A/N: My deepest apologies on the delay. More at Author's Note at the end.

I- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -I

Scattered Pieces

Chapter Four:
The Motherly Piece

I- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -I

She had the last piece of him on this earth, due to a careless mistake.

Now she has to pick up the rest of the pieces left behind and leave some of her own.

All she knows is that this piece of him will change everything.

I- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -I

Hermione glanced up at the crooked house she had grown to love. It had always fascinated her how the house managed to stay up, even with the aid of magic. She hadn't spent much time here as Harry had, only a handful of summers and one Christmas. But like her best friend, she had found standing in front of the Burrow was like coming home. It had been filled with such warmth and love during the times she had stayed here, and she figured that came down to the large family that had happily resided within.

She sighed as she began to wonder if the house would ever be like that again. She didn't know what to expect inside, how the war would've changed them all. The Burrow seemed abnormally quiet, but not in a particularly eerie way like it might've been the year before. If she hadn't notice the absence of the extra security wards, she would've guessed the place to be empty from a glance.

Her stomach twisted as she began to make her way up the garden path. The sound of the gravel crunching underneath her feet seemed so much louder as her heart beat furiously in her ribcage. As she reached the front door, Hermione wasn't sure if she was nauseous due to Apparition, nerves or morning sickness; or perhaps a combination of the three.

She exhaled, steeled her nerves and knocked on the door.

A wave of fear came crashing upon her as she began to wonder if perhaps the funerals had not actually been completed. The dilapidated house was oddly quiet, she hadn't even considered the possibility that maybe they weren't even home. This was a bad idea anyways, she hadn't even come with a proper plan, and she could feel her Gryffindor courage shrinking at a rapid pace.

She should run, Hermione decided. Nobody knew she was back in England, she could leave; they didn't have to know she had come around. She whipped around and begun making her way back up the garden path, when the door opened and a voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Hello?"

Hermione swallowed. She stiffly turned around and gave a small smile to the family matriarch standing in the doorway.

"Hermione! What a pleasant surprise!" Mrs. Weasley greeted her brightly. "Come in, come in" she ushered her inside, "you're just skin and bones. Have you been eating recently?"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione pushed as the knot in her stomach tightened, and she had to fight the urge to be sick right there in the doorway.

Once inside, Molly quietly shut the door behind them, and took in Hermione's appearance. "You don't look fine. You look a bit peaky, dear," she observed, patting Hermione's cheek fondly. "Come on, I shall make you something to eat."

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but decided wisely against it. When it came to fattening up those around her, nobody got in Molly Weasley's way. Everything could be cured with a hearty meal, whether that was the common cold or an attack from a venomous snake.

Molly led the way to the kitchen, and Hermione took the opportunity to glance around the Burrow. It didn't look that different than she had seen before, only emptier. The furniture was still the same, but she knew the people were not. There was a lingering staleness in the air, something not quite the same as it had been before.

As Molly paused briefly to adjust a photo that had tilted slightly, Hermione's eyes found a familiar piece of magical furniture without much thought. She glanced up at the family clock, all the hands pointing to different sections of the clock face, showing that the large family was once again keeping busy. The last time she had been here all the hands had been pointing towards Mortal Peril…

Now only one hand did.

Hermione quickly tore her eyes from the clock to the floor, her stomach tightening at the very thought.

"Where is everyone?" she asked as nonchalantly as possible.

Molly stepped back to assess her picture levelling, as she said, "Arthur and Percy are helping Kingsley with some fixes down at the Ministry, Charlie's gone back to Romania, and Bill is probably with Fleur at Shell Cottage. I think they both are planning on moving back to Egypt, but it's been so lovely having them so close to home…"

"And Ron?"

"Oh, of course, he and Ginny are helping Harry clean up Grimmauld Place. Ginny thought it might do Harry some good to keep his mind off things. That poor boy…" she trailed off with a sad look, but quickly composed herself. She turned her head towards Hermione and plastered on a gentle smile. "Anyways, Ron will be so pleased to have you home again. They all would, really. We've been worrying about you."

"I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to say goodbye. It was a time issue with my parents and…" she trailed off at the sight of Mrs. Weasley's wry smile.

"You don't need to explain yourself here, Hermione dear. I imagined you needed some time as well. Harry and Ron aren't exactly very talkative these days either. Well, none of us really are…" Molly glanced at the family clock briefly, but turned away, her face crumpling slightly.

"Mrs. Weasley…" Hermione began, but she had barely lifted her arm to comfort the elder witch before, Mrs. Weasley shook her head slightly and plastered on a smile.

