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Witch Weekly's Cutest Couple by Hermione Fan

Format: Short story
Chapters: 8
Word Count: 9,332
Status: COMPLETED

Rating: 15+
Warnings: Mild Language, Scenes of a Mild Sexual Nature, Substance Use or Abuse

Genres: Fluff, Humor, Romance
Characters: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Molly, Krum, Neville, Luna, Pansy, Fred, Ginny
Pairings: Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Neville/Luna

First Published: 11/09/2005
Last Chapter: 09/04/2007
Last Updated: 09/04/2007

Summary:





Ron and Hermione have been voted WW's cutest couple. The only problem is: they're not dating! How will they-and everyone around them- react?

Please read and review! Rated up just in case. Completed.


Chapter 1: Chapter One
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A/N: Another Ron and Hermione Fic! Yay! I love them

Witch Weekly’s Cutest Couple: Chapter One






God, it’s disgusting to watch them. If Saint Potter doesn’t find a way to ruin my day, these two will.

I study the lipstick marks on my glass of firewhiskey, glad to be looking anywhere but at them. Before they were annoying, but now they’re simply unbearable. Those shy smiles and laughs, the way he carries her bags. . .honestly.

Now that my own boyfriend is gone (without a word to me of course), I find myself sitting in the local bar studying the relationship between a mudblood and a blood-traitor. Whoopee. It’s sad how low I’ve sunk.

Two stools, down, there are Crabbe and Goyle guzzling their whiskey. Pigs; at least I have the decency to sip mine. I, unlike them, put up a show for the rest of the wizarding community. But the two thugs down there are too stupid even to hide the fact that they miss Draco. Do they want their houses to be searched? I didn’t think so.

“Can I get you anything, Ms. Parkinson?” Tom, the barman asks me politly.

“No,” I reply lazily. “Thanks.”

I’m bored out of my skull. What better way to pass the time than reading a gossip magazine? I grab “Witch Weekly” from a bin by the door. As I read the headline my jaw drops, and I flip quickly to the article.

“WITCH WEEKLY’S CUTEST COUPLE!

Last week, ‘Witch Weekly’ readers voted for their favorite celebrity couple. Ron Weasley, handsome auror, and Hermione Granger, clever editor of the ‘Daily Prophet’ , won by a landside.

The two are both close friends of Harry Potter, the man who defeated Lord Voldemort with the help of the afore mentioned. They were spotted outside Flourish and Blott’s bookshop on December 12 holding hands.

According to Molly Weasley, 58, Ron’s mother, she has “always known Hermione was the one for her son” and is “delighted he’s finally gotten some sense knocked into him”. However, not everyone is ‘delighted’ at the news. Girls all over the country are sending hate mail to Hermione, crushed that their fantasies over Ron must come to an end. Ex-girlfriend Lavender Brown says “Hermione Granger has always been trying to get him to notice her, and I wonder what pathetic attempt she had to use.”

Harry Potter and his wife, Ginny Potter, Ron’s sister could not be reached at press time, but undoubtedly they are very happy for their friends. Ginny is due to give birth to a girl this February.

As for Ron and Hermione themselves, Hermione said in a press statement last week, “Ron and I are just very close friends. We’ve known each other since we were eleven. . He’s always . . . been there for me . . . and I wish people would stop making up rumors about Ron and I.” However, when presented with Lavender Brown’s comment, Hermione’s expression grew very sour.

Ron became very shy and uneasy when asked to comment on their relationship and apparated before reporters could coax a response out of him.

Perhaps it really is as Hermione says. “I love Ron,” she told the press this September, “He’s like a brother to me.” But we hope that’s not the case.

-Shelly Miranda “

Oh. My. God. What a pathetic article!

I pick an ice cube out of my drink and crunch it venomously to stifle my urge to vomit. Or laugh. Or cry. But at the moment, I can’t really decide which.

****************

I settle myself down in a chair outside of what used to be Florean Fortesque’s ice cream parlor. Just recently, Parvati’s opened up a restaurant here and she and Dean let me eat for free. It’s nice to have old school friends around.

Not like I don’t eat free everywhere else. ‘The Chosen One’, they still call me. Ginny finds it very funny, but I don’t. Poor Ginny; I would have brought her along, but she’s been terribly grouchy now that she’s in her third trimester. With swollen feet, a bloated face, and a fragile appetite, she claims to unfit to leave the house.

I don’t think she minded when I left, from the way she waved her ice cream covered spoon at me and said, “Go, Harry dear. I want some peace and quiet.”

I study the wall of the Thomas’s café for a while. Dean’s painted a magnificent mural, with a beautiful picture of a lake and people enjoying themselves all around it. “He always was gifted with paints,” I think to myself before picking up my menu to order. A magazine slips out. “Witch Weekly” is printed across the top in sparkling pink letters, and I’m move to cast it away when the headline catches my eye.

“WITCH WEEKLY’S CUTEST CELEB COUPLE: Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger”

I choke on a sip of water and flip to the article. Scanning it, I have to laugh a little. Hermione and Ron aren’t officially going out; I don’t think they’ve ever kissed or even admitted their feeling to each other. But from the way Ron talks, I think he hopes the right time will come along soon.

I take a moment to read the poll.

“What do you like best about Ron and Hermione as a couple?

A) Friends of the chosen one: 47%
B) Friends forever: 20%
C) Great chemistry: 20%
D) They look good together: 13%

This is hysterical. Absolutely hilarious. Wait until Ginny sees this. Or better yet, Ron and Hermione.











A/N: So. . .what did you think? Loved it? Hated it? Please review; the next chapter should be coming soon.

Other stories by Hermione Fan:

Vindicated (Romance/Sonfic)
Something to Sleep To (Romance/Songfic)
Angels Can't Die (Angst/ Action)
Confessions of a Broken Heart: Daughter to Father (Angst/Songfic)
My Valentines (Romance)


Chapter 2: Chapter Two
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A/N: Here it is, Chapter Two. Please review!!! (Hey, I rhymed!!!)




Witch Weekly’s Cutest Couple: Chapter Two




It was Ginny who showed us the article. It really set her off; she was laughing like crazy. But then again, these days everything make Ginny laugh like crazy. I was afraid she wouldn’t be able to breath, and pass out on the floor of my greenhouse. Not only would that be awful, an unconscious pregnant on the floor of my greenhouse would not be good for business.

