Disclaimer: I own nothing...well actually I do, I own a tv, a computer, a few books, an alarm clock...I'm sorry where was I? Oh yes, I don't own anything that looks familiar.

This is a fic I giggled and sighed while writing so I hope you have the same response!

'He was worse than a four month old with colic,' Hermione thought as she settled herself onto the couch in the den once more. She'd been reading a very interesting article on the study of electricity and its possible benefits for the wizarding world when he'd first begun to make 'subtle' signs that he was uncomfortable and wanted attention. First he'd whimpered, low enough to ignore at first before steadily increasing volume every thirty seconds, then he'd moaned for fifteen minutes straight. After the moaning didn't get the desired effect he'd called out her name, in the most pathetic voice he could muster, she was sure, and asked where she was. She'd gotten up and given him the medication the Med-Witches at St. Mungo's had prescribed, kissed him on the forehead while stroking his cheek and walked out of the room as soon as he'd slipped into blissful slumber, although she was sure she'd enjoyed it more than him. That had been eight hours ago and he'd only slept four of them, the other four seemed dedicated to make her life as stressful as possible.

"Herm-my-own-knee," a voice, sounding rather pitiful, called from their bedroom at the end of the hallway.

"What, Viktor?" she called back, not the least bit interested in getting up and making the trek down the hallway to see him.

She felt bad but it was his own fault he was in this situation. She'd told him it was too cold to practice the damned Wonki Frients, or something of the sort, but he just smiled at her mispronunciation and grabbed his broom, telling her he'd be back in half and hour to an hour tops.

"Am cold," he called back softly, no doubt thinking she'd get up to enquire why he was speaking so quietly.

"Put another blanket on."

"Can't reach the blankets," she heard in response.

"Oh honestly, Viktor, you're not helpless," she groused finally standing up and stalking down the hallway.

She stopped short of kicking the door open and slowly pushed it open from the cracked position she'd left it in. The scowl on her lips died when she saw her husband lying in bed looking at her with a pout on his lips and a helpless look in his eyes. His skin was a few shades paler than usual, his eyes had dark circles under them and his nose was pink from the cold he'd gotten.

"Please, my luff, another blanket," he begged drawing the two blankets already on their bed up to his chin, giving her a pleading look before glancing towards the linen closet that was in their room next to the bathroom door.

"I shouldn't do this. It is your own fault you know," she huffed walking to the door and flinging it open, wincing as it rebounded off of the wall but didn't dwell on it as she yanked a thick quilt from the lavender scented closet.

"Is not my fault, luff," he said as she settled the comforter over him and made sure that his face wasn't covered.

Hermione thought as she smoothed the quilt over him and answered him with a nod. "Yes, Viktor, you're right. It's not your fault."

"Vhat?" he asked giving her a wary look.

"It's your parents fault. If they hadn't given you a broom for your sixth birthday we wouldn't be in this mess right now," she explained as she straightened from her task and gave him a kiss on the forehead before turning to leave the room to return to the den and hopefully finish the article.

"Ve vouldn't know vone another, vouldn't have family," he pointed out as she reached the door.

She sighed and turned to look at him, a hand resting on her rounded stomach. He was right, even though she didn't voice the words and wouldn't unless under a spell or potion. If his parent's hadn't been so open to his wants and wishes she wouldn't have her husband or future child now. She'd most likely be with Ron or Neville, who wasn't as hopeless as everyone had thought during their Hogwarts years. She'd dated both boys, neither relationship lasting more than a few months, after Viktor had graduated from Durmstrang the year after the Triwizard Tournament and their letters had slowly dwindled to a letter a month, and found the boys better suited as friends than boyfriends.

"Come here, Herm-my-own-knee, vant to feel belly," the Bulgarian Quidditch player demanded from his prone position on the large bed, an arm snaking out of the covers she'd just smoothed over him.

"I thought you were to sick to do anything," she questioned with a smirk even as she walked to the side of the bed and pushed him over slightly so she could settle next to him, his hand automatically sliding her shirt up to feel the bare skin of her stomach.

"Am never to sick to feel your belly," he assured her as he removed his hand and brought it to his face to kiss his fingers before settling them back onto her stomach.

Hermione smiled at his actions and leaned back against his legs as he turned to rest on his hip, a hand still pressed to her stomach. He did this every day, when there wasn't a game out of the country. He would wake up and place a kiss on her cheek then throw the covers back and move up her pajamas, if she chose to wear them the night before, and press his unshaven cheek to her rounded stomach and whisper things Hermione couldn't hear before kissing her stomach four times, one of the top of her stomach, on the bottom, to the right and to the left, before he slipped from the bed and padded to the bathroom to begin his daily routine. She'd asked him once why he kissed her in that way and his explanation had made her smile through out the day.

