(A/N: I'm not from England, so forgive me for not knowing the proper slang. This isn't my first fanficton, but is my first Published Harry Potter Fanfiction, as well as my first one-shot on this website. so please be nice!

Also let me know if the rating should be changed?

I'm paranoid.

Don't be afraid to review either! I'm not sure if Disclaimers are required, but just in case... )

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters featured in this story. I just like playing with them!

He pushed his shaggy ginger-red locks out of the way, as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. Immediately adjusting to the darkness of his bedroom, he groped the spot next to him, finding his very pregnant wife absent. Worry set in. He grabbed his wand from under his pillow-a habit since after the second war. He flipped the covers off him, tightly gripping his wand in his right hand, as the cool night air swirled around his warm drowsy body.

He listened closely for any signs of distress, ears on edge. When he heard it.

A sob.

He took off running towards the sobbing, stopping at the bathroom door, where it was loudest.

"'Mione?" His voice cracked from the lack of use while sleeping. "Is that you, love? Is everything alright?"

The sobbing ceased for a half a second, for her reply. "No, go away please, Ron."

He pushed open the door, that was already slightly ajar. He was faced with his bushy-haired wife, sitting on the edge of the closed toilet. Her face in her hands on top of her extremely swollen stomach, sobbing.

He knelt down in front of her, dropping his wand. He heard it roll across the tiled floor, not that he cared at the moment.

He rested his hands on either of her forearms, hoping the contact would calm her, it failed.

"Hermione, love. What's wrong?" He asked her, running his fingers through her brunette curls.

"The-the baby." She sobbed

All the color drained from his face, as his hands dropped from her arms, to the sides of her swollen satin covered belly.

"What-what about the baby? Is it early?" He began to panic.

Hermione shook her head, sobbing deeper.

He took a mental sigh of relief. "What's wrong then, why are you crying?" His eyes rounded in sadness, at seeing the love of his life in this state. He wiped away some of her tears.

"How could we be so stupid Ronald! We should have never done this!" She cried gesturing to her enormous belly.

"Why do you say that?" He asked becoming pale once more.

"Our genes are horrendous, we should have never reproduced." Her hair became bushier ever passing second.

This time he really did sigh out loud. "What are you going on about now, love?"

"What if she's not magical?"

"You're going mental over the fact that our unborn child could possibly be a squib? Hermione." He laughed a little

"What about the hair? It's hair is going to be bloody horrible. Bushy and bright red! Think about it Ron; we've been made fun of for our hair all throughout school. It's hair is going both red, and bushy. It's never going to hear the end of it. " She sobbed hysterically.

Ron started to laugh, he pulled his pregnant wife off the toilet seat and into his lap, hugging her closely.

"'Mione, do you hear yourself. It's three in the bloody morning, and you're upset about the baby's hair."

"Don't swear, Ronald! The baby can hear you!" Hermione hissed angrily at him. "And stop laughing at me!"

He patted her hair, letting the hypocritical comment slide. "Sorry, love. But Hermione, honestly listen to yourself. You're upset about his hair. His hair, 'Mione! You're being mental."

She pushed herself away from him. "I don't think it's a good idea to insult the woman carrying your child, Ronald Weasley." She spat at him, her eyes in narrowed in a glare. "Who said we're having a boy anyway?"

"Bloody hell." Ron rolled his eyes. "These must be those mood swings Mum mentioned." He mumbled to himself, resting his eyes on the eight-and-a-half month pregnant woman.

"What's wrong with me Ron?" Hermione asked, as her eyes began to fill with tears again. "I'm feeling a million different things a second. I have to pee all the time. I'm as big as a bloody whale! Than to top it all off, my feet hurt!" She finished her lip quivering, eyes big, as a single tear strolled down her cheek. She resembled a lost puppy.

"Would you like me to rub your feet love?" He asked her.

She gave a tiny nod, pushing her wild bushy hair behind her ears. Even in her crazed mental pregnant state, she was still glowing.

"Thanks Ron." She whispered giving him a tiny smile.

He returned with a toothy grin, his next reply succeeded in making her laugh for the first time that night.

"You know, for the Brightest Witch of the age, you're still absolutely mental. "