Harry, however, seemed unfazed. He just held Ginny’s hand until her giggles subsided. “Sorry about all this, Neville,” Harry said. I didn’t really mind but people were starting to look our way as Ginny shrieked with uncontrollable laughter. “Must be the hormones.” I nod. It’s not like I know anything about women, even if I do live with one.

I think the article interesting, but Luna just shakes her head. “It’s a bunch of rubbish, all their stuff is.” Then she buries her face back behind ‘The Quibbler’. I love my wife very much, but sometimes she can be a little quirky, espeicially when it comes to reading material.

Ginny finally settles down and apologizes. Then, she and Harry leave.

Luna turns to me placidly. “I hope you didn’t mind how Ginny behaved.”

“No,” I reply, giving her hand a squeeze, “Of course I didn’t.”

“Good,” she says, her blues eyes suddenly damp, “Because in a few months, I’ll be the same way.”

“What?” I can’t believe my ears.

“I’m having a baby. We’re having a baby, dear.”

I pick her up and spin her around, feeling like the strongest man in the whole world. I don’t even notice as we knock over seven begonias. For once, everything in my life is going great.

*********

That afternoon when we come home, I’m feeling considerably calmer. “Harry dear,” I say, “I’m heading to Mum’s.” He grunts and barely looks up from the Sports section of the ‘Daily Prophet’. I roll my eyes and step into the fireplace. “The Burrow!”

I step out again, now in my Mum’s big warm kitchen. I’ve always loved it here; warm and cozy and familiar. Not that I don’t love my home with Harry- I do. But it’s always nice to visit Mum and Dad.

Mum rushes in. “Ginny,” she barks, “What are you doing, just standing there! A pregnant woman like you should not be on her feet. I thought you knew better. Now sit, sit!”

If you think Mum’s stressed out about my pregnancy, imagine how she was when Fleur was pregnant with Bill’s first child. Mum hovered over her constantly. I think she would have moved in if she could, to ‘protect’ her first grandchild.

She needn’t have worried. Gabrielle Jean Weasley was born a healthy, beautiful baby, as were her siblings, Arthur and Marc. I sometimes secretly hope that my baby will be even more attractive that Fleur’s, but I know my little one doesn’t stand a chance. After all, Fleur is part veela, and I’m just Ginny.

“Now Mum,” I say seriously, settling Dad’s favorite chair, “I’m not here just to chat. I really need to talk to you.”

“Oh?” Mum says in a fake casual voice, “About what, dear?”

I give her a stern look. “You know what, Mum. I’m not stupid; I saw that article in ‘Witch Weekly’ today.”

“Oh, that.” Mum gives a sort of wave with her hand.

“Yes, that.”

“What about it?”

I roll my eyes and let off an exasperated noise through my nostrils. “Mum! Throwing the tabloids juicy little quotes isn’t going to get Ron and Hermione together any faster. What were you thinking?”

“Well,” Mum looks ill at ease, as if she would prefer to avoid the question. “You see, they called me up and said ‘We’re doing an article on your son,’ and I. . .I just couldn’t resist. Maybe this will give them a push in the right direction.”

“‘A push in the right direction’? Mum, surely you know Ron better than that! The embarrassment will drive them apart!” The instant I say it, I regret it. Mum looks horrified, shocked, and ashamed.

“Do you really think so?”

This time, I hesitate and think before I speak. “Well, hopefully not. After all, I can’t speak for Ron.” That does the trick. Mum looks relived.

“You can’t live their life for them, Mum,” I say as gently as I can. Tears come to my eyes. Nothing new; I’m so hormonal, tears come to my eyes over everything from sales at the apothecary to dressers that need dusting.

“When did you become so wise, Ginny dear?” My Mum looks proud.

But me become wise? I start to laugh, and when I start, I can’t stop. And to make matters worse, I have a strange craving for cheese covered caramel. Pregnancy does strange things to people.




A/N: Next chapter, Ron and Hermione's reactions, I promise!!!!!!!!

Chapter 3: Chapter Three
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A/N: Omg! I saw GoF! BEST MOVIE EVER! And the Yule Ball was awesome!
Well here it is, the long awaited chapter three. Sorry it took so long. Two Words: Writer’s block. Enjoy, mes amis.


Chapter Three



Sweater or bear? Booties or book?

I flip absently through a baby catalogue as I munch my sandwich. Salami and cheese, my favorite. I couldn't believe the other day Ginny decided her favorite sandwich was pickles, feta, and CHOCOLATE SAUCE! Eww! I hope if I ever get pregnant, I don't crave nasty things like that.

It’s time to order a gift for Harry and Ginny’s baby; the shower’s in just weeks. I make a mental note to send a memo to Ron. He always forgets things like this.

Oh, Ron. I pick up one of the frames that sit on my desk. I have pictures of everyone I know and love. There’s Harry and Ginny on their wedding day, waving and laughing. I have pictures of Harry, Ron, and myself in our Hogwarts years. I even have a picture of my mum and dad holding a tiny red baby: me. But this one’s my favorite.

I can still remember the day it was taken. We were in the spring of our sixth year. Ron had just helped win the Qudditch cup for Gryffindor, and I was so proud of him. As I hugged him, Colin had snapped a picture of the two of us. Suddenly, my throat closes up, and I remember how this photo came into my possession: it had been found among Colin’s belongings after his death. Suddenly, unbidden, the image of Colin’s lifeless body, his wide staring eyes clouds my mind. I feel rather sick. Then I shake my head and force myself to look back at the photo.

Forget about, Hermione. You can’t change the past.

I trace Ron’s face with my finger. We had been so happy that day.

I hear the click of heels on wood and my door is thrown open unceremoniously by none other than Lavender Brown. Hastily, I set the frame back down on my desk and look up.

“Hermione?” Lavender says my name like one might say “Projectile Vomiting.” At least it’s mutual: I hate her, she hates me.

“Yes, Lavender?” I grit my teeth and try to look civil.

I only hired Lavender because I had to. Like any good editor, I only wanted what was best for my paper. Unfortunately, my gossipy ex-classmate fit the bill for the hard-hitting reporter I needed. That doesn’t mean I don’t dread the sound of her high high-heels on my floor, or the scent of her sticky sweet perfume in my nostrils, or the sight of her long blonde hair in my office.

