A/N: Part Three! It's the longest and most interesting part yet. There's a lot of action, and this part is pretty PG-13. Oh yeah, will you guys do me a favor? Will you go and read my fic 'Miracle'? I know you guys like this story but I need more feedback on that one. Thanks!
After Ron left the flat, the apartment held a fragile, awkward silence. Hermione wanted to be outside in the freshly settled dusk, blended into the colorful foliage and the crisp, clean air, but she felt she couldn't leave Harry. He looked as if he were to fall apart at any moment, to burst into tears, to crash. She had asked over and over again if he was all right, and each time he denied that something was wrong. She knew something was; Harry had not acted like himself for at least twenty four hours, since they had talked about children. Why can't he just get over this? She asked herself. Dammit, why is he making me suffer in the silence? She could feel the tension in the atmosphere. She sat curled in a little ball on the chair facing him; she felt if she moved the world around her would shatter and fall in upon her. Or that Harry would shatter, and that was worse.
"Sweetie, are you all right?" Hermione asked softly, afraid to upset him more.
"I'm fine!" Harry snapped, his gaze not leaving the television. "God, Herm, I'm fine."
"Are you?" Her voice had gathered strength and was forceful. She sat straight up and looked at Harry. He finally met her gaze, their eyes locking together, neither of them willing to look away or blink.
Harry was the first to look away; he brought his eyes to the floor. "I think so," he whispered, his voice lacking the anger it held a few minutes ago.
Hermione smiled and slid over to the couch next to him. "If you're not, I'm right here," she told him.
He looked at her and smiled. "I don't feel too good, I may be coming down with something." He laid his head in her lap.
"I know," she said, ruffling his hair. "I haven't felt too well lately either."
He rolled his head up to face her. "What's wrong?"
She shrugged. "I dunno." She held his hand. "It's been a rough week."
He lightly kissed her fingers. "How so?"
"Oh, I ran into David on my business trip."
Harry sat straight up. "You ran into that asshole? What did he say? What did he do?"
Hermione grinned at his anxious expression. "First thing he did was introduce me to his wife."
Harry snorted. "He's married?"
"Yes. To a nineteen year old lingerie model named Annamarie Linguini."
He shook his head. "Poor girl. Did he say anything else to you?"
She nodded. "Second thing he did was hit on me in front of his wife."
"I want to beat the crap out of that bastard," Harry grumbled.
Hermione threw her feet across his lap and put her arms around his neck. "You'd do that for me?" she joked.
Harry leaned in closer so that their noses touched. "Damn right. I'd do anything for my Hermione."
She laughed and kissed him. "Anything?"
"Absolutely anything," he breathed before he kissed her again. They leaned back onto the couch, kissing and holding each other. "Hey Herm," he whispered between kisses.
"Yeah?"
"Have we ever done it on this couch?"
"Harry!" she cried.
He kissed her neck. "Well, it's new. I didn't know." He dragged his lips back to hers.
The phone rang. "Ugh, get up. I have to go answer the phone," Hermione whined.
"Don't. Just ignore it."
"It could be my parents," she told him.
"It could also be Bob Middle from downstairs telling us to knock it off. He's such a grump. You don't want to answer it then, do you?"
"It could be my parents," she repeated.
He frowned. "Tell them we're busy."
Hermione laughed. "I'm sure my parents would just love to know what we were about to do. Hey mom, I'm about to have sex with my husband, can I call you back? I don't think so."
Harry shook his head. "All right, all right, go answer it." Hermione slugged his shoulder before walking off to answer the phone.
"Hello," she greeted the person on the other end. Harry fixed his glasses and tried to smooth back his hair, using the turned off television as a mirror. He turned around to watch Hermione carry on with her conversation with the caller.
"Yes, I'm fine," she said. "What's wrong?" Harry watched how her hair swayed as she moved, how her shirt fell at the rim of her black pants.
"What!" she exclaimed, her face turning white. "That's not possible-" She sat down in a chair to steady herself. What's wrong, Harry mouthed. She shook her head, waved him away, and turned so she couldn't see him.
"Three years," she said into the receiver. "I don't understand." She bit her lip. "I think there's some kind of mistake."
She listened a bit longer, drumming her nails over the table. "Yes, I am aware of my options. Yes, I'm okay. Goodbye." With that she threw the phone at the wall. "Shit!" she screamed.
"Sweetheart, what's the matter?" Harry asked softly.
She turned to him, her face red with anger. "This is all your fault!"
"My fault? Love, what's wrong?" he asked, walking over to her.
"I hate you! It's all your f****** fault!" She screamed.
"Hermione," he whispered, putting his arm around her waist. "What's wrong?"
She shoved him away. "Everything!" She stomped to the bedroom and slammed the door.
He knocked on the door. "Herm?" No answer. He tried to open the door; it was locked. "Come on, Herm. Open the damn door."
"F*** you," was the response.
"Sweetie?" he said, frustrated with her. "Will you at least tell me what's wrong?" He looked around for his wand to unlock the door, but then remembered that it was inside the bedroom.
The doorbell rang. Harry took one last glance at the door before walking to their front door. "What is it?" he snapped.
There stood Ron. His face was red and blotchy, his eyes bloodshot, and his clothes were covered in a red stain. "It's Maggie," he managed before bursting into sobs.
"What happened?"
Ron wiped his tears. "She was hit by a car, Harry. She was hit by a f****** car!"
"What?" Harry cried. "What happened?"
Ron sniffed. "A car hit her. He stopped, and a bunch of cars ran into him. Then he ran, Harry. He ran. And you know what, we'll never find him because the car was stolen. We can't exactly trace him now that he doesn't have a car. We'll never find him! Oh, god, Maggie."
"Is she all right?"
Ron glared at him. "What do you think? She's at the hospital now, but the paramedics don't think she'll last much longer. They doubt she'll make it through surgery; she was hit so hard."
"Did anyone else get hurt?"
"Do I give a shit if anyone else was hurt?"
"I'm so sorry."
"I'm sorry for me too. I'm so goddamn sorry for myself I'm finding it hard to breathe," Ron snapped.
"Why are you here?" Harry asked.
"I didn't have anyone else to turn to," he whispered.
"Is that-" Harry asked, pointing to the stains on Ron's front.
He nodded. "Yes, it's blood. Maggie's blood." He started crying again. "Can you get me to the hospital? I'm to upset to apperate. Half of me would end up there and the other half would be in Taiwan."
Harry didn't laugh at Ron's weak attempt at a joke; he just nodded and walked back into the apartment to get Hermione.
"Hermione," he called, banging on the door. "Hermione, get your ass out here now. Maggie's in the hospital, and we're going."
Harry heard shuffling in the room, then heard the door unlock. Hermione walked out, her eyes red from crying. "What happened?" she asked softly.
"She was hit by a car," Harry informed her. "Ron's by the door." Without wasting any time, Hermione ran to the door and flung her arms around Ron.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered.
Ron didn't answer. He just looked at Hermione's blotchy face, then at Harry, then returned his gaze to Hermione. "What's wrong with you?"
She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it now."
"Well, it'd be nice if I knew, you know, being your husband and all" Harry snapped.
"Harry," she whined.
"Hermione, sweetheart, what the hell is it?"
She bit her lip. "I'm pregnant." She glared at Harry. "Are you happy? That person on the phone was the doctor with my physical results. Guess what, I'm pregnant! Isn't that great for you?"
Harry's jaw dropped. "Hermione, I-"
"Get your ass in the damn car!" Hermione screamed, turning to leave.
