Disclaimer: If I am in fact JK Rowling, you'd better be afraid. Her writing's gone down a notch. : )
Ron was anxious, which wasn't particularly unusual for him. There had been many a time in the past 13 years that he had been anxious, but this felt different somehow. A strangled cry could be hears from behind the kitchen door. Ron winced. At times like these he was glad he wasn't a woman. He began to pace in front of the closed door, half-wishing he wasn't alone. After pacing for about two minutes, Ron gave up and sank onto the sitting room lounge. He heard another cry from inside.
"Aagh! I can't…Harry, you do it for me!"
"Come on, Gin, you're doing great, you're going to be fine." Ron smiled to himself. Not a soul alive could doubt how perfect Ginny and Harry were together. As happy as he was for them, however, sometimes Ron still wished his baby sister had married someone other than his best friend. Ron clapped a hand to his head as he remembered the family dinner the Weasely's, plus Harry and Hermione, had shared nine months ago.