“There’s something in here that might. . .interest you, Hermione,” Lavender coos with a smirk. Then she tosses a magazine onto my desk and marches back out, pulling the door shut behind her. I make a mental note to, in the future, ask her to knock, or something. Lavender drives me absolutely crazy.

I unfurl the latest issue of “Witch Weekly”. What was Lavender thinking? I had never been into gossip magazines like her and Parvati. I swear, she is one dumb blonde who was getting dumber by the day.

My jaw drops when I read the hot pink headline. I read the article, disbelieving and disgusted. Then, with a feeling of dread, I pull out my quill and send a memo to Ron. But this time, it’s not about baby gifts.

*************

I stroll down the street, feeling totally smart. I turn to give myself a look in a store window, smirking at my own reflection. Yes, Lavender, you are one smart woman. I give my blonde hair a sort of flip and resume clacking down the street, ignoring the looks of the men who cross my path. Any other day I might have stopped to flirt, but today I’m on got things to do.

I thrust open a door on my left. The building bears the sign “Witch Weekly”. I ask the receptionist for a certain Ms. Shelly Miranda.

“Sorry, hon,” the woman says, barely glancing up from her tattered romance novel (“The Love Potion”). “She’s not in. Can I take a message?”

I leave her my name and number with the box of chocolates I bought for Shelly. She’ll know who they’re from. After all, I was the one who threw her that little fake tip-off about Granger and Ron. Not that Shelly knows it’s fake. Whatever. She should be thanking ME. I heard Witch Weekly's sold out at every stand. People must really like Granger and Ron. Personally, the thought makes me ill.

It doesn’t matter; the seeds have been sown. Surely the puzzle pieces will all fall into place. Now all I have to do is wait. I close my eyes and picture what will hopefully be next month’s headlines:

“SHOCKING NEW PHOTOS: WEASLEY AND ATTRACTIVE BLONDE SPOTTED SNOGGING!”

“BEAUTIFUL REPORTER SNARES HOT QUIDDITCH PLAYER!”

“IT’S OFFICAL: BROWN AND WEASLEY A COUPLE!”


Soon, Granger will see: I’ve had him all along. Ron is mine.

Chapter 4: Chapter Four
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A/N: Okay, okay. I know it’s been a very, very, very long time since I updated! I’m really sorry. I guess real life got in the way of my writing for a while. I got really involved in musicals and a play, and I just didn’t have time to update anymore. But enough excuses . . . On with the story! I gave you guys an extra long chap to make up for the wait!







Disclaimer: I don’t own anything Harry Potter. I don’t pretend to own anything Harry Potter. Please don’t sue me!


 Chapter Four








Pushing open the heavy door to the Men’s Washroom easily, I stroll inside ignoring the funny stench that seemed to hang around all public washrooms, even ones inside the Ministry of Magic. My auror badge falls in the sink as I lean toward the mirror to examine my reflection. I fish it out and wipe the drops of water and liquid soap from the words Ronald Weasley- Advanced Auror. Level 5, Office B.

I turn my gaze to the mirror again. There is nothing unusual about my appearance: Messy red hair, loads of freckles, blue eyes, etc. This new sweater does make me look as though I’d put on a few pounds, however… Bloody hell! I’m  acting like a girl, for Merlin’s sake.

Normally I didn’t worry so much about my appearance. I work with a bunch of blokes and we all dress the same, what would you expect? But today was slightly different, because I was going to visit Hermione at her office in the Daily Prophet building. Not that I don’t see her often; actually, I see her all the time. It’s just that, well . . . oh, bullocks, I guess I’ll just go ahead and admit it.

In spite of  what Hermione thinks. . .and Harry thinks. . .and Ginny thinks. . .okay, what everybody thinks, I’m not that thick. I’ve known that my feelings for Hermione were more that friendly for a long time. Probably since I was twelve. But I’m not going to go around blabbing to everyone and their brother about my feelings, because I know she doesn’t feel the same way. How, you might ask? Two words, well, three: Bloody Viktor Krum. Or “Vicky”, as I call him. (I don’t understand why nobody else thinks this nickname is funny)

Yeah, he still hangs around Hermione. He probably sees her as much as I do the git. Stupid Krum, with his stupid cards, and his stupid flowers, and his stupid money. He makes me want to upchuck all over that fancy broom of his.

I glanced down at my watch. Merlin, if I don’t get a move on, I’m going to be late! Hermione owled me to meet her in her office at two o’ clock. I concentrate on the three Ds (decapitation, detereriation, and desperation, or whatever the hell they are) and with a loud pop, disappear.

I arrive outside of Hermione’s office seconds later. Shaking off a simpering and fawning Lavender (“Won-won! What are you doing here? Care for a butter beer, Won-Won? Won-Won? Won-Won!”), I knock on the door of Hermione’s office. She appears in the doorway, greeting me with a gentle smile that extends all the way up into those beautiful brown eyes of hers. Merlin, I love her eyes. . .

“Ron?"

And that gorgeous brown hair, it’s stunning. . .

“Ron, are you alright?”

She really has only gotten prettier with age. . .

“Ron? Can you hear me? Ronald? Ron!

I snap out of it. I must have looked like a stupid git just standing there, staring at her. Bloody hell. I feel my ears and neck heat up; sure that the famous Weasley blush must be covering them as we speak.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” I stutter.

Hermione looks a little confused, but calmly says, “That’s quite alright. Please come in, I have something to show you.”

Once inside her office, Hermione sits behind her desk. I settle into the chair in front of it. She passes me a magazine. I glance down at it. Witch Weekly? What the hell?

“Um thanks, ‘Mione. I’ll uh, pass it on to Mum.”

Hermione shakes her head solemnly. “This is for you, Ron.”

“For me?” Surely Hermione knows I’m as straight as the day is long.

“Just read the front page, for Merlin’s sake!” She says with a roll of her eyes. But before I can, Lavender marches in, her high heels making tapping noises on the gleaming wood floor.

“Oh . . . sorry to interrupt,” she flutters unconvincingly, “I was just wondering if you needed anything, Hermione?”

Hermione sets her jaw. “No Lavender, we’re-“

Lavender spots the magazine in my lap and her eyes widen. “Can I stay and watch?” She interrupts again, trying and failing to conceal her eagerness.

