Author's note: I just wanted to thank all my awesome readers- especially the reviewers, the feedback for this story has exceeded even my expectations! This is the longest chapter yet and I reckon it's the one most, if not all of you have been waiting for.
A special thanks to Spinning Round on a Carousel for her amazing editing work on this story.
This chapter is also a bit fluffy, I laid it kinda thick. But I'm hoping you'll enjoy it and as always reviews are welcome.
HRH
Harry pulled back once the burning in his lungs became unbearable. Hermione's mouth formed a surprised 'O' as she slowly opened her eyes. He knew she was probably already thinking of a way to diffuse the situation. Sometimes he loved how smart Hermione was - other times, he just wished for a moment of blind stupidity.
"Harry-"
"Don't say a word," he panted. His mind was racing, yet he had never felt more composed. "We won't say anything. We are going to get out the lift, then drive back home in absolute silence."
Hermione just blinked at him in confusion, so he tightened his hold on her shoulders.
"Hermione, I want you to not think for the next 30 minutes - can you do that?" he asked, his voice tinged with desperation.
She looked as though she was about to speak.
"No speaking, remember?" he reminded her. He knew he was probably scaring her a bit – hell, he was scaring himself.
Slowly, Hermione nodded her head, though her eyes still looked slightly glazed over. My kiss did that to her, rendered Hermione Granger silent, Harry thought. If his nerves weren't so wound up, he'd allow himself a smile at the achievement. Instead, he gripped Hermione's hand and released the elevator.
Everything seemed to take twice as long: leaving the building, getting into the car. It took Harry several attempts to get a grip on the car keys, but Hermione didn't seem to notice. She was probably in some sort of state of shock, so Harry had to act fast before it wore off and she came to her senses. He drove like a mad man, thankful that because of the lateness of the hour, there were fewer cars on the roads.
When he finally parked the car inside the garage, he all but leapt out, dashing to opening the passenger door. He helped Hermione out, trying to be gentle as he pulled her along into the house, past the dimly lit rooms. It was silent; it seemed that Vivian and William had already retired. Harry released a sigh he hadn't even realised he'd been holding. The walk up the stairs was a little slower - he didn't want to risk tripping and hurling both of them down the stairs.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity (which in actual fact was just over 30 minutes), they entered Hermione's room. With a firm shove, Harry closed the door behind them and before he could over-think the idea, he pulled off his t-shirt and spun Hermione around and into his arms.
The thing about spending the best years of your adolescence trying to evade a psychotic serial killer is that you don't get time to enjoy a lot of firsts. Sure, there had been Cho - but then things hadn't ended well and that whole returning-with-the-body-of-the-love-of-her-life thing didn't help much either. Then there had been Ginny, who had grown in confidence and introduced him to the first stirs of jealousy.
But other than a few other casual flings during the time in between his numerous breaking up and getting back together with Ginny, Harry's experience with the opposite sex was a bit lacking. The only thing he had going for him was to be direct and hope his sexual prowess more than made up for the fact that he wasn't affectionate.
He pulled Hermione flush against him, leaned down and captured her lips again. Her lips were achingly soft, and for one crazy moment, he feared in his passion he might devour them. Kissing Hermione was a lot like how he'd always fantasised how his first kiss would be: slow and sweet, with just a hint of urgency. He never wanted this moment to-
Abruptly Harry pulled back, glasses slightly askew and brow furrowed in confusion. Something had hit his stomach. Then he felt it again, perhaps more stronger, strong enough for Hermione's eyes to flicker open with surprise.
"Is that-?"
"At least one of us is thinking rationally," Hermione murmured, rubbing absently at her stomach.
It didn't take a genius to realise that the moment was probably over, but Harry was reluctant to concede defeat even as Hermione untangled herself from his arms and went to perch herself on the bed.
"Merlin, what were we thinking?!" Hermione exclaimed, fingers raking though her hair. "I could give birth any day now!"
"You aren't right now," Harry replied without thinking. He could have kicked himself as the words spilled out of his mouth. He sounded like some randy teenager trying to get laid, not a guy who was trying to convince a woman to give him a chance.
Smooth, Potter, real smooth.
"What kind of reasoning is that?" Hermione demanded, looking incredulous.
The moment had definitely been killed, Harry thought unhappily.
"That didn't come out right," he said quickly. "What I meant is... Erm... Well, I don't know actually," he admitted, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.
"I think I'm going to take a bath, then go straight to bed," Hermione began in a calm voice as she hefted herself onto her feet. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off, "And no, you aren't going to watch over me while I bathe." Harry was sure he heard her mutter the word 'perv' as she waddled towards the bathroom.
Despite pulling at his hair in frustration, Harry really couldn't blame her. Propositioning pregnant women was probably illegal in some countries, he thought glumly as he threw himself onto Hermione's bed. He needed to think, to clear his mind a bit. Preferably before he did any more damage.
As he stared at the ceiling, he heard the water start in the bathroom. Had he really asked Hermione to go to Vegas with him? Really, had that stumbled out of his lips? Harry groaned. No wonder she was staring at him like he'd gone crazy - he was crazy, completely out-of-his-mind crazy. He was a madman, and all because of his best friend.
