*****IMPORTANT NOTE BEFORE READING!!!!!
This story contains implied sexual relations between Hermione and Oliver Wood. If you do the math, technically, Oliver is 17 in his seventh year at Hogwart's, and since Hermione's birthday is in September, around the 19th I think (as J.K Rowling has stated) in her third year she would be 14, approaching 15 the next school year. So really, technically, no "raiding of the baby's cradle" is going on here. But, if you think I went too far, let me know, and I'll change the time of the story to a time in the future.
The Mistakes That We Make
Hermione cringed as she felt the eyes on her face. She knew who it was, she didn't have to look. Instead, she stared at the food on her plate, trying desperately to ignore the hollowness of her stomach. She wasn't hungry, she was sick. Very sick.
"Hermione? Are you ok?" Ron asked, reaching over to take her roll off of her plate. "Can I have this?"
She vaguely nodded, not really knowing which question she answered. She looked up to find Harry and Ron staring at her. "I'm fine. Really," she said, going back to stare at her plate.
Harry gave her a quizzical look. "You usually object when Rob takes your roll."
"I'm just not hungry, that's all," she tried to reassure them.
"Really Hermione," Ron said, saying a quick spell to butter the piece of bread, "A "B" on a Potions quiz isn't bad at all. I rather think that's pretty good."
Harry elbowed Ron in the ribs. "She's not worried about her grade in Potions, something else is worrying her."
"Oh," Ron grumbled. "Sorry."
Hermione wrapped her robes closer around her small body as her stomach rumbled. "Nothing is worrying me, guys, I promise." She stole a quick glace down the table and found what she knew would be there: Oliver Wood, staring at her hungrily. She blushed, remembering how his hands felt on her body, tracing every curve, every line. Abruptly, she stood from the table. "I'm going to go to the common room, I'll see you two later."
"Can I have the rest of your Pumpkin Juice, then?" Ron asked excitedly, receiving another elbow in the ribs from Harry.
As she walked alone down the dark hallways, illuminated only by torches on the wall, her mind raced wildly. What was she going to do? How was she going to tell him? What would she tell Ron and Harry? Would she get expelled? Hermione sighed angrily. Well of course she was going to be expelled. There was no doubt about that. All of her hard work for nothing. Hermione felt as if her whole life had ended at that moment.
Without warning, a hand seized her wrist and whirled her around. Before she could scream, a hand was over her mouth silencing her. She released a breath when she saw that it was only Oliver, and not You-Know- Who, or almost worse yet, Professor Snape. He released her.
"I saw you leave. Why so early?" Oliver asked.
She studied his expression, wondering if this was the right time to tell him. His hazel eyes danced in the torchlight, his lips, those sweet soft lips, were slightly red, probably from drinking Pumpkin juice warm at dinner, and his face was relaxed, as if he was comfortable in her presence.
Hermione decided right then and there that she would tell him, just not in the middle of a dark corridor where anyone could hear their conversation. And since she didn't know how he was going to react, she wanted to see his face when she told him her news. Without a word, she grabbed his hand and dragged him up the ever-changing stairs to the common room, pausing at The Lady in a Pink Dress's portrait to mutter the password.
"Hermione? What are you doing?" he asked, sitting down on a footstool in front of the fire when she finally let go of his hand.
"Quiet Oliver. Just listen. Will you just listen?" she removed her robes and tossed it over the back of a chair.
"I always listen to you, love."
She turned to him, shocked at the endearment. Oh Merlin, he's never going to call me that after this. "Oliver, I've got some news."
"Good I hope," he chuckled. "After that Quidditch match today against the Hufflepuffs, I could use some good news. They slammed us hard. I didn't know Hufflepuffs could play so aggressively."
"Oliver!" Hermione yelled. "Would you get Quiddtich out of your head for ten minutes? Gods!"
He stood, almost angry at her for yelling at him, when he realized she was crying. "Hermione? Hermione, what's wrong?" he gathered her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. "Whatever is wrong, you can tell me."
"You are going to hate me, Oliver," she sobbed.
"Never," he whispered.
Gathering up all of her courage she stepped back from him and looked him in the eye. "Have you noticed I haven't come to you lately?"
"Yes, but I just guessed it was the wrong, um, week," he said, his cheeks flaming at having to mention a woman's time of the month.
