Chapter 5- Peace, But For How Long?

Hermione grinned broadly to herself as she walked back into her office. She had spent the entire morning daydreaming about what life would be like with a baby. Consequently she hadn't got a lot of work done, but for once she didn't really care. It was only when she absent-mindedly set fire to a small stack of parchment that she had managed to snap out of it. Sighing, she sat down at her desk and pulled her lunch that Ginny had packed for her out of her drawer. She gazed half-heartedly at the contents of the small box- two rather flattened ham sandwiches, a slightly bruised green apple and a flask of tea- before putting it back in it's original place. She was far too happy to eat. As she stared cheerfully at the blank wall in front of her, a small, freckle-faced witch with spiky black hair marched into the room, muttering angrily under her breath.

"Stupid, useless Enquiries desk… said no visitors… do they listen?…no, no-one listens to Co-" She suddenly stopped, gawking at Hermione. "What the hell happened to you? You haven't looked so bloody happy for years!"

"Nothing's happened…" Hermione said vaguely, before adding more sharply, "-and watch your language!"

Constance rolled her eyes. "Well I'm glad to see that whatever it is hasn't stopped you from nagging! Anyway, could you give me a hand, please?"

"Sure… with what?"

Constance gave a very loud sigh. "It's those idiots on the Enquiries desk!" she barked. "They've been sending visitors up to the floor all morning, and I specifically told them that we weren't letting anyone into the wards until the inspectors were clear out of the way! It's chaos out there- the corridors are chock full of people wanting to see relatives and such, and of course they aren't being allowed in! I really need you to help with sending them away- I'm guessing you're not busy, right?" She smiled. This was a running joke among the staff in their department- no-one who worked on the Spell Damage floor was ever "not busy".

Hermione smiled back. "I was just about to have my lunch- but I suppose it can wait." She stood up and walked out of the office with Constance, taking her daydreams with her.

Ron sat on the couch, looking impatiently between the doorway and the clock. Where was she? he thought to himself. He had asked her to try and get home on time! This was probably her punishing him for what he had said the night before, he reasoned angrily. Just his luck to marry a woman who holds grudges! He scowled at the doorway, as if willing her to appear. To his slight surprise the door flew open after only a few seconds of staring, and Hermione swept in looking exhausted. He opened his mouth to scold her but before he could say a word she cut in.

"I am so sorry, Ron! The department was swamped- it was an inspection day and the Enquiries desk made a huge mistake, and it took ages to sort out the confusion. I tried to get away but-"

"It's OK, sweetie," Ron said, noting that even though Hermione had had a bad day she didn't feel the need to march in and say stupid things. "You're here now. I've made your favourite for supper!"

Hermione bit her lip nervously. "Erm, no offence, darling, but I'm really not very hungry. Is it OK if we just sit here and have a chat?"

"Yeah, that's alright," Ron said, patting the sofa next to him. "What d'ya want to talk about?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know- everything, I suppose. Let's start with how you feel about the baby?"

"I'm, well… a little shocked, I guess, but I'm really thrilled." Ron paused for a second, a deeply thoughtful look on his face. "I've just realised something," he said, as though the thought hadn't really occurred to him before. "I'm going to be a dad. Some poor sap is actually going to have me as a father."

"Yes, well, I hope she doesn't inherit your brain!" Hermione said teasingly.

"She? You mean… it's a girl?"

"No, no!" Hermione said, blushing. " I just- I don't know, I always think of our baby as being a girl. Don't you?"

Ron frowned pensively. "Not really," he said slowly. " I reckon we're going to have a boy."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "Well, there's no point in worrying about it. It'll be another 32 weeks till we find out, after all!" she said lightly.

Ron laughed. "Yeah, I guess you're right. By the way," he added, "who all knows that you're pregnant?"

"Well, there's you, me, Ginny and Harry," Hermione counted on her fingers, "so that's four. Oh, and the crazy old lady who lives across the road from them." Ron gave her a confused look. "When I arrived at their place last night she was out walking her cats, and she was giving me this really weird look so I kind of yelled at her…"

"What did you say?" Ron sniggered.

"Erm, nothing much," Hermione said, though the look of pure embarrassment on her face suggested rather the opposite. "Just that it was impolite to stare at distressed pregnant women and that at least I had a life instead of being some withered old hag with a beard and twenty million cats like her…" Hermione was now blushing so violently that Ron could practically feel the heat radiating off of her face. "Anyway, why do you care who knows that I'm pregnant? You embarrassed about me or something?"

"Of course not," Ron said. "I just want to know who I'll have to tell and who I have to expect calls of, "Hey Weasley! I hear your wife's up the duff!" from."

"Ah, men. Delightful creatures," Hermione said sarcastically. "Oh, by the way, how would you feel about telling your parents about the baby tomorrow?"

"That'd be okay," Ron said hesitantly, rather wondering where she was going with this. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason," Hermione said, standing up from the sofa. "Only we're having dinner with them tomorrow… at our place."