Disclaimer: Nope. Harry Potter still isn't mine.

Prompt: "I hate you!"

Word Count: 545

"I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear."

– Martin Luther King, Jr.

"You–" A positively seething Hermione points an accusing finger at the beaming man seated next to her hospital bed. The git hasn't stopped smiling ever since she got confined inside St. Mungo's nine hours ago.

"Me?" Charlie asks innocently before he intertwines his fingers with hers to calm her down.

"Yes, you!" Hermione's voice raises as she continues her wild accusations. Even though Charlie's hand is warm and comforting around hers, this doesn't stop the witch from digging her nails into his flesh, hoping to make him feel the pain she's undergoing. She makes a satisfied smirk when he flinches but it's soon wiped off her face when she feels another shot of pain run through her body.

"You– I– Thi– this is all your fault!"

"My fault?" replies Charlie, who is steadfast in ignoring the abuse of his hand. The least he could do was to share in her pain, after all. The dragon keeper was just hoping there wouldn't be any need to have it amputated later on.

"Yes, your fault! You did this to me! You're the reason I'm here right now!"

"You know, Hermione," begins an amused Charlie, "It wasn't like I forced you to–" But he's cut off before he could finish when Hermione lets out a spew of expletives that would make any sailor proud.

"Wow. I didn't know you had that in you all this time," Charlie comments with a laugh, unnerved at the fury being displayed by the witch in front of him.

"I hate you!"

"We both know you don't mean that," Charlie stares the fuming witch straight in the eye.

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't."

"Oh, really? Well, just so you know, I absolutely positively hate– no, I loathe you, you– you–"

"Yes?" prompts a grinning Charlie.

"You–" She pauses for a quick second as she thinks up some adequate insult for the redhead before settling for, "wanker." This makes Charlie's grin larger. "You're a total and absolute wanker!"

Laughing loudly by now, Charlie shakes his head in disagreement before saying, "If I was such a total wanker, then you really wouldn't be in this situation right now, you know. But if you really want me to, I suppose I can put on a show and wan–" Hermione hurriedly clamps a hand over his mouth when the door behind Charlie starts to open. Her healer enters the room.

"How are we doing, Mrs. Weasley? I hope you're finding the contractions bearable?"

Hermione nods, a fake smile plastered on her lips. Charlie's blue eyes are shining with amusement at her lie and Hermione knows he's debating whether to tell the healer or not about all the abuse he has received thus far.

"I don't know why I ever married you," Hermione whispers as the healer begins to check her vitals with various intricate waves of her wand.

"It's because you love me," Charlie replies, giving her a peck on the lips. As he sits back down, Hermione notices his hand and drops it, mollified and a little alarmed at how red it had gotten.

Charlie gives her stomach an adoring look before looking at his now released but tortured hand. "I just hope our baby gets your brains and not your temper," He says teasingly.

Author's Notes:

Here's a relatively quick update. Hopefully, I keep up this momentum. *laughs*