“No,” says Hermione firmly. “Please leave.”

“Fine.” Lavender tosses her long blonde hair and, pouting, stalks out of the office, all but slamming the door behind her. I can hear her huffing and puffing all the way down the hallway, snarling at co-workers. I turn my attention back to the magazine.

WITCH WEEKLY’S CUTEST CELEB COUPLE, it screams in hot pink lettering, RON WEASLEY AND HERMIONE GRANGER!

Bloody. Hell.

********************

I scrub the bar counter until I can see my reflection in the shiny wood. Seeing another, blonde person over my shoulder, I gasp and spin around.

“Hey, Parvati,” says Lavender. “Surprise!”

“Oh hey,” I greet my best mate with a little less enthusiasm than usual. My husband, Dean, and I have a lot of work to do to get out new restaurant off the ground, and I just don’t have time for Lav’s antics.

“I have something to tell yooou,” Lavender declares in a sing-song way. She jumps round a little bit. I thought we’d both matured since Hogwarts, but I guess not. I examine the chip in my purple nail polish and contemplate whether or not the barstool should have backs. I think they should, because they will be more comfortable that way, but Dean says it will look cluttered.

“Parvati, I said,” Lav pouts, “I have something to tell you.

“What?”

Lavender settles into a chair near the counter. “It’s a long story.” I get the hint and pour her a gilly water on the rocks. For good measure, I toss in a cherry on top.

For the next five minutes, Lav recounts her plan to break up Ron and Hermione to me. When she is finished, she looks up at me with wide, expectant eyes. “Well?” Lavender inquires, as she takes a dainty sip from the gillywater.

My eyes are as wide as hers, but for a different reason, and I’m hanging onto the counter for support. I can’t believe my best friend is behind that silly story in Witch Weekly! Well, I can, but still. “Lavender,” I gasp, “Hermione was our friend, our dorm mate for seven years! How could you do such a thing to her?”

“To her? To her?!” Lav shrieks, “How could she do such a thing to me.” She takes a huge swig of the gillywater and then rattles the ice nervously around. “Sixth year- she stole Ron. She stole Ron from me.”

I want to mention that Ron and Hermione have liked each other forever, probably since second year, and that it was obvious to everyone, but I don’t. I just continue to gape at Lavender.

“You won’t tell anyone will you, will you Parvati?” She looks suddenly terrified. I hesitate but eventually shake my head no. Lavender is my best friend after all. As soon as I do, I feel terrible. I’m practically an accomplice! This could get out of hand very fast.

Lavender heaves a sigh of relief. She fishes out the cherry in her drink and chomps on it in a very un-ladylike manner before spitting it out all across my newly cleaned counter. “I forgot,” she amends, “I hate cherries.”



 








A/N: I hope you liked this chapter! Next chap, all hell breaks loose in Hermione’s office and Krum makes a special appearance. Please review!



*Note: The delicious petty cherry bit at the end is from the absolutely darling book/movie “Bugsy Malone”. I couldn’t resist sneaking it in.


Chapter 5: Chapter Five
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A/N: Well, well, well: I’ve been looking forward to this chapter. I’ll admit, I’ve just been putzing along, letting the story go where it goes, but this has been planned since the beginning. Enjoy.

Chapter Five



My Darling Annika,
How are you, dear? I am well. Training in England has been wonderful, all I expected and more. I even ran into my old friend, Hermione Granger. I believe you two met once when she visited me in Bulgaria. She is a very nice girl, but you know that my heart belongs to you, Anni. I hope to see you very soon. Perhaps you could come to the match against Puddlemere United? I will see what I can do about transportation. I have a surprise for you.



I open the drawer of my desk. From its depths I remove a sparkling diamond engagement ring in a velvet box. Smiling, I finish my letter:


Love always and forever,
Viktor



I begin to tie the letter to the outstretched leg of Annika’s owl. As I do, the door to my apartment bursts open and a sobbing Hermione Granger bursts in. I jump and Anni’s owl flaps away, hooting angrily.


For a moment I stand there and stare like an- oh, what is that word? Oh yes, like an idiot and stare at Hermione. Hermione is a very polite and proper girl, and it is a very rare thing for her to just dash into someone’s home without even knocking. I am, well, shocked. This must be about Ron.


“Come. Sit,” I say, gesturing towards the couch. Hermione collapses onto it, still crying. I sit beside her. She flings herself at me and hugs me around the waist, bawling into my new maroon robes. I can only make out the words “magazine”, “Lavender”, “fight”, and, sure enough, “Ron!”


I let her sob into my chest for a few more minutes, patting her on the back a little awkwardly. Not long ago, I would have given anything to be in this position, but the times have changed. I see Hermione only as a close friend, and I have a lovely girl waiting for me at home; Annika.


Finally, Hermione pulls away, wiping her brown eyes with the backs of her hand. “I’m s-s-so sorry,” she sniffles.


“It is alright,” I say, with a wave of my hand as I examine the streak of- how do you say it - bogeys down the left breast of my robes. “What happened?”


Taking, a deep, shuddering breath, Hermione recounts the whole sorry tale. I shake my head in disbelief. Her and Ron- they are just to much sometimes. Never a more perfect couple, I think, but such a difficult relationship. “Ron,” I say, trying to comfort Hermione, “is a good man. He loves you, Herm-oh-ninny.” I am still struggling to pronounce that name after all these years. Why must it have so many syllables? “He wants to be with you. He just does not know how to express his feelings.”


Hermione looks at me, clearly amazed by my wise words. “You’re right, Viktor. Thank you.” She brushes the last of her tears away and blows her nose. When she looks back up at me, there is a scary gleam in her eyes. “If only he had an example of a good boyfriend . . . or rather, an incentive.”


I scoot away from her on the couch. I do not like that glint in her eyes. “What do you mean, Herm-oh-ninny?” I inquire, tripping over the word and not even caring.


“I need a favor,” she says bluntly, “from you. Or rather, you and Annika.”


I am even more confused now. “But Anni is not coming to visit for two months!”


Hermione grins, showing off two rows of dentist-and-magic-perfected teeth. “Exactly.”

************************************************************************

I invited Ron back over to my place later that night. He had jotted me a quick owl earlier that day, something about a fight with Hermione, and I figured he might need a pick-me-up.