***
Ron hated the hospital, especially at night. It was almost tolerable in the day, but in the middle of the night with all the sirens and paramedics rushing in, it was unbearable. The three were at Merlin Magical Medical Hospital, one of the biggest wizarding hospitals in the world. As a statistic, the hospital was highly impressive, but not from the inside. Ron had been here four times now, when he was born, when Ginny was born, when his father died, and now. He sat in the orange plastic chair in the waiting room, numb. The white of the walls blurred together and just became one big blob of nothing. Of nothing.
He had been sitting in this very chair when he had gotten news that his father had died. The doctor had come out and spoken to his mother, then she had told her children. He didn't even remember what she said. All he had really gotten out of the monologue was 'father' and 'dead.' And now here he was, waiting for the news that Maggie was dead.
Dammit! He didn't want another goddamn cause! He didn't want another thing to devote his life to as he did WADD (wizards against drunk driving). He didn't want to go to meetings with hit-and-run victims. He didn't want that. He wanted his Maggie, the one who made him laugh, the one who made him smile, the one who was now making him cry.
Meanwhile, in the lobby, Harry and Hermione where fighting. "What do you mean, it's all my fault?" he yelled.
"If it wasn't for you this wouldn't have happened!"
"Oh," Harry mocked. "I am so sorry. You're going to have a baby. I'm so sorry."
"You should be!"
He sighed. "I think you missed the sarcasm, Herm."
She narrowed her eyes. "No, I chose to ignore it."
"Just tell me, what is so wrong with being pregnant? What is so bad?"
A tall, plump, middle aged woman walked up to Hermione. "You're pregnant?"
"Er, yes I am," she answered, taken aback.
"Congratulations!" the woman cried.
"Thanks," Hermione said, watching the woman as she walked off.
"See," Harry pointed out. "She sees it as a good thing. Why can't you adopt that philosophy?"
"I don't want kids!"
"Well, you should have used better birth control!"
She pointed his finger at him. "Don't you dare turn this on me, Harry Potter. Don't you dare!"
"You're turning it on me!" he cried.
"It's your fault!"
"How," he said, placing his hands on his hips. "How is this my fault and not yours?"
"You must have done something!"
"What, replace your pills with Tylenol?"
"You might have."
"Hermione," he said. "What the hell is your problem?"
"I, unlike you, have none!" she screamed.
He sighed. "Hermione, look at me." He walked to her and grabbed her hand. "We're going to have a baby. We're going to bring something into this world that we made, something that is us yet is completely different from ourselves."
She yanked her hand from his grasp. "I don't want children."
"What do you want, then?" he asked.
"I want a career! I don't want to give that up for the sake of children! I don't want to give up my friends, my job, sex." At that moment, several of the mothers in the room put their hands over their children's ears. "Harry, I don't think I should have to give these things up because of a stupid kid!"
"Who's asking you to give them up?"
"You are!" she screamed.
"Hermione," he said softly. "I want you to have a career. I want you to have friends, and believe me, I want sex." The mothers once again clamped their hands over their children's ears. "I'm not asking you to give everything you hold dear up. I'm asking you to have a baby, something else you can love."
"You know what David said to me?" she asked, suddenly changing the subject.
"What did that bloody bastard say to you?"
"He asked how the Mr. Family Man I married was, and how were our ten children."
"What the hell?"
"Harry, I don't want to come across as that type of person!"
"Maybe I do!"
She glared at him. "Then maybe we should go our separate ways."
Ron, who had been watching the entire situation to get his mind of Maggie, decided on that moment to interfere. "What is wrong with you people?"
"What?"
"Look at me," Ron ordered. "My fiancée is in a coma-"
"She is? You've heard?" Hermione interrupted.
Ron shook his head. "Yes, she's in a coma. Anyway, back to what I was saying, the woman I love is in a coma. She's probably going to die and here you two are, out here in the lobby having a shouting match about something, while I admit is important, is not important enough to tear you two apart. You love each other, right?"
Harry smiled at Hermione. "Yeah."
She grinned back. "Yes."
"Then kiss and make up," Ron continued. "Life is too short to fight. Acknowledge what you have left, that you have each other, because god knows I'm not as lucky. Go home and love on each other, because you never know how much time you have left with each other."
"We're so sorry," Hermione whispered.
Ron waved his hand. "All the apologies in the world won't make her well. Just go home and relish that you have each other."
"You don't need us to stay, for support?" Harry asked.
Ron shook his head. "No, go. I need to be alone anyway. Go home and thank god that you have each other." He wiped away a tear. "And pray for Maggie. I think that's all that's humanly possible for you to give."
"We will," Hermione agreed, hugging Ron. "Are you sure you'll be ok?"
"No, I can guarantee that I'm not, but I won't be anymore ok with you here."
Nodding, Harry gently reached out and took Hermione's hand and led her wordlessly back to the car.
***
The love they made that night had a rushed, automatic feel to it, as if they were doing it not out of affection but out of fear that this time could be their last. It lacked the usual giggling and kissing and nuzzling, but felt almost cold and empty. When it was over, the husband and wife held each other tightly, clutching to the other for dear life.
"I love you," she whispered.
He lightly kissed her forehead. "I love you too."
"I'm scared," she whispered. "It could all be over tomorrow, you know. I might never be able to hold you again."
"Sweetheart," he told her. "If you think about it, then you'll waste your life worrying. If something does happen, it'll happen."
"You're certainly concerned," she snapped.
"You want me to worry endlessly about you getting hurt?"
"I wish you would."
"God," he whispered, pulling her closer. "You know that if something happened to you, I'd die. I think I'll kill myself."
She sat straight up. "Don't ever let me hear you say that!"
"Why not? I want to be with you, always."
"Don't do that to Ron," she whispered.
"What?"
"Don't do that to him. Don't make him lose another person again. If I die, and you kill yourself, then he'd have lost four of the most important people in his life. Don't do that to him."
"I never thought of that," he admitted.
"That's your problem," she said, settling back into his arms, laying her head on his chest. "You don't think."
"That's your job," he joked, squeezing her hand.
She smiled. "Don't joke, this is to be romantic."
"Oh?" He grinned and lightly kissed her fingers. "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware of that."
"You certainly are setting yourself up for some good insults, you know that?"
"I love how you contain yourself and not comment on my ignorance."
She kissed his chin. "What ignorance? Cheer up, you're perfect."
"As are you." He placed his hand on her lower stomach region. "As is junior here."
She scooted back so he couldn't touch her. "Don't talk about this now."
He sighed. "Are you still going on that?"
"I don't want it. I don't."
"What do you want to do then? It's not like we have many options."
"I want an abortion," she whispered.
He sat straight up and looked at her. "No way."
"It's my body; I can choose."
"It's my kid!"
"And mine," she pointed out.
"Fine," he said. "Bloody hell, fine. Just do whatever." He climbed out of bed and wrapped a blanket around his waist.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"To sleep on the couch. Goodnight DEAR."
"Don't-" she started.
"Don't what? I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you've genuinely pissed me off."
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to piss off hero boy here," she said sarcastically.
"Goodnight, let the bed bugs bite, bitch," he said, stomping out of the room.
"Go to hell!" she cried after him, throwing his pillow at the doorway.
***
The hospital held a hostile tension to it. Harry and Hermione weren't speaking to each other, and Ron was trying to deal with Maggie's family and keep from breaking down at the same time. Ron was standing, talking to the Chaberts while Hermione and Harry sat on either side of the row of orange plastic chairs, each pretending to be involved in a magazine while occasionally sending the other dirty looks. Ginny was there also, standing next to Ron, doing all she could to stifle her crying.
"My baby girl!" Chloe Chabert cried. "My poor, poor baby girl."
"I thought I was your baby girl," pouted Maggie's little sister Angie.
