A/N: This, unfortunately, may be the last chapter I will be able to post in a while. I've tried to make it interesting, and it has a bit of a cliff-hanger, but it is all in the name of keeping you in suspense. Do forgive me for it, for I have no idea what I've created.
Disclaimer: You should know by now that JK Rowling did not write this, however the characters and the world are hers, I just borrowed.
*~***~*
It All Falls Apart
Before Hermione could get to the door of their flat that evening, heavily laden with grocery bags, her purse and a good day's stalking through London's many bookstores-both Muggle and magical-Harry had opened it and was peering out at her. It was amazing what could happen in a week. This time she had actually been dreading his presence, hoping that he had gone off with Kingsley, Seamus and Dean. He had practically been home the entire week, and since that Sunday afternoon she hadn't heard the Floo once, save for Mrs Weasley inviting them to dinner that Saturday. Didn't Aurors have work to do anymore?
He opened the door wider at once, and hurried out to help her. She released the grocery bags, but would not release the books.
That was another thing, as he spent more time at home he was now also extra helpful. He seemed to anticipate her every want, need and very movement before she did and chose to fulfil it. She was not that bad of a cook, but for the past week he hadn't even allowed her near the kitchen. (Not that any of that was really that much of a bad thing.)
He gave a slight smile, though in his eyes she was sure she could see some irritation at her stubbornness, and together they re-entered the flat.
Even though the sun was still up without, and the day warm, Harry had drawn the blinds in the living room. Hedwig was awake and looking miserable, Crookshanks too, lying before the large window and obviously missing his sunbath. But there were a series of Cooling Charms up in the flat, working much better than a Muggle air-conditioner, so it was not too warm, just dim.
How perfectly did it match her and Harry's mood since the week began, she wished he would reopen the windows.
But as she got to the kitchen she found out why he had shut out the world. Lying in a neat stack on the counter were no more than seven Muggle early home pregnancy tests. And from Harry's nonchalant manner as he immediately and wordlessly set about putting away the groceries, he had bought them and wanted her to use them.
She tried to be cavalier as well.
Stopping at the counter while he worked, not at all offering to help, she took her time to examine each box, checking their instructions and expiration dates. They seemed reasonably easy enough to operate, so Harry must have just picked up all he saw not certain of which was the best and wanting to be absolutely sure. At length she set the boxes aside and asked, "I didn't know you were pregnant? Whose is it? Cough it up, I suspect Seamus, you two were pretty cosy at Gemma's party."
He stopped stocking a cupboard just long enough to give her a look. She dropped her teasing and took up offence.
"You're mad if you think I'm using them," she said, coldly.
"I know there's a spell you could do, but Ginny's at Malfoy Manor again and won't be back until tomorrow. He's putting on his best show…. They'll only take a minute," he replied, calmly, once more restocking the cupboard.
"I can do the spell, and they're seven of these, so that's seven minutes… and I don't need to go right now," she replied, her tone becoming more arctic by the second.
"Just humour me, please?" he asked, stopping to look up at her again. When she sighed and rolled her eyes away from him, he dropped his knees to the floor and fixed her with his best puppy-eyed gaze.
There was a time when Hermione would have simply melted at that look… but that was long past, and now it felt like mockery.
"I'm not doing them Harry, I'm not pregnant. You're good, but you're not that good," she told him, and promptly turned to head off to her room.
She needed to lie down, to shut him out….
He stood at once, gave chase, stopped her and forced to look at him. And when she did he never looked more furious.
"You think this is about 'male pride', Hermione? Is that what you think this is about? If you're pregnant we need to know, and we need to know as soon as possible. We have to know what we're going to do, make plans-"
She cut him off, angrier than he was, and intentionally latching on to only one part of his sentence, "'We have to know what we're going to do?' If I'm pregnant I'm going to have a baby, you're not going to do anything. And if you were suggesting that we should-"
"I would never suggest that, and you know it," he cut in, his voice dangerously low, looking for all the world as if she had just suggested that he had been in league with Voldemort the whole time. But then his expression slackened slightly, and his voice faltered as he continued, "Uh-unless you w-wanted to…."
She knew she had made a mistake, but she didn't care. She was too angry. How dare he? How dare he… well, she didn't know exactly what offended her about the whole thing, but how dare he all the same.
