I'm not J.K. Rowling and I don't own Harry Potter.

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I may post the next chapter today as well, since this one is so short.

... Chapter 3...

They had to do something about these walls.

Honestly, she expected better quality in a flat. The least they could provide were walls that had the common decency to remain perfectly still at all times. None of this wobbling about nonsense.

Ron's hands were steady on her waist as he guided her down the hallway to the bedroom, mumbling bits of advice as they went along.

"Watch the plant, love. Neville wouldn't be too pleased with us if we took to walking on it."

She turned her head quickly, instantly regretting the motion as her stomach lurched with vertigo.

"Don' be-don't be ridiculous, Ron."

He nodded solemnly, steering her around an unexpected end table.

Terribly unfair, really. The way he seemed quite capable of navigating the twists and turns of their modest flat without even needing a moment to orient himself.

He pulled her to a stop in the bedroom, leaving her swaying in the middle of the rug while he shut the door softly. She reached out casually to grasp one of the bedposts, staggering slightly as it appeared to be located a good foot away from where she had originally thought it to be.

That would have to be addressed as well. Wouldn't do at all, having furniture that moved about the place. It was rather dismaying, actually.

Warm hands slid around her sides to link over her stomach. Solid hands, attached to a solid body that pressed right up behind her. He was steady as a rock, anchoring her in place, providing a much-needed counterpoint to her unbalanced state of mind. She rolled her head back against his chest, smiling up into his eyes.

Her very favorite shade of blue, framed by tiny fanning lines, a sure sign that her husband was struggling to contain laughter. He leaned forward to brush his lips across her forehead before spinning her around, leaving her head reeling as her lifted her onto the bed, kneeling on the floor to attack the tiny buckles fastening the delicate straps of her shoes.

Visions of mangled footwear danced in her head, bringing her sitting upright to stop his hands, grasping them in hers.

"That isn't necessary. I do not requile-req-requi-I don't want help."

This time he did laugh, throwing back his head as he plopped down onto his arse, so deeply overcome with laughter that soon he was forced to drag his arm across his eyes to wipe away the tears.

He held his arms out wide indicating her prostrate form and still firmly fastened shoes.

"Go on, then. I'd be more than happy to sit back and watch the show."

She tossed her head, sending hairpins scattering across the room, pinging metallically as they hit various pieces of furniture and rolled to the floor. With extreme care, she leaned slowly forward and gingerly picked at each strap until it was released from the buckle. Finishing one shoe, she set it carefully down on the bed beside her, gasping as the other shoe flew from her foot to join it. She jerked up her head to find Ron standing over her with his wand in hand, his eyes burning with something quite different from laughter.

"You were taking too long."

She nodded vaguely, watching his eyes run across her exposed length of leg. In the process of removing her shoe she seemed to have bunched up her skirt somewhere in the vicinity of her waist. She started to reach behind her for the zip, nearly toppling off of the bed sideways.

"Watch it there, Hermione, you'll be black 'n blue by morning, rate you're going."

He turned her gently away from him, opening her dress and pulling it off over her head. He even popped open the clasp of her bra and she let it fall into her lap before flopping back against the pillows, clad only in her sensible knickers.

His eyes were frankly appreciative on her body as he removed his own clothing, moving to lie beside her on the bed, his fingers trailing softly across the skin of her belly. She shivered, the tiny hairs on her skin raising in awareness, seeking out his touch.

Her arms felt awkward as she moved to wrap them around him, heavy and stiff as if from disuse. He sighed into the crook of her shoulder as she finally succeeded in holding him, pulling him flush against her side. He radiated heat like an electric blanket. She wondered idly if Mr. Weasley had one of those in his collection...

"Mmm, missed you."

Ron spoke into her neck, pressing tiny kisses along her skin. Her eyes, which had been drooping sleepily, blinked slowly open. She turned to catch the corner of his mouth with her lips. He paused for a moment before opening his lips over hers, bathing them in the warm silk of his mouth. She had missed him, too.

