A/N: This fic is part of my AU "Look at Me" side-verse. I have a long-suffering anon who requested this story a very long time ago and here it is, in 3 parts. Stay tuned for the rest being posted today. Finally, my Solicitor wanted me to let everyone know that North American No-Maj harmed in the making of this fic. – DG

Hermione walked into the flat and threw her handbag onto the couch. Ron walked in behind her, locking and sealing the door. "Want me to get the Floo, too?"

"I don't care tonight," she growled before stalking back to their bedroom.

"Fine," he yelled at her retreating back before she slammed the door to their bedroom.

Hermione retreated to the bathroom and locked the door. It was one of the few rules they had together – when the bathroom door was locked, the other needed some alone time. Ron barely needed it – but lately, for the last 3 months or so, she used it almost daily.

She sat on the toilet with her head in her hands, forcing down the nausea while painfully recalling dinner earlier tonight. They had tremendous news to share with her parents but everything had gone sideways with them. Whatever idea made her presume that today would be welcomed with joy and glee, not animosity and scorn? Where did she get the idea that their announcement would be met with appreciation, not accusations?

"Hermione, want some tea?" Ron yelled through the door.

"Yes, dear. Tea would be lovely," she choked out and heard his heavy footsteps walking back to their kitchen.

"So where are we going," Ron asked over his stack of parchment on the desk.

"Bamboula, over in Brixon. I've been craving some plantain and pumpkin parcels for a week now."

"Can't we make it at home?"

"The point is that Mum misses food from home so that's why we're going there."

"Is there anything on the menu that Mum and Dad will like?"

Hermione busied herself with the laundry on the table.

"You did invite Mum and Dad, right?"

She gave Ron a sideways glance and looked back at the folded sheets. "I thought we'd tell your family on Sunday, at Brunch. That way almost everyone will be there and we don't have it spread like Fiendfyre to the rest."

"Hermione, we talked about this." Ron pointed his quill at her. "We agreed to tell them at the same time, so if there are any problems, we'd be able to have Mum and Dad back us up. You know your Mum will have kittens that we're having a baby and we're not married."

Hermione dropped the linens on the table and stalked to the kitchen. "And when have we had time to spend months preparing for a bloody wedding?" She groaned. "The moment we announce a wedding, your Mum will bully her way into it, with all these plans I could care less about. Besides, this is the first fortnight in years where you've been on a regular schedule. It's also the first time in over a year I'm not swamped in work, doing studies, or spending every waking minute working on legislation." She leaned over and ran water over her face. "It's not like we've not had our issues but this was unexpected."

"Are you getting worried that your parents will question our choices, considering the change in situation? I mean, we've been living together since you finished at Hogwarts. It's not like you're barely legal getting up the duff before you're out of school."

"Ron, we agreed that we didn't need the state approving our arrangement."

"I proposed twice and you kept making excuses. I quit asking." Ron bristled at her comment and walked out. "You decided, Hermione. I went along because I wasn't willing to lose you."

"Because you'd ask at the worst possible times, Ron!" she tried breathing in through her nose and out her mouth to get the nausea quelled. "You asked me two weeks after I finished Hogwarts. I wasn't ready then."

"And the second time, Hermione?" Ron yelled from the bedroom.

"The second time was when you were leaving on a mission. Had it not been thirty seconds before you were due to leave, and given me time to think, I would have." She straightened up from the sink, praying that the nausea would leave before they were due at dinner with her parents. "How could I know that you'd be out on a mission almost ten whole months, with little contact?"

Ron brought a fresh vest for Hermione to wear. "I knew which is why I asked. You didn't trust me. But we've beaten this hippogriff to pieces already."

"Is that why you never asked again?" She felt the nausea rolling around her throat but kept fighting it.

"Yeah, it was." He rubbed the back of his neck once and settled his hands across his chest. "Then when I did finally get home, you were on your crusade on reforming the ministry to your vision of change and that included your ranting on social issues. I was expecting you to throw me over the side for the whole year I returned. So I didn't want to upset you."

"You didn't, Ron." She took the jumper from him. "Your support was why I could do what I've done so far and plan to do in the future."