Wasn't it enough that they had already made one mistake of the week? Wasn't it enough that she had endured the embarrassment of showing him her little black diary and explaining what the circled dates meant? Wasn't it enough that she had reassured him that she had forgiven him, that she still trusted him, that she still loved him?
No, apparently not.
He began to plead again, "Hermione please, you know this is important. I mean, we weren't even dating; we're not engaged or married. We're just living together… and if… if you're pregnant… then a lot of things are going to have to change. This flat, I know you like it, but we're going to need a house…. I don't know how long it takes for one of those licences… but the tabloids and Rita Skeeter would be all over it and especially if we wait too long-"
Hermione put her hands up, "Wait, w-wait, wait a tick… what are you talking about? I'm not going to marry you or move out of this flat just because I'm pregnant. If that's the only reason you're going to do it, then forget it. I told you I loved you, I told you I didn't care and you just pretend that you didn't hear me! I don't care what Rita Skeeter, Mrs Weasley, my parents or the bloody Minister has to say about it, I'm not going marry you because you feel obligated to do it!"
"Hermione…" he pleaded again.
She stepped back away from him, "I'm not doing it. I'm not pregnant. And after what happened I would have thought you would want to forget about this whole thing-"
"Merlin, Hermione, how can you be so bloody flippant about this? I can't forget it, I won't forget it!" he nearly yelled at her.
"Lucky you," she said, and finally turned and left him.
*~*~*
When Hermione at long last emerged from the bedroom some hours later, the flat was silent and empty. Harry had gone, she hadn't even heard the Floo, but there was a note on the dining table where he knew she would go.
"Kingsley owled, sighting in Hogsmeade, I'll be back later. Harry."
She banished it without a word and sat down with her books.
Fine then, go… see if she cared….
But when she was seated, drawing her books from the bags to go through her little sorting ritual, her eyes involuntarily flicked to the countertop… and she quickly stood up again.
Harry had not moved the tests, but he had added some things: a Pensieve-left to him by Dumbledore during the war-and a small vial that no doubt contained a memory. And she had a feeling that she knew exactly what memory.
Earlier that week she had asked him-in one of the rare moments that they actually said more than two uncomfortable words to each other-to show it to her. He had refused at once, too embarrassed and too ashamed to share. They had argued then, for the first time since that night according to him, but this time when the argument ended and she went off to her room, he did not follow.
He had taken to doing that too-apart from constantly sticking around-giving her space, time. But she didn't exactly know what she was supposed to do with it. What did he expect her to do? Think it over and then decide that he had raped her and deserved to be sent to Azkaban?
The only thing that would achieve would be her parents' home and dental surgery burnt to the ground by his rabid fan girls, she would probably lose her job and every single one of their friends and worst of all, him. She could just see the Rita Skeeter-inspired headline now, "Hermione Granger gets her Man: Man-Who-Triumphed Accused of Rape by Fame-Loving 'Best Friend'!"
But now, here was the memory.
For a time she just stood over the counter looking down at the swirling solution in the Pensieve that allowed one to view the memories within, and the vial. After days of pleading, arguing, waiting, she had it… and for some reason she didn't want it anymore. She didn't care what she would see in there. Bits and pieces were beginning to come back-maybe she hadn't been as drunk as she thought-and so she had the general gist of it.
But he had finally relented, and so, drawing her wand, she opened the vial and poured the memory into the Pensieve, stirred it about for a moment, and then fell in.
It was hours before she came out again. Harry had given her the entire night, from the minute he stepped into the pub and saw her order the Firewhiskey to when he finally collapsed over her shortly before dawn, exhausted, but with strength enough to profess repeatedly, how much he loved her. She came out of the Pensieve shaking like a leaf and barely able to stand, immediately ashamed of herself and fully comprehending Harry's concern.
There was no spell, it hadn't even occurred to them to do it.
As soon as she gathered her bearings then, she snatched up three of the tests and headed off to the bathroom. The earliest each of the tests had claimed was four days-she checked the clock above Harry's desk-it had been six. Yes, she could do the spell, but she couldn't summon the nerve. The spell was immediate, this way she could wait; she could prepare herself for it.
Before she got to the hall she saw him.
