Randy.

Ron always had randy, dirty thoughts. This time, however, they were quite dirtier than usual.

Hermione told him her cousin was pregnant with her first child, and Hermione was ecstatic for her family member. This had Ron thinking—what would it be like if Hermione herself were pregnant with his own precious progeny?

The baby would have adorably cute red hair, characteristic of the Weasley family tree; perhaps the child would have Hermione's sun-kissed freckles and that furrowed brow of intense concentration that he always found so likeable.

Just how the baby would come to be in her…well that occupied Ron's brain for quite a while…

It would be a dark evening—perhaps a week into February—the month of romance, lust, and pleasure. Hermione would be so drained from work as usual, with her campaign partnership to aid magical non-wizarding creatures. He would have stayed home that day to conjure silver, white, and crimson wax candles; he would have lit them all around a porcelain, lion-footed vintage bath practically overflowing with opaque mulberry-scented soap suds and bath crystals. She would trudge upstairs to their bedroom—for in this fantasy, they were married—and turn the knob of the grand bath suite. She might expect the usual—Ron shaving his (non-existent) stubble, talking on about the latest Manchester United match against Chudley Cannons. But not this time. Instead, she would be greeted with Ron's nude and muscular frame, in complete darkness save for those iridescent luminous candles; the scene would be so beautiful, it would nearly bring her to tears. He inherently understood that any child of his should be brought into this world amidst wonderful exquisiteness and awe-inspiring magic.

He would remove her clothing—one by one. Tearing her free of her silken blouse, he would kiss her pristine forehead, shoulders, each of her rotund breasts, her navel, and revel in the Venus that lay before his uncouth eyes…

When they would find themselves in bed that day, she is about to utter a contraception charm, but Ron places a finger on her lips and momentarily silences her. Her eyes widen, as she comprehends what he wordlessly seeks to convey. They caress each other, knowing that in their movements, their rhythms, their harmonisation, they are assembling a future that is theirs alone to share, for as long as they shall live…a future free from terror, antipathy, and of horrors of wars past. This is a new beginning with laughter, tears, and a springing forth of a new era.

He continues to pay due homage to her immaculate body; his hand strokes her belly, that part of warmth that will soon prepare to house a soul cosmically combined of their magical flesh—female and male. He kisses her navel as his wife combs his unruly hair. She begins to use her nimble fingers on his manhood, but he stops her, as he wants to have the pleasure of seeing himself enter her completely, free of barriers—just him and her, alone together, as never seen before.

His hardness has become red, swollen, and throbbing with the heat of a thousand suns…Fiery passion flows through himself, as he pins her arms above her head on the angelic white pillow of chintz and silk. Instead of the contraceptive rubber, he feels his skin, touching her outer lips, grazing her vertical smile, and taking notice of her aroused wetness.

He enters, and the moistness almost ends him then and there—but he hurriedly forges on; he pumps back and forth, with an unusual depth, as if an iron-clad stake were driven into a sturdy pyre. His mission is one of permanence, and he increases his speed. Usually attentive of his lady's moans, they are mere background noise as he concentrates on this pleasure-inducing sensuality.

He can feel his member growing and achieving peak, as he is within her all the while. Velvety melanin juxtaposed with the firm, robust feminine uterus, an amazing organ capable of housing a living being for a long nine months' gestation. His lustful creation—within a mischievous minx of a clever girl…he can picture this being moving and stirring within her, sucking her plump breasts sodden with creamy human-made milk, her nipples growing more pink by the minute…

He suddenly reaches that moment of inevitability, whispers so in his lover's ear, and she savagely French-kisses him as his sandalwood-aroma essence spurts forth in unrelenting pace, within her moist inner warmth.

…A million soundless vibrations issue, as the cosmos comprehends that a unity of witch and wizard flesh is taking the universe by storm.