"Now are you in the mood for anything particular? I have some leftover soup from lunch, or I could whip you up some bacon sandwiches if you'd like…" the redheaded witch rambled on quickly in an attempt to distract from the thoughts that must've involuntarily entered her head.

Hermione gave a small smile and, despite her uncertainty of being able to keep anything down at this point, said, "whatever you recommend, Mrs. Weasley."

She followed Mrs. Weasley into the kitchen, instantly she was hit with the overpowering smell of baked goods.

Every inch of any flat surface was covered in assorted baked goods and homemade cooking. It was if Mrs. Weasley had spent every second of her day in the kitchen, to the point that the room looked like it was ready to explode with abundance. The smell was both enticing and nauseating that Hermione's stomach growled in either hunger or protest.

Hermione took a seat at the breakfast table, upon Molly's instant demand. She tried to focus on trying to keep her hands from shaking, but was failing miserably. The way her nerves were eating away at her, she was half-certain the Sorting Hat should've never placed her in Gryffindor. Taking down Death Eaters was one thing, but this news she was about to break was enough to strike fear into anyone's heart.

As Mrs. Weasley bustled around the kitchen, Hermione took in her black attire. She had never seen Mrs. Weasley in black before, she had always donned natural, earthy tones, maybe slightly dressing up in brighter colours for special occasions. But she never wore black.

That's because she's never lost a son before, Hermione reminded herself.

It was clear that Mrs. Weasley wore black as a sign of mourning, and Hermione looked down at her simple flowery dress wishing she had at least worn something black as a mark of respect. There had been a war, and several casualties; there would be a huge part of the wizarding population wearing black during this time. Hermione mentally kicked herself for not considering this before, but this was the downside of avoiding the funerals – she had simply pushed the idea of mourning to the back of her mind.

"Hermione, dear, can I fetch you a cuppa whilst you wait? I shouldn't be too much longer."

Hermione's eyes snapped to the kind, elder witch, who was watching her from the stove with a slight concern glistening in her eyes. She swallowed thickly and shook her head politely. Taking a deep breath, she knew it was better to just come out with it before Molly put food in front of her. There was no way in hell that she was going to be able to eat anything at this moment.

"Mrs. Weasley, I didn't really come for a visit. I needed to tell you something."

It was probably the waver in her voice as she said it, but a flash of panic crossed Mrs. Weasley's face. Hermione watched as the family matriarch hesitantly abandoned the food she was heating up and approached her at the table.

"I found out something whilst I was away, and… and, I think you should be informed. Um… there's no really easy way of me saying this…" Her brain was screaming at her to run, to stop speaking immediately. In the fight or flight mode, her Gryffindor courage had left her body and she so desperately wanted to run from the situation. Her mother's words of how she didn't have to tell the Weasleys anything rang painfully in her ears.

"Hermione, dear, what is it? You look awfully worried."

Hermione glanced up at the warm brown eyes of the elder witch. Molly was looking at her questioningly, and she could sense the motherly concern radiating from her. Hermione audibly swallowed before she told Molly the truth.

"Mrs. Weasley… I'm pregnant."

Mrs. Weasley looked at her with great surprise. Her eyes widened slightly, and her forehead crinkled as the corners of her mouth pulled down slightly.

"Well… I didn't… quite expect this..." She stared at the young witch before her, "I didn't think that you and Ron had progressed so far while you were gone; or had the time, for that matter-"

"Oh no. No, no, no." Hermione shook her head. She could feel the knot in her stomach tighten even further, if possible, and the nausea was burning her throat at this point. "Um, Ron isn't the father."

"Oh," she frowned. "Well…I always did wonder if you and Harry might have had something going on-"

"Oh, Merlin no," Hermione replied, with a firm shake of her head. "It isn't Harry's. He's like a brother to me, I could never do… that with him."

"Oh," was all Mrs. Weasley could say, the crease in her brow becoming more prominent. "Do you mind me asking who-?"

Hermione exhaled a breath. "It's… it's, um, Fred's."

The second the name left her lips, Hermione watched Molly's face lose its colour rapidly. The shock was evident in her eyes but Molly couldn't seem to form the words to express it. Hermione let the hideous news sink in a little while longer before saying, "Maybe you should sit down, Mrs. Weasley."

Molly blinked at her in surprise. "Sit down… yes… yes, I think I'll do that."

