Well...what a feeble response to the first chapter. I wasn't aware that so many people were against adultery in fiction...oh well. I mean, yeah, it's not good...but I think people consider it as if it were an Unforgivable. Remember, there is no scenario, situation, or instance that is either bad or good ALL the time. There's always gray area. Always. I'm not condoning cheating on your wife or husband of twenty years on a whim. I'm just saying that if couple 'A' doesn't love each other, and couple 'B' doesn't love each other, and one person from each finds the other...can you blame them? That's all I'm saying.
Read on.
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Two months later...
Harry sat in silence at his desk at Auror Headquarters. It had just gone five, and everyone had hustled out of the office rather quickly, leaving him to his thoughts, the static ticking of a clock, and the small piece of parchment in his hand that had arrived not ten minutes ago.
This parchment was truly unlike any he had ever seen in his lifetime...and that was saying something. The handwriting, though familiar, was messy. It wasn't a whole sheet of parchment, just a small scrap as if torn from a roll in a hurry. Most of all, there were dark splotches scattered in a few places, which he assumed to be teardrops.
I need to see you soon, privately.
-Hermione
Harry sighed and reclined back in his chair. He and Hermione had not spoken about that one night a couple months ago since it had happened. He'd left shortly after they were finished, and although neither of them regretted it, they'd agreed to put it behind them for fear of hurting their spouses.
'Perhaps Ron left her,' mused Harry to himself. He wasn't sure what he'd do if that was the case...she'd need comfort, and he knew he'd be the one to give it to her, but there was Ginny to consider.
"No point in fussing about it," he muttered, getting up and heading over to the public Floo fireplace. Taking a small pinch of the powder from a pot on the mantle, he tossed it in and spoke clearly, "Number twenty-four, Hatchery Lane, Godric's Hollow," before sticking his head in. "Ginny?"
"Coming," he heard her call from the sitting room. She entered and looked around the kitchen for a bit before seeing his head in the fireplace. "Oh, you're not actually home yet."
"I need to stay a little late to finish up a report," he said. "I should be home before seven, at the latest."
"Alright," replied Ginny, nodding. "I'll put a warming charm on dinner."
"Thank you," smiled Harry, withdrawing his head from the fireplace. He still cared a great deal about Ginny, but the spark they'd once had as teenagers had long since been extinguished. Taking another pinch of powder, he threw it in and said, "Apartment 3A, twelve-sixteen Wentworth Avenue, London." Again, he stuck his head in. "Anyone there?"
"Me," said Hermione, walking into sight. "You can come over, Ron went out to grab take-out."
He stepped through the fireplace and into the flat. He hadn't been over since the night two months ago...everything was still as he remembered it.
"We obviously don't have long," said Harry.
"Probably fifteen minutes at the most," nodded Hermione glumly.
"What's the matter?" he asked concerned, sitting down on the couch with her.
"There's no point in beating around the bush," she sighed. "I'm pregnant."
Harry froze.
"I know it's obscenely rude that my mind is going here first instead of congratulating you, but...who's the father?"
Hermione slowly looked up at him, tears building in her eyes.
"It's not Ron," she said so softly, it was almost a whisper.
"Bloody hell," said Harry, leaning back against the cushions.
"You're telling me," she laughed, although it was very weak and Harry could tell Hermione was scared out of her mind.
"Come here," he said, holding his arms out. Hermione wasted no time in crawling into his embrace, crying silently as tears rolled down her cheeks.
"What are we going to do?" she whispered.
"Unless we're planning on breaking things off with Ron and Ginny," said Harry, "you're going to have to tell Ron it's his."
"What if she looks like you?" asked Hermione.
"She?"
"Um, they told me it's a girl," she said. "When I went to St. Mungo's today."
"I see," said Harry, though a slight smile was on his face. "Well, I do look a bit like your father, don't I?"
"A bit," nodded Hermione.
