Here's a new chapter. Thank you to AlexandraO for editing today.
Harry shook her, and Hermione shot up, clutching the sheets to her chest. "What is it?" She asked sleepily. She rubbed her eyes, wearily looking up at him. Her eyes shot open as she saw that he wore his full Auror uniform, and she knew in an instant that something was wrong. "Harry?"
His hand skimmed her shoulder, tucking her hair behind her. "Morning."
"What time is it?" The moon was still just outside their window, just a sliver in the sky that barely illuminated their room. "You look like shite."
He snorted. "Thanks for that. I didn't want to leave a note. Ron and I are being called in for an emergency mission. Kingsley fire-called me fifteen minutes ago. I won't be home for a few days."
Hermione stiffened, and the sheets fell away from her bare frame. As she shifted, she was starkly reminded that her hips were sore from the grip he'd had on her earlier, likely bruised. "What's going on?"
"You know that I would tell you," Harry hedged, "but Kingsley didn't tell me what he was sending us on. It's a team of us though; I'll be home in no time."
It was odd, no, it was worrying that even Harry didn't know what he was walking into. "They normally brief you at least some before you get to the Ministry," Hermione said slowly. "Don't you think it's strange that he didn't tell you anything?" She reached up, smoothing his hair down from where it stuck up. It didn't work, the stubborn locks springing right back up.
"You're worrying too much. Everything is fine. It's probably just—"
"You said it's an emergency mission. This isn't a simple scouting mission as if they were watching Death Eater sympathisers, Harry. They don't call you in the middle of the night for that." Hermione's stare was hard as he flinched away from her, which was all the confirmation she needed. "Please be safe. Please don't take unnecessary risks." It felt like nagging, which she hated. Harry was a grown man and a fully capable Auror, but something curdled in the pit of her stomach that left her nauseous.
"Of course." Harry murmured before kneeling to press a kiss to her forehead. "I'll be home as soon as I can. Maybe you can stay with Daphne, or she can stay here while Ron and I are gone? I haven't spoken to him, but I doubt she's taking it well."
Hermione nodded. "I'll owl her in the morning." She shifted, climbing onto her knees so she could hug her husband. She hid her smirk as he stared at her breasts. "I love you."
He squeezed her to his chest. "I'll see you soon."
Hermione watched as he exited the room, and she listened to his heavy footfalls that carried down the corridor. As the Floo came to life, she grabbed Harry's shirt from the middle of the bed and slid it over her head as she was left in the silence.
She showered first thing, cleaning the dried come from her inner thighs as she leaned against the shower wall. Dressing in a blouse and pencil shirt, Hermione stepped into her flats before making her way into the kitchen. Her robes hung on the coat rack beside the Floo. Flicking her wand with a non-verbal incantation, the coffee maker whirred to life.
Normally, she would drink tea as she took her daily potions, but with her lack of sleep the night before, something stronger was a necessity. A smile crept across her face when she noticed Harry had set her potions out for her, and she snatched up the note he'd left her.
Good morning,
Have a great day. I promise I'll be home soon, but I wanted to leave these out for you. Love you.
Harry.
P.S. Let's get pregnant!
Hermione doubled over as she laughed, giggling uncontrollably as she left the note on their fridge with a sticking charm. The fertility potion was the only one to leave a bad taste in her mouth, which she promptly washed down with hot coffee. The coffee didn't taste all that good mixed with the herbs in the potion.
Four weeks on the anti-depression potion, and she was starting to feel like herself again. Hermione still found herself randomly wanting to take a pregnancy test, but she usually held off since she knew a negative result could send her into another tailspin.
Leaning against the counter, Hermione sipped her coffee as she grabbed a bagel from the cupboard, knocking it shut as she stepped away. There was a tapping on the window above the sink, and Hermione sat her mug on the countertop. The tawny owl ruffled his feathers, allowing her to take the morning's edition of the Daily Prophet. He was treated by the bit of bagel Hermione let him steal since Harry had forgotten to pick up treats again, even though it was on the list.
Picking up her mug once more, Hermione sipped her coffee as she flipped the newspaper over, and opened it. Her mug crashed to the floor, the ceramic splintering, and the scalding liquid soaked her feet and seeped into her flats. A strangled sound ripped free of her as she froze.
