Well…. Please… do not freak. This chapter will not be of your liking, I am sure, but please- I repeat- do not freak. This story already has an ending so… trust me and trust my ideas which you've fancied so far.

As I promised this chapter is dedicated to reviewer 150: ERIC2 but I cannot omit my faithful reviewer Dawniky and also reviewer 149 hahero01.  Thanks you guys… and thanks for every person who has taken the time to read this piece of rubbish.

So… here it is; chapter 42.

Chapter 42: A Night to Remember

'Would you wish to taste the homemade ice cream, Madam?' The waiter asked politely.

'Certainly,' She said at once. When it comes to ice cream, Florence is never full.

They had had dinner at "The Three Broomsticks", and George was prepared to ask for Florence's hand right after supper. He was going to take her for a walk… and he would propose under the moon light, and then… they would make love there… to celebrate their union as an engaged couple. He was anxious, of course, but he didn't want to ruin it.

'Only tea for me, please, sir,' George said kindly to the waiter, who immediately left after receiving the order.

'Where were we?' Florence enquired after a while of silence.

'You were telling me how weird life is,' George said dully. Florence's chosen topics of conversation sometimes bored him to the very core of his being.

'Yes… I mean, who would have thought that Hermione and Ron would be…?' She tried to speak.

'…parents before us?' George finished the statement for her. She nodded, 'I thought you didn't want to have children.'

'Of course I don't, George. Not now, at least, but let's face it… we shag a lot more than them,' She simply said.

'Yes, you are right. I was more likely to get you pregnant,' He joked, while tasting his brandy. Florence smiled widely.

'Thank God we were cautious,' She muttered for only him to hear.

'Thank God YOU were cautious,' He corrected her at once.

She said nothing; she just remained silent for a while until the ice cream and the tea arrived, but it wasn't the same waiter carrying the tray. It was a waitress, a very beautiful waitress and behind her, a very handsome three year old boy with bright red hair and freckles all over his face was playing with a wooden train. Florence wondered where she had seen that little boy before, because she found him utterly familiar.

'Your ice cream, madam,' She told Florence while placing the large glass in front of her, not paying her too much attention, 'and here is your tea, George.'

'How do you…?' He wanted to ask how she knew his name, but when he looked up at her, he understood everything. 'Hello, Catherine,' He said at once, 'How nice to see you again.'

'Hello, George… it is nice to see you again after so long,' She said shortly, while playing with her long blonde hair. She was incredible gorgeous and Florence was starting to feel a little self- conscious.

'How long has it been? 2 years?' He asked, ignoring Florence completely.

'3 years, actually,' She said, blushing like a tomato.

'Hem, hem,' Florence cleared her throat at once, trying to gain everyone's attention. George caught the hint.

'Oh, yes, of course, Catherine this is Florence Pugliare, Flor, this is Catherine Baker a dear …friend… of mine,' He introduced both the girls.

'Nice to meet you,' Florence greeted, standing up to shake her hand.

'Nice to meet you too,' Catherine said without excitement, then she turned her head to George, ignoring Florence, 'This is my baby son,' She confessed, patting the boy on the back.

'He is?' George asked, utterly surprised.

'Yes, he is my son,' She repeated, touching the child's red hair as she had done with hers only minutes ago, 'He's three years old.'

'Oh, how nice… does he have a name?' He curiously asked.

'Yes… his name is George,' She confessed, staring intently into his eyes.

And then it hit her. Catherine's son was George's son! How could he not be? Florence had seen pictures of him when he was a baby, and the boy looked just the same! It was a living picture of George.

'Oh my god,' Florence screamed, getting up from her chair. 'He's your son, George.'

'No, he is not,' He replied at once, laughing at the bare possibility. Catherine, however, was not laughing.

'Yes, he is,' Catherine simply said.

'How could he not be?' Florence asked sarcastically, 'He looks just like you…I can see your face in his face, George…' She explained at the edge of tears, 'I can't believe this…Oh, my god,' She said, while grabbing her coat and running towards the door.

After a couple of seconds, she was out of sight, leaving George very confused. He was a father, and there was no way out of this. Putting the ring he had bought for Florence back on his pocket, he turned to face the little boy.

Now George had two carbon copies of himself.

---*--*---

It was late for the both of them to be awake. After all, he was supposed to get up very early… but sleeping late had never been a problem before. He would have gladly exchange a whole night sleep for a night inside of Hermione.

But things had changed; she was pregnant and pregnant women weren't supposed to enjoy sex. He would have to sacrifice himself for the sake of the babies, even though Hermione had read several books that highly recommended love making.

The problem was that it grossed him out to penetrate Hermione knowing that…well… knowing that his twins were in there. It was just wrong; it was too sick, and so far, he hadn't had the chance to reject her… until that night, at least.

'Hermione, could you please come to bed?' Ron asked from under the covers. She had been in the bathroom for several minutes- thirty, for saying the least- and he was wondering why she was taking so long because, believe it or not, he was taking care of Hermione almost fanatically.

'Just a minute, honey,' She said at once, while checking herself in the mirror. They hadn't had sex since the news of her pregnancy had arrived and she was feeling rather depressed about it. 'Maybe,' She thought, 'He thinks I'm a whale; that's why he doesn't want to sleep with me.'

But she was going to prove him wrong, oh yes she was! She had especially chosen an outfit for the occasion and, after all, he was in her second month so her stomach had barely changed. She had gained a few pounds, but… only a few. She was still attractive, right? Right? Right?

So, with a final glance, she opened the bathroom door and entered the room.

''Mione, why are you dressed like that?' Ron asked, utterly astonished by his girlfriend's outfit. She was wearing a short little red satin gown and her bushy hair had transformed into an erotic mass of curls.

'Why do you think I'm dressed like this, Ron?' She enquired in a suggesting voice, while crawling through his pelvis.

'Because is Halloween?' He desperately asked in an attempt to turned her off. She accomplished his mission, of course, but the consequences of that final statement would cost him a lot. She looked angry, oh yes. She looked angry, indeed.

'Ronald Weasley, how can you say that? You insensitive prat,' She asked hitting him in the head with the nearest pillow.

''Mione, I didn't mean it like that…,' He tried to say, but Hermione was strongly punching him on the chest now. After a couple of minutes, she suddenly stopped with her eyes full of tears.

'Do you think I'm that ugly, Ron?' She asked, a tear running down her cheek.

'Hermione you will never be ugly for me,' He simply said, cleaning the tear away.

'Do you think I look like a clown in this outfit?' She asked, still crying her eyes out.

'No, Hermione, you certainly do not look like a clown… but I just think we shouldn't have sex until the babies are born,' He sincerely confessed.

'You really think so?' She asked closing her fists in anger. Of course Ron hadn't noticed, because if he had done so, he wouldn't have said what he said.

'Yes, 'Mione… come on! It's not like you've ever had the urge to have sex with me, now have you? I'll be the best for us both and if you like to please me you can always perform some kind of oral or hand job,' He said with a smile. He was obviously joking, of course, but somehow Hermione found Ron's words a little offensive.

'Get the hell out of this room, Ronald,' She said with her eyes fully shut and her lips fully pressed.

'What?' He asked surprised, 'I was only joking, Hermione.'

'It turns out,' She muttered, 'that I don't find your little jokes funny at all,' She explained while pushing him out of their bedroom.

When he was finally gone, totally confused and shocked, Hermione threw herself on her bed, and hugging the pillow strongly with one hand and rubbing her stomach with the other, she cried rivers of tears the whole night