O f P u p p i e s a n d C h o c o l a t e
(sometimes, it's possible to be denser than others thought you could be)
It wasn't supposed to happen, but it did. And now, after all those long nights of, as Ron so eloquently said, 'shagging like rabbits,' Hermione had to tell her husband that she was pregnant.
He was coming out of the shower when she decided to tell him, a towel, in that garish shade of orange he seemed to love so much, wrapped around his waist. She had to laugh, his hair was frizzy and stuck up in all the wrong directions; he looked like a shaggy, albeit very bright red, dog.
"Ron," she said tentatively, as he released her from a breathtaking kiss, "what do you think about adding to our family?"
It was, perhaps, an abrupt way to bring up the subject, but Hermione had long since learnt that it was best to get straight to the point with Ron.
"Adding to our family?" he asked thoughtfully, "As in a kitten? Or a puppy?"
"Well not exactly," Hermione said, giggling at the way his brow furrowed, "It'll be cute, but not quite as hairy as a puppy."
"We're not getting some sort of mutant animal born to Voldemort, are we?" he asked, "because that's the only bald animal I can think of."
Ron paused, and then added,
"It's not something Hagrid bred, is it? That's a even scarier thought than a Voldemort spawn!"
Judging by Hermione's pained reaction; it was obvious that neither of them had forgotten the Blast Ended Skrewts.
Deciding to try a different tact, one that was completely abstract, and therefore possibly more related to Ron, she said,
"Forget pets. Let's talk about … chocolate."
"But … aren't we getting a pet? If we are, maybe we should discuss that, and not chocolate. I mean, I know it's tasty and all, but it's loved by angst ridden, lovesick teenage girls. So, why do you love it?"
Hermione thought about it for a while, before saying,
"Well, it will make me fat for a while, but it will be a part of us, and we'll love it."
"You're going to love something that's going to buy you a one way ticket to Jenny Craig?" Ron asked, somewhat skeptically.
"Who's Jenny Craig?" Hermione said, proud of her husband for knowing something she didn't.
"Muggles have teely-fision advertisements for it, you know that box thing with the moving screen. It's a weight loss clinic."
"I will lose the weight, it will just take nine months"
Ron was getting exasperated now.
"But Hermione, why will you be putting on weight?"
Hermione pondered an easy way to break the news, and ended up reflecting on her primary school biology classes.
"When a mummy and a daddy love each other very much they …"
She was interrupted by Ron, and by the look on his face, her statement had made him more confused.
"But didn't your Mum die two years ago?"
His hair stuck up in several directions, looking more like a carrot than ever as he reflected on this, trying to figure out exactly how a dead woman could copulate.
He wandered towards the window, his gaze fixed on the pigeon that was currently swooping around the backyard. Hermione stared at him, she was breaking what could be the most important news of their lives, and, here he was, staring at birds.
"Ronald Bilius Weasley," she screamed, "Get back over here so that I can tell you I'm pregnant properly!"
Ron glanced back at her, a look of hilarity surpassing his features, as though she was telling a joke.
"You can't be pregnant …," he paused, looking for the right words to describe his opinion, "… that's like Draco Malfoy hugging kittens and supporting SPEW."
Hermione was going to retort, but instead, she just said,
"No, Ron, really, I'm pregnant."
He stared at her incredulously, finally focusing his full attention on her.
"As in, you're going to be popping out a baby in nine months?" he asked. He was obviously still confused, yet the smile that was slowly creeping across his face was an indication that he was accepting it.
"No Ron," Hermione replied sarcastically, "I'm giving birth to a pony."
Ron laughed.
"Hermione, why a pony? Why not a rabbit or something? I mean, after this news, it's obvious that we shag like them"
And then, oblivious to the look on her face, which was flickering between disapproval and laughter, he called out,
"Well, I'm off to tell Harry that you're getting fat."
And, she watched him Disapparate; she smiled, knowing that this baby would have the best father possible. And, that hopefully, picking baby names would be easier.
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(a/n: Just some mindless RHr crack, written for the Reviews Lounge August Starters challenge. Please leave a review.)
fin,
-Cuba ...x