Hermione woke with a giant yawn and scrubbed her face. Glancing behind her she noticed Charlie wasn't in bed. Her mind was still blurry after the odd series of dreams she beheld last night and the fact that her partner was missing created a pining of sorts. Her fingers traced the pillow as her stomach decided to do flips. Her confusion only grew, but the grip of her need to protect him was stronger.
The witch stretched out and yawned again before climbing from the sheets. "Drakon, are you around?" she called out as she reached for her robe.
Padding from the master bedroom, she descended to the bottom floor where she saw Charlie reading the Daily Prophet and drinking tea. "Good morning, bok jente. Feel like going for a run?" he inquired, not putting down the pages.
"No, not today, I feel unwell," Hermione sighed as she poured herself a cup.
His pages flicked half-way, and Charlie arched an eyebrow. "Did you need me to make you some ginger tea?"
Hermione shifted her head from side to side and sipped her cup. "No, it's alright."
"How about we skip going this weekend?" Charlie offered as he pressed the paper to the table.
"We don't have to," Hermione grumbled and caressed her face.
Charlie climbed from his chair and walked over to her. Pressing the back to his hand to her cheek, his head shook. "We're going to skip it. You look like you are catching something, love."
Hermione exhaled and closed her eyes as he rubbed her face. "My drakon, I'm sorry. You can go if you like. I'm sure Durstia will miss you if you don't. They still need routine even without us there daily."
"I don't want you to be alone," He murmured and kissed her forehead.
"I'll have Ginny over. Please, Charles, I want you to go enjoy. It'll be healthy for you to enjoy some time with our scaly children."
Hermione kissed his hand and sighed as he stroked her. "I'll wait for her to get here."
"I think I'm going to go lay back down," Hermione mumbled and stood up.
Charlie watched her walked from the room, and he felt urgent panic. It tugged at his chest and made him tap the table with fingers drumming roughly. He finally decided to pull out his wand and flick it, causing a sheet of parchment from the counter to float over and a quill to follow. He wrote the letter with swift action and sent it out.
There were so many things assaulting his mind as he sifted through it. A white dress. The idea that there was any symbolism to his dreams caused a building fear in his chest. Hermione's illness was even more of a bothersome itch on his worries.
Making her tea was the only thing keeping him from pacing the room. He wanted to send for a healer to check on her. Charlie had known about magical repercussions for messing with old curse scarring, and it concerned him that she was ill. Of course, he wanted to believe with his heart of hearts that she was pregnant and not something malignant was stirring; but that was just a wish for another lifetime.
The redhead knew he had to come to terms with that. For her sake especially. Last night was a wake-up call unlike any other when he saw her quick collapse under that weight. Charlie would never do that to his wife again. If he were ever to have a shot at happiness, he would need to be more proactive to shelving his dreams and wishes for that part of their relationship. It wasn't her fault, it was indeed his, but she would never see it that way.
"Charlie, you sounded worried in your letter," Ginny's voice entered the kitchen.
He turned to see his sister in loungewear and sleep still clinging to her face. "I am. Hermione is too sick to go to Romania today. I don't want her to be alone," he confessed while running a hand through his hair. "Would you come stay with her? I would be forever grateful."
Ginny's eyebrows rose as her lips parted. "Is she sick with something?"
Charlie huffed as he rolled his shoulders. "I don't know. I just know that she doesn't feel well and for my wife to not want to get out of bed, I know it is drastic," he mumbled with a tight expression. "I'm worried."
"I'll stay with her. I know you're the last person she wants to stress with illness after what happened before. I imagine she just caught a cold or is worn. I'll take care of it, Charlie," Ginny declared as she approached and snagged the ginger tea from the counter.
Charlie kissed his sister's forehead and nodded. "I will make it a short visit. Hermione just might want a bit of space from me so she can be ill. Write to me if things change?"
Ginny bobbed her head and bid him farewell before climbing the staircase. If she wasn't so nervous for her brother, she might have demanded Hermione to take a test now. However, their marriage was delicate in a way; this whole experience with trying for children had fractured a significant part of their strength. Charlie was not as emotionally stable as Hermione. He was susceptible to breaking under this type of pressure. Hermione didn't have it in her to shoulder that right now.
As the redheaded witch knocked on the bedroom door, she listened for Hermione. The witch had called out for her to enter and when Ginny opened the door, she heard Hermione voiding her stomach in the loo. "Hermione, I brought you some tea," Ginny called out as she closed the door behind her.
After another handful of moments, the toilet flushed, and the sink started to run. "I'll join you in a minute."
