A/N I'll keep this brief, since I usually skip over this part of a story. Just wanted to say hello, this is the first story I've uploaded in a while, but I write constantly and I'm involved in a fair few literate RPs so my writing skills can stay relatively sharp. If I get a good reception for this story I might try writing something multichaptered. I hope I don't offend anyone with this story, it's meant to be very tragic and I hope I handle it sensibly. It is a bit sad so... be warned about that. However, there is a happy ending so don't dispair! ...Hm, not as brief as I'd hoped. Anyway, enjoy!

Hermione stares out at the forest in front of her, which is shivering slightly with the force of the wind. Most of the trees are dead, but the branches still sway and flick. She simply can't stand it any more, the guilt, the hate, the loneliness; she wishes that she could throw the locket in to the water and have done with it, instead of staying here and doing nothing. Nothing but waiting. Did she really care if Voldemort take over? Things would calm down eventually, right? He couldn't keep up this tyranny forever, or he'd have nobody to rule over – just the dead.

She's sick of it: she misses her parents; she wants to sleep in a proper bed; she wants a shower; she wants to wash her clothes properly, instead of a quick scouring charm. She had never realised how dependent she was on technology and other people; she couldn't cook and she couldn't clean without a dishwasher or a washing machine.

Tears start to roll as she feels the total despair fill her. She hadn't asked for this, she was an eighteen year old girl, not a soldier, when she had chosen her friends at eleven, she hadn't known it would come to this. She should be thinking about normal things, boys and make up and A-levels, not wars and dying – oh god, she couldn't die yet, she was too young, she was still a virgin.

Her body shakes as her cries become harder. She's afraid, why can't this all stop? Harry had already nearly been killed and even now he didn't have any wand, they couldn't share a wand! Harry was mad at her and she knew that he had every right to be… Ron was gone, that was her fault too.

"Hermione?" Comes Harry's soft voice, "Hermione, are you okay?"

She nods fervently, trying to get her body to stay still and scrubs at her eyes, "Y-yes," She chokes out, but even the act of speaking makes her begin to cry harder and soon she's in floods again, "Just… Leave me alone."

"Hermione, what's wrong?" He sits beside her, wrapping his arms tightly around her and suddenly she felt a little safer, hugging him back.

"I'm scared…" She admits, sobbing in to his shirt.

He strokes her hair, "So am I…" he admits, eyes shifting awkwardly away from her, "I'm terrified…"

Slowly they look up and their eyes meet, Hermione's tears stopping. Harry looks at her, captivated, noticing the tears caught in her eyelashes that glitter in the winter sun. Suddenly their lips meet in a soft kiss that despite the tenderness is filled with fear and desperation. It escalates quickly, Hermione's hands running through Harry's hair, which was a little longer than normal due to the fact that he hadn't been able to get it cut in a while.

They somehow manage to stand up but then promptly fall over again, doing an awkward shuffle-crawl back to the tent. Harry is an enthusiastic (though admittedly not very good) kisser, hands roaming around Hermione's back. He pulls her shirt up and touches the skin, stroking the small of her back. She shivers, pressing against him. Nobody has ever touched he like this, so close and affectionate… so sensual.

She tugs on his hair, pulling away from his mouth for breath and he dives in to her neck, sucking and licking. She moans as he nips a sensitive spot on her neck, tilting her head to better accommodate him. "H-Harry…" She breathes, arching.

His hands stroke her stomach, pushing her shirt up again to expose her torso. She moans as he bit down on her neck, hands cupping her breasts and massaging lightly over the worn bra she was wearing. She tries to reciprocate; tracing her fingers over the contours of his muscles which he seems to like judging by the way he shivers and presses in to her touch.

He pulls off her shirt, throwing it aside and takes a hold of her shoulders, pushing her down flat against the floor and looking her over. The war doesn't matter right now as she's stuck under his gaze, arms pressed self consciously to her sides. She suddenly feels a little more normal, cursing herself for not packing more sexy knickers and wishing she had a nicer bra. They weren't great thoughts but they were normal and that was the important thing. Her nipples were hard enough to be seen over her bra and he ran the pad of his thumb over one causing her to moan, her body going hot.

There's heat pooling in her stomach and her legs feel shaky, but luckily she's lying down. She's never thought about Harry in this way but he's very handsome like this, black fringe falling over his green eyes, his skin a little tanned from so much time practicing Quiddich in the summer term and prominent but not ridiculous muscles. She doesn't regret it but she tries not to think about it for fear that she does begin to regret it.

