Nine Months
Month 7-September
Part 1
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Hermione said crisply, rubbing a hand over her eyes in a futile attempt to clear her vision; it was not uncommon for pregnant women to suffer visual disturbances during gestation and Hermione was no exception, but lately it had become worse and far more frequent. At the moment she was also suffering from a particularly bad migraine, which felt as though someone were pounding hard against her skull with a hammer trying to split it open.
Feeling blindly around with her hand, she snatched a small glass vial out of her purse and quickly downed its contents, sighing gratefully as she felt the pounding reseed to a dull pain at the back of her head and saw the blurry figure in front of her finally settle on a concerned Ginny's face.
They were sitting together at the Institute's library, skimming through a mountain of books concerning both muggle and wizard psychology and anatomy, and taking notes on neurological reaction to spell work; she, Ginny and Neville had been working together for the better part of two years to find a spell that would reverse the permanent effects of the Cruciatus Curse, a quest that had been started by many wizards during the course of time and finally abandoned to the general belief that there was no existing cure to any of the Unforgivables, but Hermione was hardly one to give up: it had been part of her doctorate thesis at Stonehenge and was now her main field of research, which she shared with her two former housemates and friends.
She and Neville had both gone to Stonehenge after Hogwarts, and they had taken a lot of the healing program basic courses together until they split ways as Neville pursued the full and much longer career as a Healer (the last two years of which were finished as resident Trainee at St. Mungo's) while Hermione got herself a degree on Medical Charms and a further specialization in Defense and Attack Spells; they had become close friends there, and later shared the mutual wish to find a cure to the Cruciatus Curse, Hermione as an academic challenge and Neville for a whole set of personal reasons. They had been joined a year later by Ginny Weasley and worked together to that end even as Hermione graduated and the couple entered their respective Trainee programs; they had made great progress already, and Hermione believed they were very close to finding a cure.
"I'm sorry, I just-"
Hermione sighed, fiddling with her quill and feeling suddenly quite ashamed for snapping at the redhead; after all, it was not her fault she was feeling so bad.
"It's alright, Gin, I'm sorry for snapping at you…" she cast her eyes downward, reluctant to look at her best friend's sister, "it's just that I've been asked that so many times lately that it has me on an edge…"
She was aware that she sounded a little bitter, but in reality, she was just really very tired; she'd been quarreling with Harry a lot since Robin's birth, mostly over her job and her unwillingness to stay put.
"He's still doing it, huh?" Ginny asked quietly after some time.
Hermione looked up with slightly forlorn eyes, not needing to ask who it was she was referring to. "He's driving me crazy, Gin… I know he's doing it because he worries, and I know he's just looking out for me and the baby, but he's suffocating me... he keeps pushing me to go on leave, and when I'm home he won't let me lift a finger."
"I think it's sweet the way he pampers you."
The look in Hermione's eyes turned a little desperate. "There's a difference between pampering and smothering, Gin, and Harry goes way beyond smothering. I can't even go to the bathroom without him trailing behind and if he could, I'm sure he'd keep me locked in the house and rooted to the bed... I'm hardly a passive person, he knows that, and yet he…" she broke off, her bottom lip quivering slightly; after a few uncomfortable seconds she cleared her throat and spoke in a carefully controlled voice, "I'm being careful, Gin; I've read all there is to Preeclampsia, and for Merlin's sake, I've minor knowledge in healing, I know what's at stake. But… I can't avoid stress with him breathing down my neck all the time, and the Draught of Peace only works so far… I've cut working hours to half my usual time and I've kept to research only, leaving spell work to either you or Georgiana… what else does he want me to do?"
"Well, why don't you humor him then? At least you wouldn't fight so much that way…"
"I can't, Ginny, you know I can't. Not when we're this close to finding a cure..."
"Yeah, but… I don't know, maybe I could owl you what we find and you could work from home, and-"
"Ginny. Do you really want to do this alone?"
She watched as Ginny's eyes dropped to the table and she fidgeted a little in her chair.
"No…" she said finally, her voice a near whisper.
Hermione exhaled hard, leaning back on her chair and smiling a little.
