Well, I decided to go ahead and post the next chapter. I'm still not J.K. Rowling and I still don't own anything Harry Potter.

Thank you everyone who reviewed!

...Chapter 4...

Hermione went through her day in an absolute fog, having to go over her papers more than once to simply comprehend the meaning of the words.

She had taken a stiff sober-up potion first thing this morning, handed to her by a slightly smirking Ron, but the potion had done little to clear her head.

Her thoughts were jumbled into disordered piles, forcing her to sift through the mess before stringing coherent sentences together. She knew she had over-imbibed last night, but this appeared to be much more than that. This appeared to be the culmination of months of mounting stress. She hated to admit it, but she really needed to cut down on her workload. With a heartfelt sigh, she made an appointment with her superior to address the issue.

...

Ron lifted his head as Hermione walked into the kitchen, dropping her briefcase with a heavy thud onto the floor. She was usually much more careful with her belongings, so he supposed that she was still suffering the effects of last night. Merlin knew Harry had been useless for the half day he had put in at work, spending most of his time staring off into space with a lackwitted smile on his face. Though perhaps that was due more to his status as father to be than an overabundance of champagne in his system.

He had skipped off right before lunch, thumping Ron on the shoulder as he left with a promise to bring Ginny round for dinner.

"No champagne tonight though, mate. Ginny might think I'm developing bad habits!"

Ron had laughed and nodded, his mind occupied with swirling visions of what exactly he could do with his winnings when the results came through ... the possibilities were endless, really. He had said 'anything', she would do anything he asked, whenever he asked it. He could ask for anything he wanted and ... Merlin's beard but he wanted.

Hermione blew out a loud breath as she slumped in her chair at their tiny kitchen table, tossing her jacket over the back without bothering to fold it properly. She really was dragging, then. It simply wasn't like her to throw things about without regard to appearances. Granted, she didn't yet know they were expecting company for dinner, but still...

"Harry and Ginny are coming round after their Healer's appointment. I think they expect us to feed them or something, the rotten little leaches."

She didn't even crack a smile, instead groaning loudly as she pressed her forehead against the tabletop. He waited for a few moments, but she seemed quite content in her position with no obvious intentions of moving anytime soon. He cleared his throat loudly as he turned to rummage through the pantry.

"I'll just throw something together for us, shall I? Think Harry would mind spaghetti and meatballs? I think I've still got some of those frozen ones you brought home from the Muggle Stuplemarket. "

"SUPER-market"

Her words were muffled by the cheery red and white checked tablecloth which she had insisted on covering their table. Ron had thought it would just accumulate stains, but like with most things in the flat, he had eventually given in.

"Pardon?"

She raised her head, rubbing her temples with her fingers as she moved to stand beside him and peer into the pantry.

"It's called a Supermarket, and I would have greatly appreciated you and Harry consulting with me before making dinner plans. I could have swung by the store on my way home, but neither of you had bothered to notify me or anything, I haven't even had a chance to-"

"Hermione."

He moved her hands out of the way so that he could massage her temples, feeling her relax slightly under his ministrations.

"Go on and sit for a minute, read that book you've been dying to get into or something. I can handle a simple pasta meal. Besides, if Ginny and Harry don't like it, they can kiss my arse."

She turned to look up at him with her face creased in concern.

"Should Ginny be eating pasta at this stage in her pregnancy? I'm afraid that I haven't gotten a chance to read up on it. I had meant to stop by the library this evening, but now I-"

He steered her into the living room, depositing her in her favorite chair.

"I'm sure Ginny can eat whatever she wants. Why, Harry told me today that she's been having pickled beet and egg sandwiches for breakfast every other morning. I don't think that a bit of spaghetti is likely to put her off."

Hermione gave him a rather doubtful look but she did fetch her book with a wave of her wand, again showing Ron just how tired she really was. Normally she preferred to perform little tasks like that the muggle way, dismissing using one's wand for every little thing as 'pure unadulterated laziness!'.

