A/N: This was just something I wrote while working on my other story the other night. It wasn't going well, so I started writing this to refresh my brain. I don't know if I'm going to add to it yet.

I played with my quill, unable to focus on the essay I was supposed to be grading for Professor McGonagall. It was the last one; I had managed quite effectively to shut out my own thoughts when grading the rest of the first years' papers. But now, with the pile nearly gone—one sole paper remained to be graded—I found it difficult to keep that wall up around my own thoughts. I bit my lip, a habit I had picked up to better handle anxious moments. The poor kid didn't know how to write an essay. This, of course, just made it more difficult to grade the paper instead of focusing on my own thoughts.

What was I going to tell everyone? What would Ginny say? Or Harry? Or Ron? I bit my lip harder. God, I didn't want to be there to see his reaction. I struggled through another sentence of the paper. I tried to reconstruct the wall around the thoughts overwhelming my mind. I crossed out poorly written sentences, reconstructing his essay so that he would know for the next assignment. Finally, I wrote the grade at the top and placed it on the top of the completed stack. I stood up, placing the lid on the ink jar and placing the quill next to it. I grabbed the stack of essays, returning to Professor McGonagall's classroom. I opened the door with a flick of my wand; I set the essays down on the desk and turned to walk back out of the room.

"Thank you," Professor McGonagall said as she walked through the door herself.

I fidgeted uneasily.

Her eyebrows pulled down in a look of concern. "Are you alright, Hermione?"

I bit my lip again. "Actually, would it be possible to use your fireplace? I need to speak with Harry and Ginny about some things, and it would be much easier to use the Floo Network than walking to Hogsmeade to apparate."

She looked over me then nodded. "Yes, of course you may." And she walked out the door, leading me to her office. She opened the door for me but didn't enter the office herself. "I have some lesson plans to finish for my N.E.W.T. students. I'm sure you can manage the fireplace on your own," she explained. With that, she walked away.

With a deep breath, I walked over to the fireplace. Harry had said I was welcome at any time at Grimmauld Place. Hopefully that was truth. I grabbed a handful of floo powder from a pot sitting on the mantle and stepped into the fireplace. "12 Grimmauld Place," I said firmly as I threw the floo powder down.

Immediately green flames engulfed me, and I was sucked into the Floo Network. Only a few moments passed before I felt myself falling into a new fireplace. I opened my eyes to see the living room of Grimmauld looking back at me. Harry was on his feet, wand at the ready and Ginny tucked protectively behind him.

Recognition lit his face as I stepped out of the fireplace. He lowered his wand. Ginny ran up and hugged me tightly. I hugged her back. "What's wrong?" Harry asked before I pulled away from his wife.

"Are you alright?" she asked as she pulled herself out of the hug. Her eyes were full of concern.

"Nothing is necessarily wrong," I responded. I fidgeted with the hem of my skirt.

"What's going on? Who's here?" Shit. It was wrong. I had hoped he wouldn't be here. Would that mean that Lavender was here, too? That would just be my fucking luck, wouldn't it?

Ron walked into the room but stopped short when he saw me. He gulped, looking at the ground. "Oh. I'll just leave you to talk." And he walked right back out of the room.

It had been just under three months, and we still weren't on speaking terms. It had been a horrific break up. And he didn't even know what I did in response to that night. The night he told me that he, in fact, didn't like me as much as he thought when we had kissed during the Battle of Hogwarts almost a year ago. The relationship had, in all truth, become bland—even boring. I mean, the emotions had settled, and it had reached that point where you're either content with the person or wishing that you felt as you used to. I was content with Ron. Turns out that he was wishing that he felt the way he used to. He told me he was tired of the relationship; that it obviously wasn't working. Then two weeks later, he was dating Lavender Brown again.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Come sit down," she said, motioning for me to sit on the couch. "What's up?"

I gulped. "Umm…Well…" Harry reached out and patted my hand. I looked down. "I'm pregnant," I whispered as quickly as I could.

"What?" Harry asked.

I opened my mouth to say it again, but Ginny spoke before I could. "I know you heard her because I definitely did." I looked up. She was looking at me with these sad, sorry eyes. "You're sure?"

I nodded. "I even went to a muggle doctor. I'm eleven weeks today." Harry let out a breath. I could see both of them running through the numbers, trying to figure out the timeline.

"It's Ron's?" He asked me.

I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood. My hands twisted together in nervousness. "I…" I gulped. "I don't know."

Because the night Ron dumped me, I sought out to numb the burning pain in my chest. I left Gryffindor tower, looking for anything to make it seem like I might be able to feel again.

I didn't know because the night that Ron told me he was done, I slept with Draco Malfoy.