"Then I'm not going anywhere until I really have to. Besides, I'd go crazy sitting at home alone, doing nothing at all. Harry hasn't quit his job to 'keep me from stress', and Merlin knows I stress over his line of work often enough… at least when I work I can 'not worry' about him for a while…"
***
"You have a lot of nerve keeping me from going to the library, especially on my day off! You know how much I love going there and the least you could do was humor me for a bit, but nooo, not you, Mr Potter!"
Harry watched amusedly from his perch by her feet as she waved her arms widely and mock-glared at her tummy; the baby had been rather restless that morning, pressing heavily against her rib cage and kicking at its mother in such a painful and vicious way that she'd finally decided against her little trip, much to her husband's relief.
He still had one hour before he had to report back in Headquarters and he'd offered to give her a foot rub, which she'd readily, and quite greedily, accepted. He was also very worried about her feet's unusual swelling, but kept it to himself lest he ruin her good mood, which had rather surprised him since they'd been fighting so much over the past few days.
"Oh, look!!! He answered me!"
The baby, who had kept still during Hermione's berating, had suddenly kicked.
Harry raised an eyebrow inquisitively, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. "Hermione, love, I don't think it can hear you, much less understand you."
Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes at her husband. "For your information, Mr Potter, I read in an article that not only he can hear me by now, he also recognizes me! That's one of the reasons they take to you so quickly after labor, because they're familiar with your voice; the Healer encouraged us to talk or sing to him whenever we can, you know, but I think it's best that you don't, seeing as you can't carry a tune if it were in a bucket."
It was Harry's turn to roll his eyes. "That's rubbish, I too can sing; besides, when did you decide it was a boy anyway?"
Hermione scoffed again. "Because it is!"
"How do you know?"
"Because only your son can kick this hard, that's why."
Harry laughed. "And how do I know you weren't a feisty little pixie when you were a kid? You were quite the little devil when we were at school, as it is."
Hermione mock gasped. "I was not, you cheeky sod!"
"Oh, really? I distinctly remember you slapping Malfoy in third year and leaving him quite stunned."
"That was an exception. He deserved it."
"And what about breaking every rule in the book with Ron and me while we were there?"
"I was protecting you, of course. You two can't do anything without me."
"And what about all those stories your mother has told me about?"
"Lies, all lies."
Harry laughed and resumed his ministrations, kneading the sore muscles around her feet with long, slow strokes; Hermione let out a tiny moan of pleasure and turned around on the couch, leaning against his chest and sighing contentedly.
"Okay, Mr Wonder Hands, if you would be so kind as to work your magic on my back as well…"
Harry chuckled, kissing the side of her head lightly and placing his hands around their baby for a second. "As you wish, my lady…"
With an other kiss he leaned back a little, instructing her to tilt her chin down against her chest as he began to massage her shoulders; he heard her contented sigh and smiled, glad that she was enjoying it, but it was not two minutes before he began to enjoy it himself.
"Mmm, Harry…" Hermione moaned softly as he began trailing kisses down her neck, squirming a little in her seat, "Harry, you're going to be late…"
"It's eight…," he murmured huskily, his voice muffled against her hair.
"No, it isn't," she protested feebly as he began working on the ties of her bathrobe, "It's nearly ten…"
"Oh, really?" he said, pulling it off her shoulders and still not letting go, "Imagine that."
"Harry…"
"Shut up, darling."
As a response Hermione turned her head to kiss him on the lips, and it was a few moments before either of them said anything; finally she pulled back a little, murmuring against his mouth, "You're going to be in so much trouble…"
"Well, it's your own fault for being so damned sexy, you know…" he whispered back, giving her a saucy grin as she rolled her eyes and turned back around to rub the crick on her neck.
"Well, don't go blaming me if Tonks starts yelling at you for being late."
Harry was about to tell her he didn't give a damn what Tonks said when Hermione absently brushed her hair aside, and he froze in mid sentence as he stared at the rather large bruise between her shoulder blades and to the right.
He was still getting over the shock when he noticed an other, much smaller bruise further down her back and then a third one on her left forearm, which had been revealed as she raised her arm to rub the sore muscles on her neck.
"…a toxic condition developing in the last four or five months of pregnancy that is characterized by excessive weight gain, generalized edema and a tendency to swell up… among other things."
Hermione, it seemed, was oblivious to his distress, and continued babbling about his tardiness even though Harry had stopped listening long ago. He was staring at the contusions with slightly wide eyes as he recalled the words from their last visit to the healer, over three weeks before; he had insisted on weekly appointments since then but, like every other time he had approached the subject, they'd ended arguing about it and not getting anywhere.