"How are you doing?" Ethan Chabert asked Ron.
"Not very well," he admitted.
Chloe wiped her tears and gave Ron a hug. "I know that it is as hard for you as us." She smiled slightly. "Have you heard about her?"
"No."
Ginny blew her nose. "God, I can't believe this is happening."
Chloe nodded. "It's so horrid. Oh, Maggie!"
"God, I hate myself," Ron whispered. Ginny reached over and hugged her brother.
"Whatever for?" Ethan asked. "This isn't your fault."
Ron shook his head. "The last words Maggie and exchanged, were, er, not pleasant."
"They fought?" Angie asked. "Wow, I didn't know Maggie could fight. She's such a goody-goody."
"Do hush, Angie," Chloe ordered. "Oh wait, here comes the doctor now."
Dr. Longbottom strolled next to the group. "Hello, Mr. Weasley, Miss Weasley, the Chaberts-"
"Skip the pretense Neville," Ron directed. "We've known each other since we were eleven. Call me Ron."
"And me Ginny," she added. "I mean, in my third year we did go to the stupid Yule Ball together."
"That was quite lame, wasn't it?" Neville said. "I mean-"
"Get on with it, Neville. How is she?" Ron questioned.
Neville sighed. "She's showing a lot of brain activity, which is very good. I'd say her chances are about fifty/fifty."
"How much brain activity did my dad show before he died?" Ron demanded. "I know you saw him too; you were the one to break the news to me."
Neville sighed again. "Your father went brain dead after the car crash. He never showed any brain activity. That's why your mother told us to pull the plug."
"What!" Ron screamed. "You pulled the plug? You mean he could have lived? You killed him?"
"Ron, he would have been a vegetable," Neville argued. "He was better off dead."
"How long could he have lasted, as a vegetable?" Ron asked.
"Ron," Ginny warned. "Don't do this. Don't dredge this back up."
Ron ignored her. "How long, Neville? How long?"
"I don't know!" Neville cried. "A day, a week, a month, a year? It's all the same to a vegetable."
"Could he have been alive now?"
"Ron!" Ginny said. "Even if he had been alive he would have never been the same! He would have never woken up! He deserves more than that. I'm glad they did that! I support mum's decision."
"Well, Ginny Weasley," Ron yelled. "You are a goddamn traitor."
"What the hell is your problem?" she screamed.
"You! You are a traitor to the Weasley name. We true Weasleys do not let others of our clan die. We stick together, we do what's right-"
"Which was to pull the plug!" Ginny argued. "Would you rather have him be a vegetable?"
Ron ignored her again. "Neville, you damn better not kill Maggie. You may have killed my dad, but you're not killing my fiancée!"
"Pity," Angie commented. "I really wanted to see Maggie dead." With that statement, Ginny slapped Angie across so face it sent her flailing to the floor.
"Don't you ever, ever talk about my best friend like that," Ginny growled between gritted teeth. "Do you understand?"
Angie backed away, still on the floor. "Sorry," she muttered.
"Perhaps you two might want to go home," Chloe suggested, eyeing Ginny and Ron.
They both shook their heads. "We're just upset," Ginny explained. "Weasleys are known for getting quite emotional."
"Obviously," Neville muttered before stalking off in the direction of the emergency room.
"Well, why don't you two sit down," Ethan suggested.
"Good idea," Ron said, sitting in the orange plastic chairs between Harry and Hermione. "You two still fighting?" he asked.
"Who me?" Hermione questioned. "Fighting with whom?"
"Your husband, perhaps?" Ron said.
"Oh, him? I wasn't quite sure he existed other than the fact that he keeps on giving me dirty looks."
"If she would just get over her fear of commitment, she would be happy about her pregnancy," Harry snapped.
"You're pregnant?" Ginny asked.
"Yes."
"You are?" Chloe inquired.
"Yes, yes, I'm pregnant," she groaned.
"Congratulations!" Chloe exclaimed.
"Oh, Hermione!" Ginny cried. "Now we have to throw you a baby shower and oh, we have to go shopping! You need a crib and a- I forget what they're called, they're what babies eat out of- and clothes!"
"Ginny, I-"
Ginny kept on speaking. "And we'll have to go and buy paint and fix up that guest room of yours into a nursery. We'll need some little furniture, some cute blankets, a mobile, stuffed animals-. Oh, Hermione, this will be so fun!"
"Fun?" Hermione questioned.
"Of course!" she exclaimed. "Now, when are you expecting? How pregnant are you?"
"Not very. Maybe a month."
"So we'll have plenty of time! Oh, I'm so happy for you sweetheart! You'll be so happy." Ginny put her hands on her hips. "Now, of course, in return for me helping with the baby you must help me find a boyfriend! One that Ron won't hate, of course. It's horrid dating when you have six brothers, and Ron's the worst of all of them."
Hermione laughed, but said nothing. "Oh, Herm," Ginny continued. "I'm so exited. I was in the mall the other day, you know, the muggle one, and I found this little store with the cutest baby clothes. I was thinking, who do I know who has a baby who I can shop for? Now, dilemma solved, it's you!"
Ron grinned. "I think you're scaring her, Gin."
"As if that wasn't easy enough," Harry muttered.
"You shut up," Ron told Harry.
"The store had these little lace booties- do you know if it's a boy or a girl?" Ginny asked.
"I don't know."
"Oh well, you'll know soon enough. Until then, we'll buy things that are yellow and blue that don't really have a specific gender, you know what I mean? Anyway, when do want to go shopping? Today? Tomorrow?"
"Not today," Hermione said. "I don't feel well."
"Morning sickness?" Harry asked sweetly, forgetting that the two were fighting.
"Maybe," Hermione admitted. "I feel nauseous."
"Yes," Chloe agreed. "Then it's morning sickness. Why don't you go home?"
"I think that'll be a good idea. I want to take a nap," Hermione said, standing up. "Are you staying?" she asked Harry.
"Yes," he replied coldly, remembering their fight the night before.
"Oh, well, I'll see you at home," Hermione said, taken aback by his sudden change in mood. "Goodbye. Call me when you hear something new about Maggie, all right?"
Ginny nodded in agreement. "Sure we will. Now go home and ge some rest and you'll feel better. Then we'll go shopping, okay? And Harry can come if he can be nice," she said, shooting a dirty look at Harry.
"Agreed. Bye!" Hermione called as she turned to leave.
"Hermione," Harry called after her.
"Yeah?" she asked hopefully.
"Can you walk home and leave the car?"
"Oh," she said, disappointed. "Sure."
"Herm," he called again.
"Yes?"
"Be careful, okay?"
She grinned. "Okay." She fought the urge to run to him and throw her arms around him; instead, she turned around and left.
"Now why are you being so mean?" Ginny demanded.
"Me?" Harry inquired.
"Yes, you. What's your problem?"
"She wants an abortion," Harry said lamely.
Ginny shrugged. "She'll come around."
"What do you mean?"
She snorted. "I would think that you two, knowing her better than I do, would have figured this out! Hermione's a bit of a pessimist. She sees this for only the bad things, not the good."
Ron nodded. "That makes sense. She doesn't want early morning feedings and diaper changes. To think of it, who does want those things?"
"What?" Harry asked.
"No one wants those things. Yet they have children for the good reasons, and just deal with the bad." Ron explained
"And Hermione is a perfectionist," Ginny added. "She probably does see this as a way to lose her career, and she loves her career."
"I never said that," Harry whispered.
"You need to be more understanding," Ginny told him.
"And compassionate," Ron added.
"And a bit less sure. She's pretty confused right now, and your confidence in this isn't helping," Chloe put in.