"And have you noticed I haven't been eating either?" she asked.
"Of course, that's why I was watching you at dinner. And I've also noticed that you seem to be making a lot of mad dashes to the girl's lavatory. Hermione? What is going on?"
Renewed tears poured down her face. "Oh Oliver! I'm pregnant!" She crashed against his chest and sobbed heavily.
Shock slammed into him like a bludger to the head. "Pregnant?" he squeaked. It all made sense now. She had run to the bathroom because she had been sick to her stomach, which is also her reason for not eating. She looked so skinny.
Her red head drew back and she looked up at him. "Oliver?"
"You're pregnant?" he asked again.
She nodded. "And I promise, I won't tell anyone that you are the father. Not even Harry or Ron."
"What does this mean?" The words sounded stupid to his own ears, but he could think of nothing else to say. He new, by instinct, that it had been Hermione's first time when he got her pregnant. They were so into the passion that they forgot about any kind of protection, spell or otherwise.
She sighed and retreated from his arms. "I will be expelled. I will go back to my muggle life and raise the child at home. I will not be allowed to stay here."
Oliver's shock was replaced by alarm. "Wait a minute here. You aren't going anywhere! I want to help raise this baby."
Hermione's eyes widened. "You do?"
"Of course. My God, Hermione, I'm not heartless. Do I look like Malfoy to you?"
She blushed. "If you did, I would have never gotten to this state."
He chuckled at that comment. "I wasn't expecting this, I really wasn't, but I helped make this baby, so it's only right that I help raise it." Oliver sighed and ran a hand through his hair, letting it rest on the back of his neck. "When do you expect to tell Dumbledore?"
"First thing in the morning." She sat on the couch and rested her head in her hands. "Oliver, it's not right. You should stay here and finished your schooling. You are so close to getting out, and then being placed in a wonderful job. You should pursue it. You can get a job and then take care of the baby and I. I don't want you to lose your dream because of me and my muggle mistakes."
"Hey," he sat besides her. "This is not a mistake, it happened for a reason. I will go with you to Dumbledore's office tomorrow morning and we will face the school together. We will face everyone," he held her hand and squeezed, "together."
Again, tears made their way down her face as she thought of something she hadn't before. "Oh Gods, my parents! What are they going to say? They are going to be so ashamed of me!"
He held her tightly against his robes. "If that happens, we will go to my parent's house, and if that doesn't work, I will dip into my account at Gringotts and rent us a place to live. I will take care of you Hermione Wood."
She raised her head. "Wood?"
He smiled and shrugged, almost blushing. "If we are going to have a baby, it is only fitting we would be married first."
Hermione's heart melted. "I hope you don't think me weird for saying this, but Oliver, I love you."
His lips softly pressed against hers. "I love you too, Hermione."
They entered Professor Dumbledore's office holding hands; both knowing the great wizard would probably already know why they needed to see him. They stopped at his desk, where the headmaster was sitting, a regal man with long white hair and an equally white beard that went to his knees.
"Good morning Miss Granger, Mr. Wood," he greeted.
"Good morning, Professor," they chorused.
"What was the matter so pressing you had to see me before the morning meal?" Dumbledore asked, tipping his head back to peer at them through his glasses.
Oliver squeezed her hand.
"Well sir, something has happened," she answered, shaking so badly she felt faint.
"Hm," he responded, "hopefully nothing that Mr. Potter needs to deal with?"
Oliver chuckled. "Our resident hero."
Hermione elbowed him. "That's my best friend you are talking about."
He grinned at her. "I thought I was your best friend."
She rolled her eyes and remembered who was also in attendance. "Sorry sir," she blushed. "I don't think Harry can help on this one," she responded, ignoring Oliver's chuckle.
He smiled. "Quite alright, Miss Granger. Now tell me, what is on your mind?"
She cleared her throat and tried not to cry. "Well sir, it seems to be that I- well, what I mean to say is that um, well, ugh!" For the third time that morning since she woke up, she broke into ragged sobs and felt as if she was going to be sick. Oliver wrapped an arm around her shoulders until she could control herself. "I'm pregnant sir."
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I see," he said, not at all surprised.
"I know you will expel me sir, and I don't blame you. I know Hogwart's is not a place for babies, as it is a place for young wizards and witches learn their craft."