"Hermione…" he finally said, his voice shaking slightly, "where did you get these?"
"What?" she turned her head, leaning over her shoulder in an attempt to look at where he was running his fingers lightly over her skin; she raised her eyes toward his, confusion written all over her face. "Where did I get what?"
Harry exhaled deeply, trying to hold his temper in check; he couldn't help but feeling a little angry at Hermione for not taking better care of herself-he was willing to bet these were not the first bruises to appear on her body, although why he hadn't noticed them earlier he would never know.
"These bruises," he continued in a strained voice, "your back is covered with them."
Hermione blinked, looking thoroughly surprised, "Bruises?"
Harry gave her a curt nod and held her own arm up for her to see, "Bruises. You can't tell me you never noticed before."
Hermione was frowning as she stared at the blue-black mark on her forearm, "That wasn't there this morning," she said, "and no, I didn't notice; they've never hurt before."
Harry frowned. "Hermione, you know what this means, don't you? Go get dressed, I'm taking you to St. Mungo's."
Hermione gaped unbelievingly at her husband, who for all purposes was treating her like an eight year old; she honestly hadn't seen the bruises, but it was not like she was a contortionist to be able to look down her back, even if she'd, kind of stupidly, tried to do so before. She still didn't want to go to the hospital, not when her monthly check-up was four days from now, but she knew Harry's mind was set.
And we were getting along so well, too., she thought despairingly, but ready to do as he said; she wasn't happy about it, and the mood had most definitely been ruined, but she was too tired to fight him today. She guessed she could humor him, like Ginny said, even if it went against her personal beliefs, just this once, if only because she didn't think she'd be able to stand another argument at the moment.
She was about to get up when a voice rang from behind Harry, startling them both., "Hermione!"
Harry jumped and Hermione yelped, struggling to right her clothes as she peered around her husband to see Neville's head sitting on the fireplace and looking whiter than they'd ever seen him.
"Neville?" inquired Harry confusedly as Hermione stood and joined him in front of the fire.
"Neville?" she repeated, looking worriedly at their friend as his eyes flickered up to her, "What's going on?"
Harry kneeled in front of the fireplace while Hermione, unable to do so without assistance, settled for bending ever so slightly, using her husband's shoulders as props.
"Hermione," he began gravely, "someone broke into the Institute last night… the research, it-," he trailed off, pursing his lips tightly; then, looking back up at the couple, he added, "it's gone."
Harry sucked in a sharp breath and turned just in time to assist his wife as she sat hard on the floor, all the blood drained from her face. Her eyes were wide as saucers and she was shaking her head slightly from side to side, as if trying to shake away the remainders of a nasty nightmare; knowing how devoted Hermione was to her job, Harry figured it probably was.
"What… who did… who…" she managed after a few seconds, looking for all it was worth like all she wanted to do was to curl up and have a good cry.
Running his hand soothingly up and down her back, Harry turned back to face Neville, who was looking down somberly, "Neville, what happened?"
"We came in this morning to revise the final arrangements of the spell and the place was chaotic;" he shook his head sadly, "I have no idea how they got past the wards and the security wizards, but it's all gone, Hermione… Ginny's beside herself…"
Silence reigned for a few moments as the three stared at each other, Harry with growing concern as Hermione, still shaking, tried to pull herself together; taking her hand and squeezing it gently, he turned back towards their school friend, who was looking more disheartened by the moment, and cleared his throat. "Neville, this is important… did they break in anywhere else, or was it just Hermione's division?"
Neville shook his head grimly, "They went straight to Hermione's office, where everything's usually locked up; the rest of the Medical Charms division is surprisingly untouched, which means that-"
"Which means they knew exactly what they were looking for…"
Both men turned to look surprisingly at Hermione, who had stayed mostly quiet after hearing the news; she was rubbing her eyes tiredly, but looked much more composed than before.
Harry frowned, turning back to Neville. That was exactly what he'd been thinking. "I'll be there as soon as I can, although I expect Tonks has already sent a team over, is that correct?"
