Chapter Eleven
"Good morning, 'ermione. I brought you some tea, with extra ginger, for the nausea," Fleur announced as she entered the room and set the tray on a table beside the bed. It was almost mid-morning from the angle of the sun outside the window. Choosing to skip breakfast in order to rest, Hermione cherished sleeping on a mattress in the small room. It had been too long since she had slept in a real bed.
"Thanks, Fleur," Hermione yawned her gratitude as she lifted to a sitting position. "I know it's a side effect of the pregnancy, but even I didn't think it'd be this bad," she referenced the rolling nausea that seemed to ebb and flow at all times of the day.
Fleur checked to make sure Hermione's room was properly stocked. "It could be a reaction to the potions you are taking?" she guessed.
"Healer's orders," Hermione grimaced as she unstoppered the daily regimen of potions lined on the nightstand the night before.
Fleur bit her lip to keep from frowning as she watched Hermione swallow one bottle followed by another. "Malfoy slept outside last night, but he came back inside after breakfast. He is downstairs waiting to see you."
Hermione nodded, as she waited for the prerequisite morning sickness to roll through her stomach. She nibbled on the scone beside the pre-offered tea. "Hmm. He isn't much of an indoor person," she said after a bit.
Fleur walked to the door, closed it, before returning to sit at the edge of Hermione's bed. "I don't presume to know you that well, but I must ask. Why would you undertake such a risky endeavor?"
Hermione peered at the French witch unsure, and hedged, "Risky because it's him, or because of what I'm doing?"
"I do not presume to know Malfoy as well as you do, but I know magical creatures," Fleur said with warning. "They are possessive, 'ermione. You must always be aware of the wolf within the man. I guarantee you Malfoy is."
"We have an understanding," Hermione explained, though she knew how close she'd come to the wolf within. She'd almost gave into it herself once.
"The wolf within will not care about 'your understanding', as you say. You carry 'is pups, 'e will see you as permanently 'is, if 'e doesn't already."
Hermione swallowed, though unsure, she felt secure in her logic. "There were times I felt the lines had blurred. The longer I stayed, the more difficult it became. It's one of the reasons I suggested we come here. If we were to put space between us, then it will sort itself out, I'm sure. I'll see to it personally that it does." She sighed, drawing her knees up to her chest. "Besides, I understand Malfoy's concern about the pregnancy. They are his children, but some distance between us both will put things in better perspective." Especially for her, she thought to herself.
Fleur frowned, as she placed a hand on her own swollen middle. "They are your children, too. Does that mean nothing?"
Hermione took in the mother-to-be, a picture of calm, poised with an unnatural glow. How could Fleur be so calm in the midst of war? The Veela was about to bring a child into a world with little light. What was so joyful about that?
Nothing about the circumstances surrounding Hermione's pregnancy was right, so it seemed fitting that the circumstances around the birth be untraditional as well. "My situation and yours are vastly different, Fleur. You and Bill are married, and …" she trailed off as emotion, powerful and swift, stifled her words. Sharp images of possibilities, of another time hit her. Maybe in another life she could have had what Fleur and Bill had? Maybe she would have given birth to Harry's child by now, and things would have been different?
Hermione rubbed her eyes, refusing to let the emotion win again. Gods, these hormones were getting wildly out of control. "But things are different." Different, now that was a loaded word if there ever was one. "By this time next year, when this war is over, maybe then I will have what you and Bill have. But I need to get there first. We have to get there first." And this pregnancy was her assurance.
Hermione rose from the bed to don her dressing robe, as she sipped her tea.
"I do not see our situations as so vastly different," Fleur replied from the bed. "Yes, we will bear children in a challenging time. But after our bodies break to bring them into this world, we will pick up our wands and go off to fight for them, for their safety and their future. And it is what Bill, and Malfoy, and Molly, and Arthur understand more than any other. That it is not about ourselves, 'ermione. It is about something much more selfless than that." Fleur pushed off the bed with a little difficultly. "It is getting harder to keep my balance these days," she teased to the younger witch as she stood to leave.
Hermione couldn't help but ask as Fleur reached for the doorknob. "Are you sacred?" It wasn't often Gryffindors admitted fear, but the question on the tip of her tongue rushed forward as the Veela made for the exit.
Fleur did not ask for clarification, immediately aware of what Hermione referred to. "Terrified," she admitted easily. "But also, excited, and anxious, and so wonderfully overwhelmed."
Hermione rose a brow to the witch as if she were mad. That made absolutely no sense at all.
Fleur chuckled at the witch's expression, and offered rather unhelpfully, "You will see. When you are ready, please see to Malfoy downstairs. 'e is getting rather restless."
Hermione sipped her tea, before walking to the wardrobe, about to do a very girly thing.