Ron apparates in the middle of my kitchen that night at seven o’clock, as planned. Even though I have been expecting him, the sudden pop makes me slosh butterbeer down my front. “Blimey, Harry,” Ron chortles, “You look as though you’ve wet yourself.” Behind his wan smile, he looks pale and there are dark circles underneath his eyes, so I merely grimace and use my wand to dry myself off.


“Would you like one?” I ask, gesturing at the butterbeers on the counter.


Ron looks dead tired, and he replies quickly “Yeah, that would be great. It’s been a hell of a day, I’ll tell you that.”


“So?”


“So what?”


Can’t he ever take a hint? “So what happened with you and Hermione?” I ask delicately. Well, sort of delicately.


Ron brushes me off as though the question is of no merit. “Nothing, nothing, mate.” He takes a gulp of his butterbeer. “Where’s Ginny?”


“At your Mum’s.”


Ron nods distractedly and gazes off into the distance with a glazed look. I study him as I plot my next move. In spite of what Hermione thinks . . . and Ginny thinks . . . and Mrs. Weasley thinks . . . Okay, what everybody thinks, I can tell when Ron needs to talk about something. After all, I care about him. Blimey, that sounded girly. I mean, we’re like brothers. And even though I desperately wanted to, I was not going to let him keep me in the dark about the fight he’d had with Hermione today. It was obviously bothering him, and I had to be the shoulder to cry on. Not literally, I mean. Ron and I are men. We don’t cry!


“C’mon Ron,” I sigh heavily, “Just tell me what happened and I’ll help you figure out how to apologize.


Ron bristles immediately. “Hey, it wasn’t my fault! It was completely her fault. You know how Hermione gets.”


I roll my green eyes. Typical Ron.


But he must not have seen my surreptitious eye roll, because Ron spends the next ten minutes recounting the whole sorry tale. Taking a deep breath and a big swig of his butterbeer, he begins.


************************************************************************

I met Hermione at her office. She sent me a memo earlier that day. So, I thought, no big deal, right? Probably, I dunno. . .I’d forgotten to do something. That’s the sort of thing Hermione does, just nag, nag, nag- oh, what? Sorry, I’ll stay on topic. Wait, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, the fight.


So I arrived in the office on time, or close to it anyway. Then Hermione gave me this dumb girl magazine, and I was confused, you know? Until I saw the headline. Wait, no, Lavender came in first. . .I think. I guess it doesn’t matter.


The headline was “Witch Weekly’s Cutest Couple: Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger”.


I thought it was kinda presumptuous, but not entirely a bad thing. Maybe it was what we needed. A push, in the right direction. But I couldn’t say that of course. I wasn’t really upset. Surprised, yes, but not upset. Hermione did seem annoyed though.
“This is ridiculous, Ronald,” she said in that really peevish way she has of saying things. You know. . .you don’t? Well, she uses it when- okay, okay, back to the story. Don’t get your knickers in a twist mate.


I was getting kind of pissed too, not because of the article, but because of the way Hermione had reacted to it. I mean, what was so wrong about going out with me? So I told her, and Hermione said some other stuff back at me. I don’t remember the exact wording, but the point is we were getting really mad at each other, yeah?


I was fuming by now, and I said, “So you don’t think I’m good enough for you is that it? Don’t want some loser to tarnish your perfect head editor reputation?” Hermione tried to interrupt, but I just kept going. “Or maybe you don’t want your precious Vicky to see it? Might ruin your relationship!” I spat the last word. Hermione was sobbing by now. Don’t shake your head at me like that Harry! It’s all her fault.


I was leaving, when a particularly loud sob made me turn around, and Hermione flung a picture at me! Frame and all! Good thing I ducked, or that could have really hurt. It hit the wall and broke. It looked like it was some picture of me and her. I ran out and slammed the door behind me . . . and that was it.



************************************************************************


Ron looks up at me nervously as he finishes. I shake my head again in disbelief- would they never learn? “That’s too bad mate, too bad.”


Ron took another jittery sip from his butterbeer. “Not really,” he says with a failed attempt at casualness. “I mean, it’s not like there was anything between us.” At my incredulous look, he amends his statement. “Okay, there is -was- something between us, but nothing lasting.”


“You call a ten year friendship ‘nothing lasting’?” I laugh mirthlessly.


Ron ignores my last comment. “Besides, I’m pretty sure she’s going out with Krum.” He wrinkles his nose at the name, as if we were back in Care of Magical Creatures and Hagrid was making us shovel dragon dung.


I groan. “For the last time, Ron, they are not dating!”


“Yes they are!”


“No, they’re not!”


“Yes!”


“No!”


“Yes!”


“Noooooo!”

By now, we’re half yelling, half laughing, doubled over in our seats, tears pouring down our faces. The butterbeer makes us giddy and slap happy.


We’re silenced by a knock on the door. “Come in,” I yell, wiping my eyes and still chuckling. The door opens, and it’s Hermione. Ron stands up, toppling the chair he had been occupying seconds before. They both cringe. I watch, half-amused, half-nervous at my two best friends’ uneasy interactions.


“Hello, Ronald.” Hermione twists her purse strap awkwardly.


“Hi, Mione.”


A dead silence falls, stretching longer and longer until I am tempted to break it. Instead, Ron pipes up. “I was, um, wondering if we could. . .” The words die on his tongue when Viktor Krum appears in the doorway beside Hermione. Ron’s eyes narrow and he hisses, “What’s he doing here?” in a completely different tone.


Hermione steps defensively in front of Krum. I stand up, prepared to grab Ron if he lunges for the Qudditch star’s neck.


Hermione straightens her spine and clenches her fists. “V-Viktor is. . .” she takes a deep breath. “Viktor is my new boyfriend.”






A/N: So, what did you think??? Drop me a review PLEASE. Also, check out my non-HP story on FictionCentral.net. Check my author page for a link. Chapter Six = more drama! “Lav-Lav” cuddles up to Ron, we learn more about Viktor and Hermione, and Ginny threatens to leak a secret. What can I say in her defense? She’s very hormonal right now.


Chapter 6: Chapter Six
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A/N: Chapter Six- wow! I am so excited. I can’t believe how much support I am getting from all of you and I would just like to say thank you to everyone, especially my best friend/unofficial beta, Rose. She is the reason that this story is not one big bowl of structure-less slop. So thanks.








