Author's Notes: All right, now when Christina talks, she'll be talking in vernacular. I don't really know if the people in California talk different than I do here in Pennsylvania, but I'm just going to try and make her sound like a normal, young adult. Well… yeah. Or something. :P
Enjoy!
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August 17th, 2001 …
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As soon as Harry opened the door to their hotel room, Andrew strolled in and sat in front of the TV. His new blanket, pastel blue and green, with a Snitch zooming around, was balled up in his small hands, while he dragged his new toy along with him. He giggled and snuggled up to his blanket, while thrashing the other toy around, giggling as it made contact with his other toys in the room.
The two came in, a few bags in their hands, and put them onto the floor, unshrinking them. When they were in Diagon Alley, no one had recognized them, and Andrew only woke up a few times, so they shopped in peace. After they went to the Quidditch shop, they went to Flourish & Blotts, buying several books. (Harry remembered that Hermione was very close to squealing when she saw the little picture books she knew Andrew would love.) After buying a book on Quidditch, for Matt, they went to several other stores.
Harry smiled, remembering when he found that his card, that he'd gotten several years ago from the Goblins, actually came to very good use.
"That'll be fourteen galleons," said the man, putting the books in a bottomless bag.
Harry nodded, taking his wallet out from his back jean pocket. There wasn't any gold in there, nor was there silver or bronze. Oh god… he thought. The goblins said that the card could be used in any way I wanted, right? So why not give me galleons. Shrugging, he tried it. Opening the middle part of the wallet, he saw fourteen golden coins sitting there. He grinned, Wow, I love magic!
Once they finished their shopping in the Wizarding World, they went to Muggle London and bought their Muggle friends (the ones that didn't know about Harry and Hermione being magical) gifts. For Hermione's friends, she bought them simple souvenirs, as Harry did with his male friends. For Christina, they got her a pink Volleyball, a pair of stylish jeans, and some of her favourite candies. (Even though they suspected they had a while until they left for America again, they placed some charms on it so it'd stay good until then.)
"Harry, can you help me with these clothes?" Hermione asked, taking out a few pairs of new clothes that she bought.
Do girls ever stop shopping? wondered Harry. Hermione already has three large carrions' full of clothes! "Sure," he said. Taking her new clothes, he went into their room.
Hermione picked up her cell phone, checking the time. It was nearly three, and they had yet to visit her parents.
Suddenly, Hermione's cell phone rang. Wondering who was calling, she gasped when she read `Matt - cell.' She instantly flipped her phone open. "Hello?" she said.
"Hermione!" shouted the voice of Christina. "Matt! Us! Oh. My. God."
Hermione's eyebrows knit together, and Harry came in, eyebrows arched in question. "Christina," she mouthed to him. He nodded and went towards Andrew, sitting and playing with his son.
"Okay Christina," said Hermione, "just breathe, all right?" She heard loud inhaling, and slow exhaling, repeating the notion several times. "Okay, now tell me what happened," she urged.
There was a slight pause, but then Christina said, "I might be pregnant!"
Hermione's eyes widened. "R-really? Wow…"
"No, not wow! I don't want a child while in college! I'm not ready! Matt's not ready!" She moaned, and the cell phone gave a dull thud. Hermione wondered if she just hit her head against the wall. "Oh God, what am I going to do? How did you do it?" she asked suddenly, her voice sounding hopeful. "How did you and Harry get through the pregnancy? I mean, it couldn't've been that easy!"
Hermione sighed, situating herself on the couch, watching her husband and son play with toys. "It wasn't easy. It wasn't easy at all. We weren't expecting Andrew, but we somehow made it through." She shook her head. "Listen, did you take a test?"
"No." Her voice was small. "I'm scared. I didn't even tell anyone except you and Matt. That's why I called you, Hermione! You've had a kid during college, and you know what to do!"
"Just… just take a test," advised Hermione. "If you're pregnant, call me again. And if you're not, well, still call me." She smiled. "Don't worry, if you are pregnant, I'm sure you and Matt will get through it."
"O-okay…" After a slight pause, she finally said. "Well… I… I guess I should get that test. Wait, scratch that, it's too late. I'll just get it tomorrow, and tell you about it later."
"Okay," said Hermione.
"Thank you, Hermione, for listening. I know we're not the best of friends, but it still means a lot to me that you're actually talking to me, more than just a little `hey' here and a `what's up' there."
"No problem," said Hermione, smiling.
"Well… I, um, gotta go. I'll talk to you later. Bye," she murmured.
