Chapter Two

"Hermione, wait, please!" Hermione ignored his desperate cry. "I don't even know what I did wr-" A sharp glare from his wife cut Ron's words short. A deep rosy blush colored his ears, shining through the freckles over his pale skin. "Ok, so it was bad. I'm horrible, a bloody horrible husband. And insensitive too!" he rushed ahead a little, placing both hands on her shoulders to hold her back.

Hermione stopped only because Ron stood in her way. Her arms were crossed and her lips were drawn in a thin line of anger. "But won't you please tell me what I did wrong?" he stood for a moment, holding her shoulders, but Hermione only glared. "You're not going to talk to me until we get inside…" Ron surmised. His only answer was slightly raised eyebrows. "Right…" Ron answered, stepping quickly out of her way.

Hermione stormed into the house. They lived in a little village that consisted of other young magical couples. The house was small, but beautiful and perfect. The Potters lived just down the road and Ron and Hermione were often over for dinner as Ginny had managed to inherit her mother's mastery in the kitchen, though she'd added her own spunk to every dish.

Ron wearily entered the front door of their home. He was surprised that Hermione hadn't locked him out again. The last time he hadn't been able to break the charm she'd put on the lock, and he had slept on the front porch until she allowed him to come back inside. The house seemed to be in order, nothing was broken, and then he heard Hermione's cursing coming from the kitchen. Sidling carefully to the doorway, Ron peered around the corner, trying not to catch her attention. Her back was turned to him and everything, from the set of her shoulders, to the way she was furiously scrubbing at the tiles of the kitchen counter displayed her anger and her frustration. But for what?

Ron cautiously entered the kitchen. "Hermione?" he ventured, his voice soft and smooth. "You wanna talk to me now babe?" Hermione turned abruptly, and Ron was surprised to see the tears streaming down her beautiful cheeks. "Hermione…" Ron said, flabbergasted. He couldn't help but take the few long strides to his wife to wrap his arms around her. He pulled her into his chest and he felt her shoulders begin to shake uncontrollably as her tears overwhelmed her.

"No..." Hermione moaned softly, trying to push away. She was still angry and she wasn't ready to forgive him yet. "You're so stupid…" she murmured into his shoulder. She tried to pull away again, but Ron's strong arms encircled her and he wouldn't release her. "I know…" Ron answered in a whisper. He held her against him, stroking her hair and her back, trying to make her tears fade away. Finally, Hermione gave up trying to escape, and instead she collapsed against him, allowing the tears and the sobs to wrack her small frame.

"I didn't mean to hurt you." Ron spoke softly into her hair. She'd finally managed to ease her sobs. Her breath caught in her chest once or twice, but Ron was gently brushing her tears away. "I know I'm stupid. I'm a bloody idiot most of the time." Hermione was resting against him as he'd managed to lead her to the couch in the sitting room. He paused to stroke a piece of her hair away from her eyes. He pulled it gently and tucked it behind her ear. "But no matter what I say, and no matter what I do, I'll always love you." Her head rested against his chest, and she could feel the strong beating of his heart ringing comfortingly against her eardrums. She felt his lips against her forehead and she felt tears well dangerously in her eyes again.

His fingers trailing up and down her neck were raising pleasant goose pimples all over her skin, and suddenly Hermione couldn't remember why she had been so angry moments before. She pushed herself up, stretching to reach her lips to his. The fire ignited between them, rushing over her skin until the tip of every single nerve was burning. She pulled him gently until he was lying long way across the couch, and she was pressed against him, every inch of them connected by fire.


Hermione trailed her fingers gently over the taut expanse of her belly, the memories of the child's conception rushing fresh through her memories. Her shirt was pulled up just under her breasts so that her smooth stomach was exposed. She hardly noticed the tears trickling from the corners of her eyes as she lay on their bed, missing the warmth of Ron beside her. It felt like too much space, as if she had grown smaller in his absence, and now she was trapped in this empty place that surrounded her and suffocated her with its emptiness. She felt a gentle movement from inside and she held the palm of her hand over the tiny foot pressed against her ribs.