"Because," he'd said giving her a smile that he saved for her only, "if baby's head isn't in the spot I kiss, kiss vouldn't mean much."

She'd cried when he said that and he'd kissed her softly before sliding back in the covers and drawing her to him.

"Can miss vone practice," was his reasoning as he nuzzled her neck and fell back asleep, something he rarely did.

When he got home from practice or from a game he would conjure a fire in the parlor and guide her to the couch, settling first then pulling her down to lean on him, his hand resting on her stomach as they caught up on each others day or simply sat as stared into the fire with each other.

Hermione brought herself back to the present and trailed her hand up and down the arm of her husband, who was now pressing his fingers into her stomach slightly hoping the baby would kick back in response.

"You had better stop that, Mr. Krum. You're not the one who has to deal with this child when you wake him up," she scolded him, although her smile negated any real threat.

She loved the feeling of their child moving inside of her and would do just as Viktor was doing now, it rarely got a response but when it did she would stop what she was doing and simply close her eyes and feel her child moving.

"Is going to be football player vhen he grows," Viktor declared after he received a kick, ignoring his wife's words and continuing his ministrations and following the small lump that would protrude every so often around her belly, it seemed baby used both arms and legs.

"You and sports," she said with a smile although she knew that what he said was probably true. Although there were no studies directly relating the amount of activity in the womb to the athletic ability further on in life she'd felt this baby kick hard enough and often enough to already buy a mini jersey of Viktor's favorite team, although she hadn't told him yet. "He'll be the next Minister of Magic."

"Can be both," he said with a smirk, knowing no dream was going to be too outlandish for his children. If he wanted to be both he would be both, Viktor would make sure of it.

While they didn't know the sex of the baby, both Hermione and Viktor almost tackling the Medi-Witch when she almost let it slip, they were referring to the child as 'he' rather than it. Hermione didn't like the idea of calling anything an 'it' and Viktor quickly agreed.

"Haff you thought of names, Herm-my-own-knee?" he asked sounding rather sluggish.

Hermione turned her head to look at her husband to see him fighting to keep his eyes open although his hand still continued to smooth itself over her swollen belly.

"Yes, Viktor, I have, but they can wait until after you've rested. While I believe it's your own fault and you've gotten what you deserved for going out in the cold I still want you to get better as quickly as possible," she said pulling his hand away from her to place a kiss in the palm before standing and placing it on the covers.

"Thank you , luff," he said giving her a goofy smile that she wasn't even sure he knew he possessed, it only showed itself when he'd had one to many Fire Whiskeys or was right on the verge of sleep.

"For what, love?" she asked smoothing the hair that flopped in his face as he move to his back, his eyes now closed.

"For joining me," he answered before his eyes popped open and he pulled her down to rest beside him, making sure to be careful of her stomach and to make sure she rested on her side rather than her back.

"Viktor Icarus Krum!" she squealed as he pulled her down onto the bed, a mock glare on her face as she looked over at her now very awake husband. "How positively evil of you."

"Vas not evil," he said giving her a wounded look, a mischievous look in his eyes giving him away. "Vas making sure to have nurse on hand should I get vorse," he explained with an innocent expression.

"Nurses don't usually stay in their patient's beds," she pointed out, feeling his forehead and finding he still had a slight fever. "You should take your medicine again," she said as she tried, unsuccessfully to reach across him to get the bottle from the night table.

"No medication makes me sleep," he said pulling her outstretched arm from over his shoulder and carefully folding it back to rest between the two of them.

"You're supposed to be sleeping."

"Am supposed to be resting," he informed her with a smile. "Sleep is rest but so is this," he said drawing her close to him and turning on his side to cuddle her close.

"I'm sure this isn't what they meant," she protested as he pulled her head to rest on the pillow and just under his chin.

"Vell is open to…vhat is vord?" he asked himself softly, causing Hermione to smile before supplying him with the word.

"Interpretation?" she asked, although she knew her husband well enough to sometimes complete his thoughts for him.

"Yes, is word," he said smiling down at her and kissing her forehead.

Hermione smiled into his neck and listened as his breathing evened out, a slight snore a developing after a few moments of silence. She closed her eyes and let herself relax as she felt sleep beginning to take her. That was, until, a very strong kick had her sitting straight up. With a scowl she turned to Viktor and shook him roughly.

"Vhat is vrong?" he asked sounding a bit groggy.

"You've woken him up and you'll be staying up until he's settled down," she explained propping herself up against the headboard of their bed and folding her arms across her chest.

"But am sick, luff," he said, sounding like a little child.

"And I'm pregnant, Viktor," she said shoving him again as his eyes drifted shut. "I win."