"And then you were off on your own business trips and there for about six months, we barely saw one another. Merlin, it's a wonder we're at this point."

She slid the jumper on and pulled her hair back into an unkept hairband, letting her natural hair give her necessary inches compared to Ron. The bright orange jumper and brown slacks complimented one another on her slightly heavier frame.

"And here we are, about to go to dinner to tell my parents that I'm pregnant and still not married." She sighed. "I wonder who will get upset first, me or Mum."

"Mum, without a doubt. But I'm sure your Dad will want to kick my ass for not considering marrying you, given the circumstances."

"Nah, that'll be mum. She's the traditionalist."

"And yet she was the one who proposed to your Dad."

"It was either that or be separated permanently."

"See? That worked out so well," Ron cheeked.

Hermione picked up her purse and heard a distinct rattle inside. "I think the potions are rattling around in there."

"Potions? Nevermind." Ron looked at her non-descript purse. "Is that the replacement to the grotty beaded bag you carried for years?"

Hermione picked up the leather satchel that fit over her shoulder. "It is. The other got so disgusting that I couldn't clean it anymore. So I replaced it while you were gone on your last mission. The two outer compartments are normal ones but the middle zipper one is the one I did the charms on."

"Brilliant." Ron checked his pockets on his jacket including his wand in the holster on his arm. "So how are we getting there?"

"There's an apparition point a block from the restaurant. Mum and Dad are meeting us there." She looked at the timepiece on her wrist. "They should be getting there now. We need to leave."

Hermione went first out the door and Ron locked up behind her. "So you want to tell them, or shall I?"

"Together," she huffed before they went to the alley next to their building and ducked behind the rubbish dumpster. "Hold on and I'll apparate us there."

"You know better than I do," He muttered before they winked out.

Hermione flushed the toilet and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The sweet potato fries tasted fine the first time but not the second. Neither did the cod fritters or the jerked snapper on the menu.

"Hermione, open the door, please."

She reached up and released the latch before turning towards the sink.

Ron stepped into their small loo with a cup of tea and some plain crisps. Concern made deep creases on his face for her condition.

"I think dinner was too spicy and that's what set me off. Nothing tasted off but –"

"I dunno. Maybe it was that appetizer. It tasted off to me."

"That's jerk sausage. It's not supposed to taste like Mum's bangers, love." She reached past him to get the wet flannel for her face. "I thought a meal from home would have placated Mum. Obviously not," she spit out bitterly. "Why did I think she'd be accepting of the new situation?"

"I didn't mind. I figure it's a preview of Mum going barmy when we tell her Sunday at brunch. You remember how she reacted when George and Angelina let slip that she was pregnant. I don't think I could hear a thing the rest of the day after that tirade."

Hermione finished washing her face, looking quite ashy in the low watt light. "Maybe she'll come around in a week or so. I'm sure she'll call in a day or three to talk, regardless."

"And Dad?"

"I think he's beastly because you've not made an honorable woman out of me."

"We've been together for years now. Doesn't he know that you're content in our current situation and have no desire to run off to get married, just to placate him? Hasn't he realized that you're a feminist who doesn't need a man to complete her? Haven't you told him that, as you've told me, repeatedly?" Ron wrung his fingers suddenly. "We're partners and equals. I'd never ask you to be anything but who you are. And one of the painfully obvious things is that getting married is bunk."

"He still has some expectations, even if he is pretty open-minded."

"Well that's rubbish. We're together and I'm not going anywhere 'cept to go get a Butterbeer and listen to the Quidditch match."

Ron stalked out, leaving Hermione with her maelstrom of thoughts blazing through her head.

"I'll never turn down a meal from close to home, even if it's not what my grandmother would make." Dr. Jean Granger looked much like her daughter in features, but not temperament. She smiled at her husband of 30 years before turning her attention back towards the couple across from them. "Now tell me why you brought us on the other side of the river for a delicious meal instead of our usual haunt."

"Nothing gets by you, Mrs. Granger."

Ron froze when she turned her gaze from her daughter to him. Her green eyes and darker skin made him quite uncomfortable.