"You are exactly right, Miss Granger. But what is Mr. Wood doing here?" Dumbledore asked, knowing why Oliver was there, he just wanted to hear him say it.
Oliver felt Hermione squeeze his hand, begging for him to stay out of it, but he had chosen his path, and he would own up to it. "I am the father, sir."
Dumbledore's eyebrows rose. "Hm, it seems that there is a major age difference here, Mr. Wood. As I remember it, Miss Granger is a third year student, and you are a seventh year, am I right?"
"Yes sir," Oliver answered. "I have asked Hermione to marry me, and she has accepted. I am willing to accept responsibility for this child sir."
"Oliver, no," Hermione groaned. "Don't give up your life for this!"
He turned to face her, completely shutting off Professor Dumbledore, which was a huge sign of disrespect. But at this moment, Oliver did not care, and Dumbledore understood. "Hermione that is what happens when you make a life, you give up yours. I am ready to make a new one with you and this child. I love you and I want to be with you. I want to grow old with you. I want to watch you in one of those muggle rocking chairs with a tiny infant in your arms, listening to your sweet voice singing softly as the baby sleeps. I want to hold you when there are bad times and rejoice with you when there are good times."
"Well then," Dumbledore said, not letting Hermione respond to Oliver. He stood and walked to the couple. "You should owl your parents and let them know the news. When would you like to be married?"
Hermione's mouth dropped open. "Excuse me sir?"
"Well, if there is to be a baby, we need to get you two married first. I was thinking in two weeks. How's that? That is enough time to get your parents here from England and Scotland, right?" he brushed past them and picked up a book, ignoring the looks of shock from the two teenagers. "Also, Mr. Wood, I suggest you get to your books. You wouldn't want to fail your end-year exams and risk not getting a good job. You'll have a little one to take care of. I hear Miss Granger is quite good at studying. You two should team up."
Hermione blushed. "That's what got us into this situation sir. Studying."
Dumbledore chuckled. "Then maybe you should get another study partner, Mr. Wood."
"So, this means we aren't getting expelled, sir?" Oliver questioned.
"No." He looked up. "This isn't the first time this has happened here I'm afraid, but this is the first time the two parties involved were willing to get married and support each other, so I believe this is a rather special occurrence. But Miss Granger, when the baby comes, you will be expected to keep up your studies and take care of the child at the same time. I will see if Madam Pomfry will mind seeing over the child while you are in classes."
Hermione smiled. "Thank you sir, this means so much to me. Hogwart's is home."
"Ah, I understand my dear. I, too, felt the same way when I came here."
"I can't believe it," Rom muttered.
"I can't believe it was Wood," Harry responded, looking down the dinner table to see Hermione and Wood smiling at each other, oblivious to anyone else around them.
"Do you think this will change things between the three of us?" Ron questioned.
"Of course, because now there's four of us, and then there is going to be five. Hermione is going to be a mom, Ron. But right now she's just a wife. A very happy wife."
"Know what I heard?"
"Really, I think we are past the gossiping stage," Harry admonished him.
"Right, anyway, I heard that the night they got married, they threw out all of Wood's roommates."
Harry looked at him. "Aren't Fred and George his roommates?"
"Yep, that's how I found out. They had to come to my room to sleep."
"That's just disgusting, Ron, I mean really, I don't want to think of Hermione that way."
"Well I do," Ron mumbled, looking longingly down the table.
"Don't let Wood hear you say that. I saw what happened when Draco Malfoy whistled at Hermione this morning."
Ron looked back at Harry. "I was in the library, remember? What happened?"
"Wood grabbed Malfoy by the neck and slammed him up against the wall. He told him that the next time they stepped onto the Quidditch pitch together, he was going to make sure Malfoy sailed right through one of the goal hoops as his father is watching. I swear, I've never seen Hermione blush so badly before today."
Ron sighed again, "Well things are certainly going to change."
Harry nodded. "That's true, Malfoy definitely won't mess with Hermione after that."
"That's not what I meant, Harry," Ron responded, again looking at the newly married couple. "You know how I feel about her."
Harry didn't respond, instead he put his arm around his friend's shoulder. "I know. But right now isn't exactly the best time to tell her that."
"I will never tell her that," Ron whispered, forlornly.
