Chapter 2
Weeks after the war ended, Hermione found herself in the waiting room of St. Mungo's with a nasty stomach flu that seemed unwilling to go away. At least, that's what she had believed until she awoke that morning. After the fourth straight morning of illness, Molly Weasley had advised that she see a Healer.

"Miss Granger, we have the results of your test," a kind-faced, matronly woman told her before escorting her back to the examination room.

"What is it?" she asked, noticing the happy smile the mediwitch wore.

"Congratulations, Miss Granger. You're pregnant," she replied cheerfully.

But Hermione saw it as anything but good news. At the time, she hadn't thought herself capable of becoming pregnant. Several months on the run and poor nutrition had all but put an end to her menstrual cycle. She worried how Harry and Ron would take the news. They had never found out what had truly happened to her at Malfoy Manor, and she had intended to keep it that way.

More worrisome than telling her friends was telling Draco. They hadn't seen each other since the battle, and she wondered if he'd gone out of his way to stay away from her once the fighting ended. She had noticed his reluctance to send any curse her way when they fought in the Room of Requirement before Vincent Crabbe set the place on fire. More than that, he hadn't allowed either of his henchmen to harm her either.

She would see him soon. The Death Eater trials would begin in less than a week's time, and the Malfoys were among the first to be tried. When the trial ended and Draco was cleared of all charges, she would tell him the news. She expected nothing of him, sure that he would want nothing to do with his half-blood bastard of a child. But, she reasoned, he had surprised her once with his kindness and desire to do the right thing. Perhaps she would experience that a second time.

She felt a renewed sense of confidence when she left the hospital to return to the Burrow, the family home of the Weasleys. Molly loitered about the kitchen making lunch while her children enjoyed the warm summer day outside. "Harry and Ron around?" she asked, glad that the smell of roasting chicken did not turn her stomach.

"Outside, dear," Molly informed her. "Did everything go well with the Healer?"

Hermione nodded. "Fine," she replied, school her features to give nothing away. She made her way outside to find the two men with whom she had shared most of her life. They lounged by the pond, soaking in the summer sun, when she found then. "We need to talk."

Ron looked up and smiled briefly before noticing the look of abject seriousness written on her face. Both boys stood and followed her inside. None spoke as they climbed the stairs to the topmost floor and entered Ron's bedroom. The walls were still painted a bright orange to match his Chudley Cannons bedspread. The walls were bedecked with posters of his favorite Quidditch players and the floor was littered with dirty clothes. Pushing aside Ron's pajamas, Hermione took a seat on the edge of his bed.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked when she said nothing.

She sat up a bit straighter and cleared her throat. "I'm, um, I'm pregnant," she told them.

Ron's face burned a bright, angry red. "Whose?" he demanded.

Tears burned her eyes. They both seemed to recall the kiss they shared before the battle begun only weeks ago. Hermione had spent years wishing to be on the receiving end of Ron's romantic intentions, but nothing had ever come of it. "Draco Malfoy's," she whispered.

"When did that happen?" Harry inquired, trying his hardest to keep his anger in check.

She had known she would need a cover story. It wouldn't do to tell them about the events at Malfoy Manor. With Draco's trial fast approaching, she would do nothing to hinder his chances of a not guilty verdict. "After the war," she told them. "We found each other outside after the battle ended, and one thing led to another. It was a one time thing, I swear. We were both just so happy to have survived that we weren't thinking clearly."

Ron left, having heard enough, but Harry stayed behind. "I can't believe you would do this to him," he said disappointedly. "Who was it, just last year, crying because he didn't know how you felt about him? I saw how upset you were when he left us. I saw how happy the two of you were when we thought you'd finally gotten together. And then you throw it all away to let Malfoy in your knickers. Malfoy, Hermione. The second you tell him about this baby, he'll do whatever he can to prevent it from being born."

"You don't know that," she argued, letting her tears fall. "You don't know him. Since the two of you met, you've wanted to believe so badly that he was evil. Guess what, Harry Potter, you're wrong. He's not the same nasty little boy he was when we were eleven. He's grown up. It's something you might want to try."

Hermione rose from the bed, but Harry was hot on her heels. He caught hold of her wrist before she could leave Ron's bedroom. "Believe what you want about him, but Malfoy will never change," he warned. "Until you sort out your priorities and remember who your real friends are, I suggest you find someplace else to stay."

Pulling her hand out of his grasp, she shook her head sadly. "It'll always be Ron's side that you take," she noted. "I never really was good enough to be your friend, was I. You needed me because I was clever. But when I was of no use to you, I was disposable. Here I thought you and Ron would support me, but I should have known that I would be wrong. You would really cast me out because I made one mistake, Harry? Did seven years mean nothing?"

Sighing, he looked past her to the empty hallway. "Goodbye, Hermione."