He was lying across the couch in the living room, his shoes off, a throw cushion as a pillow, his glasses and wand on the floor and Crookshanks curled up on the arm rest at his feet. He had reopened the blinds slightly, allowing in a sliver of faint, distant city lights and under them he looked so peaceful, so vulnerable… she changed direction at once and went to him.
He shifted as she stood above him, turning onto his arm with his face to the soft back of the couch while the other rested across his side. In the Pensieve those hands had roamed freely over her, along every curve and stretch of flesh, tangling into her hair and drawing her into him as if he wanted to mould their bodies anew as one.
She was suddenly, almost violently, filled with a desire to have him do that again, to just reach down and touch him, to kiss him and let him claim her…. But she just as quickly caught herself, and fled.
*~*~*
When Harry awoke it was to find that someone had withdrawn the blinds completely and then opened the windows behind slightly so that the sounds of the city filled the room. Unsurprisingly, it was noisy and warm and the sunlight pouring into the flat was dazzling, and so much so that he blinked furiously and painfully until he sat up away from it. But that was when he noticed her, seated on her haunches in the middle of the rug with Crookshanks in her lap and Hedwig on a shoulder.
He stifled a yawn, and then, with his voice coarsened by sleep, asked, "What are you doing on the floor?"
She stroked Crookshanks' back and replied, "Ginny called on the Floo, Ron's awake."
Harry flew out of his seat with a start, "What?"
She continued in monotone, not leaving her seat, "He woke up this morning. They're expecting us, he's been asking for us."
Harry dropped back onto the sofa and retrieved his glasses, pocketed his wand and began to put on his shoes. But then he noticed that Hermione had still not moved, though she was fully dressed and also holding his cloak. Involuntarily, his eyes went to the counter and the four boxes that remained.
He dropped his feet and sat back with his hands on his knees. Her name escaped his lips in a breath, "Hermione…."
The sunlight streaming down unto her had burnished her cinnamon-coloured hair a soft gold and added an angelic glow to her skin and features. She did not look up as he spoke, but instead drew her wand, pointed it at her stomach and whispered an incantation. The glow was unmistakeable.
He rose off the couch again to go to her but she backed up and he froze, stung. And it was made worse by what she said after, "Couldn't you wait? Ron and Luna at least had some fun first."
He couldn't fight the tears, they immediately came running, and he choked on his words as he tried to speak, "Hermione… don't think for one moment that I would leave you to do this alone…. I won't…."
"I know," she replied, her voice barely a whisper, her expression blank. "You're a good person, Harry… a great, powerful wizard… and I know you'll be a wonderful father… but I would be lying to you if I didn't tell you that I am not ready for this…. I am twenty-two, I have a good job that I enjoy, I love you, but I am not ready for this."
"Hermione…" he said again, not sure of what else to say.
"We have to go now, Ron's waiting on us," she said, and began to rise. He went forward and helped her, but she quickly released him once she was on her feet and separately, they took the Floo to St Mungo's.
Harry let her go first. He couldn't step out the Floo looking the way he did, face sleepy and tear-stained, hair a mess and clothes dishevelled. He cast a quick succession of Charms to refresh himself and then stood before the fireplace a moment to gather some measure of composure.
She was pregnant. That meant that he was going to be a father… that meant that they were going to be parents…. He had only touched her once… just once…. She would never leave him now; he'd forced her to stay with him…. And now Ron was awake….
Crookshanks mewing from the kitchen brought him from his thoughts; he took a deep breath and then stepped on into the swirling emerald flames.
*~*~*
If anyone noticed the changed moods of Harry and Hermione when they arrived at the hospital, they did not comment. Hermione moved carefully, almost painfully so, hyper-aware of her surroundings. Harry, by contrast, just stalked behind her in a dark mood, looking at and speaking to no one. When they were standing before Ron's room with his family though, his parents and Luna already inside, they put on their brightest smiles.
Gemma and Avril ran to Harry as soon as they stood with the others, squealing delightedly, "He's awake! He's awake!"
Grinning brightly, Harry swept them up in his arms like he had done at the Burrow just a week before, and asked, "Who's awake? Can you tell me who's awake?"
"My Daddy!" shrieked Gemma, wrapping her little arms round his neck.