She reaches up to undress him, dropping his shirt to the side. Then, she reaches around to feel his thighs, making him shudder and gropes his arse. He's got a nice arse, though she's not really sure what makes it nice and she squeezes lightly. He's got a sexy moan too and she tugs on his belt loops, pulling his jeans down. She swallows and looked at his boxers which are quite clearly tented. She reaches out and touches his erection, stroking her hand over it and causing him to gasp and his hips jerk. She watches his face as he does, fascinated as she strokes and palms.

Eventually he pulls her hand away and leans down, kissing her as he delicately slips the locket off her. She hadn't even noticed she had been wearing it, too wrapped up in the touches. She arches her back to remove her bra and lays it beside her head neatly and then he removes her jeans, which have frayed at the edges. Harry, fascinated by her breasts, leans down to play with her nipple in his teeth. The heat starts pooling in her stomach again and she starts to ache a little with arousal. She's sure her knickers are wet now.

He touches her centre and indeed her knickers are wet and they get wetter still with his touches. He slides them down and she lifts her legs, shaking lightly. She can't quite see what he's doing but oh god his fingers feel good. They're warm and a little rough from all the housework he'd done in the past. He rubs her clitoris and her hips bucked, a yell leaving her mouth. Oh god it's good. She's touched herself occasionally before but it's never felt as good as it does now and her throat feels oddly tight.

She reaches up and pulls his boxers down with feigned confidence, eyeing his cock. She doesn't have any frame of reference and it looks strange and a bit intimidating, standing erect and jutting out in front of Harry. He looks at her and she looks at him and they don't say anything but they both want it. She throbs with arousal and she feels like she needs him inside her.

He positions himself and lifts her legs, staring at her once more to make certain that this is what she wants. She doesn't waver; just pulls him in to a bruising kiss. If there's something she trusts Harry with it's her virginity; she trusts him with her life, this is small in comparison.

There's a slightly awkward moment as he guides himself in where nothing's happening. Then he's in and it does really hurt as she had expected it to but underneath the throb of being stretched in a way that she hasn't before is a spark of pleasure and she whines encouragingly.

Harry looks absolutely overwhelmed and he can't control himself, beginning to thrust in to her. She doesn't tell him to stop, she feels the pleasure building, the heat pooling again in her stomach. Eventually they build up a rhythm, punctuated by little gasps and moans. She feels so filthy, fucking on the floor of a tent in the forest but right now that just spurs on her arousal.

He comes quickly, not surprising as she believes it's his first time too, but he's not one to leave a friend behind and keeps thrusting until she follows, nearly screaming with the intensity of it all.

He pulls out and lies beside her, eyes cast down, "Hermione…" He begins but she cuts him off with a kiss.

"Don't speak. I don't want us to regret it." She explains. He nods. A warm trickle of blood slips down her thigh with the cum as she stands and he looks alarmed. She rolls her eyes, "It's just my hymen." She says. She quickly does a cleaning charm on herself and feels slightly better, choosing not to dress again for a bit, enjoying the freedom that comes with nakedness.

It's not long after that she feels hot wet kisses down her neck as she's about to sit at the table to read (still naked) and smiles, looking up at Harry who smiles back before bending her over the table. They have sex a few more times that day, as if there is no war on, indulging in each other, and experiment a little more.

That night and the nights following they sleep in the same bed. They don't have sex, they just cuddle because it's cold out and it's better than sleeping alone. They do, in the lighter moments, kiss and sometimes even have sex but mostly they're just there for each other, it's brought them closer together and they hold each other to show that they're still alive.

Then suddenly Ron came back and ruined it all. That fist night Ron was back Hermione looked over at Harry's bed, staring and watching him stare back before she choked out, "…Goodnight, Harry." and climbed in to her bed, wrapping her arms around himself in place of Harry's.

She suddenly realised what she had done and felt horror wash over herself. She suddenly felt as if she had cheated on Ron and they weren't even dating, she had never really wanted to either. She felt that somehow Ron would know wherever they had sex – it seemed so obvious to her and sometimes she would catch Harry staring guiltily. She wanted to clean the entirety of the tent or burn it or something to get rid of it before Ron found out.

