Okay, so I had this idea and I just had to write it down and share it tonight before I forgot or messed it up. Please, please, please tell me what you think! If I get some reviews, then I'll make sure to post a new chapter over the weekend!

Disclaimer: I own nothing from either the doctor who or harry potter universes. I can wish all I like, but wishing doesn't make it true.

Enjoy!

CHAPTER 1

Hermione sighed as she shook the excess ink from her quill into the ink well and laid the new ministry-issued feather at the edge of her desk. Breathing deeply and closing her eyes, she leaned back in her stiff chair and used her left hard to massage her right. 'I swear to Merlin' she thought, 'if I have to look at one more goblin complaint I'll… I'll…I'll deal with it. Just like always.' Hermione stood and retrieved her bag from the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet by her desk and then walked toward the door that opened onto the corridor. Finding it empty, she increased her pace. She didn't want to go home. She'd just have to clean up another mess. But that's what she did. Hermione cleaned up messes. She had to go home though. It was already nearly 7:30 and even if she didn't want to go home, Rose needed looking after. Ronald certainly wasn't capable for any length of time.

As the lift carried her towards the main level, she looked down at her growing abdomen. Another child. Three months ago, it hadn't seemed that bad, but now it just seemed stupid and careless. Ronald couldn't even figure out how to use a telephone to call her parents; how was he going to handle two children if she was working? The lift shuddered to a stop and Hermione stepped off and hurried toward the rows of fireplaces. Shrugging her bag higher up onto her shoulder, she took some floo powder from the mantle, tossed it into the flames, and stepped in.

"Weasley-Granger residence."

Closing her eyes, she swirled through the floo network, coming to a halt in her living room. Hermione held back a groan as she stepped onto her beautiful stone hearth to the sounds of anxious shushing and loud crying. Not saying a word, she dropped her bag in an armchair and walked up the stairs, down the short hall and into her daughter's nursery. She gently took the baby out of her husband's arms and began bouncing her very gently, rocking back and forth as mothers do. "Shh darling. Mama's here." Ron gave a little smile at the reduction of noise, but Hermione didn't look at him and he left the room dejectedly.

Once the baby had calmed, Hermione sat down in the rocking chair by the window, still gently murmuring to and rocking the child. "That's right Rose, darling. Your brother isn't crying, is he? You'll be able to see each other soon. Just 26 weeks." Hermione frowned, "And then what will we do, Rose? How are we going to sort your father?" The child had fallen asleep by then, and was tightly holding her mother's pinky.

Hermione slowly unwrapped her finger from the tiny delicate ones around it and lowered the sleeping girl into the crib. "I'll be here when you wake, little flower," she whispered as she turned out the light and gently closed the door, leaning against it and sighing once again. 'Ronald,' she thought, 'how did we get into this mess?'

It was then that her red-headed husband popped his head around the corner of the stairs. "There's some dinner in the kitchen, Hermione."

She nodded, to show she heard, and counted to 40 before she moved to follow. She was hungry.

Ron was sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, a plate of chicken, gravy, and vegetables before him. There was another across from him. Sitting on the opposite stool, Hermione braced herself. He wanted her to forgive him, but she just couldn't bring herself to tell him it was okay. Because it wasn't. That didn't mean he would stop trying.

"Hermione—"

"Do we have to do this now?"

"No. We can do it later, I guess." He paused and looked up from his food, only to see his wife looking down at hers, bits of frizzy hair poking out at odd angles. "We need to talk though."

Hermione looked up. "Of course we need to talk, Ronald. We need to talk because why? Oh yes, because you messed up. Again. I am tired. I have worked hard all day. I came home to a screaming baby. And I am pregnant. Again, your fault. Just drop it."

Ron blushed, looking down at his plate, but not eating. For the next ten minutes, you could have heard a pin drop on the other side of the house. Then Hermione stood and walked to the sink.

"No!" Ron said, probably with too much emphasis. Hermione turned and looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, you don't need to do the dishes, Dear. I'll do them."

"Really? Just what I need. More broken dishes."

Ron's ears turned bright red, but he stood up anyway and walked to where his pregnant wife was standing. "Please, let me do it."

Her mouth twitched, but she said nothing and simply walked away, climbing the stairs to their room to change.

Hermione was almost asleep when she heard Rose's cry. Biting her lip, she swung back the covers and sat up, bringing a hand to her stomach as she stood. Slowly, she walked down the hall, her eyes still mostly closed. She was mildly shocked when the baby stopped crying, but continued, looking in to see that for once, Ron had managed to actually quiet their daughter. He was in his dressing gown, with his back to the door, bouncing Rose with one arm while making small lights move around and form colorful patterns with his other. Hermione almost smiled, turning quietly and walking back to their room without ever alerting Ron to the fact that she had arrived. In five minutes, she was dead asleep.

Hermione woke and she actually smiled as the first sound she heard was her daughter's giggles. Then she rolled over and scowled as she heard Ron's voice. "Good girl, Rose! Who's Dadda's favorite girl?" Groaning, she sat up and stretched her neck muscles, only wrapping herself in a dressing gown before exiting the room and descending the stairs.

