As the ministry was closed until after the New Year's, there was no need to get up early. Hermione filled her days with sleeping in, staying in her pyjama's and reading. Whenever she needed to go out for groceries, she threw on a pair of sweatpants and a warm sweater, completing her outfit with some worn trainers.
The morning of December thirty-first, Hermione contemplated going to the ball that was being held that evening. But when she looked in the mirror and saw the tangled mess that was her hair, her pale skin and the bags under her eyes, she thought better of it.
She grabbed her phone and called Ginny.
'Morning Hermione', Ginny said cheerfully.
'Hey Gin. How are you? Any babies yet?'
'Not yet, but I don't think I'll be making it till the fourth. The boys have started a little pool over when the babies will be born. Want to wager in?'
Hermione started laughing. 'Sure, what days do you have left?'
'Well, give me a moment', Ginny said and Hermione could hear her groan as she came to her feet. 'It's all the way over in the family room and I was in the kitchen. It might take me half an hour to reach it'.
'Don't go into labour!', Hermione could hear Harry yell. 'I have January seventh!'
Hermione laughed even harder at this and even Ginny managed a chuckle. 'Glad to see me being uncomfortable is giving you all a proper laugh'.
'Sorry Ginny', Hermione apologized, even though she knew the feisty redhead didn't mind at all.
'There is still January second and eighth through twelfth, though I beg to Merlin it won't take another two weeks for me to go into labour'.
'I'll have the eight', Hermione said confidant.
Ginny sighed as she pencilled Hermione in. 'Thank you Hermione, it's nice to know my friends are being so supportive. It really means…ouch!'
'Who has won!', Harry called from somewhere in the distance.
'It's nothing', Ginny bellowed. 'It really is nothing', she continued to Hermione. 'Just some false labour. So, why were you calling?'
'Is Harry going to the ball tonight?', Hermione asked.
'Yes', Ginny muttered, sounding a bit annoyed at this. 'He is'.
'Do you want to hang out? I can bring some movies and popcorn'.
'You're not going?'
'I don't want to talk about it'.
Ginny remained silent for a bit. 'Sure, come on over. I'll be here, like I have any place else I can fit into…'.
That night, around eight, Hermione clang the doorbell at Harry and Ginny's cottage. The door was magicked open as Hermione heard Ginny call for her to enter.
'Ginny?', Hermione yelled as she came into the house.
'I'm on the sofa!', Ginny called, shrieking with laughter. 'I just found out I can't get up without help. Please rescue me, I have to pee'.
Hermione doubled down with laughter as she hung her things away and took the bag containing movies and popcorn with her into the family room.
Ginny laid on the sofa, and although Hermione would never say it, she looked like a beached whale. Hermione began laughing again and with difficulty, owing to her bursting into giggles every so often, she managed to get Ginny up on her feet.
As Ginny fled to the bathroom, while she waddled like a penguin, Hermione popped in a movie and ventured to the kitchen to pop some corn.
'That's better', Ginny sighed as she came back. 'Thank you Hermione, I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't shown up'.
'The sofa is leather', Hermione reassured her. 'It would have been easy to clean up'.
Ginny laughed and playfully hit Hermione on the arm. 'That's disgusting'.
Hermione shrugged as she put the popcorn in a bowl and she and Ginny went to watch a movie together.
The first few years of living on her own, Ginny had found a lot of muggle inventions to be both fascinating and handy. She had become obsessed with movies and TV shows, almost acting like she had to make up for the seventeen years she hadn't been able to see any.
Ginny also insisted on having a phone and she and Harry had learned to drive proper muggle cars. Hermione was quite proud of her friend. Some things, like an ultrasound, were still shrouded in mystery, but all in all the pureblood witch was doing very well.
Hermione lived across from a movie rental and she and Ginny had spent a fair few hours in there, finding the perfect films to accommodate their interests. Knowing exactly what Ginny loved to see, Hermione had picked up three of her best friends favourites.
First on the list was Dirty Dancing, then came Pretty Woman and lastly she had rented a copy of Aladdin.
