Hermione is very pregnant and the hormones are raging full force. Poor Ron.

Hermione lay on her back on the bed. She was very uncomfortable. Her seven-months-pregnant belly was pressing down on her lungs and her bladder. But she couldn't get up. She had been trying without success for the last quarter of an hour to get off the bed but she just couldn't manage it.

Whose idea had it been to do away with a bed frame and put the box spring and mattress right on the floor? Why had she agreed? It was too low! They weren't that tight on money. They could have afforded a bloody bed frame!

"Ron!" she tried to shout but her lungs were being compressed by the baby. She shifted slightly onto her side to relieve the pressure. Her lungs felt better so she tried again. "Ron! I need you!"

Her ever faithful husband came running. "What's wrong? Is it the baby? Are you in pain? Should we go to St. Mungo's?"

"I'm stuck," she whined. It was unattractive and she knew it but she couldn't help it.

She heard him sigh. "I can fix that. Give me your hands."

Hermione held out her arms and let Ron haul her to her feet.

"Thank you," she mumbled staring down. Normally, she'd be staring at her feet but she hadn't been able to see them for weeks.

Ron pressed a kiss to her head. "You're welcome." He wrapped his arms around her from the side and rubbed her belly absently. She felt the baby shift.

"Oh!" Ron gasped and laughed. "I felt that!"

"Me too," she said. "She's saying get me out of this fat lady."

"What? You're not fat."

"Yes I am!" Hermione pushed out of his arms and stood in front of the full length mirror. "Look at me! I'm huge!"

"Give yourself some credit. You're growing a person inside you," protested Ron. "And I think you look beautiful."

"Oh you!" she waved a dismissive hand at him. "You would say that. This is your fault. You did this to me."

"What?"

"I had a career," she said, suddenly going off on another subject. "I had a life, friends. I felt rewarded in my life! Now I barely leave the house. I've become a housewife! What the hell happened to me?" She sat down on the chair in the corner.

"What happened?" Ron repeated. "Well you were there."

Hermione grabbed the pillow off the bed and flung it at him. "I know that, you nitwit! I wasn't talking about sex. I was talking about me!"

"I- I'm sorry, Hermione."

"I'm a whale!" whined Hermione. "I was just stuck like one! I'm a beached whale."

"You're mad if you believe that."

"Oh, so I'm mad now?" she cried. "I'm fat, I have no life, and I'm mad. And look at this." She leaned close to the mirror and inspected her chin. "I have a pimple. I haven't had a pimple since I was seventeen."

"That's not a pimple. It's a scar," Ron said.

Hermione acted like she hadn't heard him. "I'm fat, and I'm crazy, and I have teenage acne. What am I going to do?" And Hermione promptly burst into tears.

Ron stood, frozen, staring at her. Slowly, so as not to upset the wild beast, he backed towards the door. When he reached it, he bolted down the hall to the foyer of their flat, grabbed Hermione's purse, and started going through it.

He still didn't understand the house phone. There were too many buttons. But he had learned to use Hermione's mobile. He knew to press the button that said "contacts," press the down button four times to select Ginny's number, and then press the green button to call her.

He listened to the ringing and prayed that his sister would answer.

"Hello, love," Ginny's voice had never been more welcome.

"It's me," he hissed. He didn't want Hermione hearing him. Though she was wailing so loudly, she probably wouldn't hear an earthquake.

"Ron? Why are you on Hermione's phone?" Ginny asked.

"You need to come over."

"I do?"

"She's crying," Ron whispered.

"What?" Ginny demanded. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Ron said, his voice gaining a few decibels. "She got stuck on the bed and the next thing I know, she's calling herself a whale!"

Ginny sighed. "My God, Ron. What are you going to do when the baby comes?"

"Babies don't cry for no reason," Ron said. "I can just change its diaper and presto! Problem solved."

From the bedroom, Hermione was still crying. "I can't do this!" she wailed.

"I'll be there in ten minutes," Ginny told him.

"Wait!" Ron cried. He heard the desperation in his voice. "What do I do in the meantime?"

"Get her some tea, something without caffeine. But don't go too near her. I don't want you making it worse."

Ron boiled the kettle. Then he prepared a tray with the teapot, two cups, one for Ginny, and a small plate of biscuits. He put it carefully on the hall table next to their bedroom. Then, he knocked and bolted back to the living room.

A second later, he heard the sound of the door opening and Hermione take the tray and close the door again. He let out the breath he'd been holding.

The fireplace whooshed and Ginny stepped out, brushing soot off of her clothes.

Ron rushed over to embrace her.

"All right, all right," Ginny pushed him off. "Where is she?"

"Bedroom."

Ginny disappeared down the hall. Ron sat nervously on the sofa. He thumbed through an outdated edition of Quidditch Quarterly and tried to resist the urge to listen at the door. He wondered vaguely if Ginny had been like this for either of her pregnancies.

Ginny eventually came out and sat down next to Ron.

"How is she?" he asked.

"Fine," Ginny smiled. "She's going to clean herself up." As if on cue, the shower turned on.

"What happened? What did I do?" he stammered.

"You didn't do anything," Ginny soothed her big brother's ego. "It's just the pregnancy hormones. By the time she's out of the shower, she'll be her old self again."

"Are you sure?"

Ginny sat back and looked at him like their mother sometimes did. "I have two children but, no! I'm just pulling this advice out of my arse."

Ron buried his head in his hands. "Sorry."

"It's all right." Ginny patted her big brother's shoulder. "If it happens again, just do the tea tray thing again and wait it out. It'll pass. And the biscuits were a nice touch."

"Were they?" Ron brightened. "Oh good."

"She loves you, you know."

"Yeah, I know. It's just... she said it was my fault."

Ginny laughed. Ron looked up sharply.

"I said that once," she told him. "While I was pregnant with James. It's just the hormones. She doesn't mean it."

The two siblings sat in silence for a moment, listening to the shower run.

Ginny stood up. "I have to go home. Albus will need nursing soon. But try to relax. It'll be fine."

"But I have no idea what I'm doing."

Ginny smiled and patted his shoulder again. "Do you think any of us do?"

With a whoosh of the fireplace, she was gone. Ron sat back down. Hermione wasn't due for another ten weeks. He sighed. They were going to be the longest ten weeks of his life, he could just tell.