Neville nodded. "She arrived twenty minutes ago and is already working on the case herself, but she was bellowing about you being late again earlier, so I decided to check there, and tell Hermione the news…" he paused, looking suddenly very tired, "You do know what this means, don't you? It's our entire thesis, Hermione, and two years of work completely lost… we'll have to start again from scratch."
"No, we won't," Hermione snapped suddenly, trying to ignore the pulsing in her head; she grimaced a little and then sent a (hopefully) reassuring smile his way, "I do have my notes with me, and my memory is as intact as ever, Neville… we… it might take some major rework, but we can pull this off, the three of us, so…" she blinked rapidly, willing her sight to un-blurry, and wondering just how she was supposed to avoid stress when things like this kept happening to her, "so don't worry about it, okay? Besides, who's to say they won't catch whoever it was that broke into the Institute? Harry's team is the best, you know…"
Trying to feel as secure as her words proved to be a real challenge for Hermione, but she thought it was worth the effort seeing her friend's face lit up with hope.
"Tell you what," she said after a few moments, ignoring Harry's protests as she added "let me get dressed, and Harry and I will be there as soon as possible."
"Are you sure?" Neville asked, looking nervously from her to her husband and back, "it's your day off, Hermione, and Harry told me you haven't been feeling very well…"
Hermione felt her anger rising, and sent a scathing look at Harry, who visibly flinched. "He did, didn't he? Don't worry, Neville, I'm fine; I'll be right over."
"Are you sure?" Neville said, looking uncertain, "because if you-"
"I'm sure."
Neville nodded once, thanked them, and vanished.
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose with two fingers, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to hold the angry tears within; Harry didn't say anything, choosing to watch her instead.
"It's not fair," Hermione said finally, not looking at him, "you know I have to go."
"Hermione, you can't," he answered promptly, his eyes pleading, "I saw your face just now, so don't even try to pretend to be feeling well because I can see that you're not. I'll go to the Institute, and I'll do whatever it takes to solve this because I know how important this research is to you, but I'm not letting you overwork yourself into an aneurism or something of the sort; I love you too much to see you get hurt… so please, I am asking you to go to St. Mungo's with me."
Hermione could feel the tears building behind her eyelids and fighting to escape; a part of her understood where Harry was coming from and loved him for it, but another part, the part that was Hermione, the individual, was reluctant to give in.
Still conflicting and angry, she ignored her husband's proffered hand and, taking hold of the edge of the couch they'd been sitting on instead, she pulled herself to her feet… and swayed for a second as an unexpected wave of nausea hit her.
Harry was at her side in an instant, "Are you alright?"
Although Ron might say otherwise, Hermione rarely spoke without thinking; she always stopped to consider other people's feelings, and although she might not always like their reasons, she would always try to understand them. At the moment, though, there were too many things happening around, and she was just so tired and confused that she didn't realize she might be hurting her love with her words until it was too late.
Pushing away from his arms, she finally exploded, "Harry! Get off it already! I'm pregnant, not incapacitated! I'm sorry, but I'm getting kind of sick of you always asking me if I'm okay! I know you worry, but you're carrying it too far!"
She regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth; raising her eyes to his, she watched with horror as Harry went white and then bright red. He was drawing deep breaths, staring at her, shocked, hurt and angry, and Hermione could feel dread sweeping into her in waves as she took a step forward… and he took a step back.
Anger was etched deeply onto his face. And hurt. After a moment, he spoke in an agonized, angry whisper, "Damn you," and then stormed out of the room, ignoring Hermione's desperate cries for him to wait.
***
It was over an hour before she mastered the courage to move from the couch and dress for the day; she never enjoyed fighting with Harry, and it always left her feeling bitter and cold. Fortunately, fights between the two of them were few and far between, and they never lasted long; what made this time so horrible, though, was that they'd parted angry, without a proper goodbye kiss or 'I love you'.
On the summer after fifth year, during the first few months of the war, Hermione had fought repeatedly with her parents, who, aware of the happenings of the Department of Mysteries and the consequences of Voldemort's return, were reluctant to let their daughter go back in September. Eventually, she'd gotten away with it, arguing that, being muggle-born, she was in danger anyway, and that it would be safer for her to be under the headmaster's protection at Hogwarts; besides, she needed to be with Harry. They had allowed her to go back in the end, albeit grudgingly, and upon seeing Harry at the station, Caroline had made a vicious (and totally unfounded) comment about the young man and it being his fault her 'little girl' had gotten hurt; and although she hadn't really meant it, for Hermione, who by that time was already head over heels for her best friend, it was unforgivable. She'd nearly boarded the train without saying a word to her mother, ignoring her desperate apologies, until something she said finally registered in her mind: 'Never leave without saying goodbye, because it could very well be the last time we see each other', and she'd almost fallen over herself in her hurry to get back to them.
