I am currently editing all of the stories, even oneshots, that I wrote five years ago simply because my writing left something to be desired. I don't want to change the context or plot, however, so this is going go against the epilogue of DH, which came out later.
"Hermione, what do you think of Georgia and Sarah?"
The brown-haired witch turned her bushy head toward her husband, Ron Weasley. The bulge in her belly was growing enormously in size and she waddled over to him with one hand over her very pregnant stomach. She raised a finger to her lips, mulling the names over in her mind. The two of them were both well aware that she was due, any day now, for twin girls. Unfortunately, they had procrastinated and were barely deciding on baby names.
"I'm not sure," she told him. "I kind of like Rose and Laura."
"Rose?" asked Ron, making a scrunched-up face. "Hermione, that's the color of your cheeks when it's hot outside. I am not naming my child after my wife's facial complexion!"
Hermione pouted, attempting to cross her arms over her large bosom. "Come on, Ron, Georgia? That's not …pretty enough."
Ron walked over to her, his red hair flaming in the light. "Please, Hermione?" he asked, suddenly seductive. She raised a brow in amusement, but when she swiftly felt his tongue lash out against her neck – the spot that was simply irresistible – she found herself groaning.
"Ron, I am pregnant!" she moaned in half-hearted protest as his mouth did amazing things to her creamy neck. "Can't you wait a few bloody weeks?"
"Hermione," said Ron, his voice deeper than normal. She sighed and succumbed to his bait, thrusting her arms around him and treating him to a few tricks of her own.
"Georgia and Sarah, then," she said, surrendering as he carried her very pregnant self (with an unusual amount of strength, bless his Quidditch-obsessed soul) to the bedroom.
One week, four days, and seven hours later…
The scream that emitted from Hermione's mouth could be heard several wards away, she was sure. Damn. The Cruciatus had been bad, she admitted, but this … this was torture. And, to her over-emotional displeasure, Ron was standing next to her, wincing as she clasped his hand in a death-grip. He thought he was in pain? The blasted bloke would never have to do this in his lifetime!
"That's it, Mrs. Weasley, just keep pushing," said the healer. He was not encouraging at all as he held her first unnamed child. Hermione had done this about six minutes before, when her first daughter had been born, but all joy that she had felt was gone and replaced with another relapse of this excruciating pain. Why twins? she moaned to Merlin above.
"I've – pushed enough – thanks," she gasped sarcastically, wanting her second daughter to bloody come out already. "How – your mother – did this seven – times, Ron – I will never – know – AUGH!"
Within a moment, a head popped out, slowly followed by the rest of its body as the healer helped remove it from Hermione. "Another daughter!" he said happily.
Hermione was still tense, but she managed a true smile as she looked at both of her daughters. They were beautiful, she decided. She looked up at Ron, who was grinning down at her. "We did it, Hermione!" Catching her violent look, he added hastily, "Er, you did it!"
"Damn right," she said, before glancing at her daughters again.
"What would you like to name them?" asked the healer curiously.
As Ron opened his mouth to answer, Hermione cut him off. "Rose Ginevra Weasley and Laura Luna Weasley," she said sternly.
As the healer trotted off to take care of the newborns, Ron turned to Hermione. "I thought we agreed on the other names?"
Hermione stared at him incredulously. "Ronald, if you would like to have two living human beings the size of several bowling balls come out of your blasted vagina, then by all means, choose the names."
"Rose and Laura," said Ron, gulping nervously. "Beautiful."