When did Hermione develop this power over him, he wondered, sitting up, hands resting on his thighs. Was Hermione right? Was he caught up in their little charade and nothing more? But then he remembered the feel of her in his arms, her hair tickling his nose as he tried to concentrate on the breathing exercises rather than her fragrance. In that moment he'd even allowed himself to believe that the happy moment was his. His pregnant wife, his baby...
Heaving a sigh, Harry stood up and walked to the closed bathroom door, leaning against it as he knocked lightly.
"Hermione?"
At first he thought she'd ignore him, but then she answered.
"I didn't slip to my death or anything," she said dryly, voice muffled by the door.
Harry scowled. "Don't even joke about something like that," he snapped, then caught himself. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap... It's just you know how I feel about death and-"
"No, I'm sorry, you're right."
Hermione apologising was one thing - her admitting the other person was right was another thing all together. He smirked in spite of himself.
"Sure you didn't hit your head?" he teased.
"Seriously, Potter?" she grumbled from the other side of the door.
"Just checking," he said, knowing the tension had probably dissipated.
"Look, Mione, I'm just going downstairs for a bit - do you need anything?"
"Just a slice of chocolate cake, please," she replied. "It's in the fridge."
"Okay, I-"
"Also, could you sprinkle some nuts on it – ooh, and some cream?"
Harry grinned. "Erm, sure, I'll-"
"And an orange too."
"What do you need an orange for?" Harry blurted out before he could stop himself.
"Maybe I'd like some vitamin C with my meal," Hermione said sarcastically, "or maybe I'm pregnant and have all these odd cravings - or maybe, just maybe, you want oranges falling on your head!"
Harry glanced at the ceiling just to make sure no oranges were worming their way down.
"Sorry, I'll get the oranges," he said quickly, in an attempt to appease her.
"Bring syrup," Hermione muttered.
Harry made the smart move of not asking why. He made his way silently down the passage, noting the guest bedroom's lights were off. Vivian and William were already asleep. He was glad that they hadn't witnessed his failed seduction. He took the steps, not bothering with the lights, instead trusting his instincts to lead him to Hermione's study.
Once inside, he closed the door and took a seat behind her desk. Using the charm he had learnt several years ago, he waited as the flame flickered for a moment before a rather surprised face appeared.
"What in Merlin's beard?" Sirius' face appeared in the fire. He blinked several times. "Merlin, Harry is that you?" he asked.
"Yes, I-"
"It's the middle of the bloody night!" Sirius exclaimed. Then his eyes widened. "Is Hermione in labour? That's why you called? I should probably-"
"Slow down, Sirius, no one is giving birth," Harry hastily assured him with a wry grin.
His godfather looked disappointed.
"Oh," he muttered.
Harry brushed his hair back, leaning on his elbows. "I actually need your advice," he admitted, collecting his thoughts. He'd never been good at this sort of stuff. "It's about Hermione and me."
"You aren't in some sort of trouble, are you?" Sirius asked. "Because there's this whole secret baby shower planned for you two tomorrow at the Burrow."
"Secret baby shower?" Harry asked, slightly disbelieving. His friends sure worked fast.
"Not so secret anymore," Sirius admitted ruefully, before returning to the subject in hand. "So, what's the problem?"
"See, the thing is a couple of days ago Hermione asked me for a favour..."
Slowly, he told Sirius the whole story, right up until the moment in Hermione's room just a few moments ago. His godfather for his part kept quiet throughout the whole narration.
"Hermione isn't the type to just get pregnant so there's probably a story there," Sirius mused. "You have no idea who the father is?" he asked.
Harry shook his head. "I don't think it's Ron. I mean, they broke up a while ago - but then that means I probably don't even know the git," he said.
What kind of sick bastard got someone like Hermione pregnant than just left her to fend for herself? If Harry ever got his hand on the stupid git, there would be a series of Unforgiveables coming their way, Azkaben be damned.
"Do you even care?" Sirius asked. "Do you mind that the kid isn't yours?"
Did he care, Harry wondered, was there a chance that he did? Then he remembered the Lamaze class. Being there with Hermione had felt so... right. He had even allowed himself to pretend it was his kid growing inside her. Of course, that thought had then somehow taken a somewhat lewd turn, because then he had started imagining him and Hermione procreating...
… Which had led to the whole lift incident.
"No, I don't," he answered truthfully. And suddenly he knew this wasn't just some flight of fancy. He wanted this, really wanted it.
"I had a feeling you didn't," Sirius said with a smile. His face became serious again. "But Harry, this is a life changing thing. I don't doubt you can handle it, but are you really ready for it?"
Harry didn't even have to think about it.
"Yes."
"What makes you so certain?"
"Because I think I'm falling for Hermione." The words fell out his mouth and he realised their implication at about the same time Sirius did.
"Well, just as long as you don't tell her that you think and don't know," he advised with a grin.
Harry's lips also twisted into a wary smile. Knowing Hermione, she wouldn't settle for anything less – but then, he reflected, she deserved nothing but.
"So what you going to do now, Hamlet?" Sirius asked.
Harry frowned. "Shouldn't it be Romeo?" he asked.
"You're all tortured, I think Hamlet suits you," his godfather replied. "Besides, I don't want to give you any crazy ideas. We both know how that play ended."
Shaking his head, Harry grinned at Sirius. "You're a real romantic, you know?"
"Hence why I'm still a bachelor at my age," Sirius agreed. "So, plans?"
"I'm taking Hermione out on a date," Harry stated confidently.
"A date? Isn't it a bit too late for that?"
