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The World According to Perfection by writergirl8
Chapter 2 : Weasleys in Waiting
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 14


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 “Honestly, Ron, I have no idea how you can watch this trash.”


“You have to look at it from the funny point of view, Hermione. Then you'll understand.”

“How is a television show about men intentionally trying to hurt themselves amusing?”

 

Ron considered this for a moment. Then he shrugged.


“Dunno. It just is.”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes, wondering what kind of filth she'd married, and turned back to the eight hundred page novel she was reading. That, she knew, was real entertainment. Something had just gone wrong with Ron's brain during development. But that was okay. She still loved him. A sudden scream of pain from the TV made her look up, and Hermione winced at the sight she saw.

“Vile.” she muttered under her breath.


“What was that?” Ron asked, turning to her. There was another shout from the set.


“I said vile. This makes me sick.”

“Oh, come on, Hermione. It really isn't that bad!”

Hermione fired up immediately.

 

“It isn't? Oh, really? Well, I'll have you know-”

But exactly what Hermione was going to have Ron know he would never know, because at that moment Hermione leaped up from her spot on the couch and made a run for the bathroom. Ron sat there for a few moments, wondering, but sudden retching noises made something in his brain click into place. He sprang up, bolted over to the bathroom, and immediately gathered Hermione's hair back, using his hand as a ponytail holder. With the other hand, he stroked her hair and made soothing noises. Hermione continued to be sick. When she was finally finished, Ron grabbed a cup of water and filled it up, then handed it to Hermione, who had sat herself on the floor. Ron sat down with her and held her while she drank. When she was finished, she didn't say anything, she just sat there, staring at the wall.

 

“When you said the show made you sick, I didn't think you meant it literally.” Ron said, trying to make light of the fact that his wife had just thrown up. Hermione didn't look at him.

“I need to see something.” she said finally, getting out of his arms and leaving the bathroom. Ron stared after her, but then shrugged it off. She must have had something bad to eat when she was going out to lunch with some business associates. He went over to the sink and brushed his teeth, then changed into his maroon plaid pajama bottoms and crawled into bed.

 

Hermione came back into the bedroom a few minutes later, looking a little bit faint. Ron sat up quickly, his eyes trained on her face.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked, but Hermione ignored him, walking into the master bathroom and brushing her teeth. When she came out, she was wearing pajama pants and a tank top. And she looked excited. “What's going on, Hermione?” Ron asked. She smiled at him.

 

“I'm late.”

 

“For what? Did we have somewhere to go tonight?” he frowned. “You're smiling about being late? Who are you and what have you done to my wife?”

“I didn't want to tell you, but that's the third time this week I've thrown up.” she smiled wider, her eyes urging him to get the hint. He didn't.

 

“And you're happy that you're puking your guts out because...?”

 

“I think it's morning sickness.”

 

“It's eleven o'clock at night, Hermione.” Ron pointed out helpfully. Hermione rolled her eyes.


“Morning sickness isn't limited to the morning, Ron.”

 

“Well then why do they call it morning sickness?” Ron asked indignantly.

 

“Solely for the purpose of making your life hell, Ron, is it working?”

 

Ron opened his mouth to retort, but Hermione beat him to it.


“I didn't name it, okay? I don't know.”

 

She sounded tried.


“Okay, so anyway, let's get back to it. You're late and you're happy about it, you're a serial puker and you're happy about it. Please explain, because unless this is opposite day, I could not be more confused.”

 

“I think I'm pregnant.”

It took a few moments for that to sink in.

 

“Wow.” Ron said weakly. “That was... fast.”

“I know. I must be extremely fertile.” Hermione said sarcastically. Ron looked offended.

 

“My contribution is not to be forgotten!” he said. Hermione rolled her eyes and kissed him.

“Of course not. You're very important to this whole process.”

“I know I am.” Ron said smugly. “And I do my part well, don't you think?”

“Oh, definitely.” Hermione responded.

 

“So, anyway, how do we find out if you've got a bun in the oven?”

“Really, Ron?”

“What?”

“A bun in the oven?”

She crossed her arms and gave Ron a look that he never actually saw. He was too busy concentrating on how good her cleavage looked when she crossed her arms in her little white tank top. Hermione snapped her fingers to get his attention, feeling annoyed but also a little bit pleased with herself.

 

“Ron, eyes up, please.” she said. He looked up at her.


