Chapter Fourteen

Their Baby

The Burrow hadn't changed since Hermione last saw it. There were still chickens clucking outside of the patchy green yard. The house stood tall and a bit crooked holding up only by magic.

If she remembered correctly (and she did) every Saturday the Weasley's came together for dinner. She didn't send an owl. She didn't want a huge fuss, and because she wanted to see how much things had changed. She didn't want the Weasley's to put together a meal that she recalled with more clarity than they could anticipate.

Steeling herself she walked forward the chickens clucking louder making way for her. She knocked on the door, and almost immediately it swung open wide.

"HERMIONE!"

She only saw a flash of plump Mrs. Weasley before she was thrusted into her arms, only to be surrounded by a hoard of red-heads all of which she was being embraced by. Mr. Weasley, George, Percy, Ginny, Bill, and Charlie. She was also hugged by their spouses, Fleur, Seamus, and Angelina. She held back her tears as she greeted her family.

"We've missed you, sis," George exclaimed lightly pushing her shoulder.

Ginny wrapped her arm over her shoulders. "I'm glad your here."

Mrs. Weasley, tears running down her cheeks kissed hers, "it's about time."

"Welcome home," Mr. Weasley called over their heads.

"Thank you," was all she could say. She was too choked up to force any more words out, but they seemed to understand all them looking upon her with bright watery eyes.

"Come," Mrs. Weasley said leading her to the kitchen, "dinner's ready. Tuck in."

It was funny how some things didn't change, or only twisted slightly to resemble what they used to be, but that didn't make them bad. Sometimes, like in the instance of the Weasley's Saturday dinner, did it make things better.

Seamus was the last man that Hermione would think to match up with Ginny, but they were happy. Seamus' gentle features lit up when he looked to Ginny. It was the same with George and Angelina. They were all very happy. Life didn't end for them when they lost their son, their brother. It continued.

When the jokes had been told, the day's activities covered, the attention turned once more to Hermione.

"What brought you back," George asked her.

"George," Mrs. Weasley rebuked as she stood to magically set the dishes in the sink. "She's our guest, lets not interfere in her life."

Life... There was that word again. Did they honestly believed she had a life? Wasn't it obvious that it ended, buried with Harry and Ron? "No, it's okay. You all deserve to know."

Her glare hadn't turned from her son. "I'm not sure if this lot deserves anything!"

"Draco Malfoy almost hit me with his car."

Silence so strong that a mouse could be heard somewhere in the distant household.

"I've been away for far too long. I'm sorry for leaving. I see what I did was wrong now. I hope you all can forgive me."

Mrs. Weasley kissed the top of her head. "Of course dear. You were upset. We understand that."

A part of her wished that they wouldn't be so understanding. As much as they deserved to know the truth she deserved to be punished for her inconsiderate actions.

"So you had this revelation when Malfoy ran you over?" George nearly laughed.

"Almost," she corrected him. "He almost hit me. Draco made me see..."

"Draco?"

There was a lot to go over. Her entire life, not only her life then, but what was happening before she left. She hardly knew where to start, but where better than the beginning? The night her and Draco met...

It lasted for hours. She had to hand it to George, even he was quiet, more silent than the scurrying mouse. Her throat became dry halfway through her story and Mrs. Weasley kindly gave her a glass of water. When she was finished she waited for any questions, and when there was none, only blank stares at her confessions of love, marriage, and a child that wasn't hers, she stood to go to the hallway by the rickety stairs.

Hermione scanned the photos along the wall. She looked at the pictures of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's wedding, their children growing up until Ron was eleven and then a raven-haired and buck-toothed children that couldn't have been related by blood joined the moving photos.

Gently she touched one of her, Harry, and Ron. They had their arms wrapped around each other, smiling, her and Harry looking to Ron who apparently told a funny joke.

They were dead. It was as if she had to remind herself that they weren't there anymore. She would never see their smiles or hear their laughter again. Never would she be able to scold them.

When tears threatened to spill over she knew it was her cue to leave. She had a home to go back to, a life. She was going to be married, have a daughter.

"We failed them."

She felt Bill's hand slip into hers. "What do you mean?"

"We promised them that we'd look after you. You know, if anything would happen to them. Which it did. We didn't keep our promise very well."

"You did as much as you could."

"If we did that, Hermione, you would've never been almost hit by a car. Wretched Muggle things."

"I chose to leave. It's my fault."

"D'you think our brothers would've seen it that way?"

She thought about that and chuckled. "No, they wouldn't. But they'd be wrong, and we both know that."

He enveloped her his chin on her shoulder. How could she have forgotten the comfort that all of the Weasley's had in them? She had forgotten Bill's compassion so much like his mother. She might have survived those eight years if she saw the sense to stay.

