So, this is my first venture into HP Fanfic, so I hope you like it. I think it pretty much explains itself, so read on and enjoy!

The Consequences of Grief

Eventually she couldn't cry any more. There was nothing left. She was exhausted, but couldn't sleep. It'd been like this for weeks. Not that anyone had noticed.

Turning over, Hermione stared up at the all-too-familiar canopy of her bed and sighed. It was only going to get worse if she stayed here. Every night it was the same. Any minute her inner mother would start lecturing her again, reminding her that she was supposed to be a smart girl, too smart to get herself into this kind of trouble.

Hermione shook her head and pushed the covers back from her bed, slipping between the curtains as she padded bare-foot towards the door. She caught a movement in the corner of her eye and turned sharply, only to see her own reflection staring back from the full-length mirror. God, she looked a state. Her hair almost seemed like it was floating around her head rather than being attached to it, it was such a mess. Slowly, she turned her side to the mirror, looking her body up and down. For a moment, she thought she was getting fatter already, but then she shook her head. It was too soon for that. Quietly, she went back to her bed, pulling her dressing gown down from the post and wrapping it around herself, comforted by it's soft texture.

Another glance around the room told her that the other girls were all still fast asleep. Hermione smiled weakly and opened the door, walking slowly down the cold stone stairs. She half-thought about going back for her slippers, but it didn't seem worth it when the Gryffindor common room was always so warm.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she was pleased to see that the room was deserted. Not that there should be anyone up at three in the morning, but she could never be sure. More than once or twice in the last month she'd stumbled downstairs only to find some first year working late on an essay. There had been something rather comforting about it really. It was good to know that somewhere, in some small corner of the wizarding world, things were starting to go back to normal.

Hermione couldn't fail to think of Harry when she was down here. It had been months since he'd gone and right now she missed him more than ever. How different things might have been if he hadn't insisted that they return to Hogwarts… Slowly, she rubbed her hands over her face and walked over to the table to pour herself a glass of water from the jug. She still remembered marvelling at that jug in first year. The way that it was always full of cold liquid no matter what. She'd even seen Fred empty the whole jug over George's head and yet within seconds it was full again, allowing George to get his revenge. Now she knew it was a simple replenishment charm. Somehow magic seemed so much less exciting these days. Maybe she was getting cynical after everything she'd been through…

The cool water was just what she needed. Curling herself in a chair by the remains of the fire, Hermione sipped slowly from her glass, watching the embers fade to black charcoal. She wished she could sleep. Right now, she wanted so much to just fall asleep and never wake up. Or better still to wake up on one of those heady hot summer days in the lower school before He came back, before Dumbledore died… before Harry… she couldn't even think it. It seemed so unreal to think that she was never going to see him again. She smiled sadly. Harry would have been so happy to know. He'd have been there for her, right through everything. But now he was gone. And she was doing this alone. The voice in her head reminded her that she didn't have to be, but somehow, every time she'd tried to speak to Ron since the night they'd heard Harry had died… the night they'd… Hermione bit her lip, swallowing back the tears. Why did it all have to go so wrong?

Suddenly, she heard someone's feet on the boy's staircase. Wiping away the few tears that had escaped, she sat up, rapidly trying to think of an excuse for being up in the middle of the night.

"Oh." said Ron, stopping short at the foot of the stairs.

Hermione looked up, her blood running cold. "Ron… don't… um…" She trailed off, not sure what to say. Half of her wanted to run right back up to her room where he couldn't follow, but the rest wanted to get up and go over to him, to tell him everything…

"Hermione… what… why're you… awake..?" stuttered Ron, his face so full of emotion that it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.

"Couldn't sleep," answered Hermione with a shrug, managing a weak smile before hurriedly gulping down some more water.

"Me too." Ron just about returned the smile. "Haven't really been able to since…"

Hermione nodded, cutting him off. "Yeah, though it's been worse the last few weeks…" She bit her lip slightly, not sure if Ron had even noticed that she'd been even less herself recently.

"I… you… I kinda noticed," said Ron, his face clearing to a look of gentle concern.

Inside, Hermione sighed. "You kinda noticed? You've hardly said three words to me since…" she said vehemently, only stopping because she couldn't bring herself to say exactly what had happened that night.