A couple weeks after Ron's return Hermione wakes up to a sudden bout of sickness, suddenly darting out the tent to the trees, throwing up in the bushes. Harry's instantly with her, holding her hair out of her face and rubbing her back as she spat out the bile and shook. "Blimey, are you okay?"

She nods, "Y-yeah…" Wiping her mouth, "I must have eaten something." She stands, taking deep breaths.

"Oh, okay." He says, still rubbing her back, "Tell me if you need anything," He smiles.

I need you to hug me… She thinks but doesn't say out loud because it's not appropriate any more. She just smiles and rubs her stomach which is feeling a lot better now and sits back at the table shakily. Nothing to worry about, just a little food poisoning or something, it was bound to happen at some point.

However… it keeps happening until she felt completely awful. A week later and she keeps wondering why it was happening, every morning she just kept getting sick… oh god. It dawned on her with cold dread in her stomach. Had she and Harry used protection? She wasn't sure they had. Oh god, oh god! She shake with fear as she looks around at Harry and Ron who are chatting to see if they've seen her sudden reaction. She wants to cry… Surely… It can't be.

She waits for them to go to sleep before shakily and fearfully rifling through her bag for the book she needed. She flicks though it and performed the spell. A column of grey smoke pours out of her wand and hovers in front of her. She takes a deep breath as she waits for it to change colour, heart thumping against her chest. It starts to change…yellow. She checks the book even though she knows what it is. Yes… pregnant. She starts to sob quietly, drawing her knees up to her stomach.

She's pregnant.

She cries harder.

Pregnant.

She sobs even harder, rocking herself gently.

Oh god, pregnant.

She's surprised neither Harry and Ron haven't woken up, she's sobbing so loud and hard, and it's not pretty. Her nose and eyes are streaming until there's no dry space on her face, there's mucous flowing from her nose. It's disgusting but she's got a baby inside her, who cares if she's got a little snot on her face? She cries until she can't any more, when it's already getting light. She wipes her face on her sleeve and tries to compose herself.

What should she do? Should she get rid of it? No, she couldn't. She was a firm believer in the right to abortion but she didn't want one herself. But she was in a war! She couldn't raise a baby while she was fighting an evil villain. She could try to though… maybe Molly would raise it for her.

Then… should she tell Harry? No, no, no. She couldn't do that! It would distract him and stop him from fighting Voldemort because he had a child. Oh god, their child. They couldn't risk Ron getting angry and leaving again either. No… she would keep it a secret until she could see Molly again. There were glamours she could do to hide the bump when it gets prominent. Somehow she's convinces herself that she can do it.

Two or three weeks later, (it's hard to keep track of time while living in the forest) they decide to go to see Lovegood. Throughout the time she keeps her hand on her stomach where she can feel the tiny bump, though it's not visible through the glamour. It gives her comfort, makes her feel like she'll have a purpose after this war is over.

When the explosion happens she's absolutely petrified the baby will be hurt, curling up on herself as they apparate out. As soon as they get away she dashes out to hide and perform the pregnancy test again, to make sure the unthinkable hadn't happened. The smoke is still yellow. This time she wept with relief.

Harry and Ron, unsurprisingly, didn't notice anything. The mood swings, the morning sickness and the odd cravings, they were oblivious. Most embarrassingly, she started to feel really horny, desperately wanting Harry so much that she could barely contain it. Half the nights she wants to creep in to his bed but she refuses not to on principle. After all, sex with Harry got her in to this but it wasn't going to get her out again. Instead she becomes an expert in secretly masturbating, usually while Harry was on watch because she wouldn't have minded so much if he caught her rather than Ron and Ron sleeps like a log.

Then suddenly, they are being attacked. They fight and she fights harder, for the child. It doesn't make a difference, they are captured and Bellatrix takes her and throws her on the floor. She begs and cries and pleas but it only serves to encourage her.

"Crucio!" She hisses and Hermione screams. Her body is convulsing and writhing and she sobs. The pain doesn't hurt as much as the fear. She feels dead inside and just screams hollowly. The screaming makes her feel better. She refuses not to say anything to Bellatrix, what would be the point? The damage has been done and it wouldn't stop her.

She's pulled up by Ron and taken over to Dobby. She's shaking and barely notices what's happening. The first time she realises where she is it's when she sees Dobby lying dead on the floor. She cries silently, wanting to hug Harry, tell him it will all be better but she doesn't want to lie. She still feels numb.