"Uncle Won!" cried Avril, who was still having trouble pronouncing words and letters. Ironically, her latest difficult was the letter "r", so that, even though the twins knew he probably couldn't hear them, Fred and George had been mercilessly teasing Ron about it.
"Then why are you all out here in the hall?" asked Harry, over their heads to the others. "Good morning, by the way."
Ginny and Fleur came over to them and took Gemma and Avril from him, Ginny saying as she retrieved her niece, "They won't let us all in at once; we were kind of hoping you'd get them to. Good morning, Harry, by the way. Good morning, Hermione."
Hermione gave them all a weak smile, marvelling, as they all greeted each other in turn, at how calm they all appeared. After four years Ron was awake and while her heart was fluttering wildly, barely able to keep a proper rhythm, they looked as they were awaiting their table at a restaurant. Was it really just her and Harry who couldn't move on?
"Not to mention," said Bill, taking his daughter from his wife. "Our little brother doesn't happen to know about his little P-R-O-G-E-N-Y. They're trying to break it to him gently, but with Luna in there, I don't expect it to take too long."
Just then, as if on cue, they heard Mrs Weasley loudly exclaim, "NO! No-Ron-no, you can't-lie down-Ron, one of your brothers-Arthur, do something!"
And then suddenly the door swung open and Luna stood in the doorway. Ginny immediately walked to her with Gemma and handed her over. Luna gave them all a smile, which brightened slightly when she saw Harry and Hermione, and then walked back into the room. Just before the door closed behind her, they saw Ron half-sitting up in the bed staring at his daughter in Luna's arms in shock.
The others turned back to look at each other and Harry did not miss that Hermione had a hand protectively to her nascent stomach. The sight sent a burst of pain through his chest so powerful it felt a knife in his heart.
"I would be lying to you if I didn't tell you that I am not ready for this…."
"Maybe we should just make a run for it. They haven't got any charms up, we could just walk in," said Fred, looking over the door while George checked with his wand.
"They probably have some kind of sensor that would send the Healer running in, we wouldn't get near the bed," said Charlie, looking a bit glum. He looked slightly windswept, as if he had just flown in on the back of a dragon, and then still slightly burnt, as if he had just escaped it too.
"He's meeting his daughter for the first time, he needs some time…" Ginny told them, looking down to the end of the hall, "Maybe ten minutes, then we go in." And then after a moment she looked back at Harry and Hermione and asked, "What took you two so long?"
"Harry was sleeping, I didn't want to disturb him," replied Hermione, blandly. "He came in pretty late last night."
Ginny arched an eyebrow, "Is that why we couldn't reach you two on Sunday either? You're still working, Harry? Mum went spare; she thought something happened to you. And then Kingsley called and said Crookshanks put him out, but he thought he heard voices… why didn't you answer?"
Leave it to Ginny to bring that up, the slightly "knowing" smirk that quickly formed on her face couldn't be more obvious.
"We were having a discussion," said Harry, with an air of finality, that warded off any further questions. She looked only mildly disappointed. And then he changed the topic, "How'd you find out he woke up?"
Ginny and the others all shifted uncomfortably, the more serious matter at hand sucking all the mirth from the room like a vacuum. She sighed sadly for a moment, and then replied, "I came in this morning to clean him up, but when I walked into the room he just looked away from the window…. Just like that… as if he hadn't been asleep for four years. And the first thing he asks me is 'Did Harry win?' I didn't know what to say…."
"How is he taking it? H-how do you think?" asked Hermione, nervously, her eyes trained on the door since Ginny began to speak.
"I don't know… it's been four years… and he's a father…. Won't that be a shock…?" she replied.
"I'm sure it will be," said Harry, staring at Hermione again, willing her to look at him, to see his apology. She didn't.
And then door opened again, and Mr and Mrs Weasley emerged smiling. Mrs Weasley went at once to Hermione, drew her into her arms and smiled at Harry, "He's awake, and he's fine… oh but he's just flesh and bone…."
At once they all laughed, they suspected that she was going to say something like that. She ignored them though, to say, "He wants to see you two now… so go in, the rest of them can wait."
"We should go in together," said Harry, diplomatically.
"No, I think he should see you two now," insisted Mr Weasley, and something in his tone brooked no arguments.