...

Ron almost felt like a teenager again, snogging his wife on the bed like this. He knew it was likely to end with snogging, since Hermione had slightly overdone it with the champagne. She and Harry had been hanging on each other's shoulders, crying and laughing and making big pronouncements of things they would do for each other. He wondered if she would remember her promise to babysit at the drop of the hat when she woke up tomorrow.

"Ron?"

He pulled back reluctantly, giving her mouth enough space to speak. Shame that she wanted to use it for talking, when he could think of so many much nicer uses for it. Starting with going right back to snogging him...

"What do you s'po-suppose the baby will turn out to be? A boy or a girl?"

He suppressed a grin at the way she was so carefully pronouncing her words. There was nothing funnier to him than a wasted Hermione. The more intoxicated she became, the more slow and careful she was with words, giving each one a ridiculous amount of attention and emphasis. He kissed her on the cheek before falling back against his pillow, tossing her bra to the floor when it dug into his side and gathering her against him.

"It will be a boy, I reckon."

Hermione's hair tickled his nose and he idly began pulling out hairpins as she tilted her neck to look at him.

"Why do you think it will be a boy? I s'po-s'po-I guess that you and Harry would not be content with a mere girl-child, would you?"

Ron shook his head, gathering an inconceivable amount of pins in his hand. She must have put hundreds into her hair, to tame it so thoroughly. She was always so funny about her hair, wanting it to stay flat and even against her head. He much preferred it in its natural state, wild and free and curling around her face.

"It isn't that. It's just that, well, Ginny's a Weasley, isn't she? She can't help but have a boy. That's just the way we work, Weasleys. S'got some sort of old magic to it or somethin'."

Hermione humphed against his chest, her hair now completely free of pins and curling all over the place. He thought some of it was trying to attack his ears. She shifted to lay on top of him as he stretched out his arm to deposit the mountain of hairpins onto his nightstand. He swallowed as the soft pressure of her breasts against him caused a much harder pressure lower down.

"Well, I believe that Ginny will prove you wrong, the pair of you. It will be a girl, mark my words."

Ron looked into her eyes, the lids drooping with an adorable combination of intoxication and exhaustion. Then, unexpectedly, a tiny seed of an idea was planted in his mind, growing stronger and better formed with every beat of his heart.

"Care to bet on that?"

She nodded heavily, her head lolling like it may fall off of her shoulders at any moment. He felt a momentary twinge of guilt for taking advantage of her when she was in such a state, but then he considered the way they had been going for more than a month and all traces of guilt were banished, replaced by steely determination.

"Alright, what would you win if it turns out to be a boy? Not that such a possibility has even the remonest-remo-re- slightest chance of occurring."

His heart picked up speed, hammering against the walls of his chest as he considered his prize, the one thing he wanted above anything else, a chance to save their relationship. To show her what they had been missing all this time.

"I would want you to do anything I ask, whenever I ask it, for the remainder of the week."

Her brow furrowed as she considered this, her fingers tracing the pattern of freckles that crested his right shoulder. Eventually she seemed to reach some sort of conclusion and nodded carefully, the act obviously requiring an inordinate amount of focus.

"I see. Well then, in that case I would ask the same of you, were I to win. Which I will."

She settled in beside him, sighing deeply as her eyes closed with a sense of finality, dashing any hopes he may have held for continued snogging. Which were quite a lot of hopes, actually. An entire herd of them.

"Mmm. Maybe this way I can finally get the flat cleaned."

Her words trailed off with a yawn as she burrowed into his side. Far sooner than was usual, her soft snoring reached his ears within minutes, bringing a smile to his face. He ran his hand over her hair, letting the wild locks curl around his fingertips like living silk.

She may have nothing more than a thorough flat-cleaning in mind, but he had far more entertaining plans for his winnings. He just hoped that his gut feeling turned out to be more than indigestion. If this baby didn't turn out to be a boy ... well, he may just have to strangle Harry for messing up the Weasley pattern. He was really counting on it.

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