"That's a good one," Ginny told Chloe.
"Thanks."
"God," Harry groaned.
***
Hermione strolled out of Diagon Alley and onto a muggle street. She passed a small park and decided to rest there. She laid on one of the benches, staring at the brilliant blue sky, her mind a jumble of thoughts. What am I going to do? Is Harry right? Is Ginny right? Am I right?
"Excuse me," a woman's voice sounded from her left.
Hermione sat straight up. "I'm so sorry."
The woman smiled. "No, I'm afraid I've just left my bag on this bench." She had shoulder length auburn hair, bright green eyes, and a small, button nose. Hermione noticed that she was pushing a baby carriage.
Hermione leaned in the baby carriage to get a better look at the child inside. "Is it a boy or a girl?"
"A boy," she answered.
"He's absolutely adorable," Hermione commented.
"Thank you."
"I'm expecting myself, and I just can't get excited about it." Hermione sighed.
"Really?" the woman questioned. "You're pregnant?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes."
"When are you expecting?"
"In about eight months."
"And you're not really excited about it?" the woman asked. "My name is Hyacinth Rettop, and yes, my parents were nuts about flowers, and you?"
"Hermione Potter."
Hyacinth smiled. "Why aren't you happy about it?"
Hermione sighed. "I don't really know. I have so much going for me right now, I don't really want it right now. My husband's ecstatic, but I can't seem to share his joy."
Hyacinth nodded. "I think I know what you mean. Do you have doubts, or is it that you just don't want a baby?"
"I guess it's that I have doubts," Hermione admitted. "I mean, what if I'm a terrible mother?"
She laughed. "Everyone thinks that, sweetheart. Everyone wonders about that."
"And another thing," Hermione continued. "What if I have this kid, and I don't love it? What if I can't love it?"
"I had the same thoughts," Hyacinth said. "But the minute I saw H- my baby- I-." She paused. "Hermione, do you love your parents? Do you love your husband?"
"Very much so."
"You will love your child ten times as much as you love them," Hyacinth said. "You've heard of people doing crazy things for their children, people DYING for there children. It's love that powers it."
"I hope so," Hermione whispered. "I hope you're right."
"I am," Hyacinth laughed. "Believe me, I am."
"I'm just so scared," Hermione said softly. "My husband, I mean, he's so sure of everything. I'm scared. I'm responsible for another life."
Hyacinth smiled. "He's just as scared as you are. Sometimes people deal with fear differently. He hides his and you keep yours out in the open. It does take a lot of guts to talk about such a sensitive topic with a stranger."
Hermione shook her head. "I feel as if I know you."
Hyacinth laughed. "Maybe in another life. I got my palm read once and I was told that I was a nurse in the war of 1812. Can you believe that?"
"I don't believe in palm reading and such."
"Neither do I," Hyacinth agreed. "Well, it's been very nice meeting you, but I do need to run."
"Thank you for everything," Hermione said. "Could I have your phone number, you know, to talk some more? If you don't mind, of course."
"Certainly," Hyacinth smiled. She wrote her number down on a candy wrapper on the ground, then handed it to Hermione. "Good luck, dear."
"Thank you." Hermione then walked off towards her apartment.
It was mid-afternoon now, and Hermione felt as weights had been lifted from her. Talking to Hyacinth, another mother, had really helped her and boosted her confidence. Maybe we'll give this a try, she thought as she walked up the stairs to her flat. She took out her key and unlocked the door.
Something was wrong. Hermione could feel it as soon as she entered the apartment. The air had a strange feeling in it, as if someone had been there…. It smelled funny; it felt different. She pulled her wand out of her pocket. You know, it'll be probably be nothing. The other night you practically killed Ron for nothing, she thought. Get a grip. Relax. You're probably imagining this all.
She felt a blow come to her side, a quick, sudden hit. She dropped her wand and fell to the floor. Pain ran up her stomach, making her want to vomit again and again, making her dizzy. The baby, she thought. God, the baby was hit. She quickly got to her feet and turned to look at what hit her.
It was someone much bigger than herself, someone she recognized, and he had her wand and was twirling it between his fingers. "Shit," she whispered.
"What's this?" the man asked. "A magic wand? You're a witch. You know what they used to do to witches in America? In Salem?"
Hermione nodded her head, but he continued. "They killed 'em. Killed 'em all. Would they have done that if they were not bad?"
"I'm not bad," Hermione said softly.
"Sure you're not, witch," he said. "That's what you want me to think." He raised a poker from the fire place. "You and that husband of yours. Always acted like newlyweds, but now I guess that all that commotion in the middle of the night was spells, right? Don't answer; I don't want to listen to anything you want to say. I'm just going to kill you."
Hermione didn't know what to do. So she screamed. Yet no one heard her.
***
Harry felt a sudden, sharp pain in his stomach. Then another, then another. "Ow," he whined.
"What's wrong?" Ginny asked.
"I feel sick."
"Well, go home," Ron suggested.
Harry shook his head. "It's not that. Something's, something's wrong. Someone's screaming. Someone's hurt. Something's wrong. I can feel it in my bones."
"You're probably feeling guilty about being mean to Hermione," Ginny suggested.
"Nah, he just wants to be hero boy and save the world," Ron grumbled.
Harry shook his head again. "I'm going home. Something's wrong, and I would feel much better knowing she's okay."
"Go then," Ron ordered. "We're fine here."
"You sure?"
"Positive. Go."
"Oh, the power of love," Chloe cried. "It's so sweet!" She glared at Ethan. "Why don't you worry about me like that?"
Ethan shrugged. "Being married to you for thirty years, I don't really tend to worry about you. You can take care of yourself."
"Such the romantic, aren't you?" Chloe moaned.
Harry turned around and practically ran to the car. He pulled out of the parking place and drove as quickly as he could to their little flat without getting in an accident. When he arrived he ran from the car, inside the building, up the stairs (the elevator was too slow) and up to apartment 277.
The door wasn't locked; it was left slightly ajar. Harry looked in. "Shit," he whispered. The living room was a mess. Tables were flipped over, lamps were on the floor, couch cushions were all over the room.
"Hermione?" he called. "Sweetheart?" His voice shook, his heart ached with fear. "Hermione?"
He heard a muffled scream from their bedroom. "Hermione!" Forgetting all pretense, he raced into the bedroom. There he saw something that he would never forget as long as he lived.
There was Bob Middle, standing in Harry's bedroom, his clothes torn, covered in blood, and holding a bloody poker stick that was usually housed by the fireplace.
And laying at his feet was Hermione, beaten and bruised and also covered in blood. She looked up at him with her scared, hurt brown eyes, making Harry shake harder. "Stupefy," he whispered, pointing his wand at Bob. Then he kneeled next to his wife, kissing her cheek, getting blood on his lips.
A/N: Another Cliffhanger. Okay, if you really want to know what happened and if Hermione's ok, well, you'll just have to wait until the conclusion. Do you want a hint? Huh? Well, I'm not giving you one. I never liked Bob, so he's the one who's the witch hater and hurt Hermione. I could have made it less gory, but I decided I also could have made it more gory and left it the way it was. One more part! Hooray!
Note: Will you people please read my fic 'Miracle'? Please, please, please, pretty please? Please read AND review it? I like it and no one's really reading it! It's a bit darker than this story, but I really like it. I've already posted parts one and two.
Alicia Spinnet- Why did you take down Hogwarts to Beanstown? I loved that fic! Are you going to finish it? Please do!
And thanks to Firenze for being so supportive of me and always reviewing my fics. It's always motivational and it makes me want to write more! :-)
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, the entire Weasley clan, Neville Longbottom, belong to J.K. Rowling.