 








Also, I am pleased to inform you all that I have good parts in a musical and a play right now. I’m having a lot of fun, but please understand that rehearsals are keeping me very, very busy. I will continue to update regularly (er, close to regularly). However, things like responding to review may fall to the wayside. I’m really sorry, but I just don’t have that much time. I still love reviews though!!!! I will read each and every one, and try to respond to as many as humanly possible. If you have a burning question, just contact me through my author page.





 








Okay on with the next chapter.





 








 








Chapter Six








Chili. Where was that chili we had last night? I riffle through the refrigerator and seize the bowl of leftovers. I tap it with my wand to heat it up and then dump it over a large serving of pistachio ice cream.








Hermione wrinkles her nose. “Ginny, that’s revolting.”









I shrug and retort, “To each their own.” Only my mouth is full, so it sounds like “Teh pee terron.” I swallow with difficultly and look up from my delicious meal. “So, let me get this straight: you’re using Viktor to manipulate Ron into apologizing?”









“Well. . .um,” I have Hermione now. I watch with relish as she squirms in her chair. Oh, pickle relish! That is just what this sundae needs. I spread a layer over the chili and dig in.









“I can tell you’re feeling guilty, Hermione. You always wiggle like that when you’re feeling guilty.”









“I am not wiggling! But if I was, it would be because of your disgusting food, and not because of any guilt I have- or do not have! I’m only speaking hypothetically, of course.” Hermione twists and un-twists her hands in her lap. Her skirt is wrinkled and her hair looks frizzier than usual. Not than Ron looks like any prize just now. The last time I saw him, he was head out to a pub in his oldest, moldiest Cannons sweatshirt. I frown at this thought.









“Maybe I should tell Ron,” I say quietly and deliberately. Hermione leaps out of her seat and gets down on her knees in front of me, hands clasped.









“Oh, Ginny, please don’t! I’m your best friend.”









“And Ron is my brother!”









Hermione takes a deep breath. “I know, and I am sorry. You’re right, I do feel guilty! I feel very guilty! I. . .I’ll go find Ron right now and tell him the truth. But please don’t say anything to him, Ginny. Please.”









I answer her question by taking a large bite of my multi-layered sundae. She looks so pitiful. Of course I was never really considering telling Ron her little secret. But I am feeling angry and hormonal right now.









I lean down to Hermione and whisper “I won’t tell” in her ear. Then I give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.









Hermione chuckles. “You and your mood swings.” She gathers her purse and makes for the door just as Harry walks in the front door.









“Hello, Harry.”









“Hi, ‘Mione. Bye, ‘Mione.” He opens the refrigerator and roots around in a manner similar to me. “I’m starving, Gin. We got anything good to eat.”









I look from Harry, to my dessert, and back, feeling a wicked smile curl across my lips. “Ice cream?”









Harry says, “Sure, thanks.” That was his first mistake. The second was to, without looking, take a big bite of my pistachio-chili-relish sundae.









Don’t judge me. I’m pregnant.








 








************************************************************************








 








Have you ever seen a train wreck? I mean something so terrible, that it almost seems like it was going in slow motion? I have.









That’s what happens when you’re part of a war. I wake up in the middle of the night, remembering things I’d rather not remember. The terrified screams, the smell of blood and of bodies, and especially the look in my best friend Seamus’s eyes before he died.









When the war was over, I was very sad for the losses I had suffered, but I also felt strangely euphoric. My logic was that yes, those things that had happened were horrible. I couldn’t change that. But now, I’d never have to be a soldier again. I could marry my old school sweetheart, start a business, even have children. I could do all the things I’d ever dreamed of before the war, although I no longer had a best friend to share those dreams with. I, Dean Thomas, was going to move on with my life. I wasn’t going to be the sort to write a book, do a teary interview, or make a Muggle movie about my experiences. I never wanted to see a wreck again as long as I lived.









But I was wrong. Wrecks happen every day.









Take today for example. It started as an ordinary day in my restaurant. I was behind the bar, serving drinks to chatty couples, friendly businessmen, and an increasing inebriated Ron Weasley. I had asked him to tell me what was the matter, but he wouldn’t. He’d probably been in a spat with Hermione Granger. I wish they would just kiss and make up-literally. I’m sick and tired of their little song and dance, and I would like to cater a wedding. I need the money, what with the restaurant having just gotten off the ground.









“I think you should stop serving him drinks,” Parvati advised with a raised eyebrow and pursed lips. I agreed. I had to, or I’d be sleeping on the couch.









“Alright, Weasley,” I said, pushing the coins he handed me back across the bar, “that’s enough for tonight.”









“Awww, c’mon, Thomas. Remember that time we went to the Muggle bar in the city and-“









“I told you never to bring up that incident again!” I glanced over at Parvati nervously, but she appeared not to have heard.









Ron holds up three fingers blearily. “One more drink.”









I indicate his fingers. “That’s three, Ron, not one.”









“Oh.” He glares at his fingers with blood shot eyes as I pour him his last firewhiskey. Ron rifles through his pockets, searching for his coin pouch.









“No need, Ron,” Lavender slides into the stool next to him. “I’ll pay for it.” Her money is already in her hand and she smacks it down on the counter. I eyed her suspiciously, but took the money. Parvati made to come over, but Lavender shook her head ever to slightly.









Ron threw Lavender one of his lopsided grins. “What brings you here?” He hiccupped.









“You,” Lavender said, with a coy smile. I moved along down the bar to serve other customers and to keep from throwing up. When I returned, Lavender and Ron were kissing.









And Hermione was standing not four feet away. She made no move to separate the couple, and her expression was quite blank, but I could tell that her heart was breaking. Hermione spun on her heel and was out the door before I could say anything.









This is what is on my mind as I crawl into bed. Parvati is brushing her hair. “Did you see what happened today? With Lavender and Ron?”









I make a face. “How could I not?”









“What a train wreck.” I nod in agreement. “Oh, that reminds me,” Parvati turns from the mirror to fix me with her penetrating brown eyes. “What did happen with you and Ron in that Muggle bar in the city?”









I gulp. Thanks to Ron, I’m about to experience a train wreck of my own.



