News that Hermione Granger had agreed to marry Ron Weasley spread alarmingly quickly through the school, considering the only people who were supposed to know about it were the two involved, plus Harry and Ginny, who both insisted they had told no one. They decided that whatever portrait or ghost had overheard them and tattled, they were not going to deny it, and by the end of classes on Monday it was a well-known fact. There was a party in the Gryffindor common room that night, set up by Neville, who managed to sneak up a significant amount of butterbeer and firewhiskey, the latter of which he was responsibly only supplying to those who were of age.
"Neville!" a fourth year stamped his foot. "What is the point of sneaking alcohol into the castle if you wont give it to anyone who cant get it for themselves?!"
The party was a fun affair, really, with Ron getting fantastically intoxicated and standing on a table with Seamus singing Flower of Scotland, which Harry found a rather unlikely choice, and waving empty bottles around dangerously.
Hermione, meanwhile, was in a corner, surrounded by girls pressing her with questions about the proposal, her plans for the wedding, how it would affect her future, and so on. Hermione answered the questions in wavering tones, though, really, for the most part her answer was, "Haven't thought about it." After which all of the girls would burst into their own speculations and ideas. They, at least were having a merry enough time.
Harry noticed, however, that Hermione seemed a little down, so he fought his way to the center of the group to extricate her from it. "'scuse me. Sorry, Parvati. Could you budge up there, Romilda. Um, yes, good to see you as well. Hermione, a word?"
He glanced around to make sure no one was looking and then ushered her up the stairs to the boy's dormitory. They sat on his bed in silence for a while.
"Are you okay?" he asked, finally.
"I, I suppose so." She stared at her hands. "Harry, I don't understand all of this. I love Ronald, you know that, and I thought we would end up like this some day, but why now? What's he got to propose to me while we're still in school for? I just feel so rushed. I mean, I couldn't say no, could I? It would've ruined our relationship. We wouldn't have ended up together at all, most likely. There are just things I wanted to figure out about us and about myself before I got tied down like this. I just feel like suddenly my life isn't my life anymore, it's ours, and it should be that way yet! Not yet." Her voice caught, her nose wrinkled, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.
"Hermione…" Harry said slowly. "Don't you know why Ron proposed now rather than later? Didn't he say anything about it?"
"About what?" She wiped her eyes and looked up at Harry, curious.
"He knows, Hermione! We figured it out."
Hermione stared. "Knows about… what, exactly?"
"Well, you know, why you've been so odd lately."
Hermione stared some more. He couldn't possibly. If he did, he would have thrown a ft, not asked her to marry him. Harry would not be sitting here, holding her hand consolingly, he would be screaming in her face. "And what did you come up with?" she asked, controlling her face.
"The baby! Hermione, you're pregnant, aren't you?" Harry grinned at her, reassuringly.
She blinked.
"Aren't you?"
Her lips pursed, her eyes closed, and she turned away, her shoulders shaking slightly.
"There, there, Herm. Don't worry. Ron's proposed, hasn't he? It's all going to be alright. We'll work it out! You've got lots of friends, we'll take care of you." He took her face in his hands and turned it back toward him. He paused. What he had taken for crying was, in fact, laughter. "What? What's funny?!"
Hermione, no longer able to control herself, bent double, slapping her knees and roaring her amusement out loud. "You… You and Ron…" she managed, sucking for air, "you noticed I'd been acting odd so you… you figured I must be pregnant and you decided we had to get married!?" She fell back on the bed, laughing so hard she could no longer speak.
Harry gaped at her. "But you are… aren't you? I mean, what else…?"
"It hadn't occurred to you that NEWTs were less than a month away? That I killed people less than a year ago? That we're different people than we were last year, that our entire futures are about to be determined and I might be having a little trouble working out what I wanted right now?" She sat up, wiping her eyes and patting Harry's shoulder, patronizingly. "Oh, Harry, you boys really are hopeless."
Harry looked thunderstruck. "So you aren't pregnant?!"
"No! Of course not. Look, don't tell Ron we had this conversation, alright, just tell him I'm not pregnant and not to bring it up and we'll just continue with our lives as if nothing had happened, alright? Ron and I will be engaged for a few years before we get married and that's fine." The last signs of laughter died suddenly from her face. "Its not like anyone else is going to come and sweep me off my feet."
Harry, in his shock, completely missed the significance of these words. "No harm done then. I'm the world's greatest fucking asshole, but no harm done, anyway. Good. Okay." He stood up, running his hands through his hair and looking around a little wildly. "Right. Bollocks. Okay." And without another word, he left her there alone.
She giggled a little more for a couple of minutes, but then, thinking of the decidedness of her future, the love she had been denied just the previous day and the complete weight of the years to come, she succumbed to tears, and spent the rest of the evening lying on Harry's bed, wishing she were someone else.