"So there you go, Ron's not pushy, he won't press you...he'll be too happy that he's a father." Harry began to feel worse and worse for his best mate as each word passed through his lips.
"I'm sorry," she cried into his chest. "I'm so, so, sorry."
"Don't be," said Harry. "I'm as much at fault here as you are."
"Doesn't make me feel any better."
"I need to know...does anyone aside from us know that I'm the father?"
"No," said Hermione. "The healers didn't ask, and I didn't tell."
"So how do you know it's me?"
"They traced the conception date to the night...the night we were together."
"Alright," said Harry. "Look, I'll try and stop by soon...Ron's going away on assignment for a little while in three weeks, I can come over and keep you company every so often while he's gone."
"Thank you," she nodded. "You need to get going, he'll be back any minute."
Hermione slid off Harry and he stood up, but not before giving her a chaste kiss on the lips.
"We'll get through this," he said reassuringly. "I promise."
"I'm terrified."
"You're going to love being a mother," smiled Harry, throwing his cloak on.
"I'm going to be a mother, aren't I?" asked Hermione, also smiling for the first time that evening.
"And a bloody brilliant one at that," he grinned, grabbing some Floo powder. "Ministry of Magic, Auror's Office."
"Password?" a female voice asked from the other end.
"Wimblegoose," he replied, and the fireplace roared to life. "I'll be in touch," he said to Hermione. She said nothing, only nodded as he stepped through the fire and back into the Ministry.
The fire had barely died down when she heard the turn of a key in the door, Ron stepping through it a moment later with his arms full of Chinese food.
"Was someone just here?" he asked, setting the bags down on the kitchen table.
"Harry," she replied. "He wanted to ask you something."
"Did he say what?"
"No," shrugged Hermione, pulling dishes from the cabinets. "Bloke stuff I assume."
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Harry didn't sleep that night. More than once he found himself staring at his sleeping son from the doorway, as if silently asking the child to give him advice.
The three weeks preceding Ron's assignment passed in a blurry haze for both Harry and Hermione. On the first night Ron was gone, Harry made arrangements to spend some time with her, telling Ginny he was going out to scout a lead.
He stepped through the fireplace, wiping the soot off his robes as he looked around for Hermione.
"I'm in the kitchen," she called out, as if reading his thoughts. He dropped his cloak on the couch and walked into the next room, where Hermione was standing at the stove with her back to him.
"Something smells delicious," he said, wrapping his arms around her.
"It's just Alfredo," she replied, turning around and hugging him. "I'm glad you're here."
"Me too," he said, sighing. "How've you been handling the morning sickness?"
"I've been getting through it," she said, resuming her watch on the pot, "but it feels like gremlins are doing a tapdance in my stomach every time I wake up."
"I'm sorry," he said softly, placing his hands on her shoulders.
"What for?" asked Hermione, turning her head to look at him.
"If I had never come over -"
"Don't you finish that sentence," she said. "We both wanted it. We both needed it...and because of it we get to be parents."
"You do," said Harry. "I'm not going to get to see her grow up...her first steps, her first words..."
"You'll still get to see her," replied Hermione. "You and Ginny are going to be the godparents, after all."
"You and Ron decided on that already, then?"
"Along with a name," she nodded, ladling great amounts of pasta onto two plates. "Rose."
"Gorgeous name," he said, picking up the plates. "Let me carry these."
"What would you like to drink?"
"Nothing from the cabinet," he responded dryly, placing the dinner on the table. "Butterbeer is fine if you have it."
"And water for me," she said, pouring herself a glass and removing a brown bottle from the fridge. "How's work been?"
"Pretty standard stuff," he shrugged. "I can't really talk about it, you know."
"I know," she sighed. "Doesn't stop me from asking."
"How about you, how's the law career?" asked Harry, taking a sip of his drink.
"It's good...slow, but good," said Hermione. "And I'm definitely not going to be making much progress when I'm on maternity leave."
"When do you start that?" he asked, lifting his fork to his mouth. "This is delicious, by the way."