Hermione watched the matriarch slid down wordlessly into the chair opposite her, her face awfully pale, and her eyes blown wide open in shock. Hermione cringed slightly knowing she was responsible for such a reaction. She had never seen anyone render Mrs. Weasley silent before, for the woman was strong and fiercely protective; but now the loving mother was looking worn, vulnerable and drained.

"Mrs. Weasley, can I get you something? Some water perhaps?"

The elder witch shook her head, her eyes still wide and distant. Finally, after a few more minutes, she seemed to have snapped out of whatever trance she was in, and glanced at Hermione curiously.

"I'm sorry dear, but I didn't know you and Fred were seeing each other." She looked at Hermione, and Hermione could tell that the mother of seven was seeing her in a new light, and she winced at the thought. She could feel the tears prickling the back of her eyes, and she was trying to use all her self-control to stop her bottom lip from quivering.

Hermione felt her face grow hot and she looked down sheepishly. "We weren't," she admitted truthfully.

"Oh my," Mrs. Weasley muttered, turning a shade paler if that was possible.

"It was just the one time, and it was very… spur of the moment. And I just… and… I'm sorry." Hermione couldn't help it; the tears were coming hot and fast. She didn't know what she was expecting to feel after telling Molly but it wasn't what she was feeling now. She felt horrible, like she had dragged up something awful from the past, that she had made an already bad situation worse by falling pregnant.

The sound of Hermione's sobs snapped Molly back into her usual carer mode, and she quickly abandoned her seat to wrap a loving arm around the young girl's shoulders.

"Oh, Hermione, dear," Molly hushed, seeing Hermione try desperately to wipe away her tears. "Oh, come now, it'll be alright."

"I'm sorry," Hermione hiccupped in between sobs.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Molly whispered softly. Hermione wasn't sure if she meant the words, or she was just trying to be comforting, but she did feel the slightest bit of relief hearing the sentiment. "Why don't you take some deep breaths and calm down for a bit? I'll make us a cuppa and you can tell me everything."

And so, Hermione did. Clutching her teacup so tightly that she was surprised it didn't crack, she poured her heart out to Mrs. Weasley. She didn't go into heavy details about the night, after all those were her private memories that she did not wish to share with anyone – especially his mother. She glossed over her inability to realise she was pregnant before her mother detected it, but she did express her sorrow at the fact Fred never got to know.

"I missed his funeral, didn't I?" she mumbled, studying the tea leaf remains at the bottom of her cup. She did briefly wonder what horrible things Professor Trelawney would say about her tea leaf reading, and for once Hermione was glad for not knowing the answer.

"I'm afraid so, dear," Molly muttered wearily. "His was one of the first we did. Maybe a day or so after you left, actually."

Hermione pursed her lips but nodded. She reminded herself that she had spent all this time away partially to avoid hisfuneral specifically, but now that it was confirmed that she had, it felt like she had swallowed hot lead and it was sitting heavily in her stomach. Or maybe that was the morning sickness again.

Closing her eyes and grimacing slightly, she rambled, "Mrs. Weasley, I'm not feeling… so hot right now…"

"Oh of course, dear. That morning sickness is woefully inaccurate, I know. When I was pregnant with Ginny, I was practically sleeping in the bathroom. Poor Arthur didn't know how to feed six growing boys, three times a day for the entire Christmas break," Molly said with a slight chuckle. "Now, why don't you go lie down for a spell, and I can come get you around dinnertime."

"Oh, that's fine. I was actually going to head home and…" the rest of the sentence died on her lips the second she saw Mrs. Weasley shake her head at the young witch.

"Hermione, you must stay. You are in no shape to be apparating around Britain at the moment. In fact, you should be taking it easy right now. Plus, all that squeezing and twisting will be worse for your stomach than a little nap."

Molly Weasley could've won the war on her own with the stern look she was currently giving Hermione. The young witch briefly wondered if she could ever learn to pull off that look with her own child.

"A nap sounds great, actually," Hermione conceded, knowing that the mixture of crying and pregnancy had drained her slightly.

"You can take a lie down in Ginny's bed. Don't worry, she won't mind. Ginny won't be home till tomorrow. She planned on popping by the Lovegood's this afternoon, and said she would be staying the night. It'll give me time to set up another room for you. Heaven knows I don't want you sleeping on that camp bed whilst you're in your condition."

"Mrs. Weasley, that's not necessary…"

"It most certainly is," Molly stated firmly.

Hermione sighed but succumbed to the elder witch's request. "Alright, but I have to send an owl to my parents to let them know."

"You can borrow Pig, I'm sure Ron won't mind. He's probably up in Ron's room now, if you want to pop in."