Later she's up in her room. This time she dreads checking the pregnancy, this time she's afraid. So for a while she just sits there, staring at the wall. Eventually she musters up the courage to perform the spell. The column of grey smoke appears as usual and she stares, a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.

Blue.

Oh god… She begins to sob again, feeling so empty… Why should she do anything any more?

The door opens but she can't stop herself. Suddenly she's being hugged, "Oh, 'Ermione!" Came a French voice and she clung on to Fleur, crying in to her shoulder, "What is wrong, ma cherie?" She strokes Hermione's back comfortingly.

It all comes out, sex with Harry, morning sickness, the pregnancy, fears about Ron finding out. Fleur listens kindly and doesn't say anything, just comforts her. Then, she dries Hermione's face and gets her a drink. She tells Hermione about the time she miscarried. She had been seventeen – not long after the tournament actually and she had gotten pregnant. She hadn't wanted to tell her parents, too embarrassed, but it turned out the decision had been made for her.

Hermione feels better knowing she's not alone, that someone understands this pain. She eventually begins to get over it and grows close to Fleur. Then they leave and continue on their quest more focussed than before.

She isn't sure why she kisses Ron that day. She doesn't want to, it just happens. Then Harry gets back with Ginny so she doesn't see any reason not to stay with Ron. Everyone expects them to and she learns to love him in a special way. Better than being lonely…

When they're twenty five they decide to start having children. There's nothing else to do. After a year nothing happens. They wait and they try and they plan it so carefully but they simply can't, so they go to the doctor.

"Huh…" The mediwhich says. Huh is never a good thing to hear at the doctors, 'huh' his never good.

"What is it?" Ron asked, hands on Hermione's shoulders comfortingly.

"Well there's not anything permanently wrong. There's already something in there." She smiles.

"What?" Ron looks excited, "You mean she's pregnant?" Hermione stays silent.

"Not exactly…" She says,. Holding out the diagnosis parchment, "Mrs Weasley, have you ever been pregnant before?"

Hermione goes cold, Ron just laughs, "Course not!" He says, "You were a virgin before me, you said." Hermione stays quiet. "…Hermione?" He says, a little more unsure.

She finally snaps out of it, "Course, Ron. Who else would there have been?" She smiles, stroking his hand but the seed of doubt has been sown.

"Well… what happened – whether you realised or not, is that you got pregnant and miscarried. However the embryo wasn't flushed out your system so although you're not pregnant your body believes it is." She shakes nearly in perceivably, that time was coming back to haunt her, oh god… "It's a fairly rare thing but easy to get rid of. Just a simply procedure will flush out the dead embryo and you'll have no problem." She smiles.

She nods, "Thank you." and shakes the medi-witch's hand wanting to get out of there.

Ron doesn't speak about it until they get home.

"Whose was the baby?" He asks coldly.

She pales, "Yours, it must have been." She insists.

"Hermione, don't play me for an idiot. We've always been so careful until we wanted to get pregnant." He says coldly.

She starts to cry, "It was before we were going out. I would never cheat on you." She insists now, giving up on lying. Lying to Ron, lying to herself, "I didn't mean for it to happen."

"So you lied to me when you said you were a virgin?"

"Y-you asked." She sobs, "I panicked… You would have been angry if I'd said no. You would have asked questions."

"So who was it, huh?" He asks, pacing, "Krum?" She looks down and shakes her head, "Was it…was it one of my brothers?" He shudders. She shook her head more vehemently, "Someone at school?" She nods slowly.

"Oh my god." Ron breathes, "It's Harry, isn't it?"

She doesn't say anything. Tears slide down her cheeks silently. She needs Fleur.

"Oh my god!" He yells angrily, slamming his fist on the wall, "How could you?" He asks, "My best friend."

"W-we weren't going out," She mumbled, "I would never cheat on you, I love you!" She insisted truthfully. She would never cheat on him. Unless Harry asked her, she thinks, then she would probably leave in a heartbeat. What a horrible revelation, she doesn't want to loose Ron, but she doesn't love him properly either.

"When?" He asks. She stays silent, "When!" He asks, grabbing her arms roughly, enough to shock her but not hurt her, he would never hurt her.

"In the forest…you were gone, I was so s-scared and it just happened." She sobs, tears running down her face, "It just happened, Ron." It had 'just happened' quite a few times that day, she recalls.

