry…"

"And a baby on the way…" Hermione said so it was barely audible by the group sitting closest to her.

Ron's eyes widened. "Say what now?"

Every eye in the room was on Hermione. "Uh, I said you've also got a baby on the way." Her expression went from stern to beaming in less than a second.

"A… a baby?" Ron's shock melted into pure joy. "We're having a baby?"

Without opening her mouth at all, Hermione nodded her head up and down to the point where it looked like it was just vibrating on her neck. Everyone jumped from their seat and gave her a gentle yet loving hug. When they backed off, Ron ran toward the love of his life and grasped her hand. "Seriously?"

"Oh, I'm very serious."

"I'll stop."

"The Felix?"

"I'll go off the Felix. I don't need a baby coming into this world with an unfit father."

Hermione and Ron rest their foreheads together and had a moment, but only a moment, as it was soon interrupted by Harry. "Hermione, if you had that knowledge in your back pocket, why'd you invite us all here tonight?"

"I wanted you all to know, too. I didn't want to use it as a reason for Ron to stop. I wanted it to be a piece of wonderful news that would be appreciated regardless of the situation."

"You're brilliant, Hermione. I don't deserve you," admitted Ron. "I really don't, but I'll be the best I can be, and if being clean will make me that wizard, then that's what I'll do."

Each person in the living room that night looked happily from one person to the next, unable to believe that they were old enough to have a couple of friends who were married and with child. The Felix Felicis lay forgotten, and Ron never looked back.

Except that one time at Harry's bachelor party. That was the last time he ever touched the stuff.