“Sorry.” he said, although he didn't too sorry at all. “So, how do you find out if you're pregnant, then?”
 

“Well, I just sent an owl to my Healer requesting an appointment. But, for now, I think I'm going to use the old muggle trick, because, while there is a spell, you need to be trained to be able to do it. It's very difficult, and only Healer approved. Most witches just choose to wait until we can get to the Healers, but some of us more impatient ones pee on a stick.”

“Oh. Well, I can go see if I can find one in the back yard, but I don't fancy looking around for it at ni-”

“Ron, I don't literally mean a stick!” Hermione said, exasperated. She shook her head. “You were the one who wanted the baby so bad, and now it seems as though I know more about this then you do.”

“Hermione, I know how the baby is made, and I pretty much know how to deal with it when it arrives. Before that, though, I am completely lacking any form of knowledge, other than what I heard Ginny complain about while she was pregnant with James.”

 

“Real reassuring. So what do you think?”

“About what?” Ron asked.

 

“Should I pee on a stick, or should we wait?”

Ron shrugged.


“Just wait. It's not like the answer will be different, or anything, and it's eleven o'clock at night. We both have work tomorrow, and I have a meeting at ten.”

“You sound thrilled at the idea.” Hermione said, throwing back the expertly made covers and crawling into bed. Ron waited for her to assume the usual position, her head on his chest, her knees nearly touching her chin, but instead Hermione attempted to sleep on her back. He was slightly disconcerted. This was unprecedented; Ron couldn't remember the last time he'd slept without Hermione cuddled up next to him. He stared at her, a little unnerved, but she was staring up at the ceiling, looking uncomfortable on her back. Finally, he shrugged, turned from his back to his side, and attempted to fall asleep. But Hermione was constantly letting out little moans of annoyance at her current position on her back, and trying to shift around to make herself more comfortable. It was obvious that she was afraid to sleep on her stomach, which Ron found ridiculous. He was almost positive that you couldn't harm such a small fetus by sleeping on your tummy... then again, what did he know? Hadn't he just admitted only a few moments ago that his knowledge on babies was rather negligible? So he tried, again, to fall asleep, but Hermione's tossing and turnings were so loud and annoying that Ron was going crazy. He tried several different sleeping positions, such as lying on his stomach (which he didn't like), lying with a pillow over his head (which he also didn't like) and a combination of the two, lying on his stomach with half the pillow bent over his ears (which he really didn't like). Finally, he reached breaking point. He arched his back upwards and banged his fists against the pillow.


“Hermione, just pee!” he cried.

 

“Oh, no, I can't, Ron, it's nearly twelve o'clock!”

 

“Mione, does it look like either of us are getting any sleep?” Ron asked pointedly.

 

Hermione didn't need to be told twice.

“Okay, fine.” she said, flushing and getting out of bed. She stumbled over to the bathroom, flicked on the light, and bent down. Ron heard her rummaging through a drawer. Then, a second later, she ran the faucet and Ron heard her gulp something. Suddenly, she called his name. Groaning to himself, Ron got out of bed and lumbered dutifully over to the bathroom.

“Keep me company?” Hermione pleaded. Ron nodded.

 

They both sat on the bathroom counter and waited. At first they were silent, but then they started talking. About work, and Quidditch, and Hermione's book (as you can see, they did their best to compromise on subjects, although Ron couldn't resist teasing Hermione just a little bit about reading an eight hundred page book) and eventually James, Harry and Ginny's son. They were in the middle of laughing about Luna's latest boyfriend when Hermione went silent, and her features grew unreadable.


“What is it?” Ron questioned. There was a long silence before Hermione answered him.


“I... I'm scared.” she said at last.

 

“Of what?” Ron asked, surprised.

 

“What if it says no?”

“How could it possibly say no?” Ron said. “We've been doing it like bunny rabbits.”

“Yes, thank you, Ron, for that lovely analogy.” Hermione said sarcastically. Then her voice became a whisper again. “What if I can't get pregnant?”

“Weren't we just celebrating your fertileness in the bedroom, Hermione?”

“Yeah, but this is the bathroom! It's a totally different world in here!” her voice was just a little bit desperate.

 

“Hermione,” Ron said quietly, “if you can't get pregnant, we'll adopt. Or do whatever needs to be done. You want this baby, don't you?”

Hermione nodded, and swallowed.

 

“At first I didn't, but now I've really latched onto the idea.” she said nervously.