When she reached the kitchen, she leaned against the doorway and folded her arms. Ronald looked up and actually grinned at her. He sobered quickly though when he saw she wasn't smiling back and he remembered where he'd slept that night. And every night for the last week.

He was doing the light show again, but this morning he was really multi-tasking, as he was also juggling a bottle. Choosing to let him continue for Rose's sake, Hermione unfolded her arms and retrieved some juice from the fridge, pouring it into a tall glass. Sitting on a stool, she remarked, "You're up early."

Ron only nodded, scared of saying the wrong thing.

"It's okay," she said. "I just need some time. I'm going to get a quick bath then take Rose for the day."

At this, Ron looked up sharply. "Take her where?"

"I don't know. Probably to see her grandparents." And with that, Hermione stood, and taking her half-filled glass with her, climbed the stairs to the bath.

The warm water was soothing and it was with some reluctance that she rose and used her wand to dry herself. She then donned muggle clothes, namely a sweater and jeans which she could—thankfully!—still fit into. She then carefully applied some make-up and pulled her long frizzy hair back into a tight French braid.

When she came down the stairs and pulled on a coat, Ronald's mouth dropped open. "You're not using the floo?"

"No, Ronald. I am not taking our daughter through the filthy floo network to a place which is not even connected." She then put together a quick baby-bag, grabbed her car keys, and scooped Rose up out of her high-chair. "I'll call if we won't be home tonight."

Ron sputtered incoherently until the door was closing, finally yelling, "By phone or floo?" which she ignored.

It was only once Rose was securely in her charm-enhanced car-seat and they were well on their way that Hermione pulled out her mobile and called her mother to say they were coming.

Mrs. Granger was, needless to say, concerned when her daughter called to say she was bringing her granddaughter to visit on such short notice, but when she saw that same daughter arrive by car rather that by apparition, her worry grew.

"Did you and Ron have a fight Honey?" she asked while cuddling her beautiful granddaughter.

Hermione groaned. "Yes."

"You going to tell me what happened?"

"I… he lost his job."

"Why did that become a fight? I know it's not easy, but—"

"It was his fault! What sort of bloody idiot does that?" Hermione then broke down in tears, sobbing freely for the first time since the incident. Mrs. Granger looked on expectantly. "Ronald was such a l-lazy, arrogant lit-little child that when H-harry g-ently reminded him that p-paperwork needed to be done, he started throwing curses. And not just the v-erbal k-kind. H-he got his arse thrown in a cell, Mum! I h-had to c-come get h-him. And he w-wouldn't even ap-p-apologize! H-he got f-fired and n-now I can't ev-even talk to G-ginny! An-and n-now, he c-can't even g-get his j-job back!"

"Hermione, honey, it's alright," Mrs. Granger cooed. "He'll find something. He loves you, Hermione, and acted a right twit, but if you give him the chance, he'll redeem himself."

Hermione looked up for a moment and then burst into tears once more.

"I didn't say you had to forgive him this second! Forget about him. Let's focus on you. Did you find out if your next one is a girl yet? I found the cutest little nightgown pattern. You'll adore it!"

Hermione smiled a little, and even gave a little laugh. "It's a boy Mum."

In a few hours, Hermione had almost forgot about Ron entirely, talking to her mother, and when her father came home to find his granddaughter, there was a whole new set of questions and answers. It was after dark and Rose had already been tucked into bed when Hermione called Ron. On the phone.

Ron's "Hello?" was barely audible.

"That's the wrong end! Turn it around!"

"Oh! Where are you? Hermione, are you on your way home? Is Rose alright?"

Hermione answered in an aggravated tone of voice. "She's fine Ronald. We'll come home tomorrow." And with that, Hermione hung up.

She was sitting in her favorite chair, reading a book when she heard the noise. She looked at the clock and saw that it read 1:17. It was an odd whirring noise, with a grinding quality, and she was very much drawn to it. Hermione was at the front door, looking out in time to see a large blue box crash into a street lamp and the hit a neighbor's car before finally bumping to an undoubtedly unpleasant stop on its side in the middle of the street, which was currently echoing with the sound of a car alarm. She stared for several minutes before approaching the box, cautiously drawing her wand. She was almost close enough to touch it when a man popped up from behind it. She took a large step back. "Who are you?"

The man spun around to face her. He was tall, with messy brown hair and was wearing a brown suit. "Oh hello! I'm the Doctor," he held out his hand, across the box, and she had to take several steps forward to take it. "And, sorry, but, who are you then?"

"Hermione," she said hesitantly, cautiously taking the man's hand. "Hermione We- Granger."

"Well, very good to meet you, Hermione Granger. I don't suppose you have something to lift this old thing upright, do you? I'd also like to say that I don't normally land her like that."

"Her?"

"Uhh…yeah, she's called the, well anyways, no time for that. Could you tell me where we are exactly?"

Umm…Crawley." She received no response. "London? Are you alright?"

"Yes of course. Quite all right. May have bumped my head in the landing. And uh...Sorry, but what year is it?"

Hermione backed away just a little bit. "2007."

I really hope you liked it! And remember, please review!

Thanks!

-MP