'How are you', Ginny asked Hermione while she grabbed a handful of popcorn as they watched the opening credits flow over the image of Baby sitting in a car.
'Just fine', Hermione said.
'You don't look just fine', Ginny commented.
'Well considering that I showered and combed my hair just for you, I guess you're right', Hermione said. 'I don't want to talk about it though'.
Ginny nodded and for a while she was quiet, revelling in the film.
Somewhere between Baby offering to stand in for one of the dance instructors and her learning to dance from Johnny, Ginny rubbed her belly and worried Hermione by saying she had some weird stabs in her abdomen that concerned her.
Hermione paused the film and moved closer to Ginny. 'Do you want me to get your mum?'
Ginny nodded, eyes large with fright. Despite her being "over it" and wanting to have her babies, she wasn't as fearless as she might have thought.
Hermione didn't hesitate. She jumped to her feet, got some powder from the small silver box on the mantle and yelled: 'The burrow', as she threw the powder in the flames. Immediately the fire turned green and Hermione was swooped from Ginny's side, to appear in the Weasley's kitchen.
'Hermione!', Mrs. Weasley shrieked as she dropped the teapot she was holding.
'I'm sorry Mrs. Weasley', Hermione said as she mended the pot with a little flick of her wand. 'But Ginny needs you, now!'
Mrs. Weasley jerked the apron from her body and followed Hermione back through the fire to Harry and Ginny's house.
Ginny was still sitting on the sofa, her hand pressed to her belly and a scared expression on her face. 'Mummy', she cried when her mother and best friend stepped out of the fireplace, reaching out to her mother.
Mrs. Weasley hugged her daughter and proceeded to feel her belly and ask her daughter some questions. Following a frightful five minutes, Mrs. Weasley mopped her brow with her sleeve and shook her head. 'Don't worry dear. It's just one of the babies turning to get ready'.
'Are you sure?', Ginny asked.
Mrs. Weasley nodded. 'Very sure. This happened to me as well. With Fred and George, I mean. Twin-pregnancies are just a little bit…more painful from normal pregnancies'.
After making sure Ginny was alright, Mrs. Weasley went back home and Hermione and Ginny rested on the sofa for a bit.
'Will your mother be with you?', Hermione asked as she pulled Ginny's feet close and began massaging them. She had read somewhere pregnant women found this pleasant and relaxing.
Ginny nodded, leaning her head back and sighing comfortably. 'Just my mum and Harry though. No friends, no other relations, sorry Hermione'.
'That's alright. Will you at least text me when you're going into labour?'
Ginny shook her head. 'It's a surprise. It's such a sweet moment that Harry and I decided you'll just hear about the babies being born after they're born'.
Hermione sighed as she switched feet. 'I understand. I'll eagerly await your call though. Do you feel prepared enough?'
Ginny nodded, though her face had a scared expression before she broke into a cautious smile. 'I took a leaf from your book', she grinned.
'How so?'
'I bought books', Ginny whispered. 'Muggle-books even'.
'Ginny Weasley is studying form Muggle-books? How did this happen?', Hermione asked amused
'Well there are hardly any books for pregnancies available for witches. So I went to a muggle-bookstore instead. The information is the same, so is the process. I needed to know…you know?'
Hermione nodded as she patted Ginny's feet. 'I understand completely. I'm probably the only person who understands your need to be well-informed without you explaining it to me'.
Ginny smiled as she rubbed her belly. 'I lend you the books when it's your time'.
Hermione scoffed as she got up to make tea. 'Believe me, that is a looong way in my future'.
The night of January third, after having an extensive phone call with Ginny about labour and due dates, Hermione contemplated the need to go into work the following day. She wanted to go, work would take her mind of things. Yet it would also mean having to face both Draco (definitely) and Jeffry (most likely), and after the Paris fiasco, she didn't really fancy seeing either.
Hermione decide she would call in sick. In all her years of working at the ministry, she had been sick maybe a grand total of five days, not counting her fake sick day after her run in with Draco Malfoy at that restaurant, and it was high time she had a nice long and nasty flu to recover from.