DARK MARK CAST OVER SURREY
It went on to theorise that it was must have been a former Death Eater who had been released on probation. The article reassured that there was no third coming of Voldemort, a name that had not struck fear into her heart in several years.
Hermione swallowed. It was no wonder Kingsley hadn't told the Aurors anything as they were called into the Ministry in the middle of the night. She didn't like to think she could be the type to force Harry into something she wanted because she didn't like it, but if she'd known… Hermione had little doubt that she would have pleaded with him to stay home, to stay with her in their warm bed.
That was a ridiculous train of thought. Harry loved his career as an Auror and wishing she could prevent him from performing that job was selfish.
She scrambled for the Floo, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for it to connect with Daphne's Floo. It didn't. Hermione was left without an answer, and she tried again, this time frantically calling the Burrow.
Molly's face appeared amongst the flames, her features contorting as she recognised Hermione. Before Hermione could get a single word out, Molly interrupted her, "Oh, Hermione!" She cried. "I'm so sorry for being so crass a few weeks ago. I assumed that you weren't trying for children yet, and still, that's no excuse, but—"
She didn't know. God, Molly must not even know. "Molly," Hermione said quietly. "I truly appreciate your apology, but have you seen this morning's edition of the Prophet?"
Molly shook her head.
Hermione summoned the paper into her hand, frowning. "Move, I'm coming through." She stepped through, her shoulder slamming against Molly's by mistake. Neither of them were focused on that when Hermione revealed the cover page. "Have you heard from Daphne?"
Molly's face drained of colour. "She's asleep in Ron's old room. They stayed the night after dinner last night. Ron left this morning but didn't want to wake her. He said it was nothing, just an emergency mission that would be resolved within a few days."
Funny, Harry had told her the exact same thing. Hermione rubbed her eyes, tears already welling up. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to wake her. She needs to know." She slipped past Molly, climbing the familiar stairs that she had used for years, and lightly rapped her knuckles on the door, but there was no sound from within.
Daphne was sprawled across the bed, the space beside her barren. Her hand was over her stomach, and her other arm tucked beneath her head.
Hermione didn't want to wake her. Taking quiet steps toward the bed so as not to scare Daphne, she took a seat beside Daphne, the bed dipping below her. "Daphne," she whispered, shaking her shoulder lightly. "Wake up."
She cracked one eye open, and then the other flew open as Hermione came into view. "Hermione?"
Her heart was in her throat. "There's a situation." Daphne sat up quickly, her bump clearly showing through her camisole. "Harry and Ron were called away on a mission last night."
Instinctively, Daphne's gaze jerked toward Ron's side of the bed. "He didn't tell me."
"He thought it wasn't bad, and that he'd be home in a few days. He let Molly know, but didn't want to wake you in the middle of the night."
"Oh, God," Daphne gulped. "Are they in St Mungos? We can go—I can be ready in a few minutes."
"I don't know where they are," Hermione whispered. "I assume they're near Surrey. The Dark Mark was cast last night." She opened her arms as Daphne burst into tears and laid her head on Hermione's shoulder.
Hermione ate breakfast at the Burrow, her stomach rolling as Daphne pushed away the food Molly placed in front of her. Despite her world being turned upside down, she had no intention of calling off work either. She borrowed a pair of shoes from Ginny's old closet and disappeared through the Floo while saying she would visit on her lunch break.
The Ministry was always a hive of activity, but she was met with the lingering, pitiful stares that followed her down the corridors to her office.
She sat behind her desk, letting her head fall into her hands the second the door was closed. All that waited for her that day was a mountain of paperwork. It was mostly proposals from different individuals on the payroll of the Department of Magical Creatures that she would either approve to be taken up to the Wizengamot as a possible law, or she'd stamp it with her red seal, and clip a rejection slip to it.
It was so tedious that she managed to forget about Harry and Ron for all of five minutes. It went like that for the entire day. Five minutes of forgetting and ten minutes of worrying.
She visited the Burrow on her lunch, but it was a somber affair. Daphne laid on the couch while watching the charmed telly that Arthur had installed. Molly baked for the majority of the day, sending desserts to all of her children, country lines be damned.
At four o'clock in the afternoon, there was a knock on the office door. "Mrs Potter?" Sophie called. She was an assistant, but not Hermione's. "Do you have a moment?"
