Strange, but it was as if winter break never happened. Molly met Hermione at the door, surprising her with a huge hug.
"You look wonderful, dear! Come in, come in!"
Harry hugged her, too, though his eyes were fixed on Ginny. He muttered something about chatting later, the two of them already halfway up the stairs when Molly shouted after them.
"You two better behave yourselves! I expect you back down here in 10 minutes!"
"Hi."
Ron had just emerged from the kitchen, munching on a piece of cake. He swallowed, flashing her a crooked smile.
"Hi Ron."
"All right?"
She nodded. "You?"
"Yeah."
They stood there for what felt like a lifetime, the awkward silence almost deafening. Finally, he strode across the room, his arms wrapping around her so tightly they reminded her of Devil's Snare.
"Ron," she said," I can't breathe."
"Sorry," he said, releasing her with a self-conscious laugh. "I'm just happy to see you."
Happy? That was an understatement. She'd felt his body's reaction when he'd hugged her, the longing in his eyes unmistakable. Still, he was careful to put plenty of distance between them, settling himself at the opposite end of the couch.
"Brought the chessboard down from my room," he said. "Maybe we can play later on."
"I'd like that."
He was obviously still attracted to her, yet he really was trying. She had to give him credit for that, flashing him a smile as she searched for something else to say.
"So what are you…"
"Dinner!"
Ron leapt up from the couch, hurrying toward the kitchen. Hermione followed at a more sedate pace, grinning at Harry and Ginny as they appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Obviously, they'd made the most of those 10 minutes. Harry's cheeks were flushed, Ginny's braid half undone.
"Where is everyone?" Ginny said as they sat down at the table.
"Your father should be home shortly. Bill and Fleur took off to Paris for the evening, and George has a date. Percy, too, I believe."
"Percy?"
"I couldn't believe it either," Ron said. "Who'd want to date a stuffy old…"
"Her name is Audrey," Molly interrupted, setting a couple platters on the table. "She's quite lovely."
"That's nice," Ginny said brightly. "Everyone's got a date."
Almost everyone.
Ron didn't say it aloud, but his expression made it clear what he was thinking. After a moment, he shrugged it off, smiling at Hermione as he passed her the pumpkin juice.
"So what did you make, Mum?"
Molly smiled, lifting the lid of the largest platter. "Rosemary chicken with baby potatoes. We also have peas, fresh baked rolls, and treacle tart."
Had the chicken gone bad? Hermione closed her eyes, her stomach suddenly roiling with nausea.
"All right, Hermione?"
She couldn't answer, clapping a hand over her mouth as she bolted from the kitchen.
"Finished?"
When had Molly come in? Hermione couldn't be sure, closing her eyes as she rested her head against the toilet. She'd retched for what felt like hours, body still trembling, skin clammy with sweat. That chicken… she couldn't even think about it without her stomach lurching in protest.
"I… I think so."
"Here," Molly said, "drink this."
"I can't drink anything."
"Trust me."
As much as she wanted to, Hermione couldn't bring herself to say no. She sighed, lifting the mug to her lips.
"Wow," she said, taking one sip and then another. "That's…"
"Helps, doesn't it? I used it during all my pregnancies."
"Well, I'm not pregnant, but…"
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure! I haven't…"
"Not even over winter break?"
There was nothing accusatory in Molly's tone. Instead, it was strangely sympathetic, though Hermione still felt her cheeks redden. Okay, so she'd slept with Ron. So what? That still didn't mean…
"I'm not pregnant."
Molly took out her wand, pointing it at Hermione's abdomen. She murmured a charm, nodding as the tip of her wand glowed pink.
"What? What does it say?"
"Seems you are…"
"No," Hermione interrupted. "No, I can't be pregnant! I took a potion, I made sure…"
"Maybe you took the wrong one."
"I know my potions!"
"Anyone can make a mistake. Why, one time I…" Molly trailed off, frowning as someone knocked on the door. "Who is it?"
"Me," Ron called. "I've come to check on Hermione."
"I'm fine! Really, you don't have to…"
"Come in!"
Hermione cringed as he entered the bathroom, his expression full of concern.
"Are you sick?"
"No! I mean, I was, but I'm fine now. You can go back down…"
"This concerns him, too."
"There's nothing to be concerned about!" Hermione snapped. "I told you, I'm not…"
"The charm says…"
"The charm was wrong!"
"Dear, that's not even possible. I've used that charm more times than…"
"Cast it again!"
Molly relented, giving Hermione an "I told you so" look when she received the same results.
"Pregnant," she said. "The sooner you accept it, the sooner we can…"
"A baby?"
Ron wasn't looking at Hermione. He was staring at his mum, mouth opening and closing several times before he managed to speak.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… well, I did, but I wasn't trying to… you know…"
His face had turned scarlet, as if he expected a thorough scolding. He deserved it, really. If he hadn't been so insistent on sleeping with her…
"I'm not angry," Molly said.
Ron's eyes widened. "You're not?"
"I'd rather you were married, of course, but there's still time for that. As long as you're ready to take responsibility…"
"Course I am!"
"We have plenty of room," Molly said. "I've still got lots of baby things, and…" She hesitated, breaking into a smile. "My first grandchild. Can you believe it?"
Hermione opened her mouth, only to realize that she didn't have the slightest idea what to say. She was still too stunned to form coherent thoughts, staring down at her stomach as if she'd never seen it before.
