I Was Walking with a Ghost

Chapter 2

If happiness were a tangible feeling, Hermione would be wrapped in it, as if two familiar arms were holding her in the early morning. An internal warmth and outer coolness, accompanied by a psychological sense of safety and satisfaction prevented her from waking up. She felt…exhausted to say the least, as was proven by her first three fruitless attempts to open her eyes or bring herself back to consciousness. Finally she yawned, and as she brought her hand to her mouth, her arm cut through a strange cool air pocket and the feeling around her dissipated, giving her the strength to open her eyes.

Slowly, gingerly she sat up, propping herself up on her elbows. Her stomach growled, not surprisingly, and she pushed herself into a full upright position as she brought her hand to her abdomen and rubbed it slowly. "Good morning." She glanced to the left, her tired mind creating delusions that brought her to expect her husband to be sleeping next to her, his orange hair ruffled and the sheets pulled around him at strange angles. That was why it hurt her so much when her logic took over again and she remembered that the sunlight playing on the empty area was not just an illusion, that she was really alone.

She had little time to ponder this, as her baby decided it was hungry now and signaled to its mother with a series of kicks, bringing Hermione out of her trance. "Alright, let's find us some breakfast." She stepped into her midnight blue slippers and slowly made her way down the stairs to the kitchen, which was not so easy these days as she was very sore from her neck to her legs. As she entered the kitchen, she picked up her wand, which she had laying on the counter next to the stove, and flicked it towards the tea kettle, which filled itself with water and set itself on the already lit stove. With another wave, she set two pieces of bread to work toasting themselves. Sitting down at the table, she sighed, remembering those days when she could actually pull her chair all the way in and not be hindered by a stomach the size of a large beach ball. She reached over to the other side of the table and grabbed a black textbook with a magenta and gold bookmark in it. The cover of the book read "St. Mungo's University for the Healing Arts: Standard Medical Spells, Level1" in gold lettering.

For the past few months, Hermione had been studying at the education wing of St. Mungo's to become a registered Healer. Her university major had suddenly shifted from Arithmancy, which she chose due to its practicality and logic, to Medicinal Magic after she had become a widow and single mother-to-be. As her breakfast cooked, she read a chapter about how to magically set bones, her wand tucked behind her ear and concentration apparent in the fact that she was biting on her bottom lip. She was just about to read how to fix a rib when a loud knock from the front door startled her from her learning. "A visitor? This early?" She glanced at the clock above the sink, an analog that was shaped like witch's hat and read the time as 11:47 AM. "Oh dear..." She had no idea that she had slept in so late, as she usually woke up by 8 or 9.

A second knock brought her to her feet and she left the book on the table as she made her way through the pale green living room and the entry way. She opened the door and smiled as she saw that Neville was standing on her porch, holding the Daily Prophet in his hand. "Good morning, Neville. Come in." She stood aside and opened the door for him. Though a few inches taller and with a slightly receding hairline (which was unfortunate considering he was just now pushing 30), Neville was still the same as always, kind and bumbling with a broad boyish smile on his face.

"Brought your paper." As he stepped inside, Hermione thanked him and took the paper from his hands, placing it on the kitchen table as they entered the white-walled room, which was decorated with a variety of homey touches, though not as crowded as the Burrow's walls had been. The kettle whistled as she took a seat again, not being able to really stand much.

"Take a seat. Would you like some tea?" When Neville nodded, Hermione stood to grab some mugs, but he stopped her, insisting on doing it himself. As he was pouring the tea, Hermione closed her book and pushed it back to the corner of the table. "Nice of you to stop by. How's Luna doing?"

"She's fine, watching the twins." He grabbed the toast as the toaster (one of the Muggle conveniences that Hermione had retained) dinged to signal it was done. Bringing over the plate of toast and the tea, he sat across from her with a smile on his face. "Arthur started sparking from the fingers last night, and Artemis actually started reading some spell words." He beamed, feeling extremely proud of his three year olds. It hadn't been his choice to name his children Arthur and Artemis, Artie and Arty for short, but Luna had been adamant about it after reading that giving twins similar names would confuse Cradle Robbing Pixies that might just want to take one of them away.

