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This is based on personal experience - morning sickness suuuuuuuuuuucks.

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My head hurt so much. Even the dim light that shone through the slit in the closed curtains was painful. Any little noise sounded like a giant brass band thumping down the streets of my brain. At breakfast, I took a hesitant bite of toast and felt instantly sick to my stomach. I was so embarrassed, having no alternative but to spit it out in my napkin and run to the loo.

"You look awful, Hermione. Don't go to work today.

Cheers Ron, thanks for letting me know I look as dreadful as I feel.

I knew I needed to lay down, the room was starting to spin. Ron helped me into pyjamas and put me to bed. He sent an owl to my supervisor in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement saying I was ill. He must have known how truly dreadful I was feeling when I didn't protest staying home from work.

As my head hit the pillow, I curled up in as tight a ball as I could manage. I felt the mattress sink down as Ron sat behind me and he gently rubbed my back. His hand reached up to my shoulders and squeezed. I let out a whimper when he touched my hair, so he stopped touching me altogether.

"Can I get you something? Anything?" he asked.

Keeping my eyes shut as tight as I could, I weakly replied. "No, thank you."

"Well...get some rest then." I felt him lean in to kiss my cheek but I shrunk away and he kissed my arm instead. I felt him stand up and he crept out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

I had very active, disturbing dreams but I couldn't recount what they were later. It was odd because I typically only had bad dreams when Ron was away. I helplessly watched him avoid danger at every turn but most of those dreams still ended with a great flash of green light piercing his heart. If I gave even an ounce of credence to Divination, I probably would have gotten down on my knees and begged Ron to resign from his position as an Auror. No job, no matter how exciting, profitable or anything else was worth losing him after all we'd already been through.

My stomach churned angrily, jolting me awake. A wave of nausea hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn't call out, I knew I wouldn't make it to the bin near the dresser. With every ounce of energy I had in me, I threw myself over the side of the bed and experienced the worst dry heaves I've ever had. My eyes watered and my throat stung. There wasn't anything in my stomach to come up.

Ron came rushing in holding a tea towel and he pulled my hair back as my stomach lurched and I choked on my own breath. Once it passed, I rolled over onto my back. Ron's face was twisted with disgust and concern.

"What the fucking hell do I do?! How do I fix you?" The worry in his voice was pitiable. I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders.

"If that happens again, I'm taking you to a Healer. No arguments." I wasn't strong enough to argue. I wasn't strong enough to lift my thumping head off the pillow.

"Are you hungry?" he offered. The thought of food made my gag reflex shoot into overdrive. Sighing, he lowered himself next to me in bed and cuddled me.

"I've never felt so sick in my life." I said plainly.

I don't know when I fell back to sleep, but my head wasn't quite as painful when I woke up. Ron wasn't in bed with me anymore. My legs shook as I stood, but I was able to walk steadily. As I opened the bedroom door, I smelled the delicious scent of my Mum's chicken soup. I padded into the kitchen on bare feet and fell in love with Ron all over again.

He was standing over my largest stock pot, stirring his first-ever attempt at the recipe. He smiled wide when he saw me.

"Feeling any better, Mrs. Weasley?" He said, continuing to stir.

I shrugged, "The headache is better."

"You always said your Mum's soup was like magic when you were sick. I thought I'd surprise you." He consulted my Mum's handwritten recipe and added a dash of black pepper.

I walked up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and kissed him in between his shoulder blades. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"I think I'm pregnant."

The stockpot lid fell from his hand and made a huge clatter on the tile floor as it hit, narrowly missing his foot. With the words, I felt his body tense up. He turned to face me with a completely gob-smacked expression, I smiled weakly.

"A-are you sure?" he asked.

"No, not sure. Just a feeling I have. I mean, I'm only a little bit late but,'s possible. Are you upset?" I couldn't read the expression on his face. He looked all at once thrilled, shocked and petrified.

"Upset? Of course not!" He exclaimed, picking me up off the floor. He kissed me hard before he let my feet touch the floor again. We both got the nervous giggles and he put his palm flat against my stomach. "A baby...I can't think of anything more brilliant." He said. "Only, you've been taking the potion, haven't you?"

I nodded my head, but said. "Remember last month? We met Seamus...all those shots of firewhisky, then we came back..."

"Oh yeah..." he said, vaguely remembering.