"All right, dear? Feeling sick again?"
"I… I think I need to lie down."
"Of course! You should be getting plenty of rest in your condition. Ron, do you want to help her…"
"No," she said hastily. "No, I'll be fine. Good night."
She didn't hear their responses, rushing up the stairs to Ginny's room. Collapsing on the bed, she sighed in relief, glad to finally have a minute alone.
Pregnant.
How was that possible? She'd brewed the potion herself, double checking the instructions to make sure she got it right. There couldn't have been anything wrong with the ingredients either – Snape had replaced them after that mess with Alain Ashwood. So how…
Did it really matter? She was pregnant, regardless, which brought her to a much more important question.
What was she supposed to do now?
Her dreams, her plans, all her reasons for breaking up with Ron in the first place? How was she supposed to do any of that with a baby to worry about?
Unfortunately, she couldn't answer that question. All she could do was cry, hoping it was nothing more than some terrible dream.
"Morning."
Hermione sat up, frowning as she spotted Ron. He was seated on the edge of the bed, flashing her another one of those crooked smiles.
"Where's Ginny?"
"Off with Harry somewhere."
"And your mum?"
"Out shopping," he responded. "Said she wanted to pick up a few things for the baby."
So it wasn't a dream. Damn it all to hell…
"I don't want her buying anything," Hermione said. "I'm not sure if I even… I mean, I haven't decided what to do about any of this."
"Any of what? We have a baby coming. Seems pretty straightforward to me."
"Oh, it does, does it?" She clambered out of bed, ducking into the closet to change. "Maybe you can explain it to me then, because I don't have the first clue…"
"We'll live here, of course," Ron interrupted. "All three of us, together. Mum said we can have a whole floor to ourselves."
Hermione stepped out of the closet, not caring that she was half dressed. She was fuming now, arms crossed over her chest.
"And what about me? How about what I want?"
"It's not just about you anymore."
"No," she said, "it's about everyone but me. You, your mom, probably your sister, too – you're all thrilled about this, aren't you?"
"Come on, 'Mione, it's not so bad. I'll take good care of you. We all will."
"I don't want to be taken care of! I want to finish Hogwarts, go to university, get a good job so I can take care of myself! I don't… shit!"
She raced to the bathroom, dropping to her knees in front of the toilet. She couldn't stop until she'd purged herself completely, the sweat on her face mingled with tears as she pushed herself to her feet.
"I didn't mean to upset you," Ron said, frowning as he hovered in the doorway. "Mum said I shouldn't…"
"Can I have some privacy? Please?"
To Ron's credit, he left her alone, closing the door with a soft click. She warded it behind him, deciding that what she needed most was a hot shower.
It did help. Her mind felt clearer, the clean fragrance of herbal soap soothing her senses. Of course, that didn't mean she was finished with Ron. She marched out of the bathroom, meeting him stare for stare as she sat back down on the bed.
"This," she said as she pointed to her stomach, "doesn't change anything. I'm still an adult, and I still get to choose what kind of life I want to live. It's not your place to make decisions for me… not yours, and not your mum's either."
"We have to get married."
"What?"
"You're pregnant," he said. "That means we have to get married. What else are we supposed to do?"
Not for the first time, Hermione realized that the Wizarding world existed in a different century. It wasn't just quills and parchment or lack of electricity. Quite a few cultural norms were relics of the past, too. Had she ever met a magical single parent? Widows and widowers, perhaps, but she couldn't recall any who'd never been married at all. She didn't know of any witches or wizards who'd been divorced either, which made Ron's suggestion that much more alarming. The thought of being stuck with him for the rest of her life, no matter how miserable she was…
"Ron," she said quietly, "I'm not going to live here, and I'm not going to marry you either. I don't know what I'll do yet, but…"
"You want our baby to be a bastard?"
"Does it matter?"
"How can you say that? You're a Muggle-born, you know what it's like…"
"Would it be that bad?"
"It wouldn't be good."
"Fine," she said. "I'd just have to make sure that no one knows."
"Of course they'll know! Everybody knows everybody, you can't just…"
"In England."
"What?"
"This isn't the only magical community. There are other places, some of which I'm sure aren't nearly as stuffy and old-fashioned."
"So you're just going to leave?! It's my baby, too!"
"Ron…" Hermione sighed, giving her head a little shake. "I don't know what I'm going to do, okay? I'm just pointing out that there are other options."
"Selfish ones."
"That's easy for you to say. If we do it your way, you get everything you want."
"What's wrong with that?" he said. "We could be happy. I know we could! We've got everything we need right here, but you… you don't even want to try. All you care about is going off to some stupid university…"
"Stupid?"
For some reason, that one word set Hermione off. She snatched her bag off the floor, nearly ripping it in her haste as she stuffed it with clothes.
"What are you doing?"
"Leaving."
"What? You're not supposed to go back until tomorrow."
"Yeah, well, I can't stay here." She brushed past him, shrugging on her coat before she sat down to put on her shoes.
"We need to talk about this! You can't just…"
"You know what? I'm sick of you telling me what I can and cannot do or what I should and shouldn't want!"
Ron was clearly at a loss, caught somewhere between anger and bewilderment. He reached out to grab her arm, flinching as she shook him off.
"Hermione…"
"I'll let you know when I've made my decision," she said as she swung her bag over her shoulder. "My decision, not yours."
For the second time in as many months, she fled the Burrow, desperate to get back to Hogwarts.