"Bye," said Hermione, and heard her hang up. She closed her phone and placed it on the table. Taking her spot next to Andrew on the floor, Hermione chuckled as she saw him attack Harry with his blanket.
Harry laughed, falling on his back as Andrew came tumbling down on him. Hermione stayed like that for a few moments, just watching father and son bonding. After a while, though, Andrew had gotten bored with his blanket and started playing with his various new toys, abandoning his father and mother. Harry laughed again, wrapping his arms around his wife and leaning his head on her shoulder.
"So," he said after a while, "who called?"
She leaned her head on his, and answered, "Oh, just Christina. Apparently she thinks she might be pregnant, and so she was having a nervous breakdown, so to speak."
Harry chuckled, his hot breath ticking Hermione's neck. "That's what happens when you don't use protection," Harry muttered playfully.
"Just like us?" she teasingly wondered, giving his hands a squeeze.
He nodded. "Yeah, just like us. We fuck-"
"Language," Hermione corrected instantly. "I don't want Andrew to learn those words."
"We shag like horny bunnies, so it's no surprise you ended up being pregnant," he pointed out, giving her side a squeeze.
Hermione rolled her eyes, sniggering. She took hold of Harry's wrist and checked the time. "Oh God, Harry! It's almost two!" She stood up quickly, and Harry lost his balance, his head bouncing off the couch. "C'mon, we should visit my parents now!"
Harry groaned, rubbing his head, and got up. "Didn't have to hurt me," he muttered, going into the room to freshen up. After a few minutes, he left the bathroom and saw that Hermione had changed, and was now changing Andrew, who was chewing on the bottom side of his bottle.
"Almost ready?" he asked, sitting on the bed and flipping the bottle so Andrew could drink the water inside.
Hermione nodded, putting baby powder on the lower half of his body and then putting the diaper on, his pants coming on next. "Yeah," she told him. "After we see my parents, we're going to have to buy more diapers for Andrew. We don't have too many left."
Nodding, Harry made sure there was a fair amount of money left in his black, leather wallet. Stuffing it back into his back pocket, Harry picked up a hungry Andrew and stood up.
"Well, once we feed our little man, let's get going, shall we?"
Hermione nodded. Andrew did need food, after all.
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"So how is our grandchild doing today?" asked Missus Granger, smiling softly. Her skin seemed a bit paler, and she had several machines next to her bed, but she tried acting as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Her daughter, son in law, and grandchild was there, after all.
"Hyper," answered Hermione, holding Andrew. "He's eaten, and so he's full of energy." She smiled, poking his stomach lightly, making him giggle and squirm, begging for release.
Harry grinned, staying slightly behind next to the stroller and watching his family. "Oh yeah, but don't worry, he'll be out like a light in five hours, tops!" he exclaimed playfully.
Mister Granger smiled, stretching out his arms. "Let me see Andrew, Hermione." Once Andrew was laid on his bed, he made an endless effort to stand up, falling when he found that he was standing on a squishy mattress, and didn't have any support to hold onto. "Oh, quite the ambitious one, are we now?" He smiled, his hands under Andrew's arms, letting him stand without the risk of falling of the hospital bed.
"Never gives up," commented Harry, smirking. "Reminds me of someone," he went on, glancing at his wife.
"Oh, I wonder who?" questioned Hermione's mother playfully. "Certainly not the only woman Potter, right?" She chuckled, but then started coughing.
Hermione instantly went to her side, and gasped as she saw blood on her hands. "I-I'll get help!" she exclaimed. "The-the nurse should be somewhere, right?" she asked frantically.
"No, Hermione," insisted her mother in-between coughs. "It's alright, dear. The nurses already know our condition, and the doctors do, too." She tried to smile, but couldn't since she closed her eyes, and passed out.
Hermione's eyes widened, heard Andrew say, "Uh oh!" and heard her father and Harry gasp softly. "Mu-Mum?" she called softly, hoping she wasn't dead. She touched her shoulder. "Mum?" she said again, touching her shoulder.
"Call the nurse, Hermione," said her father, his eyes wide.
Hermione nodded, and basically ran from the room. Harry went to Hermione's father, taking Andrew from his arms, and asked, "Are you alright?"
He nodded, closing his eyes. "I'm all right, son. I'm just… feeling a bit weak."
"Ar-are you sure you don't want me to do anything?" he asked again, trying to keep Andrew's flailing arms at bay.
He nodded, his eyes still closed, smiling. "Yes, I'm sure."