The End
This story contains implied sexual relations between Hermione and Oliver Wood. If you do the math, technically, Oliver is 17 in his seventh year at Hogwart's, and since Hermione's birthday is in September, around the 19th I think (as J.K Rowling has stated) in her third year she would be 14, approaching 15 the next school year. So really, technically, no "raiding of the baby's cradle" is going on here. But, if you think I went too far, let me know, and I'll change the time of the story to a time in the future.
The Mistakes That We Make
Hermione cringed as she felt the eyes on her face. She knew who it was, she didn't have to look. Instead, she stared at the food on her plate, trying desperately to ignore the hollowness of her stomach. She wasn't hungry, she was sick. Very sick.
"Hermione? Are you ok?" Ron asked, reaching over to take her roll off of her plate. "Can I have this?"
She vaguely nodded, not really knowing which question she answered. She looked up to find Harry and Ron staring at her. "I'm fine. Really," she said, going back to stare at her plate.
Harry gave her a quizzical look. "You usually object when Rob takes your roll."
"I'm just not hungry, that's all," she tried to reassure them.
"Really Hermione," Ron said, saying a quick spell to butter the piece of bread, "A "B" on a Potions quiz isn't bad at all. I rather think that's pretty good."
Harry elbowed Ron in the ribs. "She's not worried about her grade in Potions, something else is worrying her."
"Oh," Ron grumbled. "Sorry."
Hermione wrapped her robes closer around her small body as her stomach rumbled. "Nothing is worrying me, guys, I promise." She stole a quick glace down the table and found what she knew would be there: Oliver Wood, staring at her hungrily. She blushed, remembering how his hands felt on her body, tracing every curve, every line. Abruptly, she stood from the table. "I'm going to go to the common room, I'll see you two later."
"Can I have the rest of your Pumpkin Juice, then?" Ron asked excitedly, receiving another elbow in the ribs from Harry.
As she walked alone down the dark hallways, illuminated only by torches on the wall, her mind raced wildly. What was she going to do? How was she going to tell him? What would she tell Ron and Harry? Would she get expelled? Hermione sighed angrily. Well of course she was going to be expelled. There was no doubt about that. All of her hard work for nothing. Hermione felt as if her whole life had ended at that moment.
Without warning, a hand seized her wrist and whirled her around. Before she could scream, a hand was over her mouth silencing her. She released a breath when she saw that it was only Oliver, and not You-Know- Who, or almost worse yet, Professor Snape. He released her.
"I saw you leave. Why so early?" Oliver asked.
She studied his expression, wondering if this was the right time to tell him. His hazel eyes danced in the torchlight, his lips, those sweet soft lips, were slightly red, probably from drinking Pumpkin juice warm at dinner, and his face was relaxed, as if he was comfortable in her presence.
Hermione decided right then and there that she would tell him, just not in the middle of a dark corridor where anyone could hear their conversation. And since she didn't know how he was going to react, she wanted to see his face when she told him her news. Without a word, she grabbed his hand and dragged him up the ever-changing stairs to the common room, pausing at The Lady in a Pink Dress's portrait to mutter the password.
"Hermione? What are you doing?" he asked, sitting down on a footstool in front of the fire when she finally let go of his hand.
"Quiet Oliver. Just listen. Will you just listen?" she removed her robes and tossed it over the back of a chair.
"I always listen to you, love."
She turned to him, shocked at the endearment. Oh Merlin, he's never going to call me that after this. "Oliver, I've got some news."
"Good I hope," he chuckled. "After that Quidditch match today against the Hufflepuffs, I could use some good news. They slammed us hard. I didn't know Hufflepuffs could play so aggressively."
"Oliver!" Hermione yelled. "Would you get Quiddtich out of your head for ten minutes? Gods!"
He stood, almost angry at her for yelling at him, when he realized she was crying. "Hermione? Hermione, what's wrong?" he gathered her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. "Whatever is wrong, you can tell me."
"You are going to hate me, Oliver," she sobbed.
"Never," he whispered.
Gathering up all of her courage she stepped back from him and looked him in the eye. "Have you noticed I haven't come to you lately?"
"Yes, but I just guessed it was the wrong, um, week," he said, his cheeks flaming at having to mention a woman's time of the month.
