Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing!
As many of my other stories this is my first attempt at this pairing...am I a broken record or what lol.
"And King Duncan said 'This castle hath a pleasant seat. The air nimbly and sweetly recommends itself unto our gentle senses' then Banquo says 'This guest of summer, the temple-haunting martlet, does approve by his loved mansionry that the heaven's breath smells wooingly here…'"
"Hermione, love, what are you reading?" Ron asked from his spot at the doorway of their living room.
Hermione started at his voice but smiled at him as she closed the book and set it aside.
"Macbeth," she said giving a sigh of contentment as he sat down beside her and drew her legs up to rest over his lap while his fingers lightly massaged the soles of her feet. "He seems to like it," she elaborated before repositioning herself to lean back against the arm of the couch.
"That's a little heavy, don't you think?" he asked as one of his hands moved up her leg then to her rounded stomach, where he traced small circles.
"He responds to it," she answered with a mild glare that he'd quickly learned could turn deadly if he wasn't careful. "I tried everything! 'Olivia', 'Goodnight Moon', 'I Will Never NOT EVER Eat a Tomato'…and he would revolt against each one," she finished sounding rather dejected.
"He revolted?" the Red head asked with a smirk and continued before he could help himself. "His ears aren't even completely formed yet…see I have been listening."
"I'm glad that you were listening, Ronald," she snapped pushing his hand off of her stomach and standing, actually it was more of a roll but she wouldn't admit it, up before stalking off to the kitchen to get a large bowl of ice cream with a side of ketchup crisps, something the twins had begun marketing the year before.
"I'm sorry love, I won't make fun of it again," Ron apologized as he followed her through their small house to the kitchen, where she was already digging into the almost empty ice cream container.
"Of course you won't," she mimicked him as she added the final scoop and walked to the cupboard to take out a few crisps.
He sighed and turned to walk back to the living room, thinking that more than likely he would be setting up a makeshift bed for the night. He picked up the book she'd discarded and flipped through it but threw it back to its place on the coffee table after seeing nothing but 'Art thous'' and 'My Lords'. The faucet in the kitchen ran for a bit, most likely Hermione washing her dish out as she did every night after her snack, and then the stairs creaked, letting him know she was going up to bed.
"Ron?" she called down the stairs after a few minutes.
"Yes, love?"
"Aren't you coming to bed?"
To say he was surprised was an understatement but he stood up, grabbed the book and made his way upstairs before she decides she didn't want him up there. It hadn't happened yet but he was told that his mother had gotten a pretty nasty temper on her when she'd been with child and his father had spent a lot of nights on the couch. He made his way upstairs and put the book on his side table before he walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth.
"I'm sorry I snapped at you," she said quietly after he'd finished his task, stripped down to his boxers and slid into bed.
"It's okay, love," he reassured her, kissing her forehead. "You're allowed to be as moody."
"I love you, Ronald Weasley," she murmured, her eyes closing as she hung between wakefulness and slumber.
"I love you too, Hermione Weasley," he answered as her breathing evened out and a relaxed smile presented itself.
Hermione was woken an hour later by a hand on her stomach and her husbands hushed voice. Cracking an eye open she looked to see what he was up to and couldn't stop the smile that formed as she listened to him closely.
"And Banquo said…silly name Banquo, isn't it? Anyway, Banquo say's 'This guest of summer, the temple-haunting martlet, does approve by his loved mansionry that the heaven's breath smells wooingly here. No jutty, frieze, buttress, no coign of vantage, but this bird hath made his pendent bed and…'are you getting any of this?" she watched as he stopped, as if waiting for an answer before he continued. "You must take after your mum, little one. I'll teach you about Quidditch and the Cannons, your mum will teach you…this stuff," he sighed before he rolled over and grabbed the latest issue of Quidditch weekly and returned to her stomach as he opened it and began to read.
Excerpts are from Shakespeare's Macbeth, Act 1 Scene 6.