Ron was expected to come home that day. She felt a twinge of excitement. His mood typically improved after these times apart. He had promised her before he had left that they would talk, once again, about the idea of having kids. She felt prepared this time. She would keep a smile, she wouldn't argue. They would have a normal rational discussion. She would make it clear that this was something she required out of their marriage. Not just something she wanted. If he realized how serious she was about this need, he would have to be compliant. If he really loved her, that is. She had faith that he did. After ten years of devotion, how could he not?

She was pacing around her house frantically; her nerves were getting the best of her. She knew they had their own cleaning crew but she couldn't stop helping them out. She would find something to fix or something to fin nick with to keep her mind busy and entertained.

He was expected to be back around 5. At 5:30 she waited in the kitchen for him to get home. Sitting down at the table reading a book. She was really reading it, she was more so playing with it. She'd already read this particular book around three times.

Her toe kept rapping the floor nervously. She had a different feeling about the discussion she would have this time. She had hope for a different outcome. Harry's discussion with her prompted a very deep thought process in her over the past few days. She had thought over what she was say and how she would say it a million times over.

Six o'clock came and went. He must have gone for a drink with the minister at the last minute. She got up and made something to eat even though she wasn't hungry. As she waited for her food to heat up, she leaned against the counter day dreaming about what her children would look like. She imagined their hair color, the texture of their hair, how tall they would be the shape of their smiles and the brightness of their eyes...

7 o'clock came and went. She had barely touched the food she made for herself. She was getting a bit frustrated. Ron was often late but he usually contacted her. She wasn't worried about him. Her concern was that he would stroll in again, past midnight, drunk off of his rocker. There was no chance of having a normal, rational, controlled discussion at that point. She would have to wait for another day.

By the time eight rolled around she decided to go back upstairs and take a shower. She took her time soaking in the hot water. She let it relax her tension as the water hit her skin aggressively. The smell of her grapefruit body wash cleared her senses. By the time she finished bathing she had a calmer temperament overall. It was nine at that point.

She was going to have a positive attitude about all of this. Getting mad at Ron for coming home late wasn't going to get her any closer to getting pregnant. She would go to bed and wake up in the morning perky, refreshed and happy to welcome her husband home.

She crawled into bed and tried to let sleep overcome her. But it didn't come. She felt unsettled. Something felt off but she couldn't tell what. Ten rolled around and soon eleven followed. She was still awake.

Frustrated she went back downstairs to the kitchen to put on some tea. Ron had better have a good explanation for keeping her waiting. She pulled out the drawer and grabbed a quill and paper as her tea heated on the stove.

-Ron,

Where are you?

-Hermione

She scribbled the note quickly and sent it off with the owl. She didn't want to nag him, but waiting around like this was going to drive her mad. She really needed to talk to him or she was never going to find sleep.

Her tea was ready. She poured herself a full mug, adding a little milk and sugar to it. It was too hot. It took her a couple minutes of stirring before it was cool enough to sip. Not that I mattered, she had plenty of time to wait for her tea to cool, evidently.

By the time one a.m. came she had been fed up. He was drunk, he had to be. There was never a reply owl and she did not want to be up when he came home rambling about his festivities in Germany with the minister in the vocabulary of an incapacitated five year old.

She forced herself back upstairs to her room and snuggled herself into her lonely bed. The tea had done a surmountable amount to relax her body. Finally, the temptation of sleep overtook her and in no time she was dreaming.

A/N: Thanks for following along! Next chapter picks up a bit. Keep reviewing! Thanks!