"And have you noticed I haven't been eating either?" she asked.
"Of course, that's why I was watching you at dinner. And I've also noticed that you seem to be making a lot of mad dashes to the girl's lavatory. Hermione? What is going on?"
Renewed tears poured down her face. "Oh Oliver! I'm pregnant!" She crashed against his chest and sobbed heavily.
Shock slammed into him like a bludger to the head. "Pregnant?" he squeaked. It all made sense now. She had run to the bathroom because she had been sick to her stomach, which is also her reason for not eating. She looked so skinny.
Her red head drew back and she looked up at him. "Oliver?"
"You're pregnant?" he asked again.
She nodded. "And I promise, I won't tell anyone that you are the father. Not even Harry or Ron."
"What does this mean?" The words sounded stupid to his own ears, but he could think of nothing else to say. He new, by instinct, that it had been Hermione's first time when he got her pregnant. They were so into the passion that they forgot about any kind of protection, spell or otherwise.
She sighed and retreated from his arms. "I will be expelled. I will go back to my muggle life and raise the child at home. I will not be allowed to stay here."
Oliver's shock was replaced by alarm. "Wait a minute here. You aren't going anywhere! I want to help raise this baby."
Hermione's eyes widened. "You do?"
"Of course. My God, Hermione, I'm not heartless. Do I look like Malfoy to you?"
She blushed. "If you did, I would have never gotten to this state."
He chuckled at that comment. "I wasn't expecting this, I really wasn't, but I helped make this baby, so it's only right that I help raise it." Oliver sighed and ran a hand through his hair, letting it rest on the back of his neck. "When do you expect to tell Dumbledore?"
"First thing in the morning." She sat on the couch and rested her head in her hands. "Oliver, it's not right. You should stay here and finished your schooling. You are so close to getting out, and then being placed in a wonderful job. You should pursue it. You can get a job and then take care of the baby and I. I don't want you to lose your dream because of me and my muggle mistakes."
"Hey," he sat besides her. "This is not a mistake, it happened for a reason. I will go with you to Dumbledore's office tomorrow morning and we will face the school together. We will face everyone," he held her hand and squeezed, "together."
Again, tears made their way down her face as she thought of something she hadn't before. "Oh Gods, my parents! What are they going to say? They are going to be so ashamed of me!"
He held her tightly against his robes. "If that happens, we will go to my parent's house, and if that doesn't work, I will dip into my account at Gringotts and rent us a place to live. I will take care of you Hermione Wood."
She raised her head. "Wood?"
He smiled and shrugged, almost blushing. "If we are going to have a baby, it is only fitting we would be married first."
Hermione's heart melted. "I hope you don't think me weird for saying this, but Oliver, I love you."
His lips softly pressed against hers. "I love you too, Hermione."
They entered Professor Dumbledore's office holding hands; both knowing the great wizard would probably already know why they needed to see him. They stopped at his desk, where the headmaster was sitting, a regal man with long white hair and an equally white beard that went to his knees.
"Good morning Miss Granger, Mr. Wood," he greeted.
"Good morning, Professor," they chorused.
"What was the matter so pressing you had to see me before the morning meal?" Dumbledore asked, tipping his head back to peer at them through his glasses.
Oliver squeezed her hand.
"Well sir, something has happened," she answered, shaking so badly she felt faint.
"Hm," he responded, "hopefully nothing that Mr. Potter needs to deal with?"
Oliver chuckled. "Our resident hero."
Hermione elbowed him. "That's my best friend you are talking about."
He grinned at her. "I thought I was your best friend."
She rolled her eyes and remembered who was also in attendance. "Sorry sir," she blushed. "I don't think Harry can help on this one," she responded, ignoring Oliver's chuckle.
He smiled. "Quite alright, Miss Granger. Now tell me, what is on your mind?"
She cleared her throat and tried not to cry. "Well sir, it seems to be that I- well, what I mean to say is that um, well, ugh!" For the third time that morning since she woke up, she broke into ragged sobs and felt as if she was going to be sick. Oliver wrapped an arm around her shoulders until she could control herself. "I'm pregnant sir."
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I see," he said, not at all surprised.
"I know you will expel me sir, and I don't blame you. I know Hogwart's is not a place for babies, as it is a place for young wizards and witches learn their craft."
