After a weekend full of exhausting sex that made Ron forget about adoption woes, Harry brought the topic up during Monday's dinner.
"I've been thinking some more about adoption."
Ron snorted and twirled the spaghetti on his fork. "When have you had time to think with your head this weekend?"
Harry rolled his eyes but managed a smile. "I'm serious, Ron. I… I've been thinking about it a lot."
Ron looked up and met Harry's timid green eyes with his own calm blue ones. "Okay?"
Harry bit his lip and examined his wine glass carefully. "How… I, I know you would prefer a witch or a wizard, but… but it doesn't seem like… that's a… viable option."
Ron put his fork down and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "No, Harry."
"You didn't even let me finish." Harry's voice was small and high-pitched.
"No, Harry. We cannot adopt a Muggle. You haven't thought this through."
"Yes, I have!" Harry looked up and set his jaw. "What's the problem with it?"
"For one thing," Ron ran a hand through his scraggly hair, "the child will never forgive us for being wizards. For another, we can't trust a child not to tell others about us. The kid will expose us or, worse, get laughed right out of Muggle school."
Harry grinded his teeth and looked back at his wine glass. "So this is it?"
Ron sighed, long and hard, then stood and walked around the table. Kneeling on the floor, he took Harry's hands in his and looked up at him. "I love you, Harry. We will find a way to have a family. We can… we can ask someone, Her-Hermione, maybe, and-"
"No!" Harry pulled his hands away and stood. "I don't want you to have kids with Hermione. I don't want to have kids with Hermione. This is fucking pointless." After finishing his wine with a long gulp, Harry slammed his glass onto the table and Disapparated.
Ron stood slowly, staring at the spot where Harry had disappeared. "Fuck! Harry!?" Ron ran through different rooms, hoping Harry had stayed in their house. He wasn't anywhere. Ron returned to the kitchen and flicked his wand. The dishes flew to the sink. Setting them to be washed, Ron sulked into the living room and fell into his favourite chair.