Hysteria

Hermione waddled across the kitchen, her bulging belly tucked underneath a silly frothy maternity shirt, sweat beading on her brow.  The toilet was only a little further, she told herself, her hand cupped over her mouth, only a little further.  She had the wonderful good fortune to be one of the women for whom morning sickness continued throughout her entire pregnancy.

Ginny bounced through her pregnancies a glowing picture of health and her mother in law assured her that it was inherited.  Fleur managed to make maternity shirts look as graceful as evening gowns.  It was really quite unfair of them.

The door handle slipped through her hand and she grabbed at it, crying in frustration.  Ever since they had started to potty train Rose, the doors to the dwelling of that strange contraption had started sticking and the handles started slipping.  As her fingers tried to turn the knob again, she threw up onto the carpet muttering swear words about temperamental children as she stood up.  It splattered onto the door and she shot it a despairing look, padding back into the kitchen for her wand.  With a sharp sweep, the vomit vanished.  It streamed down from the door and she shot a second vanishing charm at it, leaving a set of greenish brown stains on her brand new cream colored carpet.  Before she even realized it, her fist slammed into the wall and she yelled, pushing herself away from the wall.

Ron ran downstairs holding Rose against one shoulder as she sniffled and blood trickled from a scrape on her knee.  “What’s wrong?” he demanded as she shook her stinging hand.  She pointed with the other one to the floor next to the door to the toilet.  He cast a quick scouring charm at it and the stain disappeared.

He set Rose on the floor and let her throw her arms around his neck and rest her forehead on his shoulder. 

“I hate waddling!” she whimpered, trying not to scream.  Tears and mucus sank into the fabric of his shirt.  Oh well, he’d have to change into a robe before work anyway. “And I hate running out of meetings every five minutes because I have to vomit! And having to wear diapers because the baby kicks that hard!  And crying every time the littlest thing goes wrong!”

“Like this?” he whispered, consolingly, patting her on the shoulder with one hand and grabbing the color of Rose’s shirt in the other.  “Don’t worry, I know it isn’t you, it’s just the hormones.”

Hermione raised her head from her husband’s shoulder, her eyes flashing.  “This isn’t a little thing, Ron,” she told him tartly.  It wasn’t like the time she burst into tears because she spilled stewed tomatoes all over the ice cream and it melted the ice cream and spilled over onto the kitchen table so that she had a sticky puddle of tomatoes and chocolate flavored cream to clean up.  This was big.  If nothing went wrong, she would be pregnant for at least another whole month!

“Yeah,” he retorted nervously, treading on unstable ground, “but it isn’t anything to get upset about.”  It was just a little vomit.

She flicked her wand sharply and Ron felt his insides dissolve and reform.  He emptied his stomach into the bucket his wife had hastily conjured unable to help himself as the room spun.  His trousers ripped open and his shirt stretched, pulling out of his belt.  The buttons popped off and one hit Hermione in the chest.  When he bent down, to undo his belt, which was cutting into his stomach, his belly was in the way.  It was never in the way; he was too skinny.  He felt it with his hands.

“Hermione!”

“Oh look,” she stated sarcastically, “I’ve conjured you a uterus.”

“But…”

“And put the baby inside it.  Stupid accidental magic.”

“Bloody hell, Hermione!”

She smiled, pressing a hand to her own empty flabby abdomen.

“This isn’t funny!” he shouted. “I want a divorce!”

“Don’t worry,” she shot back spitefully, poking his belly.  “I know it isn’t you, it’s just the hormones.”  He ran for the toilet as the baby gave a powerful kick, and with one last smile, she turned away and practically skipped up the stairs.  Safe in the security of her own room, she pulled off her maternity clothes and pointed her wand at her abdomen, shrinking the flabby skin and loosened muscles.

Ron emerged a few moments later and stood at the base of the stairs, his hands on his hips.  “How is it supposed to come out?” he cried desperately up to her.

She spared a moment from putting on blush to call down to him, “That’s what caesarean’s for, dear.”

He groaned and leaned against one wall and she ignored him.  “I can’t go into work like this!”

“I was planning to,” she reminded him smirking widely.

“It’s a little different!”

“And how exactly is it different?”

“Well,” he backtracked, the edge in her voice frightening him into reconsidering his next few words.  “Sitting in an office is one thing, but I can’t go chasing after Dark Wizards like this!”

“Well Harry’s been telling me that all you to get to do anyway is file paperwork.”

“Harry’s a dirty rotten liar.”  His voice took on a pleading tone.  “Look, I can’t let anyone see me like this!”

“Take maternity leave then.”  She sat back on the bed her eyes misting over as she imagined that conversation.  Clearly so did he.  She could almost hear him turn green from all the way upstairs.

“You can’t expect me to spend the next month hiding out!”

“The healers said it might be up to six weeks.”  No, she didn’t, and she’d probably take pity on him and take the baby back by the end of the day, but she’d enjoy it while it lasted too.

When she came back down, she wore a sun dress and sandals.  It wasn’t something she would normally wear to the office, but as Ron sobbed furiously in the kitchen, she figured she might as well.