Maggie Chabert, all the Chaberts, Bob Middle, Hyacinth Rettop, belong to me.
After Ron left the flat, the apartment held a fragile, awkward silence. Hermione wanted to be outside in the freshly settled dusk, blended into the colorful foliage and the crisp, clean air, but she felt she couldn't leave Harry. He looked as if he were to fall apart at any moment, to burst into tears, to crash. She had asked over and over again if he was all right, and each time he denied that something was wrong. She knew something was; Harry had not acted like himself for at least twenty four hours, since they had talked about children. Why can't he just get over this? She asked herself. Dammit, why is he making me suffer in the silence? She could feel the tension in the atmosphere. She sat curled in a little ball on the chair facing him; she felt if she moved the world around her would shatter and fall in upon her. Or that Harry would shatter, and that was worse.
"Sweetie, are you all right?" Hermione asked softly, afraid to upset him more.
"I'm fine!" Harry snapped, his gaze not leaving the television. "God, Herm, I'm fine."
"Are you?" Her voice had gathered strength and was forceful. She sat straight up and looked at Harry. He finally met her gaze, their eyes locking together, neither of them willing to look away or blink.
Harry was the first to look away; he brought his eyes to the floor. "I think so," he whispered, his voice lacking the anger it held a few minutes ago.
Hermione smiled and slid over to the couch next to him. "If you're not, I'm right here," she told him.
He looked at her and smiled. "I don't feel too good, I may be coming down with something." He laid his head in her lap.
"I know," she said, ruffling his hair. "I haven't felt too well lately either."
He rolled his head up to face her. "What's wrong?"
She shrugged. "I dunno." She held his hand. "It's been a rough week."
He lightly kissed her fingers. "How so?"
"Oh, I ran into David on my business trip."
Harry sat straight up. "You ran into that asshole? What did he say? What did he do?"
Hermione grinned at his anxious expression. "First thing he did was introduce me to his wife."
Harry snorted. "He's married?"
"Yes. To a nineteen year old lingerie model named Annamarie Linguini."
He shook his head. "Poor girl. Did he say anything else to you?"
She nodded. "Second thing he did was hit on me in front of his wife."
"I want to beat the crap out of that bastard," Harry grumbled.
Hermione threw her feet across his lap and put her arms around his neck. "You'd do that for me?" she joked.
Harry leaned in closer so that their noses touched. "Damn right. I'd do anything for my Hermione."
She laughed and kissed him. "Anything?"
"Absolutely anything," he breathed before he kissed her again. They leaned back onto the couch, kissing and holding each other. "Hey Herm," he whispered between kisses.
"Yeah?"
"Have we ever done it on this couch?"
"Harry!" she cried.
He kissed her neck. "Well, it's new. I didn't know." He dragged his lips back to hers.
The phone rang. "Ugh, get up. I have to go answer the phone," Hermione whined.
"Don't. Just ignore it."
"It could be my parents," she told him.
"It could also be Bob Middle from downstairs telling us to knock it off. He's such a grump. You don't want to answer it then, do you?"
"It could be my parents," she repeated.
He frowned. "Tell them we're busy."
Hermione laughed. "I'm sure my parents would just love to know what we were about to do. Hey mom, I'm about to have sex with my husband, can I call you back? I don't think so."
Harry shook his head. "All right, all right, go answer it." Hermione slugged his shoulder before walking off to answer the phone.
"Hello," she greeted the person on the other end. Harry fixed his glasses and tried to smooth back his hair, using the turned off television as a mirror. He turned around to watch Hermione carry on with her conversation with the caller.
"Yes, I'm fine," she said. "What's wrong?" Harry watched how her hair swayed as she moved, how her shirt fell at the rim of her black pants.
"What!" she exclaimed, her face turning white. "That's not possible-" She sat down in a chair to steady herself. What's wrong, Harry mouthed. She shook her head, waved him away, and turned so she couldn't see him.
"Three years," she said into the receiver. "I don't understand." She bit her lip. "I think there's some kind of mistake."
She listened a bit longer, drumming her nails over the table. "Yes, I am aware of my options. Yes, I'm okay. Goodbye." With that she threw the phone at the wall. "Shit!" she screamed.
"Sweetheart, what's the matter?" Harry asked softly.
She turned to him, her face red with anger. "This is all your fault!"
"My fault? Love, what's wrong?" he asked, walking over to her.
"I hate you! It's all your f****** fault!" She screamed.
"Hermione," he whispered, putting his arm around her waist. "What's wrong?"
She shoved him away. "Everything!" She stomped to the bedroom and slammed the door.
He knocked on the door. "Herm?" No answer. He tried to open the door; it was locked. "Come on, Herm. Open the damn door."
"F*** you," was the response.
"Sweetie?" he said, frustrated with her. "Will you at least tell me what's wrong?" He looked around for his wand to unlock the door, but then remembered that it was inside the bedroom.
The doorbell rang. Harry took one last glance at the door before walking to their front door. "What is it?" he snapped.
There stood Ron. His face was red and blotchy, his eyes bloodshot, and his clothes were covered in a red stain. "It's Maggie," he managed before bursting into sobs.
"What happened?"
Ron wiped his tears. "She was hit by a car, Harry. She was hit by a f****** car!"
"What?" Harry cried. "What happened?"
Ron sniffed. "A car hit her. He stopped, and a bunch of cars ran into him. Then he ran, Harry. He ran. And you know what, we'll never find him because the car was stolen. We can't exactly trace him now that he doesn't have a car. We'll never find him! Oh, god, Maggie."
"Is she all right?"
Ron glared at him. "What do you think? She's at the hospital now, but the paramedics don't think she'll last much longer. They doubt she'll make it through surgery; she was hit so hard."
"Did anyone else get hurt?"
"Do I give a shit if anyone else was hurt?"
"I'm so sorry."
"I'm sorry for me too. I'm so goddamn sorry for myself I'm finding it hard to breathe," Ron snapped.
"Why are you here?" Harry asked.
"I didn't have anyone else to turn to," he whispered.
"Is that-" Harry asked, pointing to the stains on Ron's front.
He nodded. "Yes, it's blood. Maggie's blood." He started crying again. "Can you get me to the hospital? I'm to upset to apperate. Half of me would end up there and the other half would be in Taiwan."
Harry didn't laugh at Ron's weak attempt at a joke; he just nodded and walked back into the apartment to get Hermione.
"Hermione," he called, banging on the door. "Hermione, get your ass out here now. Maggie's in the hospital, and we're going."
Harry heard shuffling in the room, then heard the door unlock. Hermione walked out, her eyes red from crying. "What happened?" she asked softly.
"She was hit by a car," Harry informed her. "Ron's by the door." Without wasting any time, Hermione ran to the door and flung her arms around Ron.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered.
Ron didn't answer. He just looked at Hermione's blotchy face, then at Harry, then returned his gaze to Hermione. "What's wrong with you?"
She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it now."
"Well, it'd be nice if I knew, you know, being your husband and all" Harry snapped.
"Harry," she whined.
"Hermione, sweetheart, what the hell is it?"
She bit her lip. "I'm pregnant." She glared at Harry. "Are you happy? That person on the phone was the doctor with my physical results. Guess what, I'm pregnant! Isn't that great for you?"
Harry's jaw dropped. "Hermione, I-"
"Get your ass in the damn car!" Hermione screamed, turning to leave.
***
Ron hated the hospital, especially at night. It was almost tolerable in the day, but in the middle of the night with all the sirens and paramedics rushing in, it was unbearable. The three were at Merlin Magical Medical Hospital, one of the biggest wizarding hospitals in the world. As a statistic, the hospital was highly impressive, but not from the inside. Ron had been here four times now, when he was born, when Ginny was born, when his father died, and now. He sat in the orange plastic chair in the waiting room, numb. The white of the walls blurred together and just became one big blob of nothing. Of nothing.
