"What are those?"

"Joggers," Hermione replied. She stood at the foot of the bed, holding them up in front of her hips.

"They're kind of large," Fred said, propping himself on an elbow as he watched her.

"Fitting," she returned, stretching the waistband of the bottoms, "as I'm becoming kind of large." She glanced over at him. He'd just come out of the shower, his hair still dark and wet. He looked much too tempting. It certainly didn't help that her hormones had been on the fritz as of late. Welcome to the second trimester, Ginny had said.

He laughed. "I don't think you're quite there yet," he told her, wondering if the garment could wrap twice around her waist.

Hermione sighed and pulled the hem of her shirt up to her ribs. In contrast to Ginny, Hermione had come to realize that she was carrying high. Her baby bump showed around her midsection, becoming more and more visible beneath her shirts, while Ginny was rapidly swelling too large for her trousers. Of course, as of the last two weeks, Hermione was no longer comfortable in her regular jeans and work trousers either. Ginny had offered to lend her the size-up bottoms she'd bought and now outgrown.

They'd do for 'transition clothes' as Ginny had dubbed them, but she'd soon have to go shopping for proper maternity clothes. It wasn't something she was particularly looking forward to. She'd already had to go shopping with Ginny for new undergarments as she entered her fourteenth week and that had been change enough for the moment.

Her hand traced over the smooth bump thoughtfully. "Can I borrow one of your button downs?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. "I don't think it'll fit you," he said.

Her mouth opened indignantly. "I'm not that large!" she exclaimed.

He laughed. "I know. I think it'll be too big," he told her.

"Well, that's the point," she said.

He frowned. "You don't like it?" he asked.

Her hem returned to her hips and she turned away as she folded the joggers. "My shirts are uncomfortable now."

Fred smirked. "Well, we're not going anywhere," he said easily. "Shirts are totally optional here." She shook her head and he slid off of the bed, going to his closet and disappearing for moment. He returned with a blue button down, stopping short as he saw her. Her chin dipped down as she frowned at herself and her hair hung around her face.

"Hey." He lifted her chin. "What's the matter?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"Hermione."

"It's nothing."

"It's not." She didn't say anything, not meeting his eyes. "Please," he implored. He bent until his lips just ghosted over hers and she instinctively rose up to meet him. She was halfway there when the corners of her mouth turned down and her chin lowered once again.

"It's stupid," she said. He pulled back. "I just…" Her arms crossed over her midsection and she reached for the shirt.

"The bump?" he asked, eyes widening.

"I don't understand!" she cried, taking the shirt from him and stepping away. "I've hardly gained any weight and yet nothing fits anymore."

"You're growing," Fred said. "Both of you."

She frowned.

"Come here." He took her wrists, tossed the shirt on the bed and pulled her arms from around herself, drawing her closer. "I like it," he said.

She threw him a brief, incredulous look. She knew there were certain aspects of her new figure that could be appreciated. She wasn't about to believe her bump was one of them.

He met her gaze contemplatively. "Arms up," he ordered.

"Fred."

"Up," he repeated. He raised them above her head and she held them there while he gripped the hem of her shirt and pulled it up, peeling it over her head. The cool air raised goose bumps on her flesh as the shirt joined the other on the bed and he dropped a kiss to her bare shoulder. His hands found her waist and he circled around to stand behind her.

"Fred," she said again, her voice little more than a sigh.

His hands slid down over her swelling abdomen as he peppered her collarbone and shoulder blades with kisses. She leaned into him. "I like this," he murmured.

Her mind drifted away from her figure. "Me, too," she replied.

"And I like this," he told her, his hands moving to frame her bump.

She let out a shuddering breath as his teeth grazed her earlobe before his lips nibbled at the spot just beneath. She was much too sensitive for all of this. He turned her towards him and then dropped to his knees. He kissed her stomach, lingering there as he looked up at her. "This is ours," he said.

She smiled down at him and brought him to his feet, kissing his lips as his hands remained at her waist.

"What can I do for you?" he asked affectionately.

She shook her head. "Just keep doing what you're doing," she breathed.

