Ron looked across at Hermione. "Are you sure you're okay to apparate?"

"I'll be fine, Ronald," She said briskly. "I'm barely four months pregnant. Besides, the Burrow isn't too far away; I doubt very much that I'll get splinched."

"If you're sure," Ron murmured, before turning on the spot and disappearing with a loud 'pop', Hermione following behind him.

As soon as Ron re-appeared outside the gate to the Burrow, he span around to check Hermione was alright.

"I'm fine," She snapped, shaking off his hand and beginning the short walk to the house.

"Morning, Mum," Ron called as they stepped over the threshold.

Mrs Weasley scurried out from the kitchen. "Morning, Ronald," She said distractedly. "How are you, dear?" She asked Hermione hurriedly. "Are you alright? Do you need to sit down?"

"I'm fine, Molly," Hermione said angrily, pushing past her into the living room where Fleur stood, cradling Louis.

"Was she like that with you?" Hermione asked darkly.

"Oui," Fleur sighed. "And Bill. Zey all were. Très énervant."

"How did you live with it?" Hermione asked jokily.

Fleur paused before speaking. "You 'ave to remind yourself zat zey are only doing it because zey care," She shrugged.

"Yeah, well," Hermione muttered as Fleur engaged in conversation with Angelina. "I bet it's a lot easier for you to forgive them now it's not happening anymore..."

Harry looked around to see Hermione standing alone in a corner, scowling. "I'll be back in a minute," He told Charlie, before approaching Hermione.

"You alright?" He asked.

Hermione sighed. "I'm fine," She said softly. "Just getting a bit fed up of everyone asking me how I am."

"I'm sorry I asked," Harry joked.

Hermione smiled. "That's fine," She said. "It's just when you walk in the door and Molly starts shrieking at you. And Ron, you'd think I was about to drop dead, the way he's being acting. He didn't want me to apparate her today, when he knows perfectly well it's safe up to seven months."

Harry frowned. "I can understand that."

"What?"

"You have to see what it's like from our perspective," He said fairly. "You women feel this bond with your baby, right? You can feel it. And I know it can be a right pain in the arse but you can feel it and you get to look after it for nine months.

"We don't have that. Occasionally, we can feel it kicking but we have no contact with our own flesh and blood until they're born. All the time you're pregnant, we're completely helpless, so we try and compensate for that by keeping you and the baby as safe as possible. Do you see?"

Hermione nodded as Harry cupped her shoulders, her mouth slightly open and her eyes welling with tears.

As Harry started up conversation with Arthur, Hermione blinked, wiped her eyes and made her way into the kitchen. Molly was moving her wand in circles, directing a wooden spoon to stir vegetables and putting a chicken in the oven.

"Is there anything I can help you with, Mrs Weasley?" She asked politely.

Molly looked surprised, but pleased. "Call me Molly, dear," She said. "And could you peel the potatoes for me?"

Hermione nodded and took a knife out of the drawer, then began peeling the potatoes, glad that the two witches had something in common – they both cooked using muggle methods as opposed to using magic.

Anxious to break the silence, Hermione bit her lip. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier, Mrs Weasley," She said.

"It can't be helped," Molly said briskly. "She had suddenly become very interested in the carrots she was chopping and there was a coldness in her voice.

"No, really," Hermione pressed. "The way I reacted was completely uncalled for. I shouldn't have acted like that and I really am sorry, Mrs Weasley."

"Don't worry about it, dear," The older witch said kindly, cupping Hermione's shoulders. "And call me Molly, I've told you enough."

"I think it's the hormones," Hermione laughed weakly.

"Happens to the best of us," Molly winked, then pointed at the potatoes, directing Hermione to continue peeling them.

That evening, Hermione walked into the kitchen, where Ron was devouring a pumpkin pasty, clutching a DVD.

"So," She smiled, holding up the DVD. "The Railway Children. What do you think?"

"Not today, Hermione," Ron said wearily, licking his lips.

"Oh," Hermione said. "Okay then, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang? Or something else?"

"No, no, no," Ron said levelly. Stepping forwards, he took the DVD out of her hands and set it down on the table. "I don't think you understand. No film this week."

"What?" Hermione said, hurt. Every week since they were married they had kept Sunday evenings free in order to sit and watch a muggle film together.

"Why not?" She asked.

Ron paused. "Let's just say I'm not in the mood for getting all cosy," He said, pushing past her and heading for the stairs.

"What do you mean?"

"Use your brains, Hermione," He spat.

"What is it, Ronald?" Hermione shouted up the stairs.

"You can sleep on the sofa tonight," Ron said stonily.