Hermione came back seconds later, a nurse trailing behind her. "Sh-she just passed out!" she exclaimed, tears flowing down her cheeks. Harry immediately went to her side, wrapping his free arm around her in the hopes to comfort her, but she didn't seem to notice. "I-I didn't know what happened! She just passed out!"
The nurse nodded absently, knowing exactly what was wrong with the patient. Checking her heart rate, she turned towards the couple. "Haven't your parents told you what's wrong with them?" asked the nurse, arching a thick eyebrow at them.
She nodded. "Old age," she stated, her form still despite her husband's attempt at comfort.
She nurse laughed softly, knowing that Hermione's father was resting in the bed on her side. "Old age?" she shook her head. "They aren't older than fifty-three!" Shaking her head again, she told her the truth. "Your father has been suffering heart problems for almost a year now, and he had a heart attack a few weeks ago. He'd been hospitalized here, because we needed to keep an eye on his heart. It's failing, and it's getting weaker by the day. The doctors say it's from years of stress, but I'm not too sure."
She then looked at Hermione's mother. "Your Mother, however, is a different case altogether. She had a near fatal case of pneumonia, and the virus still hasn't left her system. The doctors are trying their best, but they just can't seem to get your mother healthy again." She sighed softly, her fingers going into her front pockets, and heading towards the door. "I don't know if there's much more the doctors can do, but the Grangers insisted that they try for two more weeks, and-"
"What?!" cried Hermione incredulously. "There's no way! My parents aren't… No… they can't…" She shook her head, her hand covering her mouth. "Oh Lord," she murmured, now only standing up because of her husband's strong hold on her. "You've got to be kidding me."
The nurse shook her head. "No, I'm not." And without bidding goodbye, she opened the door and left.
Harry's eyes were wide open in shock, holding on to his wife and son. Pneumonia? He remembered studying the illness a few times while in Stanford, but they'd never gone too deep into it. And Hermione's father… heart failure?
Before he could think further on the topic, Andrew's voice was sounded. "Mumma, Papa?" He looked around the room, his emerald eyes watering just because Hermione's were leaking them. His forefinger was hooking his lower lip, and he looked about ready to cry, one hand fisting Harry's shirt.
Hermione shuddered, finally wrapping her arms around Harry's torso, and letting out a sob that was only muffled by Harry's shirt. "Shh, love," he murmured, rubbing the back of her head. "Please, don't do this to yourself. Your parents don't want you to be like this. Imagine all of the tension you're putting on the baby," he murmured, kissing the top of her head.
She suddenly stepped out of his embrace, and he saw that her eyes were flaring. "The baby?!" she nearly shouted, her eyes wide. "The baby, Harry?! That's all you can think about, right? Oh, don't do this, it'll hurt the baby! Don't do that, it'll endanger the baby!" she mimicked, her voice harsh. "Harry, these are my parents and they're dying! Not the baby, my parents!" she shouted, failing to notice Andrew holding on to Harry for dear life, afraid of his mother at the moment.
Harry lowered his eyes, hurt. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I didn't think you cared so lowly of our unborn child. I just didn't think your parents would want to kill your child." He straightened up, holding Andrew close to his chest.
"Get out," said Hermione, her anger getting the better of her. "Get. Out," she growled. "I don't need you here right now. Since you don't give a damn about my parents, I'll just let you leave. Take the car and go back to the hotel. I'll just apparate there."
"You can't apparate; you're pregnant," Harry said automatically, unmoving.
She sighed, trying to keep her emotions in check. Sometimes she loathed being pregnant; whenever she felt an emotion, it seemed to flare ten times the limit she could handle. "There you go again," she muttered. "The baby, again." She shook her head, and walked towards Harry until she was just one foot away from him. "Get out, I'll find my own ways of getting back to the hotel."
"No," he replied simply. "I'm not leaving unless you're leaving," he went on.
"Get out," she snarled.
"You don't own the hospital," he replied wittingly.
"I said get out!" she shouted, but before she could do any further, a nurse came in, looking quiet angry.
"Miss, I suggest you and your husband evacuate the hospital. You must be quiet here, and you're quite the opposite." She shook her head as she saw Hermione's mouth open for a retort. "No. No arguments. I suggest you leave, now."
She let out a guttural growl, grabbed the stroller, and stormed out of the hospital room. Harry closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling for a few moments.
"Sir," said the nurse.
He nodded, opening his eyes. "Yes, I know. I'm leaving."
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Throughout the ride home, Hermione hadn't spoken a word to Harry. Once they got back to the hotel, she simply grabbed her purse and left the car, giving a death glare to anyone that dared look her way.