"Nope. I'm trying to doing things right."
"Good luck."
"Thanks. I have a feeling I'll probably need it."
/
The next morning, Harry was surprised to find that Hermione had woken up before him. Maybe the needles had finally gotten to her, he thought with a wry smile. After taking a shower and dressing quickly, Harry made his way downstairs. He found Hermione in the kitchen with an apron on, measuring flour.
"Morning," he said, coming to stand beside her. After his talk with Sirius, he'd returned to their bedroom, Hermione's order in hand. They'd talked about everything but what had occurred or their feelings.
Harry was hoping today would change that.
"Morning," Hermione murmured back. "Could you hand me that bowl?" she asked, waving distractedly at somewhere behind him.
Harry spotted the bowl with the egg and milk mixture inside. "Waffles?' he asked as he placed it within Hermione's reach.
She shook her head. "Pancakes," she replied, sifting the flour into a much bigger bowl. Harry watched her as she added the milk mixture. Her hair had been put into a messy ponytail, loose tendrils framing her face.
Her face was scrubbed clean; it made her look even younger than she usually did. Harry wanted to touch her face, but somehow he had a feeling it would seem weird. He settled for tucking back a few loose strands of her hair.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, her eyes never straying from her task.
"Nothing," he said, aware how defensive he sounded.
Hermione arched an eyebrow at him. "You better not be trying to be fresh," she warned.
"Hermione!"
"Just saying," she said, folding in the eggs to the flour, then whisking the batter.
As they were alone, Harry decided to broach the subject of going to Diagon Alley together.
"So I was thinking that maybe we should go to Diagon Alley before going to the Burrow," he started.
Hermione paused. "The Burrow?" she asked.
"Yeah, apparently there's a surprise baby shower for us... Well, you, technically," Harry explained.
"Not much of a surprise," Hermione mused, before glancing up at him. "You want us to go to Diagon Alley?"
"Well, you haven't been to the Wizarding World in a while and maybe some fresh air will do you good."
"So basically like a date?"
Sometimes Hermione was too smart for her own good. "Well, we're already 'married' so maybe it's more like a refresher course than a date," he tried.
"You've never taken me on a date," Hermione pointed out.
"Okay, it's a date then..."
Hermione smiled, though she tried to hide it behind a cough.
"Oh, I nearly forgot," she said, reaching for something on the counter, "this came for you earlier." She handed a letter to him.
"Oh yeah - I kind of asked Miss Quick to forward my letters here. I hope you don't mind?" Harry said, accepting the letter and sliding a finger under the flap to open it.
"No, I don't."
He scanned the contents of the letter, his brow furrowing slightly.
"Something wrong?" Hermione asked, peering over and trying to see at the letter.
"Not really. It's from Robards," he said with a frown. "He's got a case that he wants me to work on."
"I thought they fired you?"
Harry wasn't surprised Hermione was privy to that knowledge. The entire Wizarding World was. Apparently, the news of Harry-Potter-the-boy-who-defeated-You-Know-Who getting axed from a job he seemed destined for was quite the story.
"They did, but I'm sort of freelance now," Harry replied.
Of course, that was an understatement. He was more like the guy the ministry went to whenever a big case was threatening the Wizarding World's safety. But Harry tended to brush over that part of the explanation.
Hermione nodded in understanding. "So what's this case about?" she asked.
In all their years together, Ginny had never really shown an interest in his occupation as an Auror so Harry had got into the habit of keeping things related to his job to himself. So having Hermione ask him like it was a normal thing took him aback slightly. Then again, Hermione had fought beside him several times, and nothing would really ever surprise her.
"There's some unusual magical activity around..." Harry's trailed off as he glanced over the parchment to check, "Scotland."
"Are you going to take the case?" she asked him.
A month ago, heck, even a week ago, he wouldn't have even hesitated. But things were different now, his life seemed to have done a complete 180 in just a few days. He glanced over at her. "Would you mind if I went?" he asked, hoping he sounded casual.
Hermione shrugged. "I mean, there's nothing keeping you here, right?" she asked him, just as casual.
Trust Hermione to answer with another question. He sighed, folding the letter. "You know that's not true," he said.
"Harry-"
"How anyone is expected to sleep with this racket is beyond me," Vivian declared as she entered the kitchen, already dressed for the day.
"Good morning, Grandmother. Did you sleep well?" Harry asked, standing up to help Vivian into her seat.
He ignored Hermione's pointed look.
"As can be expected," Vivian sniffed. "What with all the noise you two were making this morning... and last night."
"What noise?" Hermione asked, turning to her pancakes.
"I wasn't born yesterday, Hermione Jean, but really, a little courtesy to your guests would be nice," she chided them.
Harry busied himself with pouring Vivian a glass of orange juice. "I'm sorry, Grandmother, I guess we got carried away," he said.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, not liking what he was implying.
Harry shrugged apologetically, though he couldn't hide his mischievous grin.
"Thank you, Harry, you are quite thoughtful," Vivian said, patting his hand. Hermione gave an unladylike snort. "Something the matter, Hermione?" she asked.
Hermione shook her head. "Everything's fine, Grandmother," she said over her shoulder.
"So will William be joining us?' Harry asked, glancing expectantly at the entrance for the older man.
Vivian shook her head as she daintily sipped her juice. "I'm afraid he thought it was intruders last night and the poor thing worked himself into a tired heap."