He had been sitting in this very chair when he had gotten news that his father had died. The doctor had come out and spoken to his mother, then she had told her children. He didn't even remember what she said. All he had really gotten out of the monologue was 'father' and 'dead.' And now here he was, waiting for the news that Maggie was dead.
Dammit! He didn't want another goddamn cause! He didn't want another thing to devote his life to as he did WADD (wizards against drunk driving). He didn't want to go to meetings with hit-and-run victims. He didn't want that. He wanted his Maggie, the one who made him laugh, the one who made him smile, the one who was now making him cry.
Meanwhile, in the lobby, Harry and Hermione where fighting. "What do you mean, it's all my fault?" he yelled.
"If it wasn't for you this wouldn't have happened!"
"Oh," Harry mocked. "I am so sorry. You're going to have a baby. I'm so sorry."
"You should be!"
He sighed. "I think you missed the sarcasm, Herm."
She narrowed her eyes. "No, I chose to ignore it."
"Just tell me, what is so wrong with being pregnant? What is so bad?"
A tall, plump, middle aged woman walked up to Hermione. "You're pregnant?"
"Er, yes I am," she answered, taken aback.
"Congratulations!" the woman cried.
"Thanks," Hermione said, watching the woman as she walked off.
"See," Harry pointed out. "She sees it as a good thing. Why can't you adopt that philosophy?"
"I don't want kids!"
"Well, you should have used better birth control!"
She pointed his finger at him. "Don't you dare turn this on me, Harry Potter. Don't you dare!"
"You're turning it on me!" he cried.
"It's your fault!"
"How," he said, placing his hands on his hips. "How is this my fault and not yours?"
"You must have done something!"
"What, replace your pills with Tylenol?"
"You might have."
"Hermione," he said. "What the hell is your problem?"
"I, unlike you, have none!" she screamed.
He sighed. "Hermione, look at me." He walked to her and grabbed her hand. "We're going to have a baby. We're going to bring something into this world that we made, something that is us yet is completely different from ourselves."
She yanked her hand from his grasp. "I don't want children."
"What do you want, then?" he asked.
"I want a career! I don't want to give that up for the sake of children! I don't want to give up my friends, my job, sex." At that moment, several of the mothers in the room put their hands over their children's ears. "Harry, I don't think I should have to give these things up because of a stupid kid!"
"Who's asking you to give them up?"
"You are!" she screamed.
"Hermione," he said softly. "I want you to have a career. I want you to have friends, and believe me, I want sex." The mothers once again clamped their hands over their children's ears. "I'm not asking you to give everything you hold dear up. I'm asking you to have a baby, something else you can love."
"You know what David said to me?" she asked, suddenly changing the subject.
"What did that bloody bastard say to you?"
"He asked how the Mr. Family Man I married was, and how were our ten children."
"What the hell?"
"Harry, I don't want to come across as that type of person!"
"Maybe I do!"
She glared at him. "Then maybe we should go our separate ways."
Ron, who had been watching the entire situation to get his mind of Maggie, decided on that moment to interfere. "What is wrong with you people?"
"What?"
"Look at me," Ron ordered. "My fiancée is in a coma-"
"She is? You've heard?" Hermione interrupted.
Ron shook his head. "Yes, she's in a coma. Anyway, back to what I was saying, the woman I love is in a coma. She's probably going to die and here you two are, out here in the lobby having a shouting match about something, while I admit is important, is not important enough to tear you two apart. You love each other, right?"
Harry smiled at Hermione. "Yeah."
She grinned back. "Yes."
"Then kiss and make up," Ron continued. "Life is too short to fight. Acknowledge what you have left, that you have each other, because god knows I'm not as lucky. Go home and love on each other, because you never know how much time you have left with each other."
"We're so sorry," Hermione whispered.
Ron waved his hand. "All the apologies in the world won't make her well. Just go home and relish that you have each other."
"You don't need us to stay, for support?" Harry asked.
Ron shook his head. "No, go. I need to be alone anyway. Go home and thank god that you have each other." He wiped away a tear. "And pray for Maggie. I think that's all that's humanly possible for you to give."
"We will," Hermione agreed, hugging Ron. "Are you sure you'll be ok?"
"No, I can guarantee that I'm not, but I won't be anymore ok with you here."
Nodding, Harry gently reached out and took Hermione's hand and led her wordlessly back to the car.
***
The love they made that night had a rushed, automatic feel to it, as if they were doing it not out of affection but out of fear that this time could be their last. It lacked the usual giggling and kissing and nuzzling, but felt almost cold and empty. When it was over, the husband and wife held each other tightly, clutching to the other for dear life.
"I love you," she whispered.
He lightly kissed her forehead. "I love you too."
"I'm scared," she whispered. "It could all be over tomorrow, you know. I might never be able to hold you again."
"Sweetheart," he told her. "If you think about it, then you'll waste your life worrying. If something does happen, it'll happen."
"You're certainly concerned," she snapped.
"You want me to worry endlessly about you getting hurt?"
"I wish you would."
"God," he whispered, pulling her closer. "You know that if something happened to you, I'd die. I think I'll kill myself."
She sat straight up. "Don't ever let me hear you say that!"
"Why not? I want to be with you, always."
"Don't do that to Ron," she whispered.
"What?"
"Don't do that to him. Don't make him lose another person again. If I die, and you kill yourself, then he'd have lost four of the most important people in his life. Don't do that to him."
"I never thought of that," he admitted.
"That's your problem," she said, settling back into his arms, laying her head on his chest. "You don't think."
"That's your job," he joked, squeezing her hand.
She smiled. "Don't joke, this is to be romantic."
"Oh?" He grinned and lightly kissed her fingers. "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware of that."
"You certainly are setting yourself up for some good insults, you know that?"
"I love how you contain yourself and not comment on my ignorance."
She kissed his chin. "What ignorance? Cheer up, you're perfect."
"As are you." He placed his hand on her lower stomach region. "As is junior here."
She scooted back so he couldn't touch her. "Don't talk about this now."
He sighed. "Are you still going on that?"
"I don't want it. I don't."
"What do you want to do then? It's not like we have many options."
"I want an abortion," she whispered.
He sat straight up and looked at her. "No way."
"It's my body; I can choose."
"It's my kid!"
"And mine," she pointed out.
"Fine," he said. "Bloody hell, fine. Just do whatever." He climbed out of bed and wrapped a blanket around his waist.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"To sleep on the couch. Goodnight DEAR."
"Don't-" she started.
"Don't what? I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you've genuinely pissed me off."
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to piss off hero boy here," she said sarcastically.
"Goodnight, let the bed bugs bite, bitch," he said, stomping out of the room.
"Go to hell!" she cried after him, throwing his pillow at the doorway.
***
The hospital held a hostile tension to it. Harry and Hermione weren't speaking to each other, and Ron was trying to deal with Maggie's family and keep from breaking down at the same time. Ron was standing, talking to the Chaberts while Hermione and Harry sat on either side of the row of orange plastic chairs, each pretending to be involved in a magazine while occasionally sending the other dirty looks. Ginny was there also, standing next to Ron, doing all she could to stifle her crying.
"My baby girl!" Chloe Chabert cried. "My poor, poor baby girl."
"I thought I was your baby girl," pouted Maggie's little sister Angie.
"How are you doing?" Ethan Chabert asked Ron.
"Not very well," he admitted.