"I know. And I'm sorry." Ron took a tentative step towards her, sincerity in his face. "I'm grieving too."

It was all she could do to nod, the tears beginning to flow again as memories came rushing back to her. Suddenly she was there, in the kitchen at number 12 Grimauld Place, hardly able to take in what Moody was saying, as though she was watching herself on film. Even now, months later she could still feel the sensation of Ron's hand gripping hers as she began to cry. Then he was walking her up to her room, closing the door behind them so he could hold her tight in his arms. She'd sobbed into his shoulder, and he'd cried into her hair. Then they were kissing, their hot tears mingling between their cheeks. She couldn't even remember clearly what had happened after that, it was all a blur of movements and feelings; images that would be imprinted on her mind forever.

Ron's voice brought her sharply back to the common. "Are you all right?" he asked, inching further towards her chair.

She was shaking her head before she even had a chance to think about lying.

That was all it took for Ron to cross the distance to her in a few strides so that he could sit tentatively on the edge of the chair next to her. "What is it?" he asked, searching her face worriedly.

Hermione opened her mouth, but no words came.

"Is it Harry?" Ron tried.

She shook her head, adding after a long moment. "Not really.."

Ron took a slow breath and swallowed himself, a faint red colouring his cheeks. "It's not… me, is it?"

Hermione looked away. She wanted to tell him so much, but now she had the chance the words just wouldn't come.

"It is, isn't it?" Ron's voice was cracking as he spoke. "I never meant it to happen, Hermione. I was… I didn't know what to do… I got carried away…"

Slowly, Hermione looked back to Ron. "It's too late for that now…" she said softly.

Ron blinked. "What do you mean?" He sounded almost desperate. "If you never want to see me again, you never have to after we finish at Hogwarts."

Hermione shook her head, glancing to the ceiling again before she spoke. "It doesn't matter what I want anymore."

"What? You're making no sense…" Ron ran a hand through his hair frustratedly.

Suddenly, Hermione found she couldn't keep quiet any longer, the words just leaping out of her mouth before she could stop them. "…I'm pregnant, Ron."

The silence was agony.

"P…pregnant?" stuttered Ron eventually.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. And don't bother asking if there was anyone else. There wasn't. Just you." She hardly knew what she was saying anymore. She'd thought of this moment so long, terrified of it and yet longing for it, but now it had come, it was so far from what she'd imagined she didn't know what to do.

"God." Ron swallowed hard. "How long have you known?"

"A month or so…" Hermione took a slow breath before she added. "I thought it was the grief at first."

Ron nodded, though Hermione wasn't sure he understood. "Are you going to be able to finish your NEWTs?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know, but I hope so. I don't think I'll be due till late August or September. But McGonnigal might want me to leave before I start to show. After all, what kind of Head Girl gets herself knocked up out of wedlock while she's still in school?" She smiled slightly. Somehow everything seemed so much better now that she'd told him, so much more possible.

Ron smiled too. "I hope you can finish school. It'd be a waste to come this far and not even have NEWTs to show for it."

"I suppose, though school's not been the same since… Harry…" She still couldn't bring herself to say it.

"Since he died?" Ron nodded slowly. "I know what you mean. I still can't believe he's gone…" He paused and then looked up. "Hermione?"

"Yes?" she replied, uncertainly.

"If… if it's a boy… we could name it after Harry…?" stuttered Ron quietly.

Hermione nodded and smiled. "Harry for a boy, Harriet for a girl. I like it."

"Harry Weasly." Ron chuckled. "God, that sounds weird."

Hermione grinned. "Harry Granger, you mean."

Ron shook his head and laughed. "I can just imagine what mum's going to say…"

"Not to mention Fred and George…" chuckled Hermione, all her fears disappearing. "I'm so glad you're pleased."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Ron smiled broadly, getting up from his chair so he could be closer to her. "I love you Hermione. I always have."

"I love you too," responded Hermione softly, smiling as Ron's mouth met hers in a soft, tender kiss. Suddenly, she knew everything was going to be all right.

You should now know what to do, hit that button that says review!

And if you liked that I have a good few other Tamora Pierce fanfics on this site, and who knows, maybe I'll write another Harry Potter one day too.