He shakes his head disdainfully, "How long was I gone for, five minutes? You couldn't wait to hop in to bed with him could you?"

"Ron!" She says shrilly, "Y-you don't know what you're saying, you're angry, calm down!"

"Calm down?" He yells, "You fucked our best friend!" He screams. "That bastard!" He clenches his fists, "That bloody bastard!"

"Ron, don't," She cries, "You don't mean to do all this."

"How can you be sure?" He yells, "I don't know you any more, how should you know me?" She doesn't know how to answer, mouth opening and closing silently.

Ron starts to leave and she runs at him, clutching his sleeve, "Please don't! H-Harry, he doesn't know that I… that I got…" Sob.

He wrenches his hand away, "I guess it's time he found out." And he leaves.

She curls up on the floor and sobs uncontrollably. Fleur comes over, maybe she had heard from her husband that something was wrong, maybe Hermione called her over, everything was such a blur. Fleur rubs her back until she calms down and make her another drink. For a while Hermione believes it will all be okay but Ron never comes back. Fleur stays with her dutifully for a few days until she can function like a human again.

A week later there's a knock on the door. Hermione is curled up on the sofa and assumes that it's Fleur come to give her some food. "Hermione." breathes Harry. She looks over, horrified.

"What are you doing here?" She asks, wiping her eyes.

"Is it true?" He asks.

She looks down in embarrassment, "Yes." She admits.

"Why?" He asks softly, "Why didn't you tell me?"

She looks away, "Why do you think? We were in the middle of a war." She spits out, her frustration at the whole situation finally manifesting itself, "Ron had just come back and you've seen what he did when he found out."

"I could have protected you."

"No, you couldn't have. You would have been distracted. Would you have tried to sacrifice yourself for us all if you'd had a baby at home?" She stands, shaking slightly. "You didn't protect me from Bellatrix." She hisses venomously.

"Oh god…" He breathes, "Oh god, was that when you lost it?"

She glares angrily and nods, "Yes." She just wants to hurt him now, so he can feel even a small fraction of the pain she felt going through all this. "If you wanted to protect me you should have done it then!" She screeches, starting to cry again.

Harry doesn't react like she thought he would, he just hugs her tightly, "I'm so sorry." He murmurs in to her ear, "I wanted to protect you so badly." He admits. "All that time… I wanted to hug you. I wanted us to sleep together like we did those couple of weeks. I felt safe with you."

She sobs silently in to his shoulder for a good few minutes before she can muster up the courage and breath to speak, "Then sleep with me tonight."

"But Ron…" He says dazed.

"Oh, Harry…" She wipes her eyes, "You and I both know Ron isn't coming back."

He nods slowly. "Yeah…" He sighs. "Let me take you to bed." And they walk to the guest room where they lay down together as they had when they were seventeen. No more words just blissful, comforting sleep.

Things begin to get better – after getting a lot worse. When Ginny hears she reacts similarly to Ron, storming out on Harry. Hermione and Harry begin to sleep together for the comfort they couldn't find in anyone else. Ron eventually comes around, after Luna manages to talk him right and made him apologise. Hermione's glad that he can move on and Luna's a lovely girl. Ginny takes a little longer, Mrs Weasley nearly forces her to apologise (though Hermione thinks she has more reason to be angry than Ron) but she does come around. She actually ends up with an ex-beaubatons boy that Fleur introduces her to.

As for Hermione, she's never really the same. Would you be if you ended up pregnant during a war; lost the baby when you're tortured (she still sometimes wakes up in pain); marry a man you don't love because the one you realise you do is marrying someone else and then loose the one you married – who you did in the end love?

No, she was never the same person as she would have been before the war. She was never normal, she never had to worry about normal seventeen year old things and now she didn't have to worry about normal twenty eight year old things. The mental scars will never heal, the people lost will never come back.

But it will be okay, she knows that much.

She'll make it through because Harry's there to hold her at night. He's not always the best boyfriend. Sometimes he forgets important occasions – he's never been good at remembering birthdays anyway, but he's always there.

Always.

When she needs him, he's there.

And to her that's worth every forgotten birthday. She would live in a tent for the rest of her life as they had when they first found each other just as long as he lives there with her. Scouring charms and hunger would mean nothing.

Because she loves him.

And he loves her.