Once they were back in their room, Hermione muttered a simple, "I'm taking a shower. Don't you dare try and join me," and left, not even taking any fresh clothes with her.
Harry sighed, setting Andrew down and letting him play with his toys, and sat on the couch. What have I done wrong? Harry wondered. She wasn't like this when she was pregnant with Andrew, but then again, her parents weren't dying. I just hope she isn't angry with me when we visit the Weasleys again.
"Papa?" called Andrew, his voice small. He toddled over to Harry, and held his arms out. He picked him up wordlessly, suddenly too tired to say anything. Andrew placed his head on his shoulder, letting out a soft yawn, wrapping his small, thin arms around Harry's neck.
Harry wrapped his arms tighter around his son, wondering how he was so blessed to have this child. He smiled, and strode over to the extra room. He knew that there was probably no chance that he'd be able to sleep in the bed, and since Andrew was sleepy too, he decided that it wouldn't hurt if they had a short nap.
Walking into the second bedroom, Harry didn't dwell on the furnishings. It was exactly like the other bedroom, and so Harry quickly lifted the covers and slid himself and Andrew onto them. Placing Andrew, who was already half-asleep, onto the spot next to him, Harry moved on his side and started patting Andrew's stomach lightly, lulling the small child to sleep. Smiling as his breaths became even, his eyes finally closing, his arms and legs wide apart, Harry finally allowed himself to sleep.
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Hermione growled, stripping her clothes and stepping into the burning hot shower. How dare Harry accuse her of not loving their child! She snorted, it was absurd! As she angrily washed herself, she vaguely noted that she and Harry had to meet the Weasleys again.
She sighed. Hopefully Ginny and Ron wouldn't try to harm them, or Andrew, again. After what she'd seen at Diagon Alley, she knew that Ron and Ginny hadn't waited for the two of them. Various articles and pictures were posted on the windows of shops, recording who could get more girl/boyfriends. So far, she snorted, calculating, Ginny had gotten more boyfriends in the course of four years than Ron had. She'd dated all of the players on three Quidditch teams (even including Oliver Wood), and had snagged a fair few rich men, though they only lasted for a month, two at the most.
Ron, however, she noticed, only dated blonde-haired women that seemed to think three plus four equalled fish. She saw several articles on the women, and remembered that half were at least two or three years younger than he was. She scoffed, as of he cared.
Nearly an hour later, Hermione turned off the shower, ignoring the fact that it was much colder than it was when she first entered. Wrapping a towel around herself, she exited the bathroom, going to hers and Harry's bedroom. Grabbing a pair of her old sweat pants from Stanford and a loose Volleyball shirt, she grabbed a pair of clean underwear and started changing in the bathroom.
After she finished dressing, she noticed that the room was eerily quiet, almost as if no one were there. Her eyebrows knit together. He didn't leave, did he? Her heart suddenly racing, she walked out of the bedroom and saw that the living room was devoid of beings. Her eyes widening, she looked around the room, finding no one there.
She opened the front door, half expecting Harry to be there, holding Andrew, looking incredibly sorry, but didn't find them. The halls were empty, and Hermione turned back around, closing the door behind her. She went back to the bathroom, making sure that Harry's things were still in the room, and sighed in relief when she found that it was indeed.
Looking at the room across from theirs, she wondered if there was a possibility that they were in there. Opening the door slowly, she released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding when she saw the two. Harry was on his side, one hand pillowing his head, the other on top of Andrew's stomach, and she could see that Harry was sleeping deeply. Andrew, with his small arms over his head, had a look of content on his face, sleeping close to his father. She smiled, and walked into the room, her past anger suddenly ebbing away with an intense pace. She took hold of the blankets, which were pooled around Harry's ankles, and pulled them to his waist, taking the other side of the blanket to cover Andrew to his waist.
She didn't know how long she stared at them, but soon, she heard the rumble of her stomach, indicating that it was time to get some food in her. Taking off Harry's glasses, she lightly ran her hand over his hair, considering it was semi-hard due to the product he put in ever morning, and gave his temple a gossamer kiss. Going to her son next, she lightly ran fingers through his soft hair, giving his forehead a soft kiss before leaving.
Closing the door gently behind her, she went and sat on the couch, thinking. Had she been too harsh on Harry? She shook her head, though her hand absently went to her slightly swollen stomach. No, these were her parents they were talking about, not their unborn child. Sure, there was a slight chance that it could be in danger, but not really. Her parents were more likely to die before she even gave birth.
