Arthur Weasley is no stranger to unpredictable mood swings, dangerous trick questions and abnormal food cravings, especially after having witnessed his beloved wife carry of his children and give birth to them. He also knows that his life balances on a thin line when his wife's stomach grows immensely. So when his wife announced to him, after a carefully planned dinner by herself, that she was yes, indeed, once again pregnant, he knew better than to groan in frustration at having to earn money for yet another mouth, go through 9 months of well-worth hell again, and most importantly, he groaned at how impossible it is to rely on contraceptive potions and spells. So, instead, well-armed with experience, he jumped up from his dining chair and ran over to his wife and hugged her tightly, while showering her with passionate kisses. He promised himself that he would no longer allow his swimmers to venture into the void of his wife. Taking care of 5 children was hard enough, especially with one on the way. Oh the wonders of sexual reproduction, not to mention of labour.

If there is one thing men fear more than vasectomies, it is labour. One's view of life is never the same after those agonizing hours of labour. Well, though his wife might disagree, those 9 months are always totally worth it. Which was why, during those 9 months, Arthur Weasley was going to do everything in his power to ensure that Molly was being happy all the time and that any potential risk of her getting upset was away. Though, it didn't help that he was at work for most of the day and when he came back, he was too tired and stressed out to listen to her complain about her weight, her appearance and how the kids were doing nothing to ease her suffering. If he was in a really good mood, he would sit at the table, slowly feeding his mouth with food whilst nodding his head to whatever she was saying. And after he was done consuming his meal, he would take her in his arms, comforting her in her time of need.

But on the not so good days, he would all together ignore her during his meal, and simply and hopefully retreat back to the comfort of his bed. However, this usually wasn't the case.

Molly, being the stubborn and selectively blind person she is, would ignore all the noticeable signs that he didn't want to talk or simply wasn't in the mood for listening to complaining, and instead take his unresponsiveness as a sign that he didn't love her anymore and one thing would lead to another, which would barrel out of proportion and eventually result in Molly being angry for two days, him on the living room couch, massaging his head with ice or murtlap essence. And all this could be traced back to his fault. After all, it was in his bloody genes that his little buddies could escape contraception and somehow fertilize his wife's egg. Not that he minded having a great, big, loving family. But oh boy, did he wish that waiting for baby to be delivered didn't have to take 9 painful months. Why can't it be that you create a fertilized egg and the baby pops out. No swollen breasts, morning sickness, weird food cravings, and most importantly, no unpredictable horrible food swings.

But Arthur Weasley knew one thing. That despite, his continuous complaints and whines about pregnancy, giving birth to new life, a son or daughter, make you ignore all the hardships. It's all worth it. But whatever. For now, he would have to wait until the damn baby was delivered. And that meant another 3 months. Bloody hell.

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10:39...

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Wait, a minute...

10:39. Bloody hell, oh, bloody hell. Bloody Friggin Hell. He was 9 minutes late. An hour in Molly's eye. Oh crap.

...

Shit. Shit, shit, shit...SHIT.

He snatched his cloak up, and swiftly told Perkins, his colleague that "if Molly ever happened to asks, you held me up." Perkins dreamily nodded before focusing his attention back on the spell he was trying to fix. Arthur then quickly grabbing his wand, quickly apparated back home, hoping that Molly was somewhere napping or just simply too busy to glance at the clocks hanging around the house or the small, antique clock attached to a leather strap that had a metal buckle which was unfortunately wrapped around her thin wrist. Why the hell did he get her a watch on her 32nd birthday? He silently cursed himself for not getting her something less dangerous.

Shit, she was already dressed, gripping an umbrella very tightly whist tapping her foot rapidly. Molly glared at him with increasing anger as he tentatively stepped forward.

"Hi dear" he said happily, forcing a smile on his face.

She didn't reply, but instead, narrowed her eyes dangerously. Not a good sign.

"Come on, love, take my hand and we can apparate to the hospital." Shit. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he cringed. Fudge. How stupid of him. Obviously, she couldn't apparate when she was already so fragile. Idiot. Before he could say sorry, he received a loud thwack on his thigh. Obviously, being the unpredictable woman she was, Molly had opted for pain instead of noise.

Attempting to rectify his mistake, he rephrased his sentence. "Stay here, love, let me get the car." He glanced at her, hoping for a nod or a sing. Nothing.

It seemed the day wasn't getting any better. Being the idiot he was, he sat waiting in the driver's seat for her to get inside when on the other hand was waiting for him to help her inside the car. That didn't help appease her anger. Nor did it help that they were already going to be late for their 11:00 appointment. Not a bit. And as soon, as Molly was in the privacy of the car, all hell broke loose.

"What the hell is wrong with you? I can't believe you forgot. Of all things you forget. You forget the medical appointment with the doctor concerning your 6th child, Arthur. 6th child. You would think that after these five kids, you would remember things. Remember the simples of things." Her angry voice cut through the silence, leaving him nervous.

"Molly, d-d-dearie, I just lost track of time." he said as he made a hopeless attempt in trying to justify the situation.

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really." He replied, trying his hardest to lighten up the situation and by doing so, reduce the severity of his punishment by giving her the most adorable, forgivable, trustworthy smile he could offer.

"I was on a case after case, y'know, how busy it gets in the department and then, one of the heads just had to talk to me about another assignment. Honey, you know how it gets at work, right?" he explained, looking deep into her eyes.