"Hermione."

"Bill."

"Malfoy?"

"Soon..."

"Why?"

"Why Fleur?"

"Because..."

"There's too many reasons?"

"Yes. Okay, I see your point," he nodded. "I want to kill him."

"I know you do."

"Do you know why?"

"He killed Ron and Harry."

"Not only that."

"If it's because of me -"

"It is -"

"Then it's me that you should want to kill. Not him."

He let her go. "You're losing me."

She faced him but found it hard to look him in the eyes, so she glowered at her sneakers. "I'm marrying him. I'm marrying the man who murdered my best friends. I should feel horrible, but I don't, I don't see him as a murderer. I feel horrible because I don't feel bad."

"Shhh, Hermione, calm down. It's okay. You shouldn't feel that way at all. Malfoy is yes, a murderer. I'd love to murder him myself, but I have my wife to look after. Anyhow, he did it because it was his job. Harry and Ron would have done the same thing if it were Malfoy."

"But would they do it if it was each other. What if Ron was taken, would Harry..."

"You know that answer..."

"Yeah... I do. They wouldn't. They couldn't."

"Malfoy wasn't their best mate. It's different. It's not an easy situation, Hermione. You know that." He sighed and kissed her forehead. "Welcome home."

"Thank you."

"Don't keep us waiting another eight years."

She smirked a rather Malfoy smirk. "I wouldn't think about it."

Hermione gathered every bit of courage she had to visit Harry and Ron's graves alone. She sat between them, her feet by Ron's headstone, and her head leaning against Harry's. She talked of their childhood in Hogwarts, her days without them, and how much it all hurt.

She sat there from sunrise to midday. She laid her roses on the base of their names. She placed kisses on them. She cried, she laughed, she hurt. She said her "love you's" one last time.

When she reached the gate she looked up. Draco was leaning against a tree, his arms folded over his chest. He knew, they both did. That night would be their last.

"Are you ready?"

She stood in front of him. "Ready to let go?"

"Are you ready to come home?"

She looked over to her best friends. "I am home."

"The graveyard isn't your home, Hermione."

"Then I don't have one."

"Don't do this... Not now. Come on, lets go home - my home. We'll lie down and rest. You need to rest."

"Do you think they hate me?"

"What could they possibly hate you for, love?"

She let the tears fall their familiar tracks. "For loving you."

He didn't blink much less move from his stance. "They hate me for being a consistent jerk. For being a Death Eater. They love you because... Once you get past your know-it-all attitude you're very easy to love. You loving me... As unprecedented as it is, they couldn't possibly hate you for that. They were your friends."

She stared straight into his silver eyes. "What does it feel like? To kill someone?"

He stiffened, his shoulders hunched to his ears. "Every morning that I look into the mirror I will see a killer staring back at me. That's how it feels. You think you're ready... You're never ready. That's how it feels to murder anyone. But to murder your girlfriend's best friends... You'll wonder why every day that she's with you. You'll feel worthless and evil. There's no words to describe what I'd trade to get my enemies back for you. Just for you." He took her hand. "We're going home before you ask anymore inappropriate questions."

Hermione came home from her day with the Weasley's ladened down with dishes that Mrs. Weasley forced upon her. She was stuffed with food, but the smell of sweet potatoes, and turkey made her mouth water. She would have to put some together that night for Draco to take to work.

In the complex she walked with her head down, and stopped at a stream of light spilled on the dark floor coming from a crack of Theo's door. Curiously she peeked in, but no one was there.

Theo wasn't a forgetful person, so she quickly let herself in dumping the dishes on the table and hurrying back outside. She slid her key into the lock but it swung opened. That wasn't a good sign. Draco was overly thorough, he never left a door unlocked.

Him and Theo were huddled around a phone, Draco yelling into the receiver, Theo tapping his fingers against the counter in a nervous twitch.

She wrenched her keys from the lock throwing them to the coffee table as Draco threw the phone down his face twisted in agony. It was when she slammed the door that the two men looked up.

"What's wrong," she asked recognizing that her voice was shaking terribly.

Draco appeared more pale than usual, his hair sticking up on end. "Jo... My... Baby..." He collapsed in a chair, his shoulders shaking with grief.

Hermione looked to Theo who shook his head helplessly, his hands trembling at his sides. "We can't find Joanne..."

Something fell inside of her. Her heart, her stomach... All of her organs. Her daughter was missing... She pushed the men out of the way snatching the phone from its hook dialing new numbers. She would call everyone in England, she would do anything. She had to find her. Her daughter. Their baby.