Hermione walked out the front door of the burrow with a troubled mind. She had never been so confused, nor so unprepared, in her life. She had always thought that when the war was over, she would finally be able to find some peace and stability, but it seemed that she could never have it so easy. In fact, she felt more vulnerable now than she did while on the run. There they had protective charms, and strategies, and a way of fighting back if it came to it, but what was there to fight back against now? This was happening whether she liked it or not; she had absolutely no control over something for the first time in her life. She took in the fresh air slowly and gratefully, allowing it to clear her mind. Of course, this changes everything. She felt guilt, mixed with anxiety, mixed with confusion, mixed with fear, mixed with…joy? She tried to clear her head and go back to the way things were just moments ago before she knew, or even a week ago, before she suspected. When she heard the sound of dinner beginning behind her, she knew she had no choice but to return inside.
She sat down next to Ron, like always, and tried to behave normally, even though she was incapable of speaking. She gave her best attempts at laughter when jokes were told and her best attempts at conversation when questions were asked. She felt grateful for the cover the large family provided her; with the conversation jumping from person to person most everybody was too busy to notice anything off. Occasionally she would find her mind wandering, her fork hovering immobile over her plate, her eyes staring at nothing, but she always manages to correct herself before anyone notice. She was struck by the pure normalcy of the moment, the way everyone was smiling and at ease; although she knew it was ridiculous, she felt like even that was jeopardized for her. Throughout the meal her jaded smile seemed to appease nearly everyone; Ginny, however, kept giving her odd looks. After finishing half, Hermione pushed her remaining food around on her plate, not feeling all that hungry, until Mrs. Weasley stood up to do the dishes. Hermione joined her.
"Oh, you don't have to dear, I don't mind," said Mrs. Weasley kindly. She waved her wand and a cloth flew cleanly into her waiting hand.
"No, it's fine, I don't either." In truth Hermione wanted something to distract her, and she thought that scrubbing dishes would be just the thing. Plus she couldn't help but think that it would be nice to spend some time with Mrs. Weasley while she could.
"Oh no, I suppose you don't," said Mrs. Weasley with a comforting smile. There seemed to be a lot of unsaid things in the look she was giving, and that just made Hermione's stomach squirm even more. Mrs. Weasley turned to the sink and sank her hands in the bubbly water, Hermione following suit. "Anyway," Mrs. Weasley continued, "it will be good practice for when you have a house and a family of your own!"
Hermione blushed and scrubbed harder. Mrs. Weasley misinterpreted her embarrassment.
"Oh! But of course you're not thinking of that right now, it's much too soon-"
Hermione dropped her plate into the sink, where it shattered as cleanly as her confidence. She repaired it and mumbled something about not feeling well, excusing herself to her room. She climbed the stairs, trying to ignore the migraine that was settling itself comfortably above her right temple; she had been getting a lot of those lately. With each step she heard the voices from downstairs drifting farther and farther away, until she heard nothing but indistinct mumbles. This suddenly made her want to cry, but with taming both a migraine and a squirming stomach she simply didn't have the energy to do so. When she to the room she shared, she collapsed on the cot she'd been sleeping on, intending to fall asleep. Ginny, however, had other plans.
"What's up?" Ginny strode in only seconds later, sitting on her own bed.
"Nothing," Hermione tried to lie, which of course didn't work. "I just have a lot on my mind, I guess."
"Yeah, I can see how you'd be so stressed, what with having school out of the way, and having just defeated the greatest dark wizard of all time. Yeah, there's a lot of room for stress in your schedule." Ginny began digging through her dresser with her trademark smirk plastered on her face.
"I'm serious, Gin," Hermione said, her head pounding with each syllable.
"Okay, then what is it?" She turned back to Hermione, a pair of pajama pants in hand.
Hermione hesitated. She didn't want to tell anyone, but she knew she would have to eventually. Was it worth telling Ginny, who'd most likely tell Harry, who'd bug her to tell Ron? She wasn't sure if she was really ready for that yet. The room seemed awfully bright, and she closed her eyes to appease the building pain in her head. "Just…some stuff I can't get out of my head."
"Oooooh," said Ginny with mock understanding, "oh yeah. Stuff is tough, definitely." She turned and rummaged for a shirt.
"Ginny." She wished they would stop talking so she could sleep off this migraine; her vision was now swimming, not helping her stomach at all.
"No, I'm serious! Stuff just gets in the way so much!" She closed her current drawer and opened the one beneath it, not bothering to look at Hermione when she spoke.
"Ginny, I-"
"I hate when stuff happens in my life, it's just so-"
"Ginny! I'm pregnant."
Ginny stopped midsentence, turning abruptly to stare wide-eyed at Hermione, who lowered her head.