Harry could just imagine William brandishing his sword, all the while Vivian trying to reassure him in her patient manner. The sight had probably been rather comical. Then he remembered his and Hermione's plans for the day.
"Grandmother, I was wondering if I could steal Hermione for the day today," he began.
"You two are young, I suppose it's only natural that you'd want to spend time alone. No matter how improper it is with guests," Vivian remarked.
"If it's any consolation, Gretchen promised to spend the day with you and William. Perhaps you could go sightseeing?" Harry suggested.
"You are aware that we're English? Not tourists? Nothing London has, we haven't seen before," Vivian stated dryly. "And who is this Gretchen?"
"Gretchen is a good friend of mine," Hermione said, placing a plate filled with the pancakes on the table. "I think you met her the other day – the girl with colourful hair?"
"Can she be trusted?" Vivian asked, obviously doubtful.
"Of course," Hermione said, glancing at Harry to second her opinion. He did, even if it was only to placate both women.
"So where are you off too?" Vivian asked, glancing between them.
"Just a small, old part of London," Hermione lied. "Quaint, barely noticeable. I'm certain you and Grandfather wouldn't like it."
/
"Harry, I don't think going to Diagon Alley is such a good idea," Hermione protested as she put on lipstick. "I mean, the whole of the Wizarding World probably read Rita's article." Note to self: concoct Rita's punishment, she mentally reminded herself as she spun around on her chair.
"So?" Harry asked, pulling on his shirt with absolutely no regard for the hormones raging inside Hermione. Really, the man has to stop advertising his chiselled chest before he gets attacked by a lewd heavily pregnant woman, Hermione mused
"So?" she repeated. "Harry, it's probably all anyone is talking about. You aren't seeing the bigger picture."
"Hermione, I'm failing to see why that's such a big deal," Harry staid, glancing around. "Have you seen my shoes?" he asked, padding around with his socks.
"You fail to see why it's such a big deal?" Hermione asked, perplexed. "Harry, this thing has got way out of hand!"
Didn't he understand how this lie could potentially ruin everything? It was already obvious that she'd have to tell him the truth, but this whole thing was forcing her hand. The whole Wizarding World might even learn of her lie.
Harry muttered a Summoning Charm, his shoes dropping before him. "What's out of hand is your shoes," he remarked, shuffling into his own. "Are those heels really practical?" he asked, eyeing them warily.
Of course, Harry couldn't understand why it was important for Hermione to look good. He wasn't the one who was bloated and would be receiving the scrutinising looks.
"Firstly, they're wedges and secondly, they aren't that high," she answered. "And they are practical, seeing as there is no danger of me toppling over them and falling."
If everyone would be staring at them, Hermione needed to at least be assured that she wouldn't be totally unattractive. Hence why she'd settled on a lovely pale yellow summer dress, paired with white wedges laced with yellow ribbons. It wasn't too much, but it was modest and flattering for someone who was pregnant.
"Obviously you're not falling over, I won't allow it," Harry said. "I'm just concerned about your feet."
Hermione's eyes widened. He'd noticed how bloated they were? "You think they're bloated!" she screeched.
Harry looked confused. "Of course not," he said quickly. "Just that they might ache. Hermione, we are going to be in town for most of the day," he reminded her patiently.
"So?"
Harry smirked, eyes dancing with amusement. "So, you aren't seeing the bigger picture," he replied.
Hermione threw her hairbrush at him.
/
Harry had always wondered how animals at the zoo felt, being constantly looked at. He wondered no more.
He was used to people staring at him, but this was a little too much even for him. Witches and wizards alike had already stopped them several times to take pictures with them. Well, not with them, exactly, but with Hermione's baby bump. And every time, Hermione had shot him a discreet glare.
"I don't even get it, it's not like you can even see the baby," Hermione said after she'd been asked for another picture. So far, their trip to Diagon Alley had felt more like an exhibition rather than a date.
"Well you are the Hermione Granger," he reminded her, pressing a kiss to her hair.
"And according to Skeeter, pregnant with the next Harry Potter," she grumbled, burying her face in his chest. "Do you think we can avoid going to Molly's?" she asked him, voice muffled.
As wonderful as the idea was, Harry knew it was something they couldn't avoid. It was bad enough that they found out about the pregnancy via a newspaper.
"Sorry, love, but it's..."
His voice trailed off, and he knew by Hermione's tense reaction that she had heard the endearment.
He'd really put his foot in it now.
"Hermione-"
"Look, a baby shop!" Hermione exclaimed, cutting him off. "Let's see what they have!" She was already pulling him into the shop.
Harry reluctantly decided to allow her to change the subject. From what he'd seen of the nursery, he doubted there was anything Hermione needed. He told her as much as they entered the shop.
"There's no such thing," Hermione scoffed.
From the outside, like most shops in Diagon Alley, it had looked like a quaint little shop, but once inside, a vast and high edifice was revealed. There were pastel colours everywhere, baby furniture, toys, clothes and the like.
Harry had never known babies could need so many things.
"Look at this!" Hermione exclaimed, showing him a dark navy pram that looked more like a miniature automobile than something you'd carry a baby in. "It even has cup holders!"
"Yes, because nothing screams 'pram' louder than cup holders," Harry remarked dryly. He got a slap on the arm for that.
"Seriously, sometimes-"
"I thought I smelled something foul," they heard a nasal voice say behind them.