Without waiting for him, Hermione detached herself from Mrs Weasley and walked into the room. As the door opened
before her, they saw Gemma seated on Ron's bed in his arms, Luna standing beside the bed smiling at them. Ron
looked up and plainly grinned when Hermione came in and she could be heard greeting him, "Oh Ron, never,
ever do that again!"
His voice came hoarse in reply, "Well hello to you too, Hermione. It was you I was sav-"
The others again turned to look to Harry for explanation, noticing only now that something was amiss. He laughed nervously, "We had a fight…."
"Don't let Ron see," warned Mrs Weasley.
Harry nodded, and walked on into the room.
Awake, with the light on him as Harry had planned, Ron unfortunately looked very much as if he had been asleep and unmoving for four years. His hair was lank and dull, his eyes sunken, his skin unhealthily pale (emphasised by the neutral colour of his hospital robes) and he just generally looked… different. In a few months he would probably be back to the way he was before, or at least to what he should be now… a twenty-two year old man, and staring at him now, Harry couldn't wait for him to be there. They had four years of catching up to do.
As soon as he closed the door behind him, Ron stopped mid-conversation with Hermione and Luna and said, "Where have you been?"
"Let me step outside and we'll try this again," said Harry, and he turned to open the door.
"Come on, Uncle Harry!" called Gemma from the bed. Her hair was very nearly out of its trademark pigtails, the denim jacket she had been wearing was long gone and she wore her shoes on her hands, clapping after him. She was not yet truly able to appreciate the importance of the moment, of the day, but she was excited enough.
Ron laughed, roughly, "Harry, don't disobey my nipper… I will have to beat you up…."
"How, with your bedpan?" asked Harry, stepping in to come to him.
"Nah, I'll just let Hermione do it… I hear you two are living together. Mum's not happy, you should have heard her before Gemma came in, she was really mad at me," he replied.
"Really? I didn't notice, she tried to kill us for letting it happen," said Harry.
"She did?" asked Ron, his eyes filled with mirth.
"Yes," said Hermione, scandalised. "Don't look so happy about it, we didn't even know that you and Luna were-were 'having it off'."
Now it was Ron's turn to be scandalised, he looked over her shoulder to Harry, "Did-did she just say what I think she just said?"
"Yes, in your absence, the role of fun-loving, amusing best friend was taken over by Hermione Granger. Unfortunately we're still working on brilliant strategist, books are more her thing," he replied.
Hermione turned and playfully hit him, causing both Ron and Luna to laugh. Harry, temporarily forgetting they were fighting, and that she was newly discovered pregnant, at once swooped her up in his arms and swung her around. Gemma, delighted, stood up on the bed at her father's side and cheered them on.
At first Hermione squealed childishly and playfully tried to throw him off, but then she felt a sudden wave of nausea and a stab of pain in her head. She bent forward and put her hand to her mouth to stop the rush of bile, and Harry, sensing her distress, set her back on her feet just before she dry-heaved into her hands and broke off into a coughing fit.
Ron and Luna stopped laughing, and while Harry stood helplessly by, rubbing her back, Ron asked, "Are you okay?"
Hermione, irritably pushed Harry away now and snapped, between coughs, "Yes I'm fine, he just forgot I'm pregnant!"
Ron nearly shot up off his mattress and demanded, "What?"
Hermione, realising her slip put her hand to her mouth, horrified, and Harry took a full step back from her and the bed. But just then the door burst open and Mrs Weasley came charging in, the others hurriedly behind her, "What did you say?"
Hermione began to stutter, "Well… I… I could be wrong… these things are not foolproof… I'm not a Healer…."
Harry thought he could hear her screaming into his head now: "I would be lying to you if I didn't tell you that I am not ready for this…."
Mrs Weasley ignored her to look at Harry, the question on her face but she seemed incapable of giving it voice. He looked to Hermione who in turn looked to her feet, once again refusing to give him her eyes. It just made him feel worse.
He looked back at Mrs Weasley and nodded. She immediately groaned, "Oh dear…."
Harry's eyes were back on Hermione now though, and as she began to groan herself with her forehead in her palm, he said softly, just for her to hear, "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry…."
"I am not ready for this…."
But oh, he wasn't either, what a fool he had been.
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