Fool if you think it's over

by Katta (KET on ff.net)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. They all belong to J.K. Rowling, of course, of course. I'm sorry if I've borrowed them for a bit, but I am making no money from it.

Chapter 2 : The aftermath

When Hermione woke up on New Year's Day, she was only aware that she was cold. And thirsty. And queasy. And her head hurt. Slowly she moved and discovered with surprise how stiff she was. She was wrapped in a blanket, under a table, in a bedroom. There was no one else there. Slowly, slowly she raised her sore head. She had to have something to drink or she was going to die. With infinite care, she stood up and made her way to the kitchen. Moira and Katy were sitting in the middle of a sea of empty bottles and spilt drink, drinking tea. When they became aware of Hermione, Moira grinned and said, 'So who scored with the best looking bloke at the party, then?'

The words filtered slowly into Hermione's befuddled brain. And suddenly she had to be sick. With a superhuman effort, she ran and reached the loo, before the contents of her stomach rearranged itself on the floor. In cold and total misery she sat on the floor, half in, half out of the pool of sick and considered Moira's words. Carefully she stood up and pulled down her trousers. The inside of her leg was caked with blood. And her knickers were missing.

Somehow the missing knickers seemed the final straw. She started to cry at her own stupidity. She had gone to a party that was out of her league and got so drunk she couldn't remember anything. And she had lost her virginity to the first man to flatter her. And she was sitting in a pool of sick in a smelly loo. And she had lost her knickers! A cold misery took hold of her heart. Was this how easily the Hogwarts Head Girl was cut down to size? She felt dirty and guilty and stupid. And she cried for a long time.

Finally, Katy came and knocked on the door to ask if she was alright. In the interest of self-preservation, she pulled herself together and washed her face. She came out looking slightly green and blamed the hangover for her strange behaviour. Moira and Katy clearly saw nothing wrong in screwing with half-known man at a party, but they didn't know just how inexperienced Hermione was. She kept a brave face on it for the brief time it took her to get out of the flat.

On the long walk home, in the freezing early morning weather, Hermione ran over events again and again, trying to probe her mind for more memories. But most the time after Nick arrived was and remained a blur. She had absolutely no memory of the sex at all. Damn! Damn! Damn! She had been so proud of her virginity, smugly telling Lavender and Parvati that she was keeping it for someone special. And then, one skinful of alcohol, and she had gone to bed with anyone. Now she thought about it, she didn't even particularly like Nick. She felt so dirty. All the perfumes of Arabia … and all that stuff. She knew she would have a bath when she got home, but she also knew it would be no good. The dirt went deeper. To her core. She would never be rid of it. And then she had to be sick again in a ditch. Served her right! Slut! Idiot! Know-it-all who knows nothing! No one had ever been harder on Hermione than she was on herself.

Her parents were only slightly concerned about her when she got back. They realised that she must have got drunk and was now hung over. If anything, the fact that she clearly wasn't very used to drink seemed to reassure them. They decided to leave her to herself, for which she was profoundly grateful. Over the next few days, she seemed a bit quiet and withdrawn, but her parents simply put it down to worrying about returning for the critical spring term of her final year at school, and didn't think too much of it.

While she was still at home, Hermione had been forced to put a brave face on things, but now that she was back at Hogwarts, she was falling apart. She had spent most of the first week locked in her room, except when she had to attend actual lessons. Ron, Harry and Ginny kept knocking on her door, but she just couldn't face them. She told them she was too busy preparing for her NEWTs, and got meals sent up by the house elves.

In reality she wasn't studying at all. She was just sitting on her bed, crying and berating herself. Waves of self-disgust swept over her. Stupid! Dirty! Defiled! It was as if the nightmares kept encroaching on her mind and pulling it apart.

Then suddenly, in the small hours of the night, a thought came to her. She didn't know where it came from, but it just popped into her head unbidden. If I sleep with the ugliest, nastiest man I know, I'll be clean again. It made no sense, really, but her sanity was wearing rather thin. To Hermione it seemed the answer. To be clean again, that was what she wanted above all else. She began repeating it like a mantra, blocking out the bad thoughts whenever they started their dance through her brain. She even wrote it on a piece of parchment and put it in the locket she had got for Christmas.

By using the mantra, she was able to start functioning in something approaching normal fashion again. She could concentrate on her lessons. She could take her meals in the Great Hall. She even got some homework done. Bad thought – mantra. Bad thought – mantra. It was working, even if living her life seemed to be like going through the motions and pretending to do the things she should be doing.

At night, she would repeat the mantra hundreds of times until she feel asleep. At least she was getting some sleep. But in the darkness of her bedroom she also started planning how to carry it out. That wasn't so easy. The nastiest boy in her year was without a doubt Malfoy, but he could hardly be described as ugly. Quite the opposite, in fact. There were plenty of boys who were not so good looking, top of the list being Longbottom, but he was the sweetest, kindest person you could imagine. At the moment, Hermione was satisfied with the mantra, the promise of becoming clean again, but she knew that sooner or later she would have to act on it, and she wasn't sure how.