Harry knew that voice anywhere. He turned around, regarding the other man coolly.
"Malfoy."
"Potter, Granger," Draco acknowledged sourly. "I heard the rumours, but I'd hoped it was just another bad dream..."
There was something to be said about growing up. Rather than take Malfoy's bait, Harry had learned that sometimes no reaction was the best reaction to such situations.
"Well, now you know," he quipped with a slightly forced smile.
Draco sniffed indignantly. "Why anyone should care about the birth of a half-blood is beyond me," he said darkly, "especially when purebloods of far more importance are being born."
Harry was ready to abandon being the grown up, but Hermione's calming hand on his arm stopped him.
"A lot seems to be beyond you, Malfoy," she remarked. "But what are you doing here?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Draco said meanly, before he spun on his heel, storming towards the exit. The blue package with a white rattle picture was not lost on either of them.
"You don't think-?" Hermione began, sharing a look with Harry.
Harry shrugged. "He is married, Hermione," he said, just as the shop assistant walked up to them.
"Hi! It's such an honour having you in our shop! Do you need any help?" she asked eagerly, beaming up at them.
"Well, we were just looking at this pram," Hermione began.
"Oh, the Baby Firebolt 09?" the assistant gushed.
Harry exchanged a look with Hermione. 'Firebolt?' he mouthed at her, suddenly much more enamoured with the object. She just rolled her eyes.
"Yes," she said to the assistant.
"Well, this is our latest pram, not only is it twice as fast as 08, but it's also equipped with several protective charms," the assistant explained.
"Charms?" Harry asked.
"Well, of course - you'd be surprised at how many accidents this pram has prevented," the assistant replied. "From kidnappers to oil slicks..."
"Sounds like the ultimate pram. I mean, I wouldn't want my pram skidding over all those oil slicks I encounter," Hermione said.
The assistant beamed. It seemed that only Harry had heard the sarcasm in Hermione's words. "Exactly!" she agreed.
"We'll take it," Harry said.
Hermione arched an eyebrow. "We are?" she asked.
Harry shrugged. "'Mione, it's the Baby Firebolt 09," he said, trying to suppress his laughter.
Hermione rolled her eyes.
The assistant, Whitney, took their order, all the while encouraging them to take a look at the rest of the products they had to offer.
"You only bought it because it's the best pram they have," Hermione said as they moved down the aisles, glancing at the vast assortment of baby products on display.
"What's wrong with that?" Harry asked. "You were gushing over it too!"
"I don't gush."
"Yes, you do - your eyes even go all glassy."
Hermione snorted as she picked up an onesie in Gryffindor colours. "Harry, look at this," she all but cooed, holding it up for his inspection.
Harry grinned. "It's great - but Mione, I think you're carrying a Slytherin... Call it a hunch," he teased.
Pressing the onesie to her chest, Hermione glared at him. "If that Sorting Hat wants to see many more years to come, it will be singing a whole different tune," she said.
Chuckling, Harry looped his arm over her shoulders. "Hermione, you can't force fate," he told her.
"Watch me," she retorted.
They continued down the aisles. Hermione not relinquishing her hold on the onesie. A while later, Harry spotted something white and fluffy. He picked up the stuffed toy. It was a white rabbit with a gold ribbon tied around its neck. It brought images of a baby with his eyes, clutching it to her chest.
"That's beautiful," Hermione commented, feeling the soft fur. Harry watched her fawning over the cuddly toy, noting the sheen in her eyes, the smile curving her lips, her hair falling in thick curls around her face.
"Breathtaking," he murmured, eyes solely on Hermione.
She caught his gaze, a red, becoming blush making her face look flushed. Harry could have kissed her then if not for the assistant popping up again.
"So, how's the shopping going?" Whitney asked them. "It's not like everyday celebrities come shopping here," she joked.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Splendid," he replied dryly. "Like your timing," he added under his breath.
/
Hermione suppressed another grimace, refusing to let it show, but Harry, ever observant, noticed.
"There's a sandal shop two stores from here," he whispered.
Clenching her jaw, Hermione said through gritted teeth, "And why are you telling me this?"
"You look like you're in pain," Harry said, giving her a knowing look.
He was right of course; her ankles were killing her, and not to mention her back - but Hermione was stubborn, definitely too stubborn to admit it.
"I'm not in pain," she lied, concealing a whimper.
"Hermione, you're lying."
She shook her head. "No, I'm not. This is my happy face," she pressed on, not ready to admit defeat.
"Your 'happy face'?" Harry asked, clearly not believing it for even one second.
Hermione nodded. "Yep - can't you see this huge smile?" she asked, hoping her smile wasn't the grimace she was feeling.
Harry heaved a sigh. "You're bloody stubborn, you know?" he remarked.
Hermione huffed. "So I've been told," she retorted.
"Well, I tried to make it easy for you," Harry warned.
"Make what easy?" Hermione asked.
Harry grinned and before Hermione could protest, he picked her up, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back. Hermione was mortified; she was sure that any moment, they would both come crashing down.
And as if that wasn't bad enough, cameras started flashing around them. The press was really having a field day with this.
"Harry," she hissed. He seemed oblivious to her as he strode confidently towards Betty's Boutique. "Harry, put me down," she ordered, trying to squirm out of his hold.