"You are exactly right, Miss Granger. But what is Mr. Wood doing here?" Dumbledore asked, knowing why Oliver was there, he just wanted to hear him say it.
Oliver felt Hermione squeeze his hand, begging for him to stay out of it, but he had chosen his path, and he would own up to it. "I am the father, sir."
Dumbledore's eyebrows rose. "Hm, it seems that there is a major age difference here, Mr. Wood. As I remember it, Miss Granger is a third year student, and you are a seventh year, am I right?"
"Yes sir," Oliver answered. "I have asked Hermione to marry me, and she has accepted. I am willing to accept responsibility for this child sir."
"Oliver, no," Hermione groaned. "Don't give up your life for this!"
He turned to face her, completely shutting off Professor Dumbledore, which was a huge sign of disrespect. But at this moment, Oliver did not care, and Dumbledore understood. "Hermione that is what happens when you make a life, you give up yours. I am ready to make a new one with you and this child. I love you and I want to be with you. I want to grow old with you. I want to watch you in one of those muggle rocking chairs with a tiny infant in your arms, listening to your sweet voice singing softly as the baby sleeps. I want to hold you when there are bad times and rejoice with you when there are good times."
"Well then," Dumbledore said, not letting Hermione respond to Oliver. He stood and walked to the couple. "You should owl your parents and let them know the news. When would you like to be married?"
Hermione's mouth dropped open. "Excuse me sir?"
"Well, if there is to be a baby, we need to get you two married first. I was thinking in two weeks. How's that? That is enough time to get your parents here from England and Scotland, right?" he brushed past them and picked up a book, ignoring the looks of shock from the two teenagers. "Also, Mr. Wood, I suggest you get to your books. You wouldn't want to fail your end-year exams and risk not getting a good job. You'll have a little one to take care of. I hear Miss Granger is quite good at studying. You two should team up."
Hermione blushed. "That's what got us into this situation sir. Studying."
Dumbledore chuckled. "Then maybe you should get another study partner, Mr. Wood."
"So, this means we aren't getting expelled, sir?" Oliver questioned.
"No." He looked up. "This isn't the first time this has happened here I'm afraid, but this is the first time the two parties involved were willing to get married and support each other, so I believe this is a rather special occurrence. But Miss Granger, when the baby comes, you will be expected to keep up your studies and take care of the child at the same time. I will see if Madam Pomfry will mind seeing over the child while you are in classes."
Hermione smiled. "Thank you sir, this means so much to me. Hogwart's is home."
"Ah, I understand my dear. I, too, felt the same way when I came here."
"I can't believe it," Rom muttered.
"I can't believe it was Wood," Harry responded, looking down the dinner table to see Hermione and Wood smiling at each other, oblivious to anyone else around them.
"Do you think this will change things between the three of us?" Ron questioned.
"Of course, because now there's four of us, and then there is going to be five. Hermione is going to be a mom, Ron. But right now she's just a wife. A very happy wife."
"Know what I heard?"
"Really, I think we are past the gossiping stage," Harry admonished him.
"Right, anyway, I heard that the night they got married, they threw out all of Wood's roommates."
Harry looked at him. "Aren't Fred and George his roommates?"
"Yep, that's how I found out. They had to come to my room to sleep."
"That's just disgusting, Ron, I mean really, I don't want to think of Hermione that way."
"Well I do," Ron mumbled, looking longingly down the table.
"Don't let Wood hear you say that. I saw what happened when Draco Malfoy whistled at Hermione this morning."
Ron looked back at Harry. "I was in the library, remember? What happened?"
"Wood grabbed Malfoy by the neck and slammed him up against the wall. He told him that the next time they stepped onto the Quidditch pitch together, he was going to make sure Malfoy sailed right through one of the goal hoops as his father is watching. I swear, I've never seen Hermione blush so badly before today."
Ron sighed again, "Well things are certainly going to change."
Harry nodded. "That's true, Malfoy definitely won't mess with Hermione after that."
"That's not what I meant, Harry," Ron responded, again looking at the newly married couple. "You know how I feel about her."
Harry didn't respond, instead he put his arm around his friend's shoulder. "I know. But right now isn't exactly the best time to tell her that."
"I will never tell her that," Ron whispered, forlornly.
The End