"Don't toy with me, Ron. Hermione wouldn't drag you to a hole in the wall, eating curried goat and things I know you can't stand just for dinner. No, she's got something else to tell me and used this meal to butter me up." She turned back to her daughter and Ron adjusted the collar of his shirt under his jumper. Dr. Robert Granger winked at him and watched the other two stare hard at the other.

"You're right. We do have something to tell you."

"Is Ron making an honest woman out of you, finally?" Robert piped up first. "I know you said years ago that she was it for you, and you for her, but would it really be difficult to exchange vows, or a blessing, or whatever passes for marriage. I mean, I know it's not a wee thing, all the preparations – "

"That's not it, dad. We don't need someone official," venom dripped from Hermione's cold words, "to make it a marriage or a blessing or even an arrangement. I find the whole thing deplorable, passing women from father to spouse with no say so in the arrangement."

"Hermione," Ron interjected and put his hand on her leg.

"Enough," Jean froze the conversation with her single word. "Hermione is going to tell us what is so important."

Hermione put down her fork and nudged Ron with her knee. He squeezed her thigh once and she took a deep breath.

"I'm pregnant."

Ron squeezed her leg again.

"I'm about 10 weeks along right now. The Healers say that so far, everything is going smoothly. The morning sickness is almost gone and as long as a I don't over-do it, and work has settled down unlike a few months ago when I was working sixteen hour days."

Ron broke in immediately. "And I've been with her to the appointments. The Healers are really fantastic, as well as keeping quiet about her condition right now. I'm sure the press – "

"Hermione," Jean whispered malevolently, "please tell me this is some kind of sick joke."

"Why would I joke about being pregnant with your first grandchild?"

Jean ignored her daughter's retort and focused squarely on Ron. "Why in the bloody hell would you get her pregnant before you married her? And it's been years," she hissed, "and you still won't give her the security of a marriage ceremony."

"It's not like that, Jean," Ron threw his hands up first. "I've asked, repeatedly. We're so damn busy – "

Jean waved her hands towards the couple in disdain. "Bollocks, Ron. Prioritites. And yours are completely cocked up. You haven't asked her in years, at least according to Hermione. Who do you think she is, huh, your concubine, your consort?"

"We've been busy, Jean."

"That's rubbish, Ron. We know you have time and chose other things," Robert interjected.

"And what would that be, Dad?" Hermione answered instead. "Ron's an Auror and he's off on missions almost monthly, 'til the last three months. I went to work almost immediately after I left school," she said loud enough to be overheard, "and read Law and worked full time and kept working and took a promotion and worked even more. When would I have had the time to schedule and arrange a full-blown wedding, huh?"

"It's not right, Hermione, and you know it. We have expectations," Robert retorted.

"And they include marriage before children. The child needs both parents, knowing that they are committed to raising them the best way they know how."

"And not in a situation at home where one can scarper off at a moment's notice. That's what not being married means – waiting for a different opportunity to do a bunk and leave you hanging."

"I'm not going anywhere. I love Hermione and she's one of my best friends. She's it for me."

Jean turned her stare on Ron. "And if that were the case, you'd have already married her."

"I asked – twice. Hermione said she wasn't ready. Then I was off for almost a year on a mission, missing her terribly – and when I return, she's finished reading Law and gotten a promotion to the Law department – and working sixteen hour days changing things. I barely got to see her and when I did, I wasn't going to cock it up by asking her to marry me." He blushed. "We're content as we are, frankly."

"Is that when you went off on that huge feminist agenda, trying to get equal opportunity legislation passed, like we talked about?" Robert headed off his wife before she could get a head of steam up. "You told me a little about that, writing legislation that was inclusive of so many maligned and outcast groups. Is that about the time he's talking about?"

"I still am, Dad. It's not a phase. I've been advocating those who are less fortunate, and using my position for an audience for years. Ron," she looked at her partner next to her, "came home from his mission abroad but I was working so much we barely saw one another. He worked nights and I was busy from seven to ten six days a week. If we were lucky, we could go have lunch with his parents on Sundays. Those months were terrible."

"It still doesn't excuse the lack of wedding, marriage, or even a civil ceremony."

"It's not important to me, Mum."

"This is more important than you, Hermione."