Later that night, Hermione sat at a table reserved for Ron, Ginny, Harry and herself at a rather extravagant reception hall, still trying to sort out what had happened earlier. Ron was on the other side of the room, chatting away with an Auror and his wife, while Ginny and Harry spent most of the time on the dance floor. Harry had asked her to dance twice, but she had refused knowing he was just asking her because Ron hadn't. So she sat quietly by herself for a long while, watching Harry and Ginny dancing, their eyes so filled with love for one another. She tried hard not to be envious, but each dance that passed she found herself more and more jealous of the obvious affection and intimacy they shared. She jumped slightly at an unexpected voice from behind her chair.

"Good effening Hermione."

Her heart soared automatically upon recognition of that voice.

"Viktor? What are you doing here?"

"Ahh. Dreadful public relations duties. I tried to get out of it I assure you, but now I am glad I did not. Now I do not haff to vait until tomorrow to see you. Did my letter arrive?"

"Yes, along with much too extravagant gifts. You really didn't need to do that Viktor."

"Do you like them?"

"Of course I do. They're absolutely beautiful, but I.."

"You did not try to move anything by yourself did you?"

"No, but.."

"Good, then I vill be there tomorrow to do so."

"Did anyone ever tell you, arguing with you is pointless."

"Then vhy try? Vill you dance vith me instead or shall I sit all alone at bar."

He gestured towards the bar and cringed when he saw the scantily clad women waiting for him like starved piranhas.

Hermione laughed.

"I don't think you'll be lonely all that long Viktor."

"Perhaps, but I vould rather be eaten by volves than be over there right now. Please save me from them just once more."

"Once more?"

"You save me from same girls at academy, no?"

"I don't think those women were ever at Hogwarts Viktor."

"Perhaps not, but they are the same as those girls vere. You vould not condemn me to an evening of mindless giggling and batting of eyelashes vould you?"

She looked up into his dark eyes glittering with laughter, and perhaps something more, and her heart fluttered in her chest. He reached out for her hand and she found herself slipping her hand in his and resisted not at all as he gently led her to the dimly lit dance floor. He pulled her close and she was keenly aware of his body pressed against hers as they swayed together across the polished floor. Hermione hadn't danced in years and she felt euphoric as he held her hand in his and gently guided her movements with his large hand pressed against the small of her back. The heat from his hand felt glorious against her skin and she was lost in a swirl of blurred images and emotions. She kept her balance by focusing on Viktor's stabilizing form and allowing his gentle but firm hands to support her. Her eyes gazed into his and everything else simply melted away. After several minute, the music slowed and her eyes once again focused enough on her surroundings to see Ron glaring at her from the edge of the dance floor. Instead of the normal repentance, anger began to build in her.

'How dare he be angry with me for dancing. Why should I just sit alone all night being ignored?'

He was the one who had betrayed her with another woman, he was the one who had almost struck her in a childish fit. He had no right to be angry with her, no right to make her feel at fault for every little thing she did. She knew what he wanted. He wanted her to stop dancing and go back to the table to wait for him. She looked away from his glare, intentionally refocusing her eyes on the kind man who was holding her in his arms, refusing to give in this time. Tonight she would be happy, tonight she would be the girl she used to be, even if she had to take hell for it tomorrow.

The next morning, Hermione sat at the kitchen table feeling slightly ill again. She thought perhaps she had overdone it last night. She had danced for almost an hour before Viktor was called away. Ron had not spoken to her since, yet she didn't seem to mind his childish silent treatment this time. The hurt that usually accompanied his scorn was oddly absent this morning. She was contemplating this new realization when she suddenly flinched as a hand slammed the daily paper down in front of her, causing another painful spasm in her abdomen.

"Are you happy now?"

"What are you talking about? You scared me."

"This!"

Hermione looked down at the paper Ron had slammed down in front of her. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the moving image of herself dancing with Viktor at last night's reception. Here in the light of day she could see the adoration in his eyes clearly and flushed at the realization that everyone else must have seen it too.

"Read it!"

Her eyes skimmed the headlines. 'Viktor Krum's Old Flame Still Burning'. The article went on to imply they were having a terribly illicit affair and that the identity of her baby's father was in serious doubt. Byline by Rita Skeeter. Hermione blushed miserably and she felt sicker than ever. She was not remotely up to the argument that she knew was inevitable.

"Is this your attempt at some kind of schoolgirl payback? Huh? You think because I make one mistake you can humiliate me in public like this?"

"I haven't done anything to you."

"I saw the way he looked at you! You must have done something to make that happen. Just how long have you been seeing him Mione?"

His eyes darted meaningfully to her middle. Shock at his accusation momentarily froze her thoughts.

"How dare you! I haven't seen him in years. I only met up with him again a week ago. How dare you suggest such a horrid thing!"

"Might explain his sending such extravagant gifts to another man's wife."

"Don't be disgusting. I've never been with anyone but you. Not that you could say the same."

"You better not have Mione! You will never see him again. And you will send those bloody gifts back!"

"No, I won't. He's my friend. I told you I won't hurt him like that."

"Yes, you will."

For the second time in years Hermione held her ground.

"No Ron, I will not."

She was only slightly unnerved by the fury in his eyes.

"How dare you! You won't embarrass me like this Mione. If you think I'm going to have people laughing at me for having a whore for a wife, you're crazy. If you won't get rid of them, I will!"

He stormed into the nursery and drew his wand aiming it at the hand carved cradle. Hermione, furious at his behavior placed herself firmly between him and the nursery.

"No! Stop it!"

Hermione grabbed for his wand and tried to deflect the curse that was about to fly causing fury to erupt in him. Before she realized what had happened she had fallen to the floor from a rough shove, hitting her cheek on the edge of the dresser on the way down. She was on her knees reeling from the stinging welt on the side of her face. She looked up at him completely stunned, holding one hand against her burning cheek, the other cradling her stomach. Ron was looking down at her in shock and confusion, as though he was trying to make some kind of sense of what he had just done.

"Hermione I.. I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

He reached down to help her up. She pushed his hand away.

"Don't touch me! Leave me alone."

He watched, speechless, as she reached out and lovingly caressed the wooden cradle he had tried to obliviate, a nasty red mark slowly turning to a bruise on her cheek and shame consumed his features. He slowly backed out of the room, unable to meet her gaze and quietly left the house.

After a long while Hermione pulled herself to her feet only to double over in pain. Alarmed, she slowly walked over to the sofa as another sharp pain ripped through her abdomen. These pains were different than before and the intensity of them frightened her as she suddenly realized she was probably in premature labor and completely alone.

"Oh Merlin. Please, no. Please baby, it's too soon."