It was all getting to be so perfect. Hermione no longer had the nightmares. She returned back to work. Ron was promoted and had never had so much responsibility in his life before, managing junior Aurors. With a wry smile, Hermione thought how she was glad that all that training in Wizard Chess had finally paid off. Today, her and Ginny had decided to get together to decorate the nursery to welcome the child that would be born in just under two months.
'Alright.' Ginny had huffed when she made her way up the stairs with several tins of paint that she had just bought, her belly just beginning to peek through her top. 'What colour? I have red, blue, yellow, green,' she made a face, 'lilac, pink, orange-'
'White.' Hermione finished promptly. 'I've already decided on the colour scheme. White.'
'Really?' Ginny wrinkled her nose. 'This baby's not going to be you, Hermione. It's going to be messy.'
'I just don't want to categorize my baby into a colour just yet.' Hermione said defensively. 'I want them to be able to choose for themselves when they're older, without having previously been influenced. Besides, my grandmother would kill me if I chose pink for a girl. She's always been a firm believer in the Anti-Pink for Girls. And red, blue, yellow and green – that's a lot of pressure to get them into Gryffindor isn't it?'
Ginny chuckled. 'Hermione, you think too much. Give your brain a rest and relax. Where's Ron anyway?'
'Work.' Hermione explained. 'He couldn't get the day off. Besides, he'd only get underfoot. Ron's hopeless at painting. I want to do it by myself by hand, and he wants to do it by magic. He doesn't get me trying to keep some of my muggle ways. I just want our baby to see both of its heritages equally.'
'I'm sure that your baby will really care that you decorated this nursery by hand.'
Hermione chose to miss the sarcasm.
'Well, I stupidly let Ron get involved last weekend with the nursery, and he's put the white carpet down already – I think that he was trying to get me to admit that to use magic would be easier. But we can work around it. I've put newspapers down around the edges of the carpet so that the paint from the walls shouldn't too badly damage them, and if they do,' Hermione shrugged, 'it's nothing that a little magic can't fix.'
The two young women got to work. Ginny took great delight in standing on the face of Blaise Zambini as he glared up at her from The Daily Prophet's Article about rounding up death eater's. Finally, the room was all done and they trooped downstairs again, exhausted and happily giggling about their husbands and other members of their family.
'I mean, when she asked me what a Cornish Pixie was, I could have just died.' Ginny laughed as they discussed Charlie Weasley's most recent girlfriend who, despite being stunningly beautiful and had looks to rival even Fleur, also had the brains of Goyle. She'd been brought up as a witch, and had somehow passed all of her exams at Hogwarts – but it was as if she had been drunk the entire time and couldn't remember any of her education.
Usually, Hermione would have said this, which is why Ginny was surprised when she suddenly stood up as if in a trance and excused herself.
Time passed, and still Ginny did not hear the soft padding of feet coming back down the stairs. Suddenly concerned, she rose from her seat and made her way upstairs.
'Hermione?' She called gently, 'you alright.'
Nothing.
Silence.
The nursery door was slightly ajar, feeling her heart begin to beat with dread, Ginny walked closer and closer towards the door.
'Hermione?' She called out again.
There was still no sound.
Ginny finally pushed open the door and very nearly screamed.
Blood.
Everywhere.
Somehow it had got up high on the walls, as well as leaving a trickling trail along the carpet that led to an unconscious Hermione. When Ginny saw the blood stains on Hermione's skirt, she knew in an instant that there was no hope. Still, she sent out for a MediWizard by using her patronus, and desperately clung onto her best friend, listening to her shallow breathing and knowing that when she woke up someone would have to relay these awful events to her. And how would she tell Ron? Ginny was in such a state as she held onto her, that she did not notice how the blood stains on the walls looked like two sets of handprints, one bigger than the other, pulling them away. And had she looked closely she would have seen written in blood, something that had haunted her since her childhood.
'Enemies of the Heir. Beware.'
