Of course it was going to be a problem, Hermione thought to herself as she sat across from Ron, at the dinner table.
He was ecstatic when he saw that the table was laden with his favourite foods, which, Ron being who he was, was almost every dish Winky could make, without finishing the food in the pantry.
"Winky is tired, Miss," she complained in rare form, "Winky cannot do anymore tonight."
Hermione wondered exactly what it took to tire a house elf. The answer was simple: it took the appetite of a Weasley.
However did Molly manage to feed a whole clan of them, without the help of an elf? She shuddered at the thought of cooking to Ron and any children they might have.
Not to mention said person was now spraying bits of food from his mouth trying to speak with his mouth full.
Didn't Molly teach them any manners?
On second thought, Molly might have tried, but judging by the thickness of Ron's skull, not even Molly's nagging might have made it through.
Hermione looked at Ron stuffing his face, although he admitted to having a meal at the Manor just before; Hermione wondered: Why?
"I'm quitting the job at the ministry," she said quietly.
"That's brill!" Ron exploded, and Hermione just had to interrupt.
"Say it Ron, Don't Spray it!" she wiped her face with the serviette and made a face.
Ron swallowed, and Hermione winced at the size of the descending lump.
"Sorry 'Mione, it's just that I am so happy to hear it! Now you can spend more time with Mum, and maybe we can think about a family…"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't clear enough; I'm quitting the ministry, not employment."
It took a minute for the fact to sink in, but when it did…
"You have another job in mind? Hermione!"
"Yes, Ronald?"
He winced at the tone, but steeled his reserve.
"I don't want you to work Hermione. I am the man of the house and it's my job to earn the bread."
"How primitive Ron! Besides, it's not just about the money; that's a plus, but I get to do something I like also!"
"How about taking care of me? And having a family? It's been eight years! Eight!"
Hermione hesitated. In for a penny, in for a pound.
"I'm not ready for kids yet."
Ron gaped like a fish, "Not ready? How much more time do you need? You do want to have a family, don't you?"
Hermione paused, and Ron saw it.
"We talked about this," she said, "You said you'd wait till I'm ready."
"That was years ago!" he exploded, "this isn't right!"
"And what about you, Ronald? Are you so busy with your own wants that you forgot about what I want?"
"What are you on about? I let you study, and I let you work, and…"
"You also stopped me from studying anything seriously, or getting any meaningful job!"
"You don't need to study, or work!"
"If you are so sure of what I don't need, then tell me what you think I DO need?"
"You need to stay home and be my wife, and the mother of my children!"
"What am I? Just an object? All I am hearing is what YOU want, what I need to be to make YOU happy?"
"Isn't that your purpose? To make me happy?"
"WHAT??"
"Err…?" Too late.
"In which world, dimension or figment of your most limited imagination did you even conceive that my sole purpose was to be your little toy or slave or trophy wife? However did you even deem to think that for one moment, I would give everything up for you, just so I could cook your meals, or wash your underwear, or change dirty nappies and be HAPPY about it?"
"Well that's rich, you don't cook except for some breakfast, and you're not all that much of a trophy," Hermione sputtered at this, "besides, there are no dirty nappies to change because you are too bloody selfish to think about anything more than yourself!"
"I'M too selfish? Why, the unmitigated gall! I gave up my education for you! And my career!"
"All that you ever think about is books! And reading and ruddy education! Well with all the education you have, there is hardly enough to make you a good wife like mum!"
"Oh really! If you think your mum is so brilliant, then you can go stay with her, for all I bloody care!"
"Fine then! You go and live with those bloody books of yours and maybe you can mate with the first edition of Hogwarts: A history, and make historical little babies!"
Hermione snarled. It was the last straw.
"I am taking that job at Hogwarts, and…"
"Hogwarts? You're going to be filing at Hogwarts?"
"Filing? IS that… Augh! I'm going to teach, Ronald."
"Teach, and you? You'd scare the kids!"
"What?" Hermione shrieked, "I do NOT scare children!"
"Well, that's what you say!"
"Augh!"
"Besides, old McGonagall wouldn't take someone who hasn't got a master in the subject… what'll you teach anyway?"
"She already did! Transfiguration!"
"Err… "
"Yes Ronald, 'Err' indeed! I'm going to pack."
"Pack? Whatever for?"
"So I can go make little historical babies, you… AUGH!"
"You're leaving?"
He followed her into the bedroom where she started packing some basic things.
"You can't leave me!"
She canted an eyebrow. "You want to bet on that?"
"Come on Hermione," he pleaded, "it was such a small matter, and you're over reacting!"
"Over reacting, am I?" she poked him in the chest, hard.
"Ow! Yes, it was no worse than the rows we've had before."
"Just because it isn't any worse, doesn't make it any worse!"
"You're not making any sense at all!"
"Just because it doesn't make any sense to you??"
"I'm not stupid Hermione!"
"Yes you ARE, Ronald!"
"Right, because you're so bloody smart!"
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"That you're not as smart as everyone thinks you are! You with your… your… books and learning and… things!"
"Eloquent as always."
"Well if you think me so stupid, why did you even marry me?"
"I don't know!"
"Oh right! There is something the know-it-all doesn't know!"
She slapped him. And then she left, a very bewildered Ron holding his swiftly reddening cheek standing alone in the bedroom.