A/N Me again! I meant to say on the last chapter, I hope to be updating once or twice awake, but this damned thing called real life keeps on being a pain in the bum and getting in the way... Quick thanks to those who have favourited and followed, and a massive shout out to stephalopolis09 for the lovely first review; I'm chuffed to bits that you loved MLG, and hope you like this one just as much! Also to bookworm4life0812 for your review; sorry I had you in tears, hopefully this story might make up for it :)

Disclaimer; As ever, nothing recognisable here is mine.

Year 2

The shrieking ran through their small house, making Hermione bury her head under her pillow and blindly reach for her husbands arm, prodding him when she found it. "Whassup?" He mumbled at her.
"Roiupgen." She stated from beneath her cover.
"Wha?" He asked blearily.
She removed her shield and sat up in the bed. "Rose is up again." She repeated with a yawn.
"Go sort her out then." He replied grumpily.
She shot him a scathing look. "Thanks for offering to help." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, but he obviously didn't hear it.
"Welcome." He seemed to fall straight back to sleep.

Stretching her body, she stumbled towards her daughter's cot, sighing at her husband as she went, but immediately smiling when she saw the small, red-faced child wailing at her. "Here, Rosie," She cooed, picking her up and rocking her gently, "what's wrong with you, hey?" She gave a quick inspection and found that she was clean, and didn't seem to be hungry, so sat down in the rocking chair nearby and started to sing softly to the girl.

"Rock-a-bye Rosie, safe in my arms
Dream about magic; potions and charms
Think of the owls that soar through the skies
Now, my little girl, close your eyes."

Her brown eyes slowly drifted off, and, as she looked so peaceful, Hermione couldn't bear to move her, so settled herself in for a night sleeping in the cushioned rocking chair. That was, until...

"Hermione, come back to bed!" Ron's voice bellowed across the hall, immediately reawakening her daughter, who began crying again. Ron rolled over and glared at them both. "Can't you shut her up? I'm tired." He grouched.
Hermione narrowed her eyes and hissed, "I'd just gotten her back to sleep, you idiot."
Ron waved a hand randomly, as if to say her point didn't matter, before repeating, "Come back to bed. She'll stop crying eventually."
Glaring daggers in his back, she muttered that she was going to take Rose through to the lounge to try to get her calm again, and after another few minutes, both mother and baby fell asleep in her favourite armchair.

...

"So I'm going back to work next week, I was thinking of flooing over to the Burrow today to ask Molly if she'd mind watching Rose with James, it's much easier than finding a nanny." Hermione commented as they ate breakfast a few days later.
Immediately Ron scowled. "I still don't see why you're going back to work; I'm earning enough for both of us."
This was an argument they'd had far too many times. "How many times do I have to say this? I enjoy my work, it's not about the money."
"But my mum always stayed home with us." Ron whined.
"And I have the utmost respect for her," Hermione said through gritted teeth, "but I'm not going to be a housewife, Ron. That's just not me."
Ron stabbed a fork into his pancake vehemently. "I don't see why not. I assumed, when we got married, that I'd earn the money and you'd stay home with the kids."
Anger sparked in her. "Well maybe you should have checked your perfect little plan with me before you proposed." She snapped. "Why is me working such an issue, anyway?"
He glared at her. "That new guy in your office, Stewart, I don't like how he looked at you before you took maternity leave."

Her fork froze in her hand as she stared at him; only few weeks after she had begun her new job at the ministry, the old deputy head of department, Liz, had retired to spend more time with her two children and prepare for the third ones arrival, her old colleague Jo had been promoted, and she had begun to share her office with Stewart Blakely, an unassuming man who was pleasant enough to work with, if not a little disorganised for her tastes. But the idea of any kind of relationship between them was preposterous enough to make her burst into peals of laughter.

"Honestly Ron, even if he did look at me that way, which I seriously doubt, it's not like he's going to do anything. He's knows I'm married and knows about Rosie, and he's a decent guy who knows I'm not going to cheat on you."

"Still," He replied darkly, "I don't want you being around him, other guys aren't allowed to look at you like that. You're mine."

Bill had used the possessive pronoun with her before, but then she had known it was an equal thing; she was his and he was hers. This though, this made her voice cold and her irritation flame. "I'm not some item that you can lock away Ronald, you don't own me. And I'm certainly not staying at home playing housewife! It's not my fault if other guys look at me, and I'm not going to take you acting like a jerk because of it." She stood up, scraping her chair backwards. "Now, would you mind watching Rose while I speak to your mum?"
"I can't." He grunted angrily.
"Why not?"
"Because I'm busy!" He suddenly yelled and stalked out of the room, ears as red as his face, not glancing at either the woman or the girl in the room as he left.