Chloe wiped her tears and gave Ron a hug. "I know that it is as hard for you as us." She smiled slightly. "Have you heard about her?"
"No."
Ginny blew her nose. "God, I can't believe this is happening."
Chloe nodded. "It's so horrid. Oh, Maggie!"
"God, I hate myself," Ron whispered. Ginny reached over and hugged her brother.
"Whatever for?" Ethan asked. "This isn't your fault."
Ron shook his head. "The last words Maggie and exchanged, were, er, not pleasant."
"They fought?" Angie asked. "Wow, I didn't know Maggie could fight. She's such a goody-goody."
"Do hush, Angie," Chloe ordered. "Oh wait, here comes the doctor now."
Dr. Longbottom strolled next to the group. "Hello, Mr. Weasley, Miss Weasley, the Chaberts-"
"Skip the pretense Neville," Ron directed. "We've known each other since we were eleven. Call me Ron."
"And me Ginny," she added. "I mean, in my third year we did go to the stupid Yule Ball together."
"That was quite lame, wasn't it?" Neville said. "I mean-"
"Get on with it, Neville. How is she?" Ron questioned.
Neville sighed. "She's showing a lot of brain activity, which is very good. I'd say her chances are about fifty/fifty."
"How much brain activity did my dad show before he died?" Ron demanded. "I know you saw him too; you were the one to break the news to me."
Neville sighed again. "Your father went brain dead after the car crash. He never showed any brain activity. That's why your mother told us to pull the plug."
"What!" Ron screamed. "You pulled the plug? You mean he could have lived? You killed him?"
"Ron, he would have been a vegetable," Neville argued. "He was better off dead."
"How long could he have lasted, as a vegetable?" Ron asked.
"Ron," Ginny warned. "Don't do this. Don't dredge this back up."
Ron ignored her. "How long, Neville? How long?"
"I don't know!" Neville cried. "A day, a week, a month, a year? It's all the same to a vegetable."
"Could he have been alive now?"
"Ron!" Ginny said. "Even if he had been alive he would have never been the same! He would have never woken up! He deserves more than that. I'm glad they did that! I support mum's decision."
"Well, Ginny Weasley," Ron yelled. "You are a goddamn traitor."
"What the hell is your problem?" she screamed.
"You! You are a traitor to the Weasley name. We true Weasleys do not let others of our clan die. We stick together, we do what's right-"
"Which was to pull the plug!" Ginny argued. "Would you rather have him be a vegetable?"
Ron ignored her again. "Neville, you damn better not kill Maggie. You may have killed my dad, but you're not killing my fiancée!"
"Pity," Angie commented. "I really wanted to see Maggie dead." With that statement, Ginny slapped Angie across so face it sent her flailing to the floor.
"Don't you ever, ever talk about my best friend like that," Ginny growled between gritted teeth. "Do you understand?"
Angie backed away, still on the floor. "Sorry," she muttered.
"Perhaps you two might want to go home," Chloe suggested, eyeing Ginny and Ron.
They both shook their heads. "We're just upset," Ginny explained. "Weasleys are known for getting quite emotional."
"Obviously," Neville muttered before stalking off in the direction of the emergency room.
"Well, why don't you two sit down," Ethan suggested.
"Good idea," Ron said, sitting in the orange plastic chairs between Harry and Hermione. "You two still fighting?" he asked.
"Who me?" Hermione questioned. "Fighting with whom?"
"Your husband, perhaps?" Ron said.
"Oh, him? I wasn't quite sure he existed other than the fact that he keeps on giving me dirty looks."
"If she would just get over her fear of commitment, she would be happy about her pregnancy," Harry snapped.
"You're pregnant?" Ginny asked.
"Yes."
"You are?" Chloe inquired.
"Yes, yes, I'm pregnant," she groaned.
"Congratulations!" Chloe exclaimed.
"Oh, Hermione!" Ginny cried. "Now we have to throw you a baby shower and oh, we have to go shopping! You need a crib and a- I forget what they're called, they're what babies eat out of- and clothes!"
"Ginny, I-"
Ginny kept on speaking. "And we'll have to go and buy paint and fix up that guest room of yours into a nursery. We'll need some little furniture, some cute blankets, a mobile, stuffed animals-. Oh, Hermione, this will be so fun!"
"Fun?" Hermione questioned.
"Of course!" she exclaimed. "Now, when are you expecting? How pregnant are you?"
"Not very. Maybe a month."
"So we'll have plenty of time! Oh, I'm so happy for you sweetheart! You'll be so happy." Ginny put her hands on her hips. "Now, of course, in return for me helping with the baby you must help me find a boyfriend! One that Ron won't hate, of course. It's horrid dating when you have six brothers, and Ron's the worst of all of them."
Hermione laughed, but said nothing. "Oh, Herm," Ginny continued. "I'm so exited. I was in the mall the other day, you know, the muggle one, and I found this little store with the cutest baby clothes. I was thinking, who do I know who has a baby who I can shop for? Now, dilemma solved, it's you!"
Ron grinned. "I think you're scaring her, Gin."
"As if that wasn't easy enough," Harry muttered.
"You shut up," Ron told Harry.
"The store had these little lace booties- do you know if it's a boy or a girl?" Ginny asked.
"I don't know."
"Oh well, you'll know soon enough. Until then, we'll buy things that are yellow and blue that don't really have a specific gender, you know what I mean? Anyway, when do want to go shopping? Today? Tomorrow?"
"Not today," Hermione said. "I don't feel well."
"Morning sickness?" Harry asked sweetly, forgetting that the two were fighting.
"Maybe," Hermione admitted. "I feel nauseous."
"Yes," Chloe agreed. "Then it's morning sickness. Why don't you go home?"
"I think that'll be a good idea. I want to take a nap," Hermione said, standing up. "Are you staying?" she asked Harry.
"Yes," he replied coldly, remembering their fight the night before.
"Oh, well, I'll see you at home," Hermione said, taken aback by his sudden change in mood. "Goodbye. Call me when you hear something new about Maggie, all right?"
Ginny nodded in agreement. "Sure we will. Now go home and ge some rest and you'll feel better. Then we'll go shopping, okay? And Harry can come if he can be nice," she said, shooting a dirty look at Harry.
"Agreed. Bye!" Hermione called as she turned to leave.
"Hermione," Harry called after her.
"Yeah?" she asked hopefully.
"Can you walk home and leave the car?"
"Oh," she said, disappointed. "Sure."
"Herm," he called again.
"Yes?"
"Be careful, okay?"
She grinned. "Okay." She fought the urge to run to him and throw her arms around him; instead, she turned around and left.
"Now why are you being so mean?" Ginny demanded.
"Me?" Harry inquired.
"Yes, you. What's your problem?"
"She wants an abortion," Harry said lamely.
Ginny shrugged. "She'll come around."
"What do you mean?"
She snorted. "I would think that you two, knowing her better than I do, would have figured this out! Hermione's a bit of a pessimist. She sees this for only the bad things, not the good."
Ron nodded. "That makes sense. She doesn't want early morning feedings and diaper changes. To think of it, who does want those things?"
"What?" Harry asked.
"No one wants those things. Yet they have children for the good reasons, and just deal with the bad." Ron explained
"And Hermione is a perfectionist," Ginny added. "She probably does see this as a way to lose her career, and she loves her career."
"I never said that," Harry whispered.
"You need to be more understanding," Ginny told him.
"And compassionate," Ron added.
"And a bit less sure. She's pretty confused right now, and your confidence in this isn't helping," Chloe put in.
"That's a good one," Ginny told Chloe.
"Thanks."
"God," Harry groaned.
