Unofficial Portkey Archive

Author's Note: These stories are all one-shot, 1000-word responses to the Summer Writing Series Challenge, so each one is not related to the next.

Summer Writing Series Challenge (June 29)
Challenge: Harry & Hermione have a fight and make up.
Title: Rocking the Boat
Word Count: 1,023

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!!"

Harry cringed as he heard his full name being screeched across the house, and waited nervously for Hurricane Hermione to come sweeping into the room. He ran over a mental list of what he could have possibly done.

"Toilet seat? Down. Socks? In the hamper. My broom? Did I leave my broom out?"

A herd of hippogriffs came stomping down the stairs, or so it seemed, and two seconds later a single young woman with a beach ball of a belly appeared in the sitting room, hands on her hips. Harry had to look down and stifle his laugh, lest he make her madder by laughing at her. But what a sight she was!

Hermione had a handkerchief tied over her head, as she often did when she was working around the house, but below that her bushy hair stood out in every direction like she had been in a hurricane. Her face was red and contorted into an angry glare, and her shoulders moved up and down as she huffed and puffed, like a bull about to charge.

She thrust an arm out into the air and said, "What's this?"

Harry was completely blank-faced. He had no idea what it was. This is what she's getting all mad over? It looked like a small piece of parchment. Why would she get mad about a piece of parchment?

"Well?" she asked irritably.

Harry just shrugged. "I don't know."

"You don't know? What do you mean you don't know?! I found it in your pocket! It's your handwriting!!"

Then it hit him. Oh, dear. He had left something in his pocket, hadn't he? He never even thought about her finding it. She wasn't supposed to know. But what was she doing looking through his pockets anyway?

"Yeah, what were you going through my pockets for?" Now he was beginning to get a bit angry.

"What?" she asked, looking completely dumbfounded.

"Why were you looking in my pockets?" he repeated, his voice raised a little.

She spurted out a loud snort of a laugh. "I was emptying your pockets, Mr. Potter, because you never do and then we get all sorts of rubbish in the wash. I am trying to get some laundry done! It's not like it magically cleans itself."

He raised his eyebrows at her. "It could. Just because you prefer your clothes machine washed…"

"Or you could just help me out!" she snapped. "It's not simply an easy day's work to continue my regular job, come home and cook, clean, do laundry and yard work…all while I'm waddling around with your child playing a bloody World Cup match inside me, you know?!"

"I'm ever so sorry," he said through his teeth. "You didn't complain six months ago when you decided you wanted to start a family. And in case you haven't noticed, I've been a bit busy trying to keep my job so I can support our family. You knew practice season was starting and I was going to be working longer hours!"

She rolled her eyes. "It wasn't my decision alone to have this baby, you know. And you're trying to change the subject. Who's Alexia - The Leaky Cauldron - 2:00?" she asked, waving the parchment at him.

"No one," he mumbled under his breath. He really wished she hadn't found that note.

"No one? It's a girl, isn't it? Doesn't sound like the daily lunch special to me," she sneered. "You're meeting a girl because I'm not good enough anymore."

He opened his mouth to reply, then stopped, looking at her blankly again. "Are you joking?" he asked with disbelief.

"Do I look like I'm joking?!" she screeched, her hands flailing about.

"No." He analyzed her seriously for a moment before he began laughing. "Actually…you look a bit like a puffskein trying to take flight."

Hermione glared at him, angry tears welling up in her eyes. Harry tried to stifle his laughter, but he couldn't help it. She had that wild hair, and the big, round belly, and her arms were flapping like mad. She could have easily passed for a puffskein with wings.

Her chin began to tremble and then suddenly she burst out sobbing. She dropped to the couch and put her hands over her eyes, wailing uncontrollably.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Her hormones were going crazy and here he was laughing at her. He really shouldn't have said that, joking or not. Now he'd gone and upset her even more. He moved to the couch and sat next to her, rubbing a hand soothingly over her back.

"Shh. It's ok…I was only teasing. You don't look like a…like that," he said, trying to calm her and not laugh. "It was just the arm thing, and…oh, nevermind. I'm sorry."

She sniffled and wiped at her eyes, her chin still trembling.

"Look at me," he said, taking her face in his hand. "You're beautiful, and I love you. I'm sorry I haven't been home as much as we'd both like, but I'll try my best to help you out more. And I'm very happy that we're having this baby." He reached down and rubbed her tummy.

"But…" she sniffed, looking down at the parchment. "But what's this about?"

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Hang on."

He walked to the hall cupboard and pulled out a large something, his back blocking it from her sight. With a flick of his wand it was wrapped and tied with a bow. He drug it over to where she sat.

"Harry, what's this?"

"Open it."

She pulled the ribbon and the wrapping fell to the floor. A beautiful, hand-carved rocking chair sat before her, and she gasped.

"I was going to save it for the party next week, but that's ok," he said with a smile. "I have other surprises for then anyway. Oh, and Alexia…she's the artist."

Hermione teared up again, and then flung her arms around him. "Harry James Potter," she said through her sobs. "I love you."

Harry smiled. "I like it much better when you say my full name that way."