(A/N: My fic for anyone who is feeling extra fluffy and sugary sweet, because I wrote this when I was probably on a sugar high. No, I was on a sugar high. Okay, in case you don't get it, Ron's a quidditch player for the Cannons, Hermione works for the Ministry, and they're obviously married. Of just screw the rest of this and read the damn story. Don't gag too much. In fact, keep a paper bag handy in case the sugar overdose makes you queasy. I love Ron. Read my other stuff!)

Smiling into the bright sunny day, Hermione began her walk through the park towards the quidditch pitch where the Chudley Cannons were practicing. She looked up the light blue skies and grinned at the thought of how excited Ron must be to have such great quidditch weather. She winked at the security guard who waved her through. Once on the field, Hermione took a moment to watch the many wizards and witches whizzing around overhead. Biting her lip excitedly, she took a seat in the vacant stands. One of the players spotted her and waved eagerly.

The player who had waved, a dark haired wizard by the name of Finney, flew over to where Ron Weasley was practicing his goaltending. "Hey, Weasley, your old lady's here," he shouted. The redhead stopped and almost was knocked off his broom by a speeding quaffle. "Gibson, watch it mate!" he bellowed as he flew over to Finney.

"She's over there," pointed Finney. Concerned, Ron began to fly over to her. A gray-haired man flew over to try and make him get back in front of the rings, but Ron waved him off.

"Hold on coach," Ron Weasley said. He smiled as he flew down and dismounted his broom to see a bushy-haired brunette looking up at him.

"Hi," she smiled. "You didn't have to do that."

"What are you doing here? Skivving off work?" he grinned as he leaned over to kiss his wife.

"I would never!" she scoffed.

"I know. The world would crumble if Hermione Granger ever stayed home."

"Granger-Weasley," she corrected.

"I'm sorry, it's a bad habit."

"Or you're trying to give me a hint. The priest did ask if anyone had objections to speak now or forever hold their peace," she said, pouting jokingly.

"Well I would've said something but I was afraid you would kill me if I left you at the altar," he grinned.

"Of course I would've."

"I love you too. So why are you here on this fine day?" he asked with a smile. Hermione gasped in surprise.

"Complaining? I can go back to work."

"No. I'm not! I'm just wondering."

"I can't come and see my husband?" she pouted. Ron laughed at her theatrics.

"No. That's just wrong. You have some purpose or something, now spill."

"You sound like me."

"Bloody hell woman!" he bellowed, obviously tiring of the games.

"There's the Ron I married," Hermione beamed, kissing her husband's cheek.

"Well?" he demanded.

"Nothing. I just wanted to say hi."

"Oh for Merlin's sake."

"Fine. I had an appointment with a Medi-witch today because I was feeling a bit strange."

"Are you okay? Is anything wrong?" he grabbed Hermione's shoulders and looked into her eyes. She half-grinned and bit her lip to stop herself from laughing.

"Not wrong exactly..."

"Hermione!"

"Okay, fine! I'm pregnant. I swear you sound like me half the time. You're every bit as demanding and aggressive as I was. Maybe it's the quidditch."

"Wait. WHAT?" he shouted.

"You sound like me," she replied calmly.

"Funny. What did you say before that?"

"I'm pregnant?" she quirked her eyebrow, and waited for a reaction.

"That. You're serious?" he asked.

"Yes."

"We're having a baby?" he asked.

"Well, technically I'll be the one actually in labor nine months from now-"

"I'm going to be a dad?" he asked, this time a smile faintly appearing on his face.

"Yes."

"We're going to be parents?"

"Yes Ron."

He grabbed her and kissed her passionately. "I'm going to be a DAD!" he shouted, twirling her around, while she laughed happily, images of their future family running through their heads.