Vanity had been lost during her time on the run, and it felt like ages since she gave herself a proper once over in a mirror. As she took in her reflection, she noticed there was a healthy pallor to her cheeks. Her eyes still carried the weight of war, but nothing drastically had changed. She certainly did not have Fleur's permanent glow. It was hard to tell if she had gained any weight (probably because she regurgitated every other meal), but all in all, she looked fit.
She opened her robe and lifted her nightshift, turning slightly in the mirror.
A bulge protruded slightly above her pelvis. It was more noticeable than the day before, she realized. Timidly, she lifted a hand to touch it. It was firm to the touch. Visual and physical confirmation made it more real somehow as she pressed two hands to her expanding middle. She realized with undeniable certainty that three separate and new lives were forming and growing within her. She quickly pulled on the hem of her shirt and swallowed the emotion that began to creep-in from the edges.
Even if she would not consciously admit it, her carefully structured compartmentalization had begun to crack.
By time Hermione came down the stairs, she found Lavender and Malfoy waiting in the parlor room.
"Well, well, I have to admit it, Hermione. You've got guts," Lavender admitted as Malfoy approached.
The werewolf did not look like he had slept, as he lowered his head to the crook of her neck and shoulder. He inhaled her scent as his hand ghosted across your middle. "Have you eaten yet?"
Hermione was very aware of Lavender's eyes on she and Malfoy, as she hesitantly replied in a low tone, "Yes, Fleur brought me something this morning." She lowered Malfoy's hand from her middle, understanding his need for physical contact, but not at all comfortable in the presence of others. Surprisingly, Malfoy allowed her to move his hand. "I'm fine. But, I need to go outside for a moment."
As expected, he followed as she left the small cottage and took a sharp turn up an embankment of sandy dunes. Lavender also followed, but stayed further back as Hermione made the requisite journey. It became something of a ritual whenever she visited Shell Cottage.
The Order had left the decision of Harry's final resting place to she and Ron. Though they had been at odds with one another, it was something they readily agreed to. It would have been dangerous to inter Harry at Godric's Hollow beside his parents, as Voldemort's forces had taken control of the Wizarding village. So, they easily settled upon Shell Cottage in the sandy dunes beside the free elf, Dobby.
Hermione had made it her solemn vow to return Harry to rest beside his parents once this war was over. But for now, she stood before the small headstone she and Ron created. She lowered her head in memory, as she re-affirmed her dedication to this fight. She prayed for forgiveness, illogical as it was. She grieved for the losses they had suffered while on the run, and for not being able to save him that night in the forest.
All the while, Malfoy stood in her peripheral. He gave her the space she needed while she grieved privately for her friend. Even if Malfoy couldn't properly remember everything from their past, he sensed the space she desired.
"It's funny. This is the first place you'd come after abandoning us for nearly two months," the acerbic retort drew Hermione from her reverie.
The remaining member of the Golden Trio hadn't changed since she saw him last. Ron Weasley's shaggy red hair had now grown to the tips of his shoulders. The mirth that used to be present in his sky-blue eyes was long gone.
War had a way of snatching the innocence from them all.
Hermione turned to Ron as he made his way up the embankment, flanked by his younger sister, Ginny. The younger witch wore a permanent scowl whenever they crossed paths, but the disgust was even more evident today. What should have been a lovely Autumn morning deteriorated as tension and old wounds festered between them.
Word apparently spread quicker than Heremione thought.
Forging onward to get this over with, Hermione greeted them both with obvious strain, "It's good to see you, too, Ron. Ginny."
"How dare you stand there at his grave?!" Ginny accused, cutting past the pleasantries. She pushed past Ron, unable to hold it in any longer. "After what you've done…"
Hermione squared her shoulders for the insults to come. "I know it's difficult to fathom, but I've done this for you, too," she tried to begin with logic.
Ginny seethed, the ire marking its way from her neck to her cheeks. "Oh, that's a laugh! You've whored yourself out to Malfoy for me? Going to slag it up with a Death Eater next?"
"I'd watch what you'd say," Hermione warned with a frown, annoyed at Ginny's dense way of thinking. She turned to Ron who remained uncharacteristically quiet. "And I suppose you feel the same?" she sought his input, unsure if it would be supportive, or in line with his sister.
"How would Harry feel if he was here right now?"
The question struck her into silence.
Ginny nodded beside him in agreement, as Ron continued, "I'm imagine he'd be right pissed that his friend, his lover," he spat the term. "… snuck off in the middle of the night to offer herself to the one he hated the most."
"That isn't fair, nor accurate. How could you say that? Harry isn't here, Ronald."