Knowing the kind of life that she and, especially Harry, led, it was very likely that either of them could get killed any moment, and so she'd vowed never to part angry with him, or anyone she loved, for that matter; to this day, she had never let Harry leave the house without her letting him know how much she cared, without telling him, at least once, that she loved him very much. Which is why this was affecting her so badly.
She was woman enough to admit it had been wrong to lash out at him like that, and when she recalled her words she wanted to curse herself; and although she was very proud, she was willing to back down and apologize.
When she flooed Ron's (after a few minutes of trying to find a 'comfortable' position with her swollen belly on the way), her best friend was sitting on the floor, a few ways from the hearth, struggling with a nappy and a giggling Robin, who lay bare on his baby rug, staring up at his father with an amused look on his chubby face.
Finally managing to work the plastic straps firmly around Robin's bottom, Ron mock-glared at the baby, "This is the fourth time I've had to change you today, young man, and it's not even noon yet; what are they feeding you?"
Robin gurgled in response, waving his tiny fists in the air, at which Ron bent down and blew a raspberry on his belly, making him giggle.
Sniffing a little, Hermione attempted a weak smile and called his name, making him jump and turn to face her as he cradled the month-old boy in his arms. "Hermione! You scared me half to dea-what's wrong?" he asked worriedly, noting her tear-streaked face.
"Ron, can you drive me to the Ministry?" she said in a little voice, a lone tear making its way down her face, "Harry left without me…"
Shifting the baby on his shoulder, he reached out with his free hand and wiped the tear away gently, a contrite look on his face. "Why would he do that?"
Hermione sniffed again, keeping her eyes down, "We had a fight…"
Ron nodded and rose, "Luna's upstairs, so I'll just leave Robin with her and drive over…" he paused, then smiled, "lean back and wait for me there, 'Mione, that position can't be very comfortable, now, can it?"
Flashing him a tiny smile, Hermione nodded and did as he said.
***
It didn't take Ron long to get there-after all, they lived next to each other-but in the ten minutes following the conversation Hermione managed to scribble a note to Neville and one to her boss, requesting maternity leave a bit sooner than what had been accorded to in order to better look after herself and her baby.
Once in the car, Hermione explained to Ron everything that had happened from the moment Neville had floo'ed in, and the reasons that had led up to her outburst and Harry's leaving; she told him of the continuous bickering between Harry and herself, and when she repeated what she'd yelled at him Ron nearly let go of the steering wheel in order to throttle her. Grimacing, he shook his head and didn't look at her as he switched lanes.
"Hermione, he's just worried about you…" he scolded her, "I know he can be a bit overprotective at times, but that's just who he is. He doesn't give a damn about his own safety but he can't bear to see others hurt, especially you; he's lost nearly everyone he's ever loved, so I think he's entitled to a little paranoia, don't you?"
Hermione looked down, feeling even guiltier than before; fiddling with her purse in her lap, she said sheepishly, "I know… that's why I intend to crawl into his office on my hands and knees, beg for his forgiveness and humbly ask him to escort me to St. Mungo's, whereupon I shall retire back to the house and prostrate myself in our bed, not to leave it until I give birth to our child."
Ron laughed and grinned, and Hermione felt a whole lot better; if Ron could forgive her for what she'd done, then everything was alright with the world. Well, almost. The most difficult part of all-apologizing to Harry-was yet to come, but she felt like she had to gain Ron's forgiveness as well; it was that way with the three of them, where an offense to one meant an offense to all. "Thanks, Ron…"
The redhead laughed again, "Sweet Merlin! I've been waiting for this day ever since you burst into our compartment back in first year! I've finally managed to tell Hermione Granger, sorry, Potter, off!!!"
Hermione blushed and smiled sheepishly at him.