Hermione gave a nod, and excused herself from the table. She had only made it to the doorway when she turned back to ask of a request that was currently plaguing her mind.

"Mrs. Weasley… um, would it be alright if you didn't mention, um, this, to anyone? Especially Ron and Ginny. I think it would be better if they heard it from me."

"Of course, dear. I understand, it's a big announcement. I wouldn't want to steal your thunder."

It wasn't thunder, Hermione thought ruefully, it was a full on tropical storm. And frankly, she didn't care if someone else stole it from her. She just wanted to buy a little more time before the people she loved started looking at her differently.

She had turned to leave once more when the matriarch stopped her with a simple request of her own: "And Hermione, dear? Given the circumstances, maybe its best if you start calling me 'Molly'."

"Of course, Mrs… um, Molly." Hermione cringed how weird it was to call her by her first name after all these years. Aside from Sirius, Remus and Kingsley, they rarely called adults by their first name. It had been a sign of respect to their elders, they were children and they were the adults – plain and simple.

Only, Hermione reminded herself, she was adult herself now. A pregnant adult. Merlin, she had aged in a blink of an eye. She was only marginally older than Harry and Ron, but it could be debated that neither of the two were mature enough to be considered 'adults', saving the wizarding world or not.

Hermione climbed the rickety staircase, fighting the urge to smile at the familiarity of the creaking steps. Ron's room being all the way on the fifth and top floor of the house meant that Hermione had to pass everybody else's rooms on the way… including the room that was formerly Fred and George's.

She was surprised to find the room's door shut when she reached the second-floor landing. Percy's room on the other hand, since it was noticeably open, was not at all what she had expected. Hermione couldn't help but peak in, since it was rarely ever open due to Percy's insistence of having privacy and quiet to study. Hermione had only been in Percy's room twice before, both occurring in the summer before her Fourth Year – and of course, it was due to academic purposes. She had once asked him for some additional reading to finish off her Transfiguration essay, and then again for him to demonstrate and perfect a spell she was desperate to learn despite being a Sixth-Year spell.

However, both of those times, Percy's room was much like her own. Immaculate. Organised. Screaming with cleanliness and order. She had been comfortable in Percy's room the two times she visited, as it felt less like a boy's dormitory (much like Ron's room, and occasionally Ginny's) and more like an office or classroom. There had been no Quidditch team posters, but instead bookshelves and a giant chalkboard for him to work on tough sequences on.

But that was then, and now the room could've imitated the mess they had made in the Department of Mysteries in their Fifth Year.

Dirty cauldrons were set up across the walls, some half-full of some ghastly looking potions, his bed was untidy and unkempt, with sheets tossed back as if he had rushed out at the last minute that morning. Dirty clothes were beginning to overfill the hamper, and Hermione didn't dare to question the blood-looking stains on the sleeve of one of his robes that was poking out.

Maybe some things do change, Hermione thought as she backed away and resumed her ascent to the fifth floor; but that thought quickly changed upon visiting another familiar bedroom.

She pushed open the door to Ron's room without knocking, knowing that he was elsewhere and the room empty. Ron's bedroom was almost exactly in the same state as it the last time she was here, stealing various bits and pieces to pack into her infamous beaded purse. The bed was unmade, clothes had piled next to the laundry hamper rather than quite making it in, sweet wrappers strewn haphazardly across the floor. It was enough to make her heart warm a little, even though she comprehends how Ron could live in such a pig sty, it still breathed every essence that was Ron: a Quidditch fanatic who was sloppy and lazy, but still a child at heart.

She had to dig around Ron's old Hogwarts trunk to find a working quill and some parchment. Scribbling down a quick note to her parents, she approached Pigwidgeon's cage, who was snoozing away quietly on Ron's desk. Gently prodding him awake, Hermione almost laughed at how quickly alerted the tiny owl came to be.

"Hi Pig," Hermione cooed softly, opening the cage to stroke the owl's feathery head. "Can you take this to my parents for me? I'll make sure Ron gives you a decent treat when you get back."

Pig hooted happily at the prospect, taking off flight without taking the letter. Hermione had to supress a laugh as the small owl came zooming back rapidly to retrieve the mail from Hermione before taking off again.

Hermione glanced out the window Pig had disappeared out of, and became suddenly aware of how much of the Weasley property you could see from the small window. She would've never guessed that Ron would have such a view with all his complaints of his room, nor had she ever spent enough time in his room to admire the view. From the window, Hermione could see the entirety of the backyard, over the low stone wall, across the fertile meadows, and all the way to the rolling hills where the Lovegoods lived (and where Ginny would be spending the night so it seemed).