"And for once, I'm glad he isn't!" Ron shouted, his temper finally spilling over. "He'd probably feel betrayed that his former best friend is having a baby by a man he hates. That the girl he loved enough to make a child with, ran off to a friggen werewolf…"
"Harry and I weren't in love!" she shouted for the thousandth time for all the world to hear. Sometime after the Battle of Hogwarts, rumors started to swirl among the Order that she and Harry have been in love, and willingly dismantled the carefully constructed relationships Ginny and Ron thought they were entitled to. Looks of accusation, or disgust, followed behind her after Order meetings. It was easy to brush them off because they simply weren't true and there was a war to be won. She had tried to broach the sensitive topic with Ron, but his family closed rank around him. She had been effectively shunned from the Burrow after that.
"Yeah, well I was!" Ron struck back. "Ginny was waiting for Harry while we were on the run. You both knew that."
She lifted frustrated hands to her head and bit back sharply, "How many times must I say this?" Slow enough for a child to understand, she enunciated each word, "It … only … happened … once. You can't possibly blame me for a mistake that both of us made!"
"Except it's happened again!" Ginny jumped in. "Different man, same whore," she sneered, looking very much like her mother.
There was no hesitation as Hermione reared her hand back. She'd be damned if she let someone insult her for a decision she made. She felt a satisfactory crunch as her knuckles met cheekbone. She grabbed her hand in pain afterward; it had been too long since she struck another physically. "Don't ever call me that again." Anger kept Hermione's wits focused as several things happened at once.
Ginny's wand slid into her hand.
Ron turned a shade of scarlet after she struck his sister.
Hermione plucked her own wand from her sleeve, ready to retaliate, though she did not want to.
Time stood still for a moment, but even that wasn't enough to notice Malfoy catching Ginny from behind. Hermione missed his arrival, but all of a sudden he was there with his arm around Ginny's neck. Caught off guard, Ginny was thrown to the ground, her wand snatched out of her hand.
Malfoy stood over Ginny, growling at the wizard who tried to square off against him. Ron was pissed, but he wasn't stupid as he swung his wand from Hermione to Malfoy.
"Ron, don't," Hermione warned as she watched the two, both on the precipice. Any movement could send them both over.
Ron stared down the length of his arm at his former nemesis. "Give me a reason," he whispered as he twisted his wand, itching to start the duel.
Though Malfoy had Ginny's wand in hand, it would be nothing for him to kill Ron with his bare hands and teeth. Not that Ron wouldn't do grave damage beforehand. No, this would not do, as Hermione sought to de-escalate the situation.
"Ron!" Hermione shouted to get his attention. "Please. Let's discuss this inside like civilized adults."
Ginny snorted from the ground, well aware of the irony in Hermione's statement.
Ron seethed, "I have nothing to say to him." But Ron lowered his wand as his brother and sister-in-law left the cottage to join the fray. "Look at him, he ain't even civilized anymore," he said on a smirk. Ron gave a hand to his sister to help her from the ground.
"My wand?" she threw her chin at Malfoy.
The werewolf sucked his teeth at the confrontational witch, but tossed the wooden stick to her. Together, the Weasley siblings made their way back to the cottage followed by Bill and Fleur. Ron called over his shoulder, "Well, are you coming to talk, or not?"
Hesitating by Harry's grave, Hermione nodded at Malfoy, unwilling to follow Ron and Ginny just yet. "Thank you." She took pride in her capabilities, but even she knew Ginny could throw a mean hex. She appreciated Malfoy coming to her aid and wasn't above showing the werewolf the gratitude he deserved.
Lavender appeared from the rear. The other werewolf had been far enough not to interfere in the scuffle between friends, but was close enough to watch the whole thing unfold. "You know, Ron's never going to forgive you for this," she stated the opinion as if it were fact.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at the assumption. "It isn't his forgiveness I seek," she clipped.
"Well, he thinks you owe him something." Lavender wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "No offense, but you were pregnant by his best friend and now, you're pregnant by his enemy."
"Watch your mouth," Malfoy growled to the other werewolf. Lavender smiled, but wisely shut her mouth.
"It doesn't matter," Hermione spoke to Malfoy, though she could not read his eyes. She wished she could. "I don't need his forgiveness, or his approval. I'm not ashamed."
But a violent crack of Apparition next to her interrupted further conversation as Ron suddenly appeared. Clearly agitated from moments before, he grabbed a hold of Hermione's wrist and huffed impatiently, "Let's go."
There had been no time to pull her hand away.
There was a split-second to watch Malfoy's eyes grow wide in alarm, before Hermione was side-alonged away from the dunes and back into the kitchen of Shell Cottage, the pull behind her navel foreboding and jarring.
As soon as they landed, a sharp, stabbing cramp had her doubling over in pain, as Ron deposited them back inside. "Ahhhhhhh!" she groaned as another cramp followed the first.
A terrible, fierce roar had all in the kitchen, save Hermione, looking over their shoulders in fear.
an: Ron has done it now...