***
Hermione strolled out of Diagon Alley and onto a muggle street. She passed a small park and decided to rest there. She laid on one of the benches, staring at the brilliant blue sky, her mind a jumble of thoughts. What am I going to do? Is Harry right? Is Ginny right? Am I right?
"Excuse me," a woman's voice sounded from her left.
Hermione sat straight up. "I'm so sorry."
The woman smiled. "No, I'm afraid I've just left my bag on this bench." She had shoulder length auburn hair, bright green eyes, and a small, button nose. Hermione noticed that she was pushing a baby carriage.
Hermione leaned in the baby carriage to get a better look at the child inside. "Is it a boy or a girl?"
"A boy," she answered.
"He's absolutely adorable," Hermione commented.
"Thank you."
"I'm expecting myself, and I just can't get excited about it." Hermione sighed.
"Really?" the woman questioned. "You're pregnant?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes."
"When are you expecting?"
"In about eight months."
"And you're not really excited about it?" the woman asked. "My name is Hyacinth Rettop, and yes, my parents were nuts about flowers, and you?"
"Hermione Potter."
Hyacinth smiled. "Why aren't you happy about it?"
Hermione sighed. "I don't really know. I have so much going for me right now, I don't really want it right now. My husband's ecstatic, but I can't seem to share his joy."
Hyacinth nodded. "I think I know what you mean. Do you have doubts, or is it that you just don't want a baby?"
"I guess it's that I have doubts," Hermione admitted. "I mean, what if I'm a terrible mother?"
She laughed. "Everyone thinks that, sweetheart. Everyone wonders about that."
"And another thing," Hermione continued. "What if I have this kid, and I don't love it? What if I can't love it?"
"I had the same thoughts," Hyacinth said. "But the minute I saw H- my baby- I-." She paused. "Hermione, do you love your parents? Do you love your husband?"
"Very much so."
"You will love your child ten times as much as you love them," Hyacinth said. "You've heard of people doing crazy things for their children, people DYING for there children. It's love that powers it."
"I hope so," Hermione whispered. "I hope you're right."
"I am," Hyacinth laughed. "Believe me, I am."
"I'm just so scared," Hermione said softly. "My husband, I mean, he's so sure of everything. I'm scared. I'm responsible for another life."
Hyacinth smiled. "He's just as scared as you are. Sometimes people deal with fear differently. He hides his and you keep yours out in the open. It does take a lot of guts to talk about such a sensitive topic with a stranger."
Hermione shook her head. "I feel as if I know you."
Hyacinth laughed. "Maybe in another life. I got my palm read once and I was told that I was a nurse in the war of 1812. Can you believe that?"
"I don't believe in palm reading and such."
"Neither do I," Hyacinth agreed. "Well, it's been very nice meeting you, but I do need to run."
"Thank you for everything," Hermione said. "Could I have your phone number, you know, to talk some more? If you don't mind, of course."
"Certainly," Hyacinth smiled. She wrote her number down on a candy wrapper on the ground, then handed it to Hermione. "Good luck, dear."
"Thank you." Hermione then walked off towards her apartment.
It was mid-afternoon now, and Hermione felt as weights had been lifted from her. Talking to Hyacinth, another mother, had really helped her and boosted her confidence. Maybe we'll give this a try, she thought as she walked up the stairs to her flat. She took out her key and unlocked the door.
Something was wrong. Hermione could feel it as soon as she entered the apartment. The air had a strange feeling in it, as if someone had been there…. It smelled funny; it felt different. She pulled her wand out of her pocket. You know, it'll be probably be nothing. The other night you practically killed Ron for nothing, she thought. Get a grip. Relax. You're probably imagining this all.
She felt a blow come to her side, a quick, sudden hit. She dropped her wand and fell to the floor. Pain ran up her stomach, making her want to vomit again and again, making her dizzy. The baby, she thought. God, the baby was hit. She quickly got to her feet and turned to look at what hit her.
It was someone much bigger than herself, someone she recognized, and he had her wand and was twirling it between his fingers. "Shit," she whispered.
"What's this?" the man asked. "A magic wand? You're a witch. You know what they used to do to witches in America? In Salem?"
Hermione nodded her head, but he continued. "They killed 'em. Killed 'em all. Would they have done that if they were not bad?"
"I'm not bad," Hermione said softly.
"Sure you're not, witch," he said. "That's what you want me to think." He raised a poker from the fire place. "You and that husband of yours. Always acted like newlyweds, but now I guess that all that commotion in the middle of the night was spells, right? Don't answer; I don't want to listen to anything you want to say. I'm just going to kill you."
Hermione didn't know what to do. So she screamed. Yet no one heard her.
***
Harry felt a sudden, sharp pain in his stomach. Then another, then another. "Ow," he whined.
"What's wrong?" Ginny asked.
"I feel sick."
"Well, go home," Ron suggested.
Harry shook his head. "It's not that. Something's, something's wrong. Someone's screaming. Someone's hurt. Something's wrong. I can feel it in my bones."
"You're probably feeling guilty about being mean to Hermione," Ginny suggested.
"Nah, he just wants to be hero boy and save the world," Ron grumbled.
Harry shook his head again. "I'm going home. Something's wrong, and I would feel much better knowing she's okay."
"Go then," Ron ordered. "We're fine here."
"You sure?"
"Positive. Go."
"Oh, the power of love," Chloe cried. "It's so sweet!" She glared at Ethan. "Why don't you worry about me like that?"
Ethan shrugged. "Being married to you for thirty years, I don't really tend to worry about you. You can take care of yourself."
"Such the romantic, aren't you?" Chloe moaned.
Harry turned around and practically ran to the car. He pulled out of the parking place and drove as quickly as he could to their little flat without getting in an accident. When he arrived he ran from the car, inside the building, up the stairs (the elevator was too slow) and up to apartment 277.
The door wasn't locked; it was left slightly ajar. Harry looked in. "Shit," he whispered. The living room was a mess. Tables were flipped over, lamps were on the floor, couch cushions were all over the room.
"Hermione?" he called. "Sweetheart?" His voice shook, his heart ached with fear. "Hermione?"
He heard a muffled scream from their bedroom. "Hermione!" Forgetting all pretense, he raced into the bedroom. There he saw something that he would never forget as long as he lived.
There was Bob Middle, standing in Harry's bedroom, his clothes torn, covered in blood, and holding a bloody poker stick that was usually housed by the fireplace.
And laying at his feet was Hermione, beaten and bruised and also covered in blood. She looked up at him with her scared, hurt brown eyes, making Harry shake harder. "Stupefy," he whispered, pointing his wand at Bob. Then he kneeled next to his wife, kissing her cheek, getting blood on his lips.
A/N: Another Cliffhanger. Okay, if you really want to know what happened and if Hermione's ok, well, you'll just have to wait until the conclusion. Do you want a hint? Huh? Well, I'm not giving you one. I never liked Bob, so he's the one who's the witch hater and hurt Hermione. I could have made it less gory, but I decided I also could have made it more gory and left it the way it was. One more part! Hooray!
Note: Will you people please read my fic 'Miracle'? Please, please, please, pretty please? Please read AND review it? I like it and no one's really reading it! It's a bit darker than this story, but I really like it. I've already posted parts one and two.
Alicia Spinnet- Why did you take down Hogwarts to Beanstown? I loved that fic! Are you going to finish it? Please do!
And thanks to Firenze for being so supportive of me and always reviewing my fics. It's always motivational and it makes me want to write more! :-)
Disclaimer:
Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, the entire Weasley clan, Neville Longbottom, belong to J.K. Rowling.
Maggie Chabert, all the Chaberts, Bob Middle, Hyacinth Rettop, belong to me.