The morning of the fourth, Hermione sent an owl with her excuse note to her office. Within the hour she had a response. Emma had gotten her letter, wished her well and refused to send any work via owl. There was no rush to the documents and a lot of people wouldn't even come into work until the next week.
"Use this time to get well and we'll see you when we see you", the note said. It brought tears to Hermione's eyes, knowing she had such sweet and supportive co-workers.
Snuggling up in bed, Hermione closed her eyes again and didn't wake until noon. Shocked she had slept so late, she rushed out of bed before realizing she had nowhere to go.
"As long as I'm up", she thought and she threw on the same clothes she had been wearing all week, the baggy sweatpants, frayed sweatshirt and worn trainers with one lace coming undone. She looked awful, but didn't care.
Smiling at the complete lack of interest in herself, Hermione decided to go for a walk in the park. She could get a bun from the bakers around the corner and eat while she walked.
Highly content she grabbed her keys and wallet while she made her way to the door. Just as she put her hand on the doorknob, the phone began to ring. She ran back to see who was calling her. It could be Ginny!
But it was an unknown caller and she let it pass, disconnecting her voicemail while she was at it. No need for telemarketers to ask her to call back.
Hermione puled the door shut behind her and made her way to the bakers and the park. No need to rush and she enjoyed taking her time. Crossing the street and passing rows and rows of buildings, she wondered why she never walked anywhere. Whenever she was going somewhere, she would apparate. Yet walking was nice. She saw the people, noticed the amount of holiday decorations that were still up and smiled when she saw the flyers for discounts at stores she had always wanted to visit but had never taken the time to do so.
Her small walk turned into a long one and Hermione found that as long as she would keep her focus on her surroundings, she wouldn't contemplate work, or her current relationship status. And that made her very happy indeed.
The walks turned into a daily thing. By the time January seventh rolled around, Hermione wished however that these walks would give her some clarity as to what to do about her job. She had no idea how she wanted to proceed, other than the fact a large part of her mind screamed she would never return to her office ever again.
It had started to snow and Hermione brushed the flakes from her hair as she went into her favourite Chinees restaurant to order some take-away.
Carrying a plastic bag full of wonton soup, Szechuan chicken and steamed rice, Hermione apparated back to her flat, she wanted this food hot and fast. For the last two days she had craved the salty and fatty dishes from Mr Chows, but having fresh produce in the house meant she had to eat homecooked food instead. However, as she had eaten her last carrot and potato, she was now free to eat anything she wanted and she wanted Mr Chows famous Szechuan chicken.
She appeared in her living room and made her way to the kitchen when the her mobile started to bleep. "Food first, texts second", Hermione thought as she piled her food on a plate and poured herself a hefty glass of red wine.
Nestled in her favourite armchair, legs folded underneath her, Hermione turned on the telly and flicked to the channel for her vcr. Before leaving she had put in the perfect movie for eating alone, Sleeping Beauty.
As a child from the eighties, Hermione had had a slight obsession with Disney movies when she was a little girl. Especially everything that had a princes in it. Half of her childhood photographs were of her in some princess dress. Her mother insisted it was cute, Hermione knew it was embarrassing.
Tugging into her food, she skipped the credits to get straight to the story. Watching "Briar Rose" meet her prince Charming and fall in love without properly getting to know him, Hermione contemplated her own love life. Two men she had been interested in, two men who actually wanted her, and she blew it with both.
Refilling her glass, Hermione put her plate aside. The food only half eaten, but she had lost all interest in it. She stared at the tv and hummed the tunes while she finished off her second glass and made for a third. Knowing full well it was a mistake to get drunk, she didn't stop herself.
Suddenly she was pulled from her thoughts as her doorbell rang. Confused she got to her feet, slightly unsteady as she had had the better half of a bottle of wine, and made her way to the door.
"Who is calling at this hour?", she wondered.
Not bothering with the peephole, she opened the door.
'Hermione, we need to talk!', a harsh men's voice said.
'Draco…?'
There we are, a nice long chapter for you all. Maybe this will make up for the short one from last week?