A/N Thanks very much to everyone who's favourited, followed, and of course, my lovely reviewers! Arabellagrace; I completely agree, I don't think anyone deserves a Ron, but I guess I like writing grim things, sorry! Bookworm4life0812; you might have to get in line for that slap, but maybe in the sequel I'll have one dedicated to you! And guest; I'm glad you liked it, you're very welcome and you're awesome too!

The sequel, Girl No More, is well and truly underway at the moment; I have about three chapters finished, so there shouldn't be much of a wait between the end of this and the start of the next. Hopefully, anyway! Thanks once more to everyone taking the time to read this, and please enjoy.

Disclaimer; I just like to borrow JKR's characters and make them dance. They don't belong to me.

Year 3

Hermione had left work early, for a change, stopping by Ron's cubicle on the way and asking him to make sure he was on time getting back that day, which he, though confused, had promised. Arriving home, she immediately started to make a nice meal for him, wanting to surprise him and make the announcement of her news special; she had even gone so far as to ask Molly to have Rose for the night. When five o'clock arrived, leaving time for the majority of ministry workers, she had everything cooked to perfection, a glass of wine poured for each of them, and an apple pie cooking in the oven, and she was trying to sit patiently for him to arrive, but couldn't seem to stop her knees from bouncing in excitement.

By half past, she was beginning to get concerned; he had promised he would be home on time, so where was he? By six o clock, she was frowning, as the heating charms she had put over the pork chops she had prepared would only last so long without affecting the flavour. By half six she had had quite enough and flooed back to the ministry, attempting nonchalance as she asked the wizard at the welcoming desk if Ronald Weasley had signed out yet. Recognising her as his wife, the man quickly checked and, seeming uncomfortable, told her that Mr Weasley had left the ministry at 4:55 that day. Reminding herself that manners didn't cost, even when she wanted to hunt down her husband and hex his delicate parts, she thanked the man and wished him a good night.

Arriving home once more, she decided that there was no need for good wine to go to waste, and curled up in her armchair with a new book she had bought the other day, sipping the glass of wine she had poured for herself, finishing it quickly and moving onto his. It was not unusual for Ron to be home late on Friday nights; he and the other aurors had a tradition of going to the pub to unwind after a long week, and usually she and Ginny, who had no interest in sitting in smelly, dark pubs, used this time to catch up and have a little, as she called it, 'girly time'. But she had cancelled on Gin, and asked him to come straight home, and couldn't help but be irritated that he had broken his promise. Especially when her news was so exciting.

He arrived back at quarter to eleven, staggering slightly and stinking of beer and whiskey. "Hello my dearest wife." He slurred, bending down to give her a sloppy kiss. "Ginny already gone home?" He called back as he went to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. "Oh, thanks for making dinner but I've already eaten." He called back, then she heard him mumble, "Then again..." He came back into the lounge and sat opposite, his plate heaving with food that he began to inhale, barely tasting it.
"Ginny didn't come tonight, and Rose is at your mothers." She murmured, and frowned when he mumbled a 'why', his mouth full of food. "I asked her if she'd mind keeping her for the night, just like I asked you to be home on time."
He frowned slightly as he took a swig of his drink. "Oh yeah. Sorry, I forgot." He had already returned to eating by the time he was giving his insincere apology, and she felt her irritation snap.
"Ronald!" She called angrily.
He lifted his head, his mouth hanging open in shock and confusion, giving her an entirely unappetising view of half eaten pork and potatoes, as he dumbly garbled, "What?" He swallowed and continued to look at her in befuddlement, before cautiously saying, "Did you want me to grab you a beer?"

She sighed; he was absolutely clueless. "No, Ron. I needed to see you, that's why I asked you to be home on time."
"Okay, just let me grab a shower quickly, yeah?" He had already finished his plateful and with a lazy wave of his wand, it flew back to the kitchen.
"Ron, this is important!"
"I'll only be a minute, don't worry. Then I'm all yours." He gave his eyebrows a suggestive wiggle and she sighed in exasperation.

He spent a good fifteen minutes in the shower, and her scowl deepened with each passing one. When he emerged, clad only in a white towel covering his bottom half, his hair still dripping wet, he immediately came over and tried to give her a deep kiss, soaking her as he did. "Honestly Ronald!" She yelled, pushing him away and casting a quick drying charm over the pair of them. "Sometimes you are just incorrigible!"
He blinked, obviously not understanding her vocabulary, before shrugging and moving slightly away. "Whatever. Want a beer love?" He smiled widely at her, obviously expecting praise for remembering to ask her, but she merely frowned and sighed, giving up on making the news special.
"No, Ron, I can't have a beer."
"Sure you can! It's the weekend, let's have a beer together, or a firewhiskey?"
"I can't have firewhiskey either. I can't have any alcohol." He looked pointedly at the wine glass in her hand and, thinking she couldn't give a hint any bigger than this, said, "It's Elf-Made, that's all I can drink now."

He looked at her in confusion, but took her glass from her and went to the kitchen, returning with it full and a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. "So is this some kind of new diet or something?"
Swallowing down the part of her that wanted to snap at him for implying that she may need to diet, she took a deep breath and said, "No, Ron, it's a necessity. Also, I'm going to have to take some time off work."
He frowned. "That Stewart did something, didn't he? I swear-"
"Ron, for Merlin's sake!" She exclaimed, fed up with his idiocy. "I'm trying to tell you I'm pregnant!"
He spat out the whiskey he had just swallowed and stared at her. "WHAT?!"
"I'm pregnant! We're going to have another baby!"
He looked dumbfounded for a moment, before demanding, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?!"
"I was bloody well trying to!" His shocked look turned into one of horror in less than a second, and she grabbed his arm in concern. "Ron, what is it?"
"Oh shit." He replied breathlessly. "You're going to be having mood swings again."