"Yeah, well," she said a little awkwardly, "don't go getting used to it, now…"
Smirking, Ron turned back to the road, and promptly started cursing at the horrible traffic; a few minutes later, thankfully, he managed to find a parking spot that was close to their destination and soon enough they were cramming together inside the old red telephone that was the visitor's entrance to the Ministry of Magic, with Ron complaining heavily about Hermione taking up all the space.
"Shut up, Ron," she grit out, dialing a number and stating her name and business, "it's not my fault that I have a huge belly and can't floo in right now."
"Well, technically," he pointed out as two silver badges reading Hermione Potter/Ronald Weasley, Conciliation Sponsor popped out of the phone, "it is your fault; but to be fair, Harry has his share of blame for this too."
"Shut up, Ron," the witch repeated, annoyed.
As they crossed the Atrium, past the fireplaces and the security check towards the elevators, Hermione began to fidget; she was very nervous about seeing Harry, even though it hadn't been that long, and yet she was also very eager to make amends at the same time. But when they reached the Auror Headquarters in the second level, where Harry worked, she was in for a disappointment.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Potter," said Selig Thoresen, a young Auror who worked under Harry's surveillance, sounding apologetic, "but Harry hasn't made an appearance here today and I don't know where you could reach him."
Hermione looked sadly at Harry's cubicle walls; whereas most of his workmates had covered their walls with pictures of wanted wizards, diagrams and articles from the Daily Prophet, Harry's own were bare except for a couple of pictures of her and Ron, and Sirius and Hagrid, and a Muggle Ultrasound that he'd insisted they take so that he'd be able to pin it up at work and show off; it'd been taken during the first months of her pregnancy and the baby was but a tiny white spot against a sea of grey, but Harry had circled it with a bright red marker and written "our baby, week 7" on top.
It made Hermione's heart clench painfully in her chest.
"Thanks, Selig…" she mumbled sullenly, turning back around to leave. Ron hurried after her.
"Hermione, wait," he pleaded as the heavy oak doors closed behind him.
But she didn't hear him-was too busy trying to hold in the tears that had somehow leapt to her eyes, and would have kept going if she hadn't suddenly been overcome with a particularly sharp pain in her belly. She gasped, bending over a little as she waited for the pain to wash over her.
Ron was immediately at her side, placing an arm around her and holding her hand with his other to steady her. "Are you alright?"
Hermione grunted, then straightened up, squeezing his hand for emphasis.
"I'm fine," she said grimly, "let's get out of here, I still need to find Harry."
Ron nodded but kept his hold on her as they turned to head back to the lifts (Hermione, in her distress, had gone the wrong way, and instead of walking right to where the elevators were, had gone right, where the Wizengamot Administration Services were), but they hadn't taken three steps before a voice froze them on the spot.
"Well, well, well, what have we here?"
The voice was cold and haughty, and though matured and deepened with age, it still held that distinct air of arrogance that had represented him for as long as they'd known him.
Ron turned first and Hermione soon after, and their faces broke into twin scowls as their eyes rested on a man they hadn't seen in over four years; he hadn't changed all that much in the years following graduation, although he had grown several inches (now towering over Hermione though still short next to Ron), and sported a healthy tan that went quite nicely with his-now-long, light hair, but his eyes were still the same chilly shade of grey, his face still long and pointy and aristocratic, his lips still curled in that familiar sneer.
"Malfoy."
"Weasel. Granger."
Draco Malfoy had gotten away easy after the final battle, pledging, like his father once had, to have been forced to work for the dark side; unlike his father, however, and much more cleverly (although cowardly, in Hermione's opinion) than him, Draco had immediately turned the cards over in his favor, betraying his fellow Death Eaters when it had become obvious they were going to lose, but making it look like he'd been fighting against them all the while. And as there had been no consistent evidence of a willing involvement with the dark from his part, he'd managed to avoid the life-long sentence in Azkaban; Harry had since lost what little respect he'd had for the Wizarding world's legal system.
Malfoy had sought refuge in France, where he'd been leading a low profile up until two weeks ago, when the papers had announced his return to Britain, married, to the general shock, to a rich French heiress.
Harry, of course, had been outraged, not only to learn of his return, but also to find out that the former Slytherin had taken back his father's seat at the Wizengamot and, as a result, would be far too close to his liking. And he was standing right there, in expensive robes of royal blue, his arms crossed across his chest and a look of complete and utter contempt on his face.
