There once was a lady whose chest was a hole

She found love in order to become a whole

Again-

Crosses mean a lot of things. They mean religion. They mean the medical field, doctors, and nurses. Possibly mercy. It's just two sticks crossed together. It could mean Jesus, speaking of Him…

'Dear Lord, if I may call You Lord, Your magnificence...make this a lie. Make it be a figment of my imagination. Let me wake up in my bed, staring at the ceiling, glad and incredibly relieved. That it was all a dream. And, I will never have sex again….for a good five months.'

Young twenty-year old Hermione Granger was sitting on the toilet, holding a pregnancy test in front of her as if it held a secret message she needed to understand and the obvious message it did tell, from the little red cross, was obviously a lie.

She wasn't even married. She hadn't the slightest idea of what exactly she was doing, but if anything, she knew what she was doing wasn't smart.

It bothered her, irked her even, that she was the only virgin in her whole group of friends. She had witnessed many girls just take home some random guy from Hogsmead for a one night stand. Hermione even had the whole thing down to a science. They would find an attractive guy, be led back into his apartment, and leave before he woke up. It was simple enough, only Hermione didn't leave before he woke up. She stayed and she stayed.

She couldn't see the curly red haired man so clearly when she spied him in Hogsmead. But, she truly did see him now that he was lying on his bed in the sunlight glow. Hermione noticed the passion-filled locks tousled over his pale forehead. His lips were always so thick and squished together as if he were perpetually pouting. Light orange eyelashes fell obediently over his eyes like a thousand ballerina legs during a song. He reminded her of fall. How everything stood out so brilliantly and lively yet there was no sound. He was so quiet. Dead quiet.

She knew she should be attempting to make an escape because this wasn't part of the plan. But, the pale and red boy had caught her attention. It was more like his entire being had wrapped itself around her attention's throat, forcing it to pay.

And, then his head and shoulders began to animate. Shit. Those orange ballerina legs had suddenly opened to reveal striking green eyes. That were staring at hers. Double shit.

"Hi, I'm Ron," he said groggily, turning over.

"I'm Hermione," She squeaked. When she figured that would be the extent to their morning conversation, she mentally slapped herself. She sounded like such a dweeb.

It was her, now, that was red-faced as she snagged up her panty hose and wringed on her bra. She threw her dress on and headed for the door before a soft voice spoke up behind her.

"Wait," he said. Hermione turned around slowly.

"Don't go," he said, leaning up against the bed frame.

And, one night stands slowly turned into simply getting drinks at bars with light conversation. It was mostly Hermione gabbering on and on about her personal life with his occasional nods. She couldn't tell if his face always looked like that or if he couldn't understand her. She decided she would continue, uninterrupted, unless he told her otherwise. She found out he really liked Quidditch, more than the average male specimen. And, when he finally did open up about himself, which she initially was grateful for, it was all he talked about.

Dinner bar conversation metamorphosed into dinner at restaurants, seldomly expensive ones. But, she was happy that it was happening, nonetheless.

It was unexpected when he asked her to move in. Sudden even. They had reached a point where it felt like the intensity and desire of sex-even with just conversation. They had been talking and talking for hours about absolutely nothing, the day, who won the quidditch match, and how Hermione's books she put on hold still hadn't shown up. And, since she stayed over the past four nights, she figured she might as well return home. It was, after all, her home.

After bidding Ron a goodbye, she made her way down the stairs into the nose-biting cold of winter. Her car was parked, not too far from the apartments. She got in and turned the key, but the engine did not kick on. She tried again and nothing. She sat in her car wondering what to do. She couldn't just go back up and ask Ron for help. He wasn't even her boyfriend-he was just the guy she was screwing.

But, to her surprise, he stuck his head out from his apartment window.

"Hey. Is everything alright?" he said.

She opened up her car door and shifted herself out of her seat just enough to look up at him.

"My car won't start!"

"You could stay over again!" he yelled back.

"I can't," she said, and then paused, "I need to go home."

"You know-you could just move in!"

Ron didn't wait for a reply as he stuck his head back inside and shut the window.

One thing she loved about Ron was how he blatantly showed her he cared. It didn't seem exaggerated or over-thought. It wasn't awkward or silly. It just was.

There were many signs of Ron's lo- Well, she couldn't call it that just yet.

So, here she sat with the tiny red cross blaring out that something important was happening.

The front door started creaking, causing Hermione to rise to stand. He was home. She could hear his keys jingle-in that noisy clanging way they always did.

She stood in the kitchen-living room area.

He faced her, gauging her reaction, while taking note of her disheveled appearance. He was carrying grocery bags that he casually let slide to the floor.

Ron slowly moved closer toward her, putting her face in his hands.

"I need to know how you feel about me because we're about to become something. So, I need to know-Ron, do you love-"

He kissed her.

"Yes, Hermione Jean Granger. I am in love with you."

She was out of breath, and her shaky hands motioned to the pregnancy test.

He pulled her head towards his and rested on it.

"And, becoming something-is quite alright with me."