I own nothing. Period. End of story. K? Awesome.

Alright, so. The main idea is that Ginny and Hermione are each pregnant. I'm thinking off maybe keeping this short, and it may end up being a one-shot, simply because I'm lazy as all hell.

Oh, and pardon my French in the story.

"WHAT THE HELL!"

Ginny Weasley held up the white stick and stared at the readout.

"Ginny."

"What, Hermione?"

"You're frickin' pregnant."

"Yeah, I got that." Ginny rolled her eyes and stared at the readout.

"Does he know?"

"Hmm, let's think, I just took this, he's at work, I haven't called him. I'm guessing... no, Hermione."

"Well, excuuuuuse me! I was just asking!" Hermione stalked off in search of some tea and a bottle of fruity vodka.

-----

Confused yet? I'm sure you are.

It's years after the graduation of the "famous trio" and Ginny. They paired up (Ron to Hermione, Harry to Ginny), got married, and went about normal wizard life.

Oh, yeah, Voldemort's been defeated. But that was years ago, and Harry doesn't like to talk about it. He's sensitive like that.

Ron and Harry hold boring jobs at the Ministry and lead semi-boring lives – except when the wives get together. That usually results in bad drapes, a big fight, and great make-up sex for each party.

By the way, Hi, I'm the narrator.

But, anyways, enough of my babble. Ew, I can't believe I just babbled. I feel so dirty.

Back to Ginny and Hermione.

-----

"How are you going to tell him?"

"I have no bloody idea! D'you?"

"Nope. I'm so glad I don't have to deal with this." Hermione took a sip of her spiked tea and turned pale. "Aw, gross, the booze sucks! I have to go puke."

Ginny laughed to herself. Watch her be pregnant, she thought. That would be hilarious.

-----

Hermione picked up some Floo and sent her head to the Potter's house.

"GINNY!"

"What, Hermione? Can it wait? I don't have enough pickles!"

"No, it can't wait! And hand me some pickles, would you?" Ginny threw a few pickles into the fire and watched Hermione almost inhale them.

"Hermione, what the hell's gotten into you?"

"Damnit'ahell sperm! I'm frickin' pregnant, too!"

"What was the fight? The new couch?"

"No, he went back to the frickin' drapes again."

"Blighter."

"Tell me about it. Hey, could I have another pickle? And dip it in the marinara." Hermione hungrily eye the giant pickles and dip platter Ginny had set out for herself.

"Pickle and marinara? I haven't tried that one."

"It's a delicacy. I had it for breakfast."

"Hey, come on over, we can experiment with pickles and dips."

"Awesome. Got any horseradish and Dijon?" Hermione bumbled through and the two wives began to raid the refrigerator.

-----

"Eh, Harry. Have you noticed something weird with the girls?" Ron was cleaning out his desk for the weekend, while Harry filed the last report for that day.

"What? Well, kind of. Gin's been going through pickles like there's no tomorrow. And she ate all the mayo." Harry had a weird, confused face on.

"Yeah, same here, only it's the tomato sauce. Women have such odd food tastes."

"I once dated this girl who would eat her animal crackers with marinara."

"How long did she last?"

"Four days."

"Ah."

"Eh, well, back to the lovelies." Both men gathered up their work belongings and locked the office door behind them.

-----

"Ginny, I've become a pickle reserve." Hermione and Ginny were sprawled across couches, bloated with pickles, mayo, dijon, horseradish, marinara, and an assortment of other strange dips that normally don't go along very well with pickles.

"At least our children will have good taste in food. No pun intended."

"Hey, it's great that they eat."

"Hermione, I feel fat."

"Join the club. We've got jackets."

They heard several thumps as Harry banged the door closed and trudged in, wet cloak and all.

"Stupid weatherman. No, it's going to be warm, and nice, and dry. Fucking blighter. Hey, Hermione."

"Hi Harry."

"How are you, Gin? How was work?" Harry walked over and gave his wife a kiss, before removing his cloak and hanging it on the nearby hook.

"I called out sick. I didn't feel like going."

"Why not?" Harry gave a confused face again, but Hermione spoke before Ginny could.

"Ron's calling. I've got to get home." Hermione waved a large purple galleon before putting it back in her pocket, grabbing Floo powder, and jumping into the fireplace.

"So, wait, why did you call out of work? Mental health day?" Harry sunk into the couch, next to his wife.

"Hah, more like physical health." Frickin' hell, Ginny. Shut up while you're ahead.

"Are you okay? Do you need anything? Do you need me to make dinner?"

"I don't need anything, and you can make dinner if you truly want to, but I've got something to tell you."

"Oh, no, is that stupid stomach bug going around again? The one where we can't have sex? That was the worst. I've never been so deprived in my—"

"Harry, shh. I'm talking."

"Well, then, what is it?"

"I'm frickin' pregnant."

-----

"Holy. Fucking. Hell. You mean to tell me, there's a little person in there-" Harry pointed to her stomach, "- that we made?"

"Well, yes, Harry, that's the general idea of pregnancy."

"Wow. This is so cool. I've got to tell Ron!" Harry jumped up to send his head to Ron's, but no soonerhad his hand touched to powder did Ron's head pop up in the fireplace.

"Harry, you stupid blighter, guess what! I'M GONNA BE A DADDY!"

"Same here. Congrats."

"Wait, you mean to tell me that YOU KNOCKED UP MY BABY SISTER!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Ron!Gin and I aremarried! MARRIED!"

"Oh, yeah. AWESOME!" Ron stuck a hand through the fire and Harry high-fived it.

This quote is taken directly from the movie Shrek 2, which I also don't own. Just thought I'd let you know.

And, I just feel so cool mentioning this, but – the animal crackers and marinara thing is actually part of my balanced diet. I put a little bit of myself in my story! Hah! Awesome.