"Hermione, if you don't stop squirming I'll really give these people something to look at," he told her under his breath, his smile never faltering.
Hermione stopped.
/
Harry exchanged a wary look with the waiter as Hermione made her order.
"So two scoops of chocolate ice cream, plus melted butter, sprinkled with crushed peanuts and dripped with syrup?" the waiter asked, making sure he had everything down.
"You forgot the cream," Hermione added impatiently, "don't forget the cream."
"Erm, yes... Right... Cream," the waiter said, scribbling further into his notepad. "And for your meal?"
Harry watched as Hermione squinted in concentration. Her nose was scrunched up and to him, it made her look adorable.
"A burger with melted cheese," she said finally.
"You mean a hamburger with melted cheese?" the water inquired.
Hermione shook her head. "No. Just the patty with melted cheese - no buns or lettuce or tomato or-"
"Leave the buns, but definitely add the lettuce, tomato and pickles," Harry interrupted.
"What?" Hermione demanded.
"Hermione, you need the vegetables," he told her.
If looks could kill, Harry was certain he'd be dead. He was slightly terrified by the scathing look he received, but outwardly, he remained unfazed.
"Fine, whatever," Hermione mumbled.
The waiter smiled, turning to Harry. "And you, sir? What will you be having?" he asked.
/
They'd already Apparated their purchases home, so when they arrived at the Burrow - Hermione back in her wedges due to her insistence – Harry, for the most part, was ready to face their friends.
Hermione... Not so much.
Her mood had seemed to drop after their late lunch and Harry had asked her about it. She'd insisted it was indigestion, but although Harry didn't believe her, he'd let the subject drop. Now standing inches from the back door, he reached out, grasping Hermione's hand in his.
"Ready?" he asked.
She took a calming breath before nodding. Harry squeezed her hand, then raised his hand to knock. He'd barely lifted his fist when the door swung open. Molly, looking flustered and her hair in an untidy bun, appeared on the door way. For a moment, no one said anything, then Molly's eyes glanced at the noticeable baby bump.
"Oh, Hermione!" she exclaimed, enveloping Hermione in a hug. When she finally released her, she gave Harry a similar embrace, before ushering them in. "Everyone is already here, but I was hoping to talk to you to first," Molly said, waving them towards seats at the kitchen table.
There were several pots on the stove as well as several dishes covered and placed all around; Molly had obviously not held back. Harry noticed how his surrogate mother looked between them, her nervous gestures not lost on either of them.
"You two are in a lot of trouble," she began, wagging a finger at them.
Somehow, Harry knew a scolding was coming.
"I mean, to get married and then fall pregnant without telling anyone?" Molly demanded. "Really, how irresponsible! Hermione, I'll forgive because of the hormones - but you, Harry?" She paused, her disappointment quite clear. "Well, I expected better. I consider you family, both of you, and to keep something like this? Well, frankly, it really hurts."
Molly really knew how to make him feel like an idiot, Harry thought, already slouching slightly in his seat. Of course, her anger was completely justified - she probably thought they'd done it intentionally.
"Mrs Weasley-"
"Don't you 'Mrs Weasley' me, young man!" Molly chided, hands on hips. She continued to glare at them for a good while, before speaking again. "You look ashamed of yourselves," she commented eventually.
"We are," Harry and Hermione said simultaneously.
"As you should be," she agreed. She sighed. "Well, now that's off my chest, I want to congratulate the two of you. Of course, I'd always hoped that you'd each be marrying into the Weasley family, but I'm making my peace with that, granted that you promise me one thing."
"Anything," Harry said, grateful to have Molly's approval. She and Arthur were like parents to him and he always tried to make them proud.
Molly leaned in, a serious expression on her face. "Next time you get her pregnant, I had better be the first to know!" she warned them.
Harry didn't need to glance at Hermione to know she'd turned red. "I promise, Mum," he said sincerely.
Molly seemed satisfied with his answer. "Good then. Now run along, everyone is waiting for you two," she said, shooing them out of her kitchen.
"'I promise, Mum'?" Hermione demanded as they exited the kitchen, careful to keep her voice low.
"I'm a man of my word," Harry said, grinning at her, not even attempting to dodge her playful swat to his chest.
"Seriously, Potter, you're whipped," Dean said as he came to greet them. He gave Hermione a hug, before shaking Harry's hand.
It looked as if just about every friend they had was there. The Burrow was literally packed, not to mention all the decorations and gifts stacked around them.
"I'm not whipped!" Harry protested.
"Yeah, you are, mate," Seamus agreed. "Not that it's a bad thing," he quickly added when Hermione raised an eyebrow at him just as Fred and George came over.
"Besides, now that you're the Wizarding World's answer to Posh and Becks-"
"Wizarding World's answer to what?" Harry asked Fred.
The twins grinned. "According to Rita Skeeter, you two are the Posh and Becks of the Wizarding World," George answered.
Hermione groaned. "That woman..."
"Yep," Fred agreed. "Though instead of moving clubs, Harry got fired instead," he quipped.
"I wasn't fired!"
"Oh yeah - they let you go," George concurred with sarcasm.
Soon Harry and Hermione found themselves receiving well wishes while dodging the more... inconvenient questions.
Harry spotted Ron on the far side of the room, and after leaving Hermione in Fleur's capable hands - she'd been busy giving Hermione parenting tips - he made his way over to his best friend, only to be intercepted by his uncle.