Hermione heard him storm into their bedroom and slam the door in his wake. Blinking back the tears, she traipsed into the living room, put the DVD in, grabbed the remote and a patchwork blanket Molly had made her and Ron for a wedding present, and curled up on the sofa.

Hermione didn't sleep well that night. She woke and looked, bleary eyed, at the clock on the mantle piece. It was half five. Groggily, she pulled the blanket off herself and ascended the stairs, having decided a hot shower ought to wake her up.

Massaging the shampoo through her hair, she made a pact with herself to patch things up with Ron by the time she went to bed that evening. There was no hope in talking to Ron before work, she thought as she rinsed the conditioner out of her hair, he wasn't due in the shop until half eight, so he wouldn't be up until after Hermione had left for work. She didn't want to wait until the evening to talk to her husband, either...

Only when Hermione cast a spell over her hair to instantly dry it, did she decided what to do.

Back in the kitchen, Hermione crammed a slice of toast into her mouth and reached for a quill and piece of parchment, then scribbled a note.

Ron,
I'm really sorry about last night. I'm going to come by the shop around one on my lunch break.
See you then,
Hermione

Hermione gazed at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time. Only an hour left until h she still had three proposals to draft and, whilst she worked faster than most, Hermione knew there was no way she would finish this by the deadline her supervisor had set her – two o'clock.

"Granger!" A deep voice barked from the office behind her.

Cursing under her breath, Hermione smoothed down her skirt and stepped into her supervisor's office.

"Yes, Mr Heath?" She said as with as much politeness as she could muster.

"Court case," He said roughly. "I need you down in courtroom ten. Now."

"Courtroom ten?" Hermione said incredulously. Courtroom ten was reserved for large cases. "What's it about?"

"Hogwarts' centaurs," Heath rumbled. "You're dealing with that case, are you not?"

"Yes," Stammered Hermione. "But they weren't meant to be in court until October."

"Well both Professor Giles and – what's the centaur's name?"

"Alta."

"Both Professor Giles and Alta would prefer to get this sorted now. Professor Giles in particular feels the constant presence of the Ministry is interfering with student life."

"What about the proposals you wanted me to draft?" Hermione asked.

"You'll still have time to do them," Heath sneered. "This should only last half an hour."

Hermione nodded. She'd have to try and get them done once she was finished in court. She had worked with Heath for a while now and knew anyone who argued with him did so in vain.

"Go, then," Heath ordered. "You'll be late."

Ron tried to suppress a yawn as he walked into the kitchen. He stepped blindly over to the kettle and began making tea as is on auto-pilot. Only as he reached into a cupboard for a mug did he notice a hastily scribbled note. He half smiled as he read it. It seemed Hermione did at least know she was in the wrong and Ron was willing to accept an apology.

He contemplated the selection of cereals in the cupboard but settled instead on breakfast in Diagon Alley, grabbing his magenta cloak as he stepped outside.

Ron drummed his fingers on the counter. This was always a slow time of year; the Hogwarts' students had stocked up on their prank-pulling supplies and were in no need of buying more, so all products were in low demand.

He looked at the clock on the wall behind the counter. Hermione was due in fifteen minutes.

Keen to make some use of himself, Ron checked nobody was about to enter the shop and then ducked through the curtain which led to the back of the shop, where he began checking the stock list.

Hermione checked her watch and sighed; Heath had said she would have been out of court twenty minutes ago and they weren't even half way through the procedure. They were yet to make a decision and she was undoubtedly going to be late meeting Ron by at least a quarter of an hour, with no means of contacting him. She wasn't allowed to leave the courtroom or use magic unless completely necessary.

Ron finished performing the complicated wand movements required to package multiple boxes of skiving snackboxes and was about to start brewing a love potion when a glance at his watch told him it was five past one.

"George!" He shouted, throwing his apron aside. "I'm on lunch!"

"Alright," George called back from his office upstairs. "Be back by two!"

"Yeah, because we're so busy today," Ron muttered, pushing the curtain aside.

He frowned as he looked around the deserted shop front. He had thought Hermione might be dithering there – she always hated going to the back of the shop without permission.

Ron checked his watch again – it was seven minute past. Hermione was never late; she always made sure she was at least five minutes early. Sighing, Ron picked up a product list and began checking the stock. He would take his lunch when Hermione turned up.

Hermione squirmed in her seat. It was one thirty five and the Wizengamot were finally beginning to file out of courtroom ten. Rubbing her stomach, she jumped up and pushed through the crowd, dashing to the toilet.

She checked her watch as she headed along to her office. She had just over twenty minutes to draft the three proposals. Knowing she would have no choice but to give one to a colleague to complete, she marched to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as quickly as her three-month-pregnant body would permit.