Lowering her head, she felt a lone tear slide down her smooth cheek. Trying to clear all thoughts of hostility towards Harry, the sinking, depressing feeling she held for her parents, she tried to cheer up and order some food.
A little later when her food finally came-something that would make her mother proud, since she always said she was too thin: a club sandwich, mozzarella sticks, and a small slice of strawberry cheesecake-her anger towards Harry completely diminished, she let herself enjoy her food.
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Hours later, when Harry and Andrew finally woke up, Hermione greeted them with a large, though healthy dinner for Harry, and her usual food for Andrew: soft fruits and baby food. Harry didn't give a thought about it, reasoning it was just food and that she was just being the caring wife she was, and dug into his salad and sandwich after.
Once they finished eating, Andrew started playing with his toys and walking around, too emerged in his toys to notice his parents. Harry sat on the bed, sitting Indian-style, and watched Hermione pick out her clothes for the next day.
"We're going to have to find an apartment if we plan on staying here any longer," Harry announced minutes later, still looking at Hermione.
She stood up, pulling her short hear into a small ponytail, and turned to face Harry. "I suppose. But we aren't going to stay here for too long, only a month or two."
He nodded, but then an idea popped into his head. "What if we stay at your parents' house?" he asked.
She shrugged. "If you want."
Harry sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "Look, I know we aren't on the best of terms right now, but you've got to listen to me." He stood up and walked in front of her, until they were only a few feet apart. "Love, I know that your parents' condition isn't good, and I know that you're worried about them. I am, too! But that doesn't mean you can ignore everything and just mope around for your parents," he told her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I… Whenever I say anything that regards the baby-or even Andrew!-I always get so scared," he admitted, his eyes lowering.
Hermione listened quietly. "I just… I don't want anything to happen to your parents, or you, or the baby," he went on. "I just… I don't know anymore." He took his hand from her shoulder and turned around. He started heading towards the door, but Hermione stopped him.
"Harry," she said quietly, "I don't want anything to happen to our baby, either. I - just, I got so worried! I mean, whenever you were injured, I knew you would be all right, because you always were injured. But… my parents… when they were in the hospital today… they looked just so-helpless!" she exclaimed, tears finding their way down her cheeks once more. Curse these wretched hormones, she thought angrily.
Slowly, Harry came towards her once more, and enveloped her in an embrace. Her arms automatically went around his waist, holding him tight, her nose buried against his hard sternum. "I know, Hermione, I know. I hate seeing them like this, too, but we can't change anything. It's up to the doctors, now," he murmured, one hand on the back of her head, the other on her lower back, massaging both spots.
After a while, Hermione spoke up. "But what if they die?" she asked quietly, her voice muffled by his shirt.
He didn't answer immediately, but led her to their bed, tucking her in and giving her a soft kiss before leaving the room quickly to retrieve their eleven-month-old son. Once Harry put him in his crib (Harry knew he'd keep himself entertained with his feet, fingers, and stuffed dragon until he eventually became too tired and fall asleep), he slipped into the bed and spooned behind Hermione.
"If they die, then we have to go on with life," he answered. "We can't go on brooding forever-Lord knows I've got the most experience in that matter. We'll just have to go on, though it'll hurt for quiet some time." He rubbed her abdomen, where their child lay nestled safely in her womb. "It's not good for our health, and I don't want anyone to get sick right now," he murmured, listening to Hermione's breathing starting to even out.
After a while, after assuming Hermione was asleep, he strained his ears to listen if Andrew was still asleep. He heard his soft, even breaths and guessed he was asleep, too. Smiling to himself, he kept his hand on her stomach, and started falling asleep, knowing that he was still wearing jeans and a shirt.
Though he knew that there was a probable chance Hermione's parents could die, Harry couldn't imagine what he'd do if Hermione ever passed away. And he sincerely thought that day wouldn't come for a long, long time. Slowly, his thoughts differentiating from his in-laws, to the Wizarding World, to the Weasleys (and he knew that they were going to have to visit them tomorrow for sure), and to his family, Harry finally gave into sleep.
Author's Notes: I think I just butchered this chapter. I really see no significance in it, and I was high on three Red Bulls so I was too hyperactive to think straight. I dunno, but… I just don't know. *shrug,* The Weasleys should, most definitely, be in the next chapter. Most likely in the beginning, too.
Another thing: in my family, no one, at least no one I know of that lives in the US, has died of pneumonia or heart failure. So, I don't really know how to write people who could die. Sorry for my ignorance…
God, I just raped this chapter. Sorry… Ahem… So, how bad did I do?
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