Hermione blinked, flipping the file in front of her shut. "Have a seat." Hermione rose to her feet, stretching her hand out, and shaking the young woman's hand. "How may I help you?"
Sophie was fresh out of Hogwarts, a former Hufflepuff that was too nice to refuse picking up everyone's coffee when she announced she was in dire need of a cup. Sophie cleared her throat. "Well, I think I may be of some help to you. My boyfriend works at the Daily Prophet, and he has an inside source upstairs in the DMLE."
Hermione tucked the files away in the middle drawer of her desk. "Inside sources at the DMLE are strictly frowned upon, so I suggest you don't tell me who the source is."
The woman cracked a smile. "Of course not. He doesn't even tell me, but he did show me an advance copy of the edition for tomorrow. I thought you deserved to see it now."
It had been silent over the duration of the day, no information trickling down the grapevine. Hermione grabbed the newspaper that Sophie offered. Her mouth dried as she stared at it. "Merlin."
For once that day, the pitying look that Sophie gave her didn't bother her. "They say Harry Potter is one of the best Aurors in a decade. I'm sure that he's okay." It was meant to be reassuring, but there was no reassuring her.
Not when Hermione held information that revealed an unnamed Auror had been slain in a fight with Dark Wizards, one who evidently possessed the Dark Mark. "Thank you very much. I appreciate you showing this to me." Hermione handed the paper back, already memorising all of the information she needed to know.
It was after one visit to the Minister's office later that Hermione could breathe. He verified that both Harry and Ron were alive, but it was all he could release. Technically, he had added, he wasn't meant to reveal that information regarding Ron since she wasn't his wife, or family, but she was as good as.
Daphne shrunk in on herself with the news. They were alive, and that was the best news that they could have received, but clearly, they were in a precarious situation teetering on the edge of violence.
The mission was meant to last three days, but Hermione hadn't seen her husband in a week. Once Molly's hovering had grown to be insufferable, Daphne had taken up the offer to stay with Hermione. They shared the bed, both anxious only to have someone there. Sometimes Hermione woke up to find Daphne crying in the bathroom and she would sit with her until the sobs subsided.
Sometimes it was the other way around, and Daphne held her hand while whispering things that neither of them quite believed.
But then in the middle of a Saturday afternoon, Hermione made an early dinner. She wasn't sure what had made her sick, the shepherd's pie, which she'd had enough of, or the treacle tart she'd nicked from Harry's stash in the last cupboard on the right.
"You're a bit green." Daphne padded over toward her, lifting her chin. "When did this start?"
Hermione shrugged. "I'm not sure. God, what is that smell?" She covered her nose, bile rising in her throat.
"The pie?" Daphne asked. "Or the treacle tart?" She tested it, bringing the plate to Hermione's face, and there was no reaction. The same could not be said for the treacle tart.
Hermione ripped away from her, dry heaving. "Is it expired?" She stood to check the wrapper, but found that it couldn't have been expired since Harry had purchased it recently. "It's not, but that smells foul. I don't even want to know what it tastes like."
Cocking her head to the side, Daphne said, "Fuck it," and popped the treacle tart into Hermione's mouth.
Hermione ran to the sink, vomiting.
"Alright then," Daphne muttered, holding Hermione's hair. "Sorry about that. Where's your pregnancy test?"
"What?" She gasped.
"I know you have one here, Hermione. Maybe you should take a muggle one first since you're more comfortable with those." Daphne's smile was kind, completely different from the mischievous one she'd given before shoving the treat into Hermione's mouth.
"Bathroom, but I don't think—"
Daphne steered her toward the loo, urging Hermione inside, and waiting outside the door. "I'll be here, okay? Take all the time you need."
The door shut, and Hermione caught her reflection in the mirror. Her skin was pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes due to lack of sleep. Sighing to herself, Hermione took the muggle pregnancy test from the cupboard.
Five minutes later, Hermione was still working up the courage to look at the test. She didn't want to confront another negative result with Harry there, but when had she ever gotten sick from treacle tart before? With trembling fingers, she picked up the test.
Two lines.
She was pregnant.
They were pregnant.
Alright, we've solved one problem and now we have another since obviously we have to have conflict somewhere. There are five chapters left of this short-ish story. Please let me know what you think!
