The test was positive; there was no denying it.

Those damn pink lines were glaring up at her, mocking her. When she figured it must be a mistake, she used the other test that came in the box and waited the few minutes it took for the results to appear.

And there were those two damn pink lines again. She decided then that pink was definitely the ugliest color ever created.

Without thinking twice about it, she threw the test angrily into the trash can next to the toilet, made her way into her bedroom, and fell ungracefully onto her bright blue bed.

Summer was almost over. Her luggage had been organized and packed two weeks prior (she just wnated to make sure she wasn't forgetting anything!) and were now bundled neatly in the corner of her bedroom.

Tomorrow she would be boarding the train at Platform 9 and 3/4 to go back to Hogwarts for her final year. This time, however, was different. Hermione decided she was, at this point, dreading going back. No longer would everything with her friends be the same. No longer would she fret for endless hours about Voldemort and Harry Potter and the War and doing good in school and Ron. Of course, Ron.

She gave a small laugh out loud to herself and then imagined she was going crazy. The thought of no longer having the energy or time to think about the one and only Ronald Weasley was funny to her. Of course she wouldn't be able to do that.

Not when he was the father...

But he wasn't going to know that. Not if she could help it. Maybe she could make it the whole year without anybody knowing, she lazily thought. Maybe nobody would be able to tell she was going to be as big as a whale. Maybe they wouldn't notice her raging hormones and out of control mood swings. Maybe they wouldn't notice her rushing off to the bathroom during lunch to empty her stomach unwillingly.

Yeah, she thought, maybe they just wouldn't notice.

And if they didn't notice, maybe she could pretend the whole thing wasn't real. Maybe she could erase her memory and forget that she ever slept with Ron that one night when he was drunk off Firewhiskey and they were drinking away the pain of Dumbledore's passing and their worries of the War. Maybe she could forget those two damned pink lines and the fact that she could feel the change in her body already.

Maybe she could pretend that she wasn't really pregnant.

Then she wouldn't have to confront her parents and tell them she had sex before marriage, which they would surely kill her for before Voldemort could even get to her. She wouldn't have to tell Ron that he was the father and that he was doomed for the next 18 years to be attached to her because they would be having a child together. Then she wouldn't have to tell her professors, who would obviously be displeased and demand she leave the school.

But it was real.

She felt the wetness of tears sweep down her cheek. Unfortunatel,y she thought, there was no denying it. She couldn't pretned it wasn't happening as much as she wanted to.

How was she going to do this? How was she going to cope with that fact that she was going to have a baby her final year of school? She was only eighteen, for Merlin's sake, and how could she even afford to care for a child at her young age?

Hermione's heart was racing. Of course she'd have something else to worry about during the middle of a damned war.

She picked herself up off the bed and decided, right then and there without second thought, that being pregnant had to be the least of her worries with somebody like Voldemort out in the world.

And she vowed NOT to worry about such things in her irrational mindset until after the war was over.

She could hide it, right? Nobody had to know. Why did they? They had better things to worry about than her pragnancy.

A knock sounded at the door and she sighed, sitting up in the bed and trying quickly to dry her eyes.

The door opened and her mother peeked her head inside.

"Honey, dinner's ready."

Hermione met her mother's eyes for a moment, a fleeting moment in an almost desperate attempt to convey that she desperately needed her mother's help, that she didn't know the first thing about being pregnant or raising a baby, that she was scared, and most of all, that she couldn't handle it.

But the moment passed and Hermione faked a smile.

"I'll be there in a second, Mom. I just need to pack a few more things for the morning."

WIth that, her mother matched the smile and left her room. Hermione fell back onto her bed once more, sighing.

Pregnant, she thought.

She couldn't believe she could have been so stupid.

A/N: New Hermione/Ron story. Tell me if you guys want me to continue with it.