"Of course, I do" she replied sweetly. Thank God, she's no longer angry. Hah! I am safe. He grinned inwardly.

He continued driving, smiling to himself and was about to turn on the radio, when she said.

"I know, Arthur, honey, I got it but how is it that when I checked with Perkins about what took you so long to get here to pick me up for a very simple medical appointment, he said that he, himself, Timothy Perkins held you." Oh Bloody Hell. "And yet, you told me that you were late because of some cases and the heads held you up. And I never though that Perkins was the head of any department. And If i recall, you are the head of the Muggle Artifacts Department, and it should be you holding up Perkins up, not the other way around." He didn't dare glance to the right of him, for fear he might die under her judgmental, wrathful glare.

"Molly, I-I-I can e-e-xplain..."

"I really don't know which story to believe in. My loving, trusting husband who would never tell me lies or my husband's colleague who I've met only a few times? I really can't decide." Molly's voice rang questionably.

I am such an idiot. How could he forget? That he told Perkins what to tell his wife. Blood idiot.

Shit.

"What was that, Arthur?" God, she was cruel.

"Nothing, Molly. You see, dear. Perkins was there there with me with the head, we were discussing the assignment together. After all, we are such good colleagues during work. Y'know, the whole principle the government wants it employers to abide by: "with cooperation, comes progression." y'know, just follwing the government." he hopelessly spewed.

"Really, now, Arthur? Then how is it that when I happened to glance a the clock that keeps track of our family's actions and position, it said that yours was, hmmm...daydreaming. Daydreaming, huh, Arthur? I never knew that daydreaming constituted as working or cooperating. I don't think that daydreaming during workhours was something the government supported. Now, is it, Arthur?"

Damn. Why in the world did he have to buy the clock for her? Oh, that's right. It was for our family, so that we could tell if one of us was in danger. Damn you-know-who. Why can't he die soon or drop dead of his own accord? It's hard enough working on muggle artifacts, and yet we still have to be aware and scared 24 hours a day, just in case he drops by the house to murder all of us. Great, now he has to live in fear of both his wife and you-know-who. Still, the risk increased since he was an Order member, people who tried to locate and track you-know-who's movement and location.

"Well, Molly, cause you see, the reason that I was daydreaming was because I am so busy and stressed out with the amount of reports we've been getting. And it's not helping that you-know-who keeps hunting people everywhere he goes and..."

"By the way, honey, look out there, the traffic's really bad. And we could get to St. Mungo's a lot faster if we just press this button that I installed, y'know. It would make things go a little faster. Please, Molly? Honey?" He broke off when he saw tears forming in her eyes. Not a good sign. Bloody hell, what did he do this time?

"Molly, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" he questioned, wishing and hoping that it didn't have anything to do with him.

His wife bawled harder. "You don't care about me. You don't care about your family. You don't even care about your child. You don't love me anymore. You care about your muggle hobbies more than you care about your family and your wife. You spend so much time with all the muggle artifacts, that you can't even remember to pick up your wife for a medical appointment. You can't even tell me the truth. You lied!" she cried. A fresh wave of tears came.

"You even lied to me about the silliest of things. Daydreaming." Breathe. It's just the hormones talking. Just the ruddy hormones. Just the hormones. More tears, "You don't even love me, I bet tat you were daydreaming about one of your girlfriends. I bet that you'll one day, leave me to be with those slutty, whoreish girls."

WHAT? Hormones, hormones.

"I bet that's why you couldn't even remember to pick me up for a medical appointment, because you were too busy, too preoccupied with shagging one of your girlfriends. That's why." And with that, Molly Weasley left her husband open-mouthed and boiling with anger, stretched to the breaking point.

"What the bloody hell are you on about? I am not shagging girlfriends, Molly. How could you fucking think of that? I fucking love you. You now the reason that I was daydreaming?" He shouted, ignoring her constant remark of "language", while trying to focus on driving.

"Why I was daydreaming during work hours? Why i lost track of time and forgot briefly, oh bloody briefly, about picking you up for a medical appointment? It was because I was busy thinking about our family which you and I created. How far we've gone through all the pregnancies and labors and even survived you-know-who. The time we've spent as a family and the time we've spent creating a family. And yet, you think and you doubt my love and care for our family? You would even question my loyalty, when all I think about during the day is about you ad yor family. I love our baby, our unborn child. How can you even think for a second that I don't care about the baby. I love it, and I am so glad it will join our growing family. I'm so happy that it's part of us, of our family. Don't you see? I bloody love you." He gasped, collecting oxygen after that long rant, that is, before he continued.

"And the reason I didn't tell you, that I was just simply daydreaming was because you've been so moody and unpredictable. I don't want to upset you or get you angry. I want you to be happy. I want our family to be happy and satisfied. The thing I want the most now is that, my unborn child gets delivered into a happy environment. I don't want to mess our family up." There, done! Hopefully, she understands it.

Now, any normal, understanding women would have stopped saying anything and the smile and kiss Arthur Weasley because what he just said, minus the swearing, was both sweet and honest. But obviously, Molly Weasley was not one of those normal women or wives. No, Molly Rebecca Weasley, was the exception to the rule. Though, if she wasn't pregnant, she might've been the rule.

She glared at Arthur, and said, "Oh, Arthur, who ever said it was your child," and with that, she slammed open the door and slammed it back closed and walked up to an abandoned department store and shouted something at a dummy, before walking straight through the window.

Bloody Hell.