Ronald Weasley Experiences Hormones
Ronald Weasley sank back into his chair, and flicked on the television. Ever since he and Hermione got married, she insisted he be introduced to Muggle technology. He had protested at first, but soon gave in; some of it really was neat. The television was his favourite, and he loved to watch the nightly news, and the occasional football or rugby game, laughing at how idiotic they looked.
"Ron? Are you home?" called a voice.
"Yes Hermione!" shouted back Ron.
His wife of three years walked into the room, leaning back slightly to accommodate how front-heavy she was becoming. She was nearly six months pregnant, and the bulge she carried around was becoming quite heavy. Hermione often lamented about the fact that it was unsafe to charm her belly to be less heavy.
"Why do you never tell me when you get home, Ronald?" she shouted at him. "You just walk in, never remembering to close or lock the door, and then park your lazy arse on the chair and watch the bloody tele all night long!"
Ron blinked in surprise. Hermione's rage was unusual, even for their fights.
"I don't know what you're talking about, dear," he replied nonchalantly. Hermione huffed, and turned on her heel to walk back into the kitchen where she was probably eating raw cookie dough again.
"Hermione, could you grab me a butterbeer?" Ron called after her.
Worst. Decision. Ever. Hermione whipped around and stomped back to him, looking very similar to a rampaging hippogriff.
"No I cannot Ronald! I have been running off my feet all day trying to get the nursery set up, and cook meals, and occasionally stopping to run to the toilet because the bloody morning sickness won't let up! I cannot get you a butterbeer, and I refuse to! Stand up and get it yourself!" She finished by shouting her last words in his face, and then storming into the kitchen once more. Ron heard the clanging of a metal bowl, and the opening of the freezer door. Meekly, Ron tiptoed into the pantry, and grabbed a slightly dusty bottle from the top shelf.
As he walked out of the kitchen, the sound of violent retching reached his ears from the back of the house. Ron put his unopened bottle on the table beside his chair, and walked towards the bathroom, the idea being to hold back his wife's hair if her mood no longer resembled that of a dragon.
He pushed open the door carefully and saw a very sick Hermione kneeling before the toilet. He slowly lowered himself to his knees, and pulled her hair out of her face and she vomited.
It was beyond Ron as to why she was still suffering from morning sickness, especially when it was really six o'clock at night, but he had given up trying to understand most things pregnancy related.
"Thank you Ron," said Hermione when she was finished, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. Ron gripped her elbow and helped her to her feet, making sure she didn't stumble and fall.
Hermione wrapped her arms around him, and promptly began to sob into his shirt. Ron, slightly taken aback, just held her closer, and rocked her back and forth.
Unfortunately for him, her sobbing did not subside. Ron, beginning to panic now, lead her into the sitting room, and lowered her into her favourite chair. Hermione continued to sob uncontrollably while Ron tried and failed to comfort her. He rubbed her back, held her close, whispered happy words in her ears, and even kissed her forehead. He took her feet in his hands and rubbed them, knowing by the swelling that they were sore, and even tried to sing (something he was so bad at it usually worked since Hermione would either laugh at him or tell him to stop, both successfully stopping her from being upset).
But nothing seemed to work this time. Finally, after a good hour of uncontrollable tears, Hermione suddenly wiped her eyes and announced that dinner should be ready. Ron gaped after her, but, at the promise of food, soon regained his composure and went into the kitchen.
It was a lovely dinner. In the interest of eating healthy for the baby, Hermione had started making healthy, and usually vegetarian and/or organic meals. Tonight's was a lovely salad, paired with veggie wraps (most of the vegetables were home-grown by Molly), and for dessert, fresh fruit tossed together in a fruit salad. In the interest of keeping Hermione sane, Ron didn't whine about the lack of meat or sugar, and just ate while his wife was still in good spirits.
After dinner, the couple returned to the living room and curled up on the loveseat together. Hermione draped her legs over Ron's lap, and he rubbed her feet for her while she rested her head on his shoulder and watched some show with a bunch of contestants singing and dancing in the hopes of winning a large amount of money.
Suddenly, Hermione began to move. First it was subtle, her hand moving onto Ron's thigh. The, she started to trace small circles on his leg with her index finger. She moved up up up, until it was getting very close to where it shouldn't be, and then started to make her way back down.
Ron paused in his foot-rubbing and looked anywhere but at his wife. Hermione, sensing his change in demeanour, increased her tactics.
She began to slowly kiss his neck, in just the way that he liked. Ron swallowed hard, and sat, paralyzed, as his wife began to slowly kiss, suck, and bite at his neck.
At the same time, her hand finally stopped going back down towards his knee, and kept going up, further than she had been last time. Ron's eyes widened and a small moan escaped his lips.
"Wanna go upstairs?" his wife practically purred in his ear.
Ron most certainly did. Without a word, he scooped her up, not even noticing how heavy she was getting, and carried her up the stairs to their bedroom. With minimal gentleness, he plopped her down on their bed, and began to kiss her body.
When the couple was finished, and Hermione had fallen asleep, Ron rolled over and stared at the opposite wall.
"Hormones," he muttered to himself, before falling into a deep sleep.
I'm not sure where this sprouted from. Maybe because my stupid auto-correct on my iPod kept changing Hermione to Hormone. I don't know. Anyway, tell me what you think.
~summerlovin'