"Draco!" Hermione squealed. "You're doing it wrong!"
"I'm doing it exactly the way you told me to do it!" Draco said through gritted teeth, one half painted red toe nail looking back at him.
"No! You're not. You're thrashing the brush! You need to do it in strokes! Start at the base and work your way to the top." Hermione explained, taking the small brush from his hands showing him for the millionth time on her finger nails.
"That's exactly what I'm doing! You just think I'm doing it wrong because you can't see what I'm doing!" Draco argued, snatching back the brush. Hermione's face softened, her lip began to quiver and she looked ready to cry.
"Are you saying I'm fat?" Her voice faltered. Draco rolled his eyes, putting the small brush back in the bottle of nail polish and sitting down next to Hermione on their bed. He put his arm around her, his other hand resting on his wife's stomach.
"Of course not." He kissed her temple. "I'm saying you're pregnant." His voice was calm and soothing, not at all like it was a few seconds before. "So you need to trust me when I say your toe nails are the greatest of strawberry red."
Hermione blushed. "Alright."
Draco got up and sat back down at Hermione's feet to finish painting her toe nails.