“And I want it, too. So we'll do whatever it takes. It'll be fine.”

And just to prove his point, he hopped off of the counter and opened his arms. Hermione gave him a weak smile and fell into them, inhaling deeply. Ron breathed in the sent of her hair, savored the feeling of his chin on her head, and her small little body pressed against him. His arms were wrapped around her, and he knew for a fact that he could stay like this forever and ever and-

 

“Ron?” said a small voice.

“Yeah?”

“I have to pee.”

“Oh. Right.”

 

Silence.


“Ron?”


“Yeah?”

“In order for me to pee, you have to let me go.”

“Oh, yeah, right, sorry.”

 

He opened his arms a little resentfully and let her grab the stick, then go over to the toilet. He leaned against the doorway and waited, but after a few seconds Hermione bit her lip and looked up at him.

 

“Can you leave?”

“Why?” Ron asked, slightly offended.

 

“I can't pee while you're here, you're making me nervous.”

He rolled his eyes and walked back over to the warm covers, mumbling incoherently about the fact that he had seen her pee many times before and she'd done just fine then. But, of course, the one time he actually really wanted to be there, she kicked him out. Women.

 

A few minutes later, Hermione joined him in the bed.

 

“What now?” Ron asked.

 

“We wait.” Hermione said simply. She placed her hands on her stomach and stared up at the ceiling again, moving her lips as if counting the seconds. Finally, she glanced over at the clock. Ron looked, too.


“Okay, time to check.” she said. But she seemed frozen in place. Ron knew that she couldn't look. She glanced over at him, her eyes begging.


“Please? Look at it for me?”

Ron sighed. He was almost asleep, and frankly he didn't see why this couldn't wait until morning, or why Hermione, at least, couldn't look. It wouldn't be different no matter who looked at it, and the result wouldn't have changed at eight o'clock in the morning, either. It would be so much nicer to be able to celebrate then instead of at twelve o'clock at night. However, he couldn't turn her down now, not when her eyes were so pleading and vulnerable. So Ron got out of bed, went over to the bathroom, turned the light on, and checked the stick. Then he turned the light off, walked out of the bathroom, and lay back down in the bed, where Hermione was looking faint with anxiety. He turned over a few times, plumped his pillow, and adjusted the blankets. He finally shifted himself so that he was in a position with his back facing Hermione. He didn't actually want to sleep like this, he was just doing it for dramatic effect. He lay his head down, and, fully aware that Hermione's eyes were watching him rabidly, proceeded to attempt to fall asleep. He had just started to breathe evenly when Hermione poked him, just having realized that he had no intention of turning around.

 

“Ron?”

“Hermione?”

She stared at him some more. He stared at her right back.

 

“Well?” Hermione asked anxiously and, it had to be said, a little thrown off by her husband's behavior.

 

“Well what?” Ron echoed.

 

“What did it say?” Hermione asked insistently.


“What did what say?” Ron inquired, pretending not to understand.

 

“The test!” Hermione cried, jumping up. Now that she was towering over him, Ron thought it might be in his best interest to give the information up as soon as possible. “Am I pregnant or not?”

“Oh.” She sat on his stomach, looking extremely nervous, suddenly. “Well, yeah.” Ron said.

 

Hermione stared at him blankly.

 

“Am I pregnant... or not... which was that a yes to?” she sounded slightly hysterical.

 

“Careful, Hermione.” Ron said in a calming voice. “I hear too much stress can effect the baby.”

 

Hermione's face broke out into a smile.


“Does... does that mean what I think it does?”

“You're pregnant.”

She screamed and kissed him, then threw her arms around his neck. He stroked her hair and for some reason found that he was crying a little bit, perhaps because she was crying, perhaps because he knew he was going to be a father, perhaps just because of the idea that Hermione was carrying his baby. The thought made him love her even more. Ron kissed her lips, then her chin, then a spot on her neck. He kissed the spot where her heart supposedly was, and then, finally, her stomach.

 

“We're going to be parents.” Hermione whispered, her voice more awestruck then excited. “In nine months, we're going to be parents.”

A/N: This is modeled after my parents' own baby story, which is quite similar to this one. I wrote this chapter two summers ago when I was visiting Canada, which ought to tell you how long it's been since it was finished and TTIC was finished as well. It's been forever. Anyways, I hope you're all enjoying this and War of the Exes and hope that you will continue to read and review. ~writergirl8


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