His lips tickled warm against her neck as he murmured, "Do you still want the shirt?"

"Only if you'll take it off of me."

He chuckled and walked her back to the bed. "Well that's counterproductive."

"I'd say so."

Fred woke as Hermione rolled into him in her sleep. His eyes flew open as he narrowly missed the arm that came his way. He sat up and looked over at her. Her lips were slightly parted; her hair had fallen to cover most of her face. He brushed the curls back and swiped his thumb just beneath her right eye. Her skin was cool and wet with tears. Her lips moved, speaking unintelligible words. He sighed. He didn't like how normal this was becoming. Waking up to her crying in her sleep, asking if she was alright in the morning, hearing her say that she was fine.

"Hermione, love," he whispered. He tucked her arm back to her side, wrapped his limbs around her and held her close, kissing her hair. His hand stroked over her midsection hypnotically and his lips lingered against the base of her neck, inhaling her scent as he waited for her body to relax against him. Her murmurs died to soft breaths and he closed his eyes.

In the morning she'd be fine, he thought. Whatever it was troubling her sat back in the shadowed corners of her subconscious during the day. Or perhaps it was always present; she just hid it better when awake. Or forgot all about it. He certainly didn't. He kept watching for signs of her upset, trying to pinpoint what it was that was bothering her. But he couldn't, because she truly did seem fine.

"Okay." Norman hadn't even entered their flat before he was getting down to business. "Do we know what we're looking for today?"

Hermione and Fred nodded. They'd talked about this extensively and drawn up a list. A list that Hermione now presented to Norman with a pleased smile. "Fireplace, spacious kitchen, a minimum of three bedrooms and two full baths," she recited. "Also, space for a garden would be nice."

Norman looked to Fred. He simply nodded back at Hermione.

The wizard seemed suitably impressed with their preparation. "Very well then," he said with a smile. "I think we're ready to go."

Hermione could feel Fred's eyes following her every movement as she walked about the main floor of the house. She turned a full circle in the middle of the kitchen, looking around appraisingly. The walls were covered in a floral print that had been pasted on. The floors were white patterned tile. She tried to keep a neutral expression.

"Well?" Fred prompted.

"It's nice," Hermione said carefully.

He chuckled. "Hermione," he whispered, his voice low as Norman stepped into the living room to give them a moment, "you don't have to like it," he told her. "It's okay if you don't."

She sighed. "I don't like it," she admitted. "I thought I would, but it's not exactly what I pictured."

"That's fine," Fred said easily. "What don't you like about it?"

"The stairs seem dangerously steep," she began. "I don't like the flooring and the wallpaper would have to go. The main loo is rather tiny as well."

Fred nodded, conceding each point. "Alright. Next then."

"Sorry."

"No worries." His arm came around her shoulders as they headed into the living room. "Just don't give up on me here. There's still a few more."

Hermione mustered up some optimism as they left the house via the floo, instantly arriving within the next prospect.

Hermione looked around, hardly listening as Norman gave the practiced description of the property. The living room was bright. Refreshing. The bay window took up the majority of the front wall, bathing the room in light. The fireplace had a mantle perfect for photo frames. It was spacious enough for company but small enough to feel warm.

Hermione began her wandering through the rest of the house. She pictured Fred at the stove cooking; the French doors open to let in a summer breeze. They could eat out on the stone patio.

The upstairs was carpeted, save for the bathrooms. Safer for any little ones. There were three bedrooms, one of which she could already envision being made a nursery and the master had two closets.

She didn't think it could have been more perfect. There were little things, sure. The front yard would need work, she knew, recalling the photos Norman had shared. There was ivy on the bricks that she wasn't fond of and the attempted garden was a bit of a mess, but that could be handled. The back yard more than made up for it with the amount of space and the small shed. She'd want to repaint the bedrooms eventually as well, but she wouldn't be in any hurry to do so. They were fine as they were for the moment.

"Hermione?" She heard Fred's footsteps as he jogged up the stairs.

"In here," she returned.

"Any thoughts?" he asked, his smile hopeful.

"This is the one," she said.