"You look like a man in love," Sirius commented, steering Harry towards the doors to the patio and away from the noise and chatter.
Harry grinned. "And you got all this from one glance?" he asked as they stood outside, making a mental note to search for Ron afterwards.
Sirius shrugged. "It's just I've seen that look before," he admitted with a wistful smile.
"Huh?"
"Your dad had the same look when he was with Lily," Sirius said.
A sense of melancholy arose. Harry's thoughts couldn't help but stray to his parents - would they be happy with his choices? How would his mother feel about Hermione?
"Your mum would have loved Hermione, you know," Sirius said, seemingly reading Harry's thoughts. "I can just imagine all the genius speak that would be coming out of their mouths during conversations," he added with a grin.
Harry smiled at the thought. His godfather was probably right.
"So," Sirius began in an attempt to lift the somber mood, "thought of any baby names yet?" He was trying to keep his tone casual, though he couldn't completely hide his eagerness.
Sighing, Harry shook his head. He wasn't even sure yet if Hermione would allow him to remain in the baby's life once it was born.
"Well, luckily not all of us have been so lax," Sirius began. "I've thought of three names," he said, holding up three fingers. "The first name is..." He allowed a dramatic pause before he continued: "Sirius." He paused again. "Now, I know it's a bit presumptuous and quite a name to carry, but I think it could work."
Noting that his godfather looked quite serious, Harry resisted the urge to laugh. "Okay, and the second and third?" he asked, thankful for the lightening of the mood.
"The second is Siruus and the third is Siruuus," his godfather said, looking rather pleased with himself. "I know it's difficult to choose, what with all the u's and all, but again, this should not be seen as a hindrance."
No kidding, Harry thought. He shook his head in amusement. "And what if it's a girl?" he asked.
That seemed to catch Sirius off-guard, his smile faltering slightly – but only moments later, it was replaced with a huge grin. "Siriusa! Notice the 'a' at the end?
Harry laughed, now unable to stop himself.
"It's original," Sirius pointed out.
Harry shook his head as he heard approaching feet. "I'll talk it over with Hermione, but I can't make any promises," he said, just as Ron came out.
Sensing the tension between the two, Sirius made to leave. Just before he re-entered the house, he added, "Siriusa, it could work!"
A silence fell between Ron and Harry once Sirius had left. For a while, they just stood awkwardly, glancing anywhere but at each other.
"So... You and Hermione..." Ron began, tentatively breaking the silence.
Harry pushed his glasses back, a nervous habit. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ron continued, "And not only that, but you also broke my sister's heart... I think. I really should hate you."
"Ron-"
"But I don't, even though I am angry," Ron went on, cutting Harry off mid-sentence. "I'm angry you didn't tell me. Seriously Harry - were you going to wait until you were having the kid circumcised or something?" he demanded, turning to glare at him.
"We're not Jewish," Harry said, for lack of anything else to say, then added, "And it's a girl."
He and Ron stared at each other for a moment before the absurdity of Ron's comment hit them and they both released nervous chuckles. Well, it was a start at least.
"Blimey. I didn't even know," Ron said, slightly exasperated.
Harry felt guilty; Ron was his oldest friend, they were practically brothers and if this had been under different circumstances, Ron would have been the first to know. That's why Harry hated lying so much – all that happens is that you wind up hurting the people closest to you in order to preserve the lie.
More than anything, he wished he could tell Ron the whole crazy story and get his perspective on things. But he'd made a promise to Hermione - and no offense to Ron, but he wasn't exactly the person he was trying to woo right now.
"I'm sorry, mate. I should have told you," Harry said solemnly.
"Bloody right, you should have!" the redhead exclaimed. "You cheated Dean, Seamus, Neville and I out of a stag party! Really, Harry, the one time it's perfectly acceptable for men to watch a stripper and you bail on us!"
Harry laughed. "You're angry that I cheated you out of tucking money into some girl's knickers?" he asked.
"It's the principle, Harry. And she would have wanted us to throw money on her."
"Well, I'm sorry for that too."
Ron smirked. "Not as sorry as you're going to be when we throw you a surprise belated stag party," he said, lowering his voice as if fearing to be overheard.
"Not much of a surprise, Ron," Harry deadpanned.
"Believe me, mate, it will be," he said cryptically, then his smile dropped. "Just do me one favour, Harry."
"What?"
"Talk to Gin, would you?" Ron asked, his hand on Harry's shoulder. "She's acting brave and all, but I think she's really getting the worse of it."
Harry could have slapped himself. He'd forgotten all about Ginny. He'd been so busy with his own problems that he'd completely forgotten about how she might be taking it all. Granted, she'd dumped him, but they had a past together and he owed her that much.
"Sure, I'll talk to her - and Ron?"
"Yeah?"
It was uncomfortable, but Harry had to ask. "Are we cool? I mean, you're really okay with it all?" he asked.
Ron scratched his head. "I'm not thinking of all the ways I can hex you, so yeah, we're cool," he agreed with a grin. "Just don't screw this up, Potter."
Harry smiled. "I won't," he promised.
/
After his talk with Ron, Harry was in lighter spirits. There was obviously still a lot to smooth out, but it was a start. Now all that was left was finding Hermione so that they could talk. Harry wasn't one for expressing himself particularly well, but he really wanted to give this his best shot. He couldn't afford to mess it up.