Ron faded back into the kitchen, trying to muffle the clunking of pots and pans as he made their dinner, throwing a few extra meatballs in for Ginny as he recalled Harry's outlandish descriptions of her increased appetite. He didn't want to be fighting a pregnant woman over the last meatball, after all. Hermione would probably frown at that, and Harry was just unstable enough that he could get challenged to a bloody duel or something. Over a meatball.

The doorbell chimed after another hour or so, Ron had frankly lost track of time as he had hit a few snags in his meal preparation. Apparently his wand skills needed a bit of practice when it came to chopping. The knife had gone right through the cutting board, throwing bits of wood in with the onions and forcing Ron to spend a great deal of time fishing out the splinters from the sauce. His fingers were still stained with red.

He heard Hermione greeting their friends and wiped his hands on a cloth before poking his head out of the kitchen to peer at the new arrivals.

"Hang on, Harry, I'll be out in a tick, I just need to put the top on this and grab a couple of butterbeers. Would you like anythin' to drink Hermione? Ginny?"

They both shook their heads, Hermione with a look of comical distaste, and he dashed back into the kitchen to make good on his word.

Carrying the opened butterbeers, he walked into the living room with a decided spring in his step, anxious to hear the news. He still had that gut feeling that told him he was on the right track, but Merlin knew that he had been wrong before. Hermione had a rather detestable habit of always being right. It was dashed hard to live with.

He handed Harry his drink before going to sit on the arm of Hermione's chair, facing the Potters on the couch. It struck him as a bit funny to realize that their positions were exactly reversed from how they had begun the previous evening. Funny though it may be, he was far from laughter as his stomach knotted in anticipation. He had to know if he had won. He took a sip of his drink and stared expectantly at Harry, willing him to say something to the effect of 'Don't worry, Ron, it's a boy, you were right for once in your bloody life.' Yeah, that would do rather nicely.

"Well? Out with it!"

Everyone jumped a bit at his exclamation, Hermione turning in her seat to send him a quelling glance punctuated with lowering eyebrows. He was always very aware of her eyebrows, as she used the bloody things just like punctuation marks, emphasizing her words and feelings so he was left with little doubt of where he stood in her estimation. Unfortunately, that appeared to be rather low at the moment.

Ginny giggled a bit as she rested her hand on her stomach, nudging Harry with her elbow.

"Go on then, Harry, we mustn't leave them in suspense."

Harry stood, holding his beer out to clink against Ron's, the smile on his face lighting up the whole room like a flaming torch.

"Here's to my-to our first child, a son!"

Ron stood with a whooping shout, clapping Harry soundly on the back and spilling his butterbeer with his exuberance. Then he pulled a laughing Ginny to her feet to swing her in a wide circle, narrowly missing the coffee table. She backed away as soon as he released her, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes and holding her belly.

"Careful Ron, you don't want me to have it right here on your living room rug!"

Harry was instantly at her side, a look of absolute terror on his face while Hermione leapt to her feet, announcing her intentions of fetching the Healer immediately. Ginny fended them off admirably, claiming that Harry had lost his sense of humor and the only people Hermione needed to call was Chinese takeout, since she doubted the edibility of Ron's cooking.

Everyone seemed to calm down a bit, settling into an enjoyable dinner. Ron even let Ginny have that last meatball without a fight. He could sacrifice one meatball for the baby that had just helped him win his bet. That baby was going to be absolutely brilliant, with a start like this!

Hermione walked them to the door, waving them off with a cheery goodbye and promises to stop by later in the week. Ginny even gave her one of her pregnancy books to look through, well aware that Hermione was about to go deep into research mode on her behalf.

Ron was completely ecstatic. He had won. He had won. And that meant ... that meant that she would do anything he wanted. His thoughts grew increasingly lascivious as he watched her walk back into the kitchen to start the cleanup. He loved the way her work skirts molded to her backside when she walked, just the way his hands longed to.