"That's brilliant. I'm so happy for you two." She was, too. Well, on the outside. On the inside she felt a sense of utter loneliness, brought on by the fact that her baby would never reap the benefit of having an overly proud father bragging about it, smiling goofily at something so basic as saying a simple Latin word. But regardless, she still smiled as she drank her tea, eyeing one of her two closest…only friends left.

Neville glanced at the woman across the table, his smile turning to a look of compassion and concern. "How have you been holding up?" A light sigh from Hermione was enough to preemptively demonstrate that no matter what she said, she was not all fine.

"It's been a little difficult, I admit. These past few days I've been so sore, it's been just awful. And…" She dropped her voice subconsciously as if out of respect for the dead. "I've been thinking a lot about Ron." She sat back and ran her hand along her stomach, feeling her baby moving around inside as she ate her toast. "This baby is going to be born in a few days, I can feel it. And I just don't know if I'm emotionally ready yet. I know it's been over eight months and by all standard logic I should at least have been able to pull myself together by now and-"

"Hermione, there's no logic involved when something like this happens." He reached over and patted her forearm gently as a friendly gesture. "You've been through Hell and back, and you've held your own brilliantly, You've had so much loss, but you're still able to think of what you have to gain." He motioned to her stomach and gave her a comforting smile. If the years had done anything for him, it had given him at least a little insight into the world and the people in it, especially his friends. "Besides, you're having a baby, it's normal to be emotional."

"Yes, I suppose you're right. I'm just glad that I was lucky enough to find such wonderful godparents like you and Luna." She shifted her gaze momentarily to the kitchen window, looking at that willow tree again. It seemed almost less droopy than it was the night before, but that could just be her perspective on it.

"Anytime. How's old Neville Jr. coming along anyway?" He cast a joking grin at her and winked playfully.

"Very funny. You know very well I'm not naming this baby Neville if it's a boy…" Neville chimed in as they spoke in unison. "The baby's name will be Ronald Harry Granger-Weasley." Hermione gave him one of those "You're still a child aren't you?" looks, but couldn't help chuckling. "That's right."

"And what if it's a girl? You've never told me that."

Hermione stirred her tea, thinking for a moment. "I hadn't really considered it. I suppose I will name her after Ginny, or perhaps after her grandmothers." She closed her eyes momentarily, trying not to think about those three women, none of which were currently alive to see their soon to be grandchild, or in Ginny's case, niece or nephew.

Neville finished up his tea silently. His mind had drifted to the thought of Ginny when Hermione spoke of her. He had always liked her, and they had dated briefly about six years back, though it really wasn't meant to be. He had moved on, and by the time she had died, Neville and Luna had already gotten married and were the parents of two young children, though Neville knew he would always have a soft spot for the red haired girl in his heart. Finally, he stood up and brought his mug to the sink. "I should get going. I had to run to the store, but I figured I should drop by and see how my favorite genius friend is doing."

Hermione smiled, pushing herself into a standing position. "It was great to see you again." She walked him to the door and gave him a hug before he left, which was a little awkward because she had to lean so far forward to get her arms around him.

"Same here, Hermione. Take care of yourself. And remember, as soon as you think that baby's coming, you let us know and we'll Apparate right over." He gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek and waved goodbye to her, rubbing her stomach in a loving sort of way.

"I will. Say hello to Luna for me." She waved to him as she closed the door and returned to the kitchen to finish her breakfast and read the paper.

Meanwhile, Neville walked down the front path of their home, on the way to the store. As he passed by their mailbox, which Hermione still used to keep up with some of her Muggle friends, he waved to a very nearly transparent red headed figure that was leaning against it. "Afternoon, Ron." He placed his hands in his pockets and whistled as he turned right down the sidewalk, his mind only beginning to work after a few seconds. He stopped in his tracks and did a double take, looking behind his shoulder, but nobody was there. Confused now, Neville shook his head and continued down the street. "I need to stop reading all those ghost stories that Luna shows me…"