At first, he'd been confused about his feelings; Hermione was one of his best friends so obviously he cared deeply about her - but today had shown him a whole other side to his feelings for her. He'd like to say it was this week, but it had probably been long before that. They'd always been close and trusted each other unconditionally; he'd confided in Hermione about things he'd never told anyone else before, not even Ron.
Falling for Hermione had not been some sudden and unexpected explosion of love – instead, it had been like taking a long drive on a familiar path and it wasn't until he'd reached his destination that he realized he'd been heading there all along. Yet somehow, he doubted telling Hermione that would sweep her off her feet.
No girl wanted a declaration of love to include comparisons to paths or long drives, but simply saying, 'I love you' just wasn't enough. He'd have to show her some other way and Harry had an idea of how he'd do that. Now just to find said girl.
Harry took a turn, nearly walking into Luna. "Hey, Luna – have you seen Hermione?" he asked.
He was certain that Luna didn't mean to project such eerie vibes, but there was something about her gaze, as if she could see right through you, that scared almost everyone. Come to think of it, maybe they should have just set Luna's gaze on Voldemort – it might have saved them years and unnecessary deaths.
"Hermione?" she repeated. She blinked, glancing back to where she came from. "I believe she's in Ronald's old room," she replied lightly, a hint of a smile on her face.
Harry tried to hide his surprise, but Luna must have seen it. "I think it's because it's the only room vacant from prying eyes," she added. She patted him on the arm and walked away.
Of course that's why, Harry berated himself. He really had to work on his insecurity complex. If the stunt he pulled outside the restaurant was any indication, then he had serious work to do. Following Luna's advice, he took the stairs two at a time, trying to get there before he lost his nerve.
True to the younger girl's words, he found Hermione sitting on Ron's bed, a thoughtful expression on her face. At some point since he'd last seen her, she'd knotted her hair into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, a few stubborn strands framing her face. She was chewing on her bottom lip, eyes slightly narrowed in concentration.
Hermione was beautiful without even trying. He'd never stood a chance, Harry thought wryly as he stepped inside. The creaking floorboards alerted Hermione to his presence. Her head snapped up to look at him.
"I hope I'm not disturbing anything?" he teased, coming to sit next to her.
Hermione shook her head. "No, it's alright. I guess I just needed some time to escape the bustle downstairs," she said. "Did you know we had so many friends?"
Harry chuckled. "Sometimes I forget," he said. He glanced at Hermione and swallowed. Well, now seemed as good a time as any.
"Hermione-"
"Harry-"
They both spoke at the same time, then nervously laughed it off.
"You go first," Harry offered with a smile.
Hermione didn't return it; in fact, she looked close to tears. For a second, Harry saw red, wondering if someone had upset her. "Did someone say something?" he asked, unconsciously gripping her hand.
"No!" Hermione answered quickly. "But Harry... There's something important that I have to tell you."
Harry exhaled as the tension seeped out of him. He'd been ready to confront anyone who'd said something to hurt Hermione. He looked at her face; her eyes were glassy and her nose slightly blotchy.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his own worry hiking up as he tightened his hold on her hands. "Is it the baby?" he questioned, mind racing with a million possibilities.
Hermione shook her head. "No... I mean yes - I mean..." She stopped, taking a deep breath before looking up and holding his gaze. "Harry, remember in the lift when you asked me if I loved my baby's father?" she said eventually.
Harry swallowed, dread spreading inside of him. Something horrible was coming, he just knew it. From years of experience, he knew that whatever Hermione had to say would not be good. No one had ever delivered good news while looking tearful and misty eyed.
"Yeah?" he prodded, his voice sounding rough even to his own ears.
Hermione bit on her lower lip, blinking rapidly to stop the tears. "Harry, I do," she said softly.
"You do?"
She nodded, her tears finally spilling. "I do, Harry. I love him," she admitted shakily, "I've always loved him, even when I was with Ron, I-"
"Wait." Harry had to speak up - she wasn't making any sense. "You've always loved him? Even when you were with Ron?"
When she nodded, Harry thought the snapping in his chest and unbearable pain was his heart breaking, but then he also felt an uncontrollable anger. Who was this man who Hermione could love so much?
"Who is he?" His voice sounded hoarse; he couldn't even mask his hurt. He didn't even try, to be honest.
Hermione was trembling, her tears cascading unbidden down her cheeks. He hated seeing her like this, but he had to know. He dropped her hands, grasping her shoulders. "Hermione, who is he?"
"It's you."
His hearing wasn't failing him, it was gone completely, because he could have sworn that Hermione said something she really couldn't have.
"It's you, Harry," she repeated, sniffing and wiping her tears with the back of her hands.
Nothing was making sense. Hermione might as well have been talking in riddles. "How?" he managed thickly.
"Eight months ago, Fire Broom... The white dress..." Hermione began, voice shaking. "I'm so sorry, Harry, so sorry."
"That's impossible," Harry said. Somewhere at the back of his mind, a nagging voice told him that he was going into denial, but this lie didn't hurt as much as he suspected the truth would.
Hermione placed a trembling hand on his chest. "You deserve the truth, Harry..."
I didn't lie - the chapter was getting too long. But the next chapter the truth finally comes out. This is also the last chance for any reader who still wants to give it a go at a guess.
Seeing as the next chapter will be coming after Xmas, I wanted to wish all my readers a Merry Christmas in advance!