"Fenella," She gasped, collapsing into a chair and clutching a stick in her side. "Fenella, Heath's given me three proposals to draft. Two for house elves and one for werewolves. I've got to have them done by two and I've only just got out of court, could you-"

Fenella held out a hand, smiling grimly at her.

"Thanks," Hermione breathed, handing over the information about the werewolves.

The two witches worked in silence until five past two, when Mr Heath burst into the office they shared.

"Granger!"

"I've done them, I've done them," Hermione growled, scribbling the final sentence and handing the three finished proposals to her supervisor.

"Good," Heath said curtly. Holding out a hand, he took the papers and stalked out of the office, oblivious to the faces Fenella was making behind his back.

Hermione chuckled. "Stop doing that," She wheezed. "He'll catch you one day!"

"Let him," Fenella said dryly. "So, how are things with Ron?"

Hermione sighed. "It's not good," She admitted.

Fenella raised an eyebrow enquiringly. "Oh?"

"We got into a bit of a fight last night," She said. "I don't really know what it was about. I slept on the sofa and I left him a note this morning telling him I'd come and see him at work at one."

"Erm, it's gone two," Fenella pointed out, rather unhelpfully.

"I know," Hermione snapped. "I had the bloody court case, didn't I? Then I had to do those proposals and I just haven't had time."

"Well go, go now!" Fenella said frantically, waving her arms. "I'm sure Ron'll understand if you explain."

"Well," Hermione muttered bitterly as she made to leave the office. "You haven't met my husband."

"Ron!" Hermione gasped, bursting into the shop. "Ron!"

George looked up from the counter, raised his eyebrows and pointed into the backroom with his quill. Smiling gratefully, Hermione pushed back the curtain, coming face to face with Ron.

"Ron," She said. "Sorry I'm-"

"Late?" Ron finished His voice was quite but cold. "It's okay. I mean, you hate being late for my mother, or your parents, or work, or anything really, but I guess it's okay to be late for me, huh?"

"Ron," Hermione begged. "I was in a court case from twelve I –"

Ron laughed harshly. "Why not send a patronus then, eh?"

"You know I'm not allowed," Hermione's eyes narrowed. "You know we can't use magic inside courts. And I thought I'd be finished by half twelve, but it didn't finish until gone half one and –"

"That was half an hour ago," Ron scowled. "Why are you only just showing up?"

"I had to draft three proposals," Hermione said desperately. "But I'd really like to talk to you about –"

"Ha," Ron snorted. "No thanks, Hermione. You need to sort out your priorities. I'll see you later."

"But-" He pushed past her, through the curtain. Hermione heard the tinkling of the bell as he stormed out of the shop.

George peered around the curtain. Hermione was standing, looking more vulnerable and helpless than she usually cared to, running a hand through her hair and blinking back tears. Coughing to announce his presence, he stepped forwards.

"You look knackered," He said bluntly. "Fancy some grub?"

Hermione nodded gratefully, ducking through the curtain and collapsing into a chair behind the counter.

"So," George said. "Care to share, or private affair?"

"Guess I can share," Hermione smiled weakly, accepting a mini quiche from her brother-in-law. "So, has Ron told you anything?"

George shook his head. "Nope. He's been in a right mood all day, though."

Hermione sighed, running a hand through her tousled hair.

"I'm not really sure what we're arguing about," She said. "He wouldn't watch a film last night, you know how we always watch a film?"

George nodded.

"Well, he said he wasn't in the mood last night. He started shouting and stormed upstairs. I'm really not sure what it is I've done. Anyway, this morning I left him a note telling him I'd come here at one, on my lunch break. There was a last minute court case and it over ran and then I had a report to finish so I only finished work at two. I couldn't get a message out to him in court, see. Then just now he said something about priorities and it's all gone wrong..."

George looked at her.

"I think I know what you did," He said quietly.

"You do?"

He nodded. "Yesterday, you, err, got a bit... stroppy. You apologised to Mum about it, but... well, she wasn't the only one you shouted at, was she?"

Hermione's eyes widened as comprehension dawned on her. She felt like kicking herself; it wasn't like her to be this naïve. Of course that's why Ron was so upset. She had snapped at him in the morning. It all made perfect sense now.

"But," She said, more to herself than to George. "He's not going to accept an apology now, is he? Not now I was late today..."

"I'll talk to him," George started. "Convince him to go home tonight, rather than to Harry and Gin's. Then you cook him dinner or something, something he can't say no to – make his favourite meal. Then talk to him. Apologise."

Hermione nodded, thanked George for the food and left the shop, apparating to the Ministry as soon as she stepped outside.