He walked up behind her, putting his hands on her hips but refraining from pressing himself against her bum until he got a read on her mood. He had certainly learned his lesson from previous experience with a cranky Hermione. When she was in a rotten mood, she would not tolerate any randiness from him. He leaned his chin on her head, unable to resist a bit of a gloat.

"So it's going to be a boy, then."

She nodded with a mumbled something about "as long as it's healthy...". He waited for further acknowledgement of her defeat but none was forthcoming.

"So that means that I've won, then."

Well. So much for subtlety. George was always telling him that he was about as subtle as a troll's club, anyway.

Hermione turned to look at him in bewilderment, a tiny cluster of soap bubbles clinging to her cheek.

"What have you won, precisely?"

Ron was completely flabbergasted. She had ... forgotten? He had been dreaming about this moment all day and it had simply slipped her mind. He wanted to roar with frustration.

"The bet. Our bet, on whether it would turn out to be a boy or a girl. I've won."

She looked vague for a moment before something sharpened in her eyes and they snapped to his.

"You were ... serious about that?"

He nodded vigorously, holding his breath and hoping against hope that she wouldn't back out of it now that he'd won. He had a plan unfolding in his head, which if he could manage to pull off with halfway decent results, could very well make this the best week of his life. She said nothing more, and so he rushed to seal the deal.

"You aren't going to try and wiggle out of it now, are you? I would have kept to it, if I'd lost. Which I didn't. 'Cause I won."

She rolled her eyes, muttering something that sounded like 'mature' under her breath. Ron didn't care. She could call him a goblin's toenail as long as she acknowledged his victory.

Sighing deeply, she turned back to the sink to attack the dishes with renewed vigor.

"Alright, I concede defeat. You win the bet, Ron, congratulations. As you can see, I'm already cleaning up from dinner so you may as well go do whatever it is you'd rather be doing than the dishes. Which I imagine is basically anything, knowing you."

Ron stared at the back of her head for a moment, just letting bits of his new plan click into place. There were a few holes left still, but he'd work those out as he came to them. He had a good bit of experience with that kind of thinking on his feet, now that he was an Auror.

He shut off the water with his wand, getting a startled squeak out of his wife before she turned around to glare at him, arms akimbo. He rushed to speak before she could say anything. She looked like she wanted to give him a piece of her mind, and, with a mind like Hermione's, even a piece was often too much to take.

"I think you should leave the dishes. We'll get to them tomorrow or something."

The look of horror on her face was absolutely priceless. One would think, to look at her, that he had just requested she toss a newborn baby out the window. Oh, he was really going to enjoy this week.

"But-no. No, Ron! You know I can't sleep if there's a mess to be dealt with! Just let me tidy up a bit and-"

He pulled her to him with an arm around her waist, planting a kiss on her mouth, which remained hanging open in distress.

"You have to do anything I say, remember? An' I say leave the bloody dishes."

She just stared at him, completely incredulous for the space of a minute before flinging up her hands, narrowly missing his nose, and stalking out of the room.

Well. That had not gone quite as he had planned. She was supposed to melt into his arms and forget about all of the stupid little things that had been building up lately, dragging her down. He was sick of it, sick of the stress and the rowing and the absolute drought destroying their sex life.

This week, he had a chance. A chance to change things, to make her see the way they could be, if only they'd try. All they needed to do was remember, really, remember how it had been in the beginning.

He hadn't forgotten, not a bit of it. He remembered sleepless nights spent exploring each other's bodies and being absolutely worthless at work because they couldn't wait to get home and start again.

It could be like that now. There was no reason it shouldn't be, really. He'd just have to surprise her with it, shock her into remembering, into igniting that flame that was still burning, buried beneath the minutia of day-to-day life.

He'd give her tonight to get some sleep, if things went as planned tomorrow, they'd be needing the extra rest.

Thanks for reviewing!