"Thanks...I don't start that for a while," she replied. "I want to work for as long as possible."
"Understandable," said Harry. "Any interesting cases?"
"I actually did some file work on the guy you brought in the other week," she said. "He got twenty-five years."
"Memory modification," spat Harry, disgusted. "He deserved life."
"What was it exactly that he did?"
"He was in love with this woman who didn't love him back, so one night he followed her home and modified her memory to make her think she was in love with him."
"How'd he get caught?"
"Well her boyfriend knew something was up, didn't he?" laughed Harry. "Came to us right away. Took a while to catch the guy though...couldn't arrest him without proof, after all."
"What happened?"
"We waited until he had to modify her memory again...it wears off over time, you see," explained Harry. "We were trailing him for months until we saw him cast it...then it was just the matter of arresting him before he cast anything else."
"You certainly did a fine job of it," nodded Hermione. "I don't suppose you know where Ron's gone?"
"He didn't tell you?" he asked, surprised.
"He said he wasn't supposed to tell me."
"Well, technically no," nodded Harry. "But the even the office says it's not good for a relationship to keep so many secrets...they actually advise to tell some things as long as they're not extremely important."
"I never knew that," sighed Hermione, leaning back. "I wonder what else he hasn't told me."
"He's in Madrid," said Harry. "I don't know the specifics of the case, but I hear it has to do with a muggle slavery ring."
"By use of the Imperius Curse?" asked Hermione.
"Yeah, it's pretty high-level stuff," he replied. "I was a bit surprised when they assigned Ron to it, but I had asked to be looked over on this one."
"Why?"
"I was too busy thinking about other things," admitted Harry after a moment. "This case came right up the very day after...after we got together."
"I see," said Hermione, quietly.
"I wanted to sort everything out...and this case would have required my undivided attention," he said.
"I understand," nodded Hermione. "I actually took that day off...I sat home and watched romantic movies."
"Would you like to watch another?" asked Harry, finishing off his food.
"You don't need to get back?"
"I told Ginny I was following a lead, and that she shouldn't expect me home at any given time."
"Alright," nodded Hermione. "I guess I'd like that."
"I'll clean up," said Harry. "You pick out whatever you want to watch."
"Do you care for musicals?" she asked as they stood up.
"Depends on the musical," replied Harry with a smile as he walked over to the sink. "But I can deal with most of them."
"How about The Phantom of the Opera?"
"I love Webber," he said, cleaning the dishes magically and replacing them in their respective cabinets.
"Good," said Hermione, placing the disc in the player and sitting down on the couch. "I haven't seen this in ages."
"It's definitely a wonderful story," he said. "I saw the performance live about a year and a half ago."
"How was it?" she asked as the movie began to play.
"Awful," he laughed, walking over and sitting down next to her. "I could've done a better job if I was directing."
"Oh well," she smiled, leaning against him.
They didn't say much for the duration of the film, but at one point Harry's hand unconsciously slipped to Hermione's abdomen protectively, an action which brought a smile to her face.
The movie ended two hours later, and they got up to stretch as the credits began to roll.
"It never gets old," smiled Hermione.
"Certainly not," said Harry looking at her intently. "Even though Christine was with someone else, the phantom never stopped loving her." He said this with such intensity that Hermione almost began to tear up.
"Harry," she whispered.
"It doesn't matter who you're with," said Harry. "It's the same."
He leaned down and kissed her softly, and she melted against him, wishing they could all go back ten years.
"I have to go," he said a few minutes later. "But I promise, I 'll be back a few more times before Ron gets home."
"Alright," said Hermione, dejected.
"Try not to be on your feet too much," added Harry, grabbing his cloak.
"I know," she said, a smile playing on her lips. "Take care."
"You too," he nodded, tossing some floo powder into the fireplace, and departing through the roaring green flames a moment later.
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I'm really worried that this is going to turn into something much bigger than I ever anticipated when I wrote it. Next chapter will be out within the next two weeks.