For two more months, the letters continued from places like Chicago, Washington D.C. and New Orleans. He wrote about the food and the odd American customs and his usual grumblings about Muggles. She wrote back with updates on 'the little bookworm', sending cutouts from the Prophet when she attended an event with Kingsley and attempted to explain certain Muggle behaviors, but the fascination with Americans and Baseball was something she didn't understand.
For two more months, the letters continued.
Until they stopped.
It had been 3 weeks since his last letter, but she continued to send him owls, continued to send him updates even without a response. It made her feel as if he'd been getting her letters, the way she continued to send them without a reply.
She tried to continue with her life as if she was still receiving letters. She kept busy at work, preparing her assistant to handle anything that may occur over her upcoming maternity leave. Pansy or Ginny attended all of her appointments with her, holding her hand and sharing in her growing joy.
Her nights were the worst. At night, she curled into her bed under Ron's old quilt, pulling it tight to her chest and silenced her room so as not to wake Ginny. Some nights she was plagued with old nightmares from the war and her short time at Malfoy Manor and she woke screaming and drenched in a cold sweat. Some nights, tears caked her cheeks until her body finally succumbed to exhaustion, her hand resting across her stomach. More nights than she'd like to admit though, she lay awake staring past the roses from Ron that sat on the window ledge, still holding under a stasis, and further out the window, pleading with the night sky to bring her an owl from the States.
Friday's were once again spent at the Pub, now that Harry was back from the States. Occasionally, the small group was joined by Astoria or Blaise. They had a comfortable dynamic, but all seemed to avoid the topic of pale blonde hair that none of them had heard from in weeks. Harry tried to reassure them, reassure her, that if something was truly wrong, he'd have been notified. Most likely, Draco had finally infiltrated the cell of dark wizards, and was too far undercover to respond. She told herself that was the real reason why her last owl had been returned unopened.
On this particular Friday, she'd left the office late, her last official day of work before her leave started. She gathered her cloak around her, glancing once more across her office, making sure everything was in order. In the days and weeks to come, everything would change, but her office still felt like this last piece of sanctuary, this last place of comfort and home. Here, there were no baby books or pink plush blankets. No closets filled with tiny baby outfits- an array of pink tutus and soft robes. As much as she had tried to contain the nursery to the one room in the flat, the pink and grey and beige had spilled over and little pieces were covering almost every surface. Her flat that had once been her and Ron's, had vastly been taken over by the little one who hadn't even arrived yet. She took a deep breath, glancing once more to the chaise lounger, imagining Ron laying there relaxed, his eyes closed, catching an afternoon nap. One more look. One more moment of peace before she stepped out into the London night.
It was a rare clear night in London and the weather was almost warm and mild. She thought briefly of hailing a taxi, but the walk to the pub was short and would probably be good for her. She'd worn a pair of sensible flats today. Much to Pansy's dismay, Hermione's feet had swollen too much to fit into heels. The walk carries with it the usual bustle, but the crowds seem to move out of her way when they see her approaching on the sidewalk, and it's only when she's pulling open the doors of the pub that she realizes she looks like a small house draped in a large piece of tan wool. As has become custom, she's the last to arrive.
She makes her way slowly to the group, taking notice that Theo is filling in a spot towards the end, furthest away from where Astoria has chosen to sit. She hasn't seen him since that night with Draco, hasn't had a chance to ask him what Draco's letter meant about Theo not viewing Astoria as just a little sister. She settles into her chair next to Ginny and across from Theo, smiling politely at the newest member of their Friday night ritual.
In all of their wine nights, shopping trips, teas and gossip sessions, Astoria has never once mentioned Theo, but sitting here tonight, Hermione watches them, seeing them in a different way than she did that night when she only saw Astoria draped over Draco. Now, she sees the way Astoria purses her lips and pushes her hair over her shoulder when she catches Theo watching her as she talks softly to Pansy. Her eyes darted back and forth between both of them, watching how closely connected they seem, how they move around each other unconsciously, even without speaking to one another. There was something here, something more that she'd been missing.
Remaining the silent observer, her attention turns to Ginny, sat next to Blaise who was currently whispering something into her ear. She watches as her friend blushes, giggles and then lightly smacks his arm, actions she hadn't seen from her friend since, well, since ever. She'd been so distracted by the lack of letters from Draco to see it, but it suddenly all came to her at once. The way Blaise's name had seemed to come up more and more in conversation with the redhead, the way Ginny had delayed going back to Wales despite practices starting the following week.
How was it that she'd managed to overlook not one, but two of her friend's romantic interests.
As a second nature, her hand comes down to rest across her stomach, and she realizes that that was how she'd managed to not notice the changes in her small group of friends. Somewhere between still missing Ron, letters from Draco, Harry putting together the white wooden crib that was now decorated with soft pink blankets, and pressing the rose petals from a bouquet from Ron into piece of art that now hung above said crib, she'd forgotten to take notice of those around her.
She leaned back further in her chair, watching the way Harry fawned over Pansy, remembering how Pansy had lamented just the day before to her that Harry had insisted that Pansy take time off from the shop, that she was too busy with new designs and the new maternity line and she needed to rest. Pansy, who at almost five months pregnant, was just barely starting to show. Pansy kept reminding Harry that she was pregnant, not broken, and completely capable of managing her shop by herself. Unknown to Harry, she'd already caved and hired an assistant who was scheduled to start on Monday.
She sat back, sipping her water and watching. Watching all of them, the way they moved and laughed and spoke to one another. Her eyes darted over to the empty chair across from Harry, and it struck her as she realized it wasn't Ron she imagined sitting in that spot, but a certain pale blonde. That she hadn't heard from in 3 weeks.
She pushed herself away from the table, sliding from the chair with the intent of heading towards the bathroom, when it happened, seemingly all at once. Her hand reached out, grabbing the back of her chair as she coupled over, a griping pain coursing through her body. All eyes at the table swiftly moved to her, but it was the quiet Theo who moved first, grabbing her by the shoulders to pull her flush back against him, his body holding her up.
It can't be time, yet. He's not here. She can't do this without him.
"'Mione, it's time. We need to get you to St Mungos." It's Harry's voice that she hears, holding onto the arm that Theo isn't, both of them holding her now.
It can't be time yet. He's not here. I can't do this without him.
She's aware that people in the pub are starting to stare, taking in this overly pregnant lady who very clearly has something running down her leg, but she can't register their faces or their voices. Her vision is tunnelled to that chair across from Harry that still remains empty.
It can't be time yet. He's not here. She can't do this without him.
"Harry… I need… he needs to be here. I can't do this without him." Her voice is jumbled and broken as Harry and Theo rush her out the back door which leads to a small alley before swiftly side apparating her to the lobby of St Mungos.
"I know, 'Mione. I'll do what I can."
"Harry… I need him… he needs to be here. Draco."