Ginny set the cup down on the nightstand and started to freshen up the bedding for the wounded witch. It was the least she could do to make Hermione comfortable. The curly-haired wild woman entered the room with a pallor of awful sorts. "The tea will help. I can also send for some remedies if you can't keep anything down," Ginny offered with a tilt of her head.
Hermione sighed and waved it off before plopping on the bed. "What are the chances that this is just an illness I can recover from or something more serious?" She inquired before sipping her tea.
Ginny exhaled and shrugged her shoulders as she sat down next to the other witch. "We have to talk about this, Hermione. You need to check," she said bluntly.
"You too? Do you not see how mental you sound by suggesting it? How can I be pregnant, Gin? Wishful thinking, but not logical," Hermione growled, setting down the mug.
Ginny pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. "Would you please listen to me. You must do this. If you are, then the healers have to give you the right potions for your body to retain it. Without the potions, you could end up losing the baby. Remember what Hippocrates told you? Getting pregnant is the hard part, but keeping the baby is the scariest. With your scarring the first trimester is crucial."
Hermione's lower lip quivered, and she exhaled. "Ginny, if this isn't the real thing I might die from disappointment."
There was an unknown hint to Hermione's expression, and Ginny gasped when she recognized it. "You have been feeling different?"
The curly-haired witch slowly rocked her head, but her lip quivered more as she spoke. "I don't know what to think. I have been off, but different. I don't feel like it could be a lie, but if I'm fooling myself, then I know that I'm destined to ruin my hopes indefinitely."
"Well, we will handle that when we get there."
Charlie was flying during patrols and distracted was not something he should be, but he was. Hermione's illness was bothering him. His thoughts were nagging at him to pay attention to the signs. It all was a concern he dared not touch, because if he does, then Charlie may lose her.
He was with Marcus who was swaying next to him with a quizzical expression. "Char, what's eating you?"
"My dragoness. She's ill," he huffed as they slowed to a stop.
"Ill with what?" Marcus inquired with a risen eyebrow.
Charlie shook his head and sighed. "I don't know. She has this way of keeping things from me without lying. Ever since we stopped trying, she stopped telling me when she was feeling off or under the weather."
The other Dragon Keeper tilted his head and pursed his lips. "Well, she is a dragon, Charles. You should probably treat her like one. When has a female ever let her guard down when she is ill around the others?"
"I know that, but it's more than that. I had a dream last night. She was wading in the lake and searching for something. The storm made it hard to see her aside from her white dress. When she pulled her hand from the water, she held a bright glowing fish. The rain got in my eyes, and when it cleared, she disappeared into the water, the dress trailing behind her."
Marcus rose both his eyebrows as he leaned forward. "That sounds severe. Did you sleep after?"
Charlie shook his head and huffed. "No, I couldn't. I went down the stairs and read a book. I'm worried about losing my wife. I don't want her to disappear from me again, Marc," he murmured as his fingers gripped his broom roughly.
"You feel like it was a warning?" Marcus questioned as his brow furrowed.
Charlie tilted his head back as he took in the blue sky above. "Well, it could be. She just disappeared before I could reach her. I remember calling out to her over the rain. It was as if she only noticed me after she caught the fish. She was tranquil in the chaotic storm. It was unsettling," the redhead explained before turning back to his partner.
"You should tell her about it. It could just be nerves, my friend," Marcus affirmed with a nod.
"If I do then what if she can't handle it. She might leave me anyway after last night. I addressed my thoughts on her health and may have pushed her to check to see if she was with child. We both were told that it was not even a decimal of a degree of a chance."
"Charles, you need to talk to your wife. This blow was rough for you both," Marcus insisted.
"I haven't gotten around to it. I'm concerned I can't recover this with her putting me at a distance."
"Then what the fuck are you doing here, Weasley? Go home and heal your wife," Marcus growled, tossing a hand at him. "Dragons will wait, go take care of your mate; us dragons only get one."
Charlie reached over and patted him before taking off like a shot. He landed at the old cabin and smirked… so many good memories. His fingers wrapped around the knob and he was about to enter when thunderous feet were heard on the gravel. "Char! Char, we need your help! One of the Welshes got into a spat and is injured." Tatiana shouted as he turned.
"How bad is it?" Charlie questioned as he approached the gasping woman.
"It's bad, Char. He won't let us look at it. Please, you're the only one who can take care of it," Tatiana huffed as she bent forward.
Charlie rocked his head and fixed his jumper. "Let's go."