She began to wonder about living here as a child, out in the country with all your siblings, with the full knowledge of the wizarding world. It would've been such a difference to the suburban Muggle upbringing she was accustomed to. Hermione then thought of the child resting within her womb, however small it may be now but how hugely it was impacting her life. They would have a very different upbringing than she would, regardless of magic, for they only had half of the loving set of parents that both she and Fred had been blessed with.

Stop it, Hermione told herself as the lead feeling returned to her stomach at the thought of his name. Even without Fred to help her, she could learn to give enough love of two parents to this baby. And even if he were here, who says he would be wanting to be involved?

Of course, he would, she reasoned with herself. Not even Ron would walk away from his own kid, regardless of circumstance.

But would Ron walk away from her once he discovered the truth? If she thought coming clean with Molly was going to be tough, she knew she was going to go through the wringer telling Ron and Ginny. Hermione chewed her nails, she probably only had a finite amount of time before it became achingly obvious. And Ron, and the best of times, could be unpredictable with his emotions; and she didn't want to lose him as friend… and right now she really needed him to be her friend.

Then she heard it.

She heard him before she saw him. She heard his heavy footsteps pound up the stairs, obviously just having been told that she was in his room. She braced herself for the inevitable, as the bedroom door slammed open and he panted out her name.

"Hermione! You're here!"

Ron rushed up to her and pulled her into a firm hug. Hermione tensed, Ron had never been the hugging-type with her before. Not like this, at least. Maybe a few awkward hugs here and there over the years, but this was different. This hug was as if she was the last good thing in the world and he was never going to let her go.

"When did you get here?" he rushed, once he let her go.

"Only a little bit ago," she admitted. She took a step back and glanced around the room distractedly. "Um, where's Harry?"

Ron blinked, his mouth frowning slightly as his eyebrows slowly moved closer together. "Err, he's still at Grimmauld Place. He'll be back later. He just wanted to keep going."

"How's he doing?"

"Alright, I guess," Ron said with a feeble shrug of his shoulders. "Better than when you left. Hey, how are your parents, by the way? Did you manage to find them?"

"Yeah, I did. They're back home now," she supplied. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling slightly nervous in his presence. "It was nice seeing them again," she added softly. It had been nice being with her parents again, before the whole pregnancy discovery happened.

"Everything alright? You were gone for a while. I was worried something had happened to you, but Ginny told me I shouldn't owl you."

"Did she now?" Hermione couldn't hide the surprise in her voice.

"Yeah," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, "she said you probably needed some time on your own as well, and that you'd make contact when you were ready. Honestly, I wanted nothing more than take a portkey to Australia and find you myself, but I realised Ginny did make some sense; you were acting a bit odd before you disappeared on us."

Hermione smiled sadly at him. The caring tone in his voice made her heart ache a little, particularly because she knew she had withdrawn herself from him and Harry without warning. She could see there was a level of warmth she was unfamiliar with in his baby blue eyes, and she felt a lump grow in her throat.

Swallowing the best she could, she said, "Well, I'm back now. And I'm staying for a little bit – your mother was very insistent."

She could tell Ron was trying very hard not to beam at her words and failing miserably.

"Great. We've all missed you. Well," the tips of his ears were beginning to turn crimson. "I've missed you, at least," he said sheepishly.

Hermione plastered on a smile to mask the guilt she was feeling. "I've missed you too."

A/N: First off, you all seem to like it so far. That surprises me and doesn't surprise me, at the same time. My head has been pounding with ideas for this story that I get a little ahead of myself and remind myself I'm still writing the current chapter and not one in ten chapters' time.

Pretty much for the next few chapters, we will get individual reactions as Hermione slowly lets people in on this secret of hers. Plenty of different reactions, but will they all be as supportive as Molly? Only I know the answer to that one, but feel free to speculate.

What do you guys think, given the delay? I apologise again for that. Between a number of ailments (nothing major), working seven day weeks and single parenting – I barely found the time to sit down, let alone sit down and write. I would like to get another chapter out before the year closes but don't hold me to that… I work in retail full-time, and its Christmas. You do the maths on that one.

I will let you know that the next chapter has been started and its in progress. So fingers crossed that things will flow well and I can deliever you a chapter before the year is up

In the meantime, would love some more reviews to bounce ideas off. And will advise that if you want to hurry me along, my Facebook page (found via the link on my profile) is the best way of contacting me directly.

Infinite X's and O's,
Creative Touch
xxx