"So," he began in a drawl, and Hermione could feel Ron stiffen beside her, "the rumors are true then."
"What rumors would that be?" Ron snapped and Hermione had to stifle a groan at the hostility in both his poise and voice; she despised Malfoy and thought he belonged in a sewer with the other rats, but the least thing she needed right now was for Ron to pick a fight with him. Especially knowing that she would have to be the one to break them a part.
Draco's expression turned gleeful, his eyes glinting malignly as they swept over her obvious pregnancy, but Hermione stood her ground, chin up and her posture tall and proud; she was, after all, very proud of carrying Harry's child.
"What's with the cold greeting, Weasel?" he sneered, turning back to Ron, "Four years and not even a 'hello'?"
"You have some nerve to show your face here after what you did!" Ron growled, his ears and face turning a dark red as he fisted his hands at his sides.
"Ron!" Hermione said warningly, placing a placating hand on his arm.
"What I did?" Malfoy said calmly, "I did nothing except but look after myself. I see nothing wrong with that. You, though," he added, his expression turning gleeful, "you two have been busy, or so I'm told. Got yourself knocked up, Granger? Is that how you hooked The Boy-Who-Lived?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, tightening her hold on Ron's arm.
"How original, Malfoy; I hope you didn't strain yourself too much trying to come up with that."
"Where's Potty, anyway? Too busy to spare some time for his wife?" he grinned, "It's just as well, I suppose. You two look a bit chummy, by the way-oh, I know! The kid's not his, is it? Way to go, Granger, I didn't know you had it in you."
"What are you talking about?" Ron hissed, looking murderous.
"I actually feel bad, for Potty-head; not satisfied with one best friend? Had to go running after the other as well?"
"Come on, Ron," she forced the red-head, who was shaking with suppressed anger, to turn around and began leading him down the hall, determined not to let Malfoy's words affect her.
Malfoy, however, was just as determined to rile her up (as it was kind of obvious he'd succeeded with Ron) and began following after then.
"You seem pretty calm," he called, "considering you just lost a huge, two-year research on Medical Charms."
Hermione froze on her tracks, feeling faint; all the blood rushed from her face, she turned around very slowly to face him, her hands shaking violently, "What did you just say?"
Malfoy just smirked, delighted to have finally have struck a nerve.
A million thought raced through Hermione's head in the two seconds following Draco's announcement, but they all ended in the same way. It can't be.
But then, how could he have found out, if he had had nothing to do with the stealing of the research? The Ministry would have kept it hushed up, at least until a concrete announcement from the investigating Aurors. And she doubted that they would have already found something; she would have been notified.
"Malfoy, did you have anything to do with this?" she managed to say, in a strangled voice.
Malfoy just smiled smugly, "I don't know what you're talking about."
Hermione was seized with a blind fury; whipping out her wand, she pointed it right between the blond's eyes, her entire body shaking.
"You bloody bastard!!!" she shouted, "It was you, wasn't it?! Admit it!!!"
"Do not point that thing at me, Granger," Malfoy warned, his expression stony.
Her gaze blurred with tears, Hermione ignored Ron's words in her ears to calm down; she could not, would not calm down-she was tired and worried and angry, and Malfoy was the last straw in a long, frustrating day.
She wanted to hurt him, wanted to let go and make him feel everything she'd felt today, all the anger and frustration, all translated in pain; but before she could say or do anything else she keeled over with pain, her wand clattering noisily to the ground as she clutched desperately at her belly.
Ron was yelling something but she couldn't hear him, her world turning over as something ripped inside of her and something warm and sticky ran down her leg.
"Ron," she gasped, black spots dancing at the edge of her vision, "Ron, something's wrong…"
To be continued…
A/N: phew! Finally. I'm so sorry it's taken me this long, but this chapter turned out to be tougher than I thought; and longer. Actually, it was so long that I decided to split it in two parts-and the second isn't written yet ***looks apologetic***. I'm so sorry, but it was extremely difficult, because there was some information that I didn't know how to deal with. I'm also sorry that it'll probably be a while before I update again, because I start school on Tuesday again, and I don't know when I'll find the time to write again, seeing as my new schedule is completely horrible. I'll try to do my best, and I hope you don't hate me too much while I do. Love you loads.