He sighed. "I know the garden was important to you," he began, "but I can fix up the front and—wait." He stopped, replaying her words. "You like it?"

"I love it," she confirmed.

"Honest?"

"Yes, honest," she said with a laugh. "I think it's beautiful."

"Brilliant." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'll let Norman know. You still want to see the other houses, right?"

She nodded. "It wouldn't hurt to see them," she said. "Though I don't think they'll compare."

He laughed. "Alright. Point taken," he said. "We'll go see the other crappy houses."

Hermione grinned. "Lovely."

"And, how'd it go?" George sat on the counter, idly watching as his brother tidied the shop in preparation for closing.

"We made an offer," Fred said. "Hermione says she's fallen in love with it. Norman says things are looking good."

"Norman?" George asked. He plucked a candy from the bowl behind the counter and popped it in his mouth.

"The property wizard," Fred reminded.

George nodded. "That's right. So, what happens now?"

Fred rearranged product boxes and picked up a sign someone had knocked off a display. "Well, we've already made the trip to Gringott's," he said, "been pre-approved and all. So now we wait."

George laughed and as Fred came round to the register, locking it for the night, he reached out and pinched his twin's cheek. "My little Freddie's all grown up," he teased.

Fred grinned. "Aw, Georgie, we'll never grow up."

George hopped off of the counter and went to lock the door while Fred checked that nothing was boiling or bubbling in the back room. "Hey," he said, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure, just this once," George replied.

Fred tossed him the keys. "Does Hermione seem sad to you?" he asked.

George thought back to earlier when she'd come through the shop with Fred. She'd seemed to be in a good mood for the couple of hours she'd stayed. "No," he decided finally. "Why?"

"Well, she seems fine," Fred began, "but…I'm worried about her."

"Yeah? Why?"

"She cries at night."

George paused, his expression both surprised and concerned.

"Not every night," Fred continued. "Just sometimes. I've asked her if she's alright and she says she's fine but I think something's on her mind. You know, at first I thought it might've been the pregnancy, the hormones and all. The books said sometimes it has a large effect on dreams, but I'm starting to think there's more to it."

"And you've asked her? About the crying?" George questioned.

"Yeah," Fred said. "She said it was nothing. Couldn't remember what she was dreaming about. I think she was telling the truth about that part."

"Nightmares?" George suggested. "It's not like her mind's lacking the right material. Ron says he still takes dreamless sleep potions on occasion."

Fred sighed. "I don't want to pry. I shouldn't have to pry. I want her to tell me. She should be able to tell me, right?"

George nodded.

"I want to help her."

"You could get her dreamless sleep potions," George offered.

Fred shook his head, straightening the various trinkets on the counter absent-mindedly. "She can't take them," he said. "Any potions she takes has to be approved by a healer and any dream potions were definitely on the no list. Besides," he went on, "I want to solve whatever it is, not patch over it."

"Okay." George sighed. "Then ask her."

"I have."

He shrugged. "Ask again."

Fred's hands raked through his hair tiredly. "I don't think she wants to talk about it."

"You don't think she wants to talk about."

"You've just repeated what I've said." Fred shook his head. "I'm going to need a little more, Georgie."

"Maybe she just thinks she doesn't want to," George told him. "Ask again."

Fred threw his hands up. "All she ever says is it's nothing! It's fine!"

"For Merlin's sake Forge, surely if we know anything, we know that timing is everything." George grabbed his cloak.

"Timing," Fred echoed.

"And opportunity."

Author's Note: PLEASE READ ME!

Okay, okay, okay, Hermione's in her second trimester and do you know what that means? It's about time she could potentially find out the sex of the baby!

Now, I feel like I've lost a whole slew of you guys for whatever reason, but I'm hoping those of you still reading will take the time to give me your vote. Boy or Girl, take your pick and then I'll be tallying them up and making a decision in the very near future.

Also, feel free to share your thoughts on the chapter, I'd very much appreciate it, good or bad. Also, if any of you missed it, I now have a writing tumblr, the link is on my profile, scarlettsunshine-writes.

Thanks so much for reading!

Anyways,
Scarlett