Disclaimer: Don't own it.

A/N: This is sort of an...apology fic/drabble thing for not updating my multi chapters...sorry. Don't despair! More chapters coming soon.

It was a very sunny day in Diagon Alley, but if you looked to the top of a large hill, you could see two women in the shade of a porch that connected to the now-famous Potter house. Those two women were Ginny and Hermione, otherwise known as the wives of the two most famous men of the century, excluding Albus Dumbledore.

If you looked closer, you could see that one of them was folding laundry (the Muggle way), and the other was sipping a drink. They were both talking happily...

"Ginny, you're fat."

"You know, I must have had a big breakfast. The seven-month old fetus growing inside me can't be all that big."

"Point taken."

"Does that mean I win this round?"

"What round?"

"You know how you're always trying to confuse me with big words like, "that" and "hat." And I give up because I can't understand a bloody word you're saying?"

"I do not use big words."

"You said the word, "supercalafragelisticexpealadoshus" before."

"When?! I never said that!"

"Yeah huh. You said it when I was in fifth year. I remember. You were telling me about some Muggle movie, Parry Moppins."

"Mary Poppins, Ginny!"

"Whatever. Like I need to remember some weird lady who danced with animals."

"It was fiction."

"I mean, shouldn't people who dance with animals go into some sort of observation?"

"Sometimes I wonder about you."

"So do my friends in the long white lab coats."

"Nice, Gin."

"Thank you. I rather thought so myself."

"What are you and Harry doing this weekend?"

"I asked him what he thought about sky diving. He went all white and mouthed something that looked like, 'You've gone mad!' "

"He was right."

"He has no proof of that!"

"Must I mention the sporks?"

"Shut up. The charges were dropped."

"I wonder how that emotionally scarred goblin is doing?"

"Are you pregnant yet?"

"What?"

"Well, I figured you and Ron would have 'done it' by now..."

"I do not want to talk about my sex life."

"Fine. I'll talk about mine. Just to spite you. Well, Harry and I-"

"I don't want to hear it!"

"Then tell my if you're pregnant."

"Jesus Christ, Ginny! No, I'm not pregnant! Can we go inside?"

"Sure. Oh- er- damn."

"That's very humorous."

"Yeah, sure, let's all make fun of the fat pregnant lady. Help me up, would ya?"

"Of course, your highness."

"Thank you, servant girl."

"Aren't you going to get your laundry?"

"Of course. I'm not stupid."