Chapter 7: Chapter Seven
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A/N: Some of you (very few of you, judging by the lack of review) may have noticed that the two one-shots I posted recently are a little…well, dark. This is intentional. Chapter 7, the chap you are about to read, is one of the fluffiest things I’ve ever written. And I’ve written some pretty fluffy stuff.


So, if this chap gives you a toothache, please check out “Ghosts in the Graveyard” or “I Will Wait”. Even if it doesn’t, please read and review them.
Enjoy! –Lucie


Chapter 7


When I was six, my daddy taught me how to skate. And, well, I took to it like a duck to water. Since than, I’ve always loved skating.


At least, that’s what I tell Ronald. He seemed suspicious as to why I wanted to take him ice-skating on our first date, especially since it’s bitterly cold. The truth is, I overheard Hermione telling a co-worker that she and Viktor Krum were going there on Saturday. Hey, she’s the reason Won-Won and I broke up the first time! I couldn’t resist the opportunity to rub it in her face a little.


To make matters even better, Hermione is a terrible skater. Imagine! Something Little-Miss-Perfect-Granger can’t do. She’s trailing after Krum, who skates backwards, dragging Hermione along. Every time she falls, he scoops her up again with a laugh. Krum is actually pretty cute; too bad I can’t understand a word he says.


Ron and I are skating hand in gloved-hand. His nose is as red as his hair, and when I lean over to tease him about it, I notice that his ice-blue eyes are glued to Hermione and Krum. I swallow hard and break away from him.


“Watch this, Won-Won!” I managed a small figure eight, causing a few people skating by to stumble. I don’t care—Ron’s finally torn his gaze away from Granger and her unflattering cranberry pea coat. He smiles at me, and laughs when I curtsy. Hermione attempts to turn around, stumbles, and falls. Both Krum and Ron make to help her up. I can’t believe her! It’s obvious that Hermione deliberately fell on her fat ass to draw the attention back to herself. Finally, she regains her balance and she and Krum are off again, at a turtle’s pace. I perform a graceful pirouette and accidentally-on-purpose slide my right foot in front to Hermione. She trips and goes down hard on the ice, hands-first. “Whoops,” I say lightly, “Sorry, it was an—“


Before I can finish my sentence, Hermione grabs hold of my pant leg and yanks me down beside her. My knee slams into the ice, and pain shoots up my leg. “Whoops,” mutters Hermione, her face expressionless. I lean forward and grab two handfuls of her bushy brown hair. She shrieks and claws at my face like her disgusting cat, Crookshanks. When she finally manages to break free, she lunges at me, sinking her gloved fist into my stomach.


“Oof!” I grunt, smacking her rosy face in retaliation. Soon we’re rolling across the ice, a confused mass of fingernails and sharp elbows. Onlookers gape at us, but I’m not worried about what they think. I can feel my lower lip swelling, and I reel back to slap Hermione again. Someone grabs my hand. It’s Ron. He and Krum, who had been standing to the side with their mouths open like stuffed fish, have finally come to their senses and are dragging us apart. “Get off me! Won-Won!” I shout, and I can hear Hermione protesting as well a few feet away.

Ron leads me off the rink and sits me down hard on a bench. Krum and Hermione sit down as well, the bulky Bulgarian player creating a barrier between myself and my bushy brown nemesis.


“You…Sit…Here.” Ron addresses us both through clenched teeth. “I’ll go get some ice.” He marches off.


I lean forward and glare at Hermione. Krum mutters something that sounds threatening, and gently pushes me back into my seat. Ron returns with the ice momentarily, and presses it to my lip. I giggle and grin at him, hoping all is forgotten. Clearly, it is not.


“You should go,” he says quietly, but firmly.


“But Won-Won—“


“Please, Lavender. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”


I thrust out my swollen lip in a dramatic pout, muttering “She started it!” under my breath. Viktor says something to me but I’m not good with accents, so I don’t understand him. I just stalk out of there with my nose in the air, as if the bruise on my face were a badge of honor.









After Lavender marches off, I am left alone with Hermione and Vicky. The awkward silence stretches on and on until I finally break it by bending down and press the ice pack to Hermione’s rapidly swelling ankle. She winces in pain, but smiles at me. We blush. I don’t know what to say; why I am always such a prat when it comes to girls? “I haff Quidditch practice,” says Viktor, “Goodbye Ronald, Hermione.” Krum walks off without another word. For some reason he’s grinning--- oh no! Is Hermione going to deliver bad news.


Guess what Ron? Viktor and I are getting married! In two weeks! You’re not invited, we just thought you should know.


“Ron?”


It’s gonna be great! The Honeymoon will be in Hawaii. We’re going to an all-inclusive resort with a hot tubs, champagne, and huge, sound-proof suites! Perfect for…well, you know. Ha ha!



“Ron? Are you alright?”


We’re going to move to Bulgaria and have lots of little smart, talented Qudditch players while you stay here and London and rot in a musty old bachelor pad until you finally decide that you want to move on and settle down but it’s hard because you don’t have any teeth left and you’re bald and fat and most women aren’t looking for—



“Ron!” Hermione bellows in my ear. “Have you heard a word I’ve said?”


“Whaaaa?” I mumble, sounding remarkably like Lavender does anytime Vicky says anything to her. “No, sorry, just sort of spaced out a little.” Hermione rolls her eyes.

“You were saying?”


“I was just saying that I was sorry.” Hermione blushes and stares at her skates.


“Oh…it’s fine. I’m—“ Hermione cuts me off.


“I don’t think you’re inferior to me. I think you’re a great wizard!”


“Yeah, thanks, and I’m—“


Hermione is babbling, her words tumbling over each other. “I’m glad that we’re friends. I like spending time with you. I like being around you. I like everything about you, really, and I’m in love with you.”


“Hermione!” I shout. “Will you shut up long enough for me to say I’m—“ Her words finally hit home, and the last bit of my sentence dribbles out like that nasty stuff Muggle babies eat, “Sorry.” Hermione nods, eyes still glued to her own feet. “Wait…what did you just say?”


“I’m in love with you,” she repeats, only she seems to have lost her nerve, so it comes out sounding like “Hi d'ovpu.”


Wow. Wow wow wow wow. WOW! I mean, bloody hell, I’ve been waiting for this moments for years. And now that it’s arrived, I can’t think of a single thing to say. My brain seems to have been replaced by “dead flies and bits of fluff”, like in the Hogwarts song.