"Well, I ran out that morning. I intended on getting more at the Apothecary in Diagon Alley, but we ran into Seamus...I got...distracted."

He set the soup to simmer and I changed. We took a walk to the Muggle chemist and I purchased a pregnancy test. I didn't want to go all the way to St. Mungo's and wait for a Healer. When we got home, I set the bag down on the table and we stared at it: wanting to know, but scared of what either result could mean for us. I squirmed in my seat for a while, but managed to pluck up enough courage to take the box into the loo with me.

What followed were the longest three minutes of our lives.

I couldn't decide what to do with my hands. I played with my hair, twirled my wedding band and finally started dusting the living room. Ron sat at the table, his hands folded, staring at me. Every once in a while, he'd look in another direction and grin.

We always knew parenthood was down the line for us. The day he surprised me with our wedding, several people took the opportunity to pat my stomach and ask when we would start trying. I laughed them all off but in my head, I admit I was picturing Ron and me pushing a pram. Chasing a little one around the park where he proposed, bringing them to Platform 9 3/4.

Ron's family had expanded by leaps and bounds by the time we got married. Bill and Fleur had Victoire, Dominique and Louis; Percy and Audrey had Molly and were expecting Lucy any day; George and Angelina had Fred and Roxanne. Harry and Ginny had darling little James. Ron was an amazing Uncle and I truly loved being an Aunt. I just never expected to get pregnant so soon after we married, it hadn't even been a whole year.

"Erm - Hermione?" Ron called from the loo. He came out carrying the little white stick that by now told our fate clearer than any of Professor Trelawney's crystal balls. "There's two blue lines - bloody hell - that doesn't mean its twins, does it?" He looked up at me, grimacing and wide-eyed. I'm sure he was imagining chasing miniature copies of George and Fred around our flat.

I looked at the back of the box the test came in. "It doesn't mean twins, but it does mean a baby." There was nothing left to do but laugh. He kissed me and scooped me up off the floor again, carrying me to the sofa. Laying me down gently he knelt on the floor, pushed my shirt up and stared at my stomach.

"It's going to be quite a while before you see anything, Ron..." I teased him. He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah, I know. I love you so much." He kissed my skin and put his warm hand on me. I reached out and brushed his cheek with my fingertips. He turned his head and kissed my fingers, bringing one of them into his mouth and playfully sucking on it.

I bit my lip.

All at once overcome with desire for him, I grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him up to me. When our lips touched it felt like fire in my legs. He steadied himself, placing his arms on either side of me. We were snogging, removing clothes until we were both starkers. Ron eyed me, wetting his lips with his tongue. He looked puzzled, hesitant. He was afraid of getting on top of me.

"I'm not going to break, Ron." I said, standing. I lead him into our bedroom and laid down on the bed where we'd made our baby-to-be. He smiled and laid next to me, running his hands up and down my torso. I pulled his hand up to my mouth and sucked on his finger. As he moaned, he let his other hand drift between my thighs.

"You're so wet already." He said in my ear, licking my neck. I leaned into his mouth breathlessly moaning as he continued stroking me. Fisting the sheets, I lifted my hips off the bed. He took my nipple in his mouth, sucking hard. Panting his name, I felt him against my leg. Wrapping my hand around him as best I could, I stroked him as he grunted.

"I want to fuck my wife." He said softly.

"You bloody better." I said, tightening my grip.

As soon as he entered me, I forgot all about how dreadful I felt that morning. All at once, I felt the exact opposite. Completely alight with energy and desire for Ron. He pumped his hips slowly, not his usual style, but each time I felt him slide all the way into me I gripped him tighter with the muscles only he knew about.

I reached down between my legs and touched myself. It never failed to astonish him when I did, as if he still thought of me as the innocent know-it-all from school. As I started breathing faster I was moaning rhythmically and he joined his impassioned cries with mine. I bucked my hips in climax and he followed not long after.

My body tingled all over and he pulled the sheets up over us as he encircled me with his arms.

"I hope they have your brains." He said after a brief silence.

"I hope they have your hair." I laughed when he grimaced.

"Poor kids." He laughed. I brushed his fringe out of his eyes.

"They'll be the best parts of us, love." I said kissing him. "Let's not tell anyone just yet. Just in case something..."

He pushed his lips to mine, sucking the rest of my words from my mouth and my mind.