Just say it! I tell myself. It’s only four little words. Say it before this silence stretches on any longer! Say it before the girls of your dreams goes running back to Krum! Say it: I LOVE YOU TOO.


“Ron?” There are tears in Hermione’s eyes. Great; another magical moment I’ve screwed up.


Say it!
I open my mouth but nothing comes out…


Say it!


Instead, I lean forward and kiss her.


Okay, that works too.

Chapter 8: Epilogue
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Epilogue

A/N: This is the last chapter of “Witch Weekly’s Cutest Couple Award”. This kind of freaks me out a little. It is by far my most popular story and I’m not sure that I could ever top it! (But I’m going to try…so please, even after WWCC is over, come visit my Author Page and check out my new stuff.) I could draw this story out even longer (there were some other plot twists planned), but I’ve decided that this is as far as I could stretch my characters before this story jumps the shark.

I’d like to thank my reviewers, especially those who reviewed every chapter. Thanks to those who Favorite-d this story, you brightened up my day. Most of all, thanks to my best friend Rose (NevillesSoulmate) and my good friend Meg (HPsmartone32), who were not only great to bounce ideas off of, but hounded me daily to update. Thank you!

And now without further ado…Epilogue.

 

Epilogue

“Honestly, Hermione, it’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Hermione shrieks hysterically, “Not that bad? Ginerva, how would you feel if an article was written by your nemesis about you being preganant and you weren’t even pregnant?”

I have to giggle. “You call Lavender you ‘nemesis’? That’s so dorky.”

“I think it’s appropriate. I mean she did steal Ron from me. Twice.”

I only roll my eyes. We’re sitting at the kitchen table, pawing through the latest issue of “Witch Weekly”. There’s a picture of Hermione on the cover, a large red circle drawn around her middle. The phrase “PREGNANT?” is emblazoned above it in huge red letters. “You know Hermione, you also stole Ron from Lavender. Twice.”

Hermione only waves a hand at me, her diamond wedding ring sparkling in the sun pouring through the kitchen window. I love Hermione’s kitchen, though I love what comes out of it considerably less. “Oh, pooh. Ron and I were meant to be, everyone knew that.” She scans the article again, her eyes darting back and forth madly, harrumphing every time she reached a phrase she found particularly offensive.

“I actually think it’s pretty charitable for a tabloid, especially considering it was written by your,” I snicker, “Nemesis.”

“Except for the fact that I am not pregnant!” Hermione slams her fist on the table and I jump. “I just...haven’t been working out lately. And Ron and I have been eating out a lot, seeing as, well, cooking isn’t exactly my forte.” She stands abruptly. “Speaking of food, I’m hungry. Want a sandwich, Ginny?”

I shake my head fervently. I learned long ago to turn down any food made by Hermione’s fair hands. I turn my attention back to the article.

The Golden Offspring Part 2?

By Lavender Brown

Oh, Lavender. She left the Daily Prophet almost immediately after Ron and Hermione got together; graciously, Hermione didn’t fire her, but somehow I think Lavender overlooked this kindness in light of all that had “gone down” (literally) between them on the ice rink. Since landing a job at Witch Weekly, she had worked her way up through the ranks to become their star reporter, partly thanks to Viktor Krum, who gave Lavender the exclusive rights to a story about his wedding. She even wrote an article about Ron and Hermione’s wedding, mostly, I think, because Dean and Parvati were catering it and wanted the publicity. Their business certainly took off! It’s packed every time I go in there, but Parvati always finds a table for me, somehow.

“Would Lily like anything?” I look up at Hermione’s words, and glace at my daughter, who is drooling contentedly all over her highchair.

“No, I think she’s fine.” Lily is a beautiful little girl, if I do say so myself, with dark brown curls and bright green eyes. She’s also quite skinny for an eighteen-month-old, which I think surprises people, considering the “hell of a pregnancy” I had (Ron’s words, not mine.) Many people expected me to have an “elephant calf” (Harry’s words, not mine.) I don’t remember much about my pregnancy, although I’m sure I couldn’t have acted that irrationally. Harry and Ron do love to exaggerate. Although I do remember eating strange food, and a lot of it. Wait a minute...

“Hey, Hermione,” I say, trying to sound casual, “What’s in your sandwich?”

She licks her fingers. “Oh, nothing much, just some cheese, sausage, jalapeños, pear slices, and sour cream.” Hermione shrugs. “I just had a strange craving for it.” Our eyes meet and Hermione’s face goes white. I know she is thinking the same thing I am. “Merlin, Ginny, you’re not suggesting that I...that I could be...that I might be pregnant?” I only raise my eyebrows in reply. “I can’t be! I just can’t be!”

 






15 minutes and one homemade pregnancy test potion later, we had our answer. As it turns out, Ginny was right: I’m pregnant! I walk out of the bathroom, the purple potion held aloft. Ginny, who is holding Lily in her arms takes one look at the potion and bursts into happy tears—I do too! I can’t believe I’m going to be a mother. She rushes forward and gives me a tight one-armed hug, a squealing Lily caught between us.

It seems to take extra long for Ron to arrive home from his “boys' day” with Harry and Neville. He finally bounds in, shouting “Honey! I’m home!” (I introduced him to Muggle sitcoms about a year ago, and do I ever regret it.) Ginny winks at me and apparates away with a crack, Lily curled asleep in her arms.

Ron catches me up in a warm embrace. “Look!” He cries with a laugh, holding out a copy of Witch Weekly. “Have you seen this garbage? Now we’ve got another one for the wall,” he remarks, gesturing to the framed copy of Witch Weekly that hangs over our fireplace. Grinning back down at me, Ron notices the tear tracks on my face and the redness of my eyes. His smile slides right of his face. “’Mione, what’s wrong?”

Alright, Hermione, this is it. You don’t want Ron to freak out. Just tell him delicately. Oh, screw it. “Ron, we’re having a baby!” I blurt out happily.

Ron just stands there, blinking for a moment. Then he falls over backwards in a dead faint. I only giggle and step over him to fix myself a sundae. So far, I think this pregnancy is off to a good start.

 

The End. For “realsises”. No, I’m not pulling your leg. I mean it! This is all there is. It’s the end.

 

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