~@~@~@~

Three weeks into January, things seemed to have calmed down a little bit. Hermione was almost behaving as normal. Ron and Harry had stopped worrying about her and were concentrating on their quidditch again. And then overhearing a chance conversation between Lavender and Parvati, set off Hermione's neurosis again.

'I thought she looked fat when I went for that visit in November,' said Lavender.

'I remember you mentioning it,' said Parvati.

'At Christmas, she was behaving really oddly. I asked mum what was up, but she was concentrating on some sort séance she was putting together and I don't think she'd even noticed.'

'You'd have thought she'd pay a bit more attention to her first-born.'

'Well, she didn't. And clearly Hester's announcement came as a complete surprise. Mum's letter is full righteous indignation at not having been told earlier.'

'So, is it too late for Hester to have an abortion?'

'I expect so. But it doesn't make any difference because apparently she wants this baby.' Lavender pulled a disgusted face.

'What about the father?'

'Well, this is the thing. She hasn't told mum and dad who it is, but I know ….'

Lavender and Parvati moved out of earshot, but Hermione was standing stock still in shock. Pregnancy! The possibility had never even occurred to her. She could be pregnant at this very moment!

Hermione ran to her room and locked the door. Breathing carefully to prevent herself hyperventilating, she stripped in front of the mirror and examined her body. Was the stomach a bit fuller? At what point did a pregnancy being to show? Hermione's sex education had been woefully neglected. She had had lessons at her muggle primary school, but that was years ago. Hogwarts was much too traditional to deal with matters like that. And her parents too embarrassed. Besides, it wasn't as if she had spent much time at home in the last six years. She knew the basics, of course, and – now that she thought about it – she was fully aware that having unprotected sex could make her pregnant (she just hadn't thought about it).

Hermione's normal reaction to anything she didn't know was to go to the library and look it up. But she just couldn't! What if anyone saw her? Mme Pince could tell what books they had read, anyway. No the library was out. So, what to do? Still breathing carefully, she reviewed what she did know about pregnancy. Periods! That was it! If she was pregnant her periods would stop. She reached for her diary. There was one due soon. Perhaps if she could just survive the next few days, her period would come and then everything would be fine!

~@~@~@~

Hermione's period came three days later. When she woke up to see the blood, she was aware of a relief so massive it threatened to overwhelm her. She fairly bounded into the Great Hall, greeting everyone with a cheerfulness that wasn't entirely appreciated on a Monday morning. She wrote two essays that afternoon and caught up with all her arithmancy assignments for the next month. She wanted to grab Harry and Ron and swing them round and dance and sing.

This happy frame of mind lasted two days. Then lying in bed at night, she suddenly remembered her mother telling a story to one of her friends some years ago. She hadn't been aware of Hermione listening, and Hermione hadn't paid much attention to it at the time, but suddenly it was there in her brain and refusing to go away.

'She went to the doctor,' said her mother in the memory, 'complaining of a stomach ache. And they ran all sorts of tests, but couldn't find anything wrong. And then one day, she went to the loo at the railway station, because she kept needing to go to the loo all the time, and out pops a baby. She had to get the loo attendant to phone for help. She was nine months pregnant and didn't realise it! But the baby was unharmed and now she seems ever so happy.'

Slowly Hermione turned the story over in her mind. So it was possible to be pregnant and not realise it. Could that mean that it was possible to carry on having your periods? Because otherwise this woman would have known, surely? How did you test for pregnancy? Presumably Mme Pomfrey could read some incantation, but that meant telling her. Hermione's good spirits plummeted. She cried herself to sleep again, her hand self-consciously on her belly. Repeating the mantra helped a bit, even though it wasn't anything to do with the fear of pregnancy. She was beginning to think that if she would sleep with the nastiest, ugliest man, she wouldn't just be clean, but the whole nightmare would be over.

While she slept, her mind had obviously done a bit of filing and sorting, because she woke up with the one piece of information she had on muggle pregnancy tests. She remembered the scene from Bridget Jones's Diary where Bridget thinks she might be pregnant. She'd gone to a chemist and bought a test. There was then some confusion over how to read the test, but that was it! There were muggle tests that could be bought over the counter!

With feverish concentration, Hermione bent her mind to how she might acquire one of these tests. Hogsmeade was out. Even if the apothecary carried muggle pregnancy tests, which was doubtful, she couldn't go in there and ask. Anyone might overhear her! No that was impossible. What she had to do was to somehow get out into the muggle world. She thought that one over for a few minutes.

~@~@~@~

By the time she saw Professor Dumbledore that afternoon, Hermione had her spiel ready. She was feeling under pressure from her NEWTs and her duties as Head Girl. She needed to get away for a little. She was missing the muggle world, too. No – she didn't want to go and see her parents – they were abroad anyway. (Going into a muggle chemist in her small home town was almost as bad as going into the apothecary in Hogsmeade). What she really wanted was to go to London for a weekend. Do some clothes shopping. Go to a museum. Just get away.

Dumbledore regarded Hermione with concern. All her teachers were reporting that she was behaving strangely this term. Not exactly neglecting her work, she was still doing twice as much as was necessary, but not doing four times as much, as she would have done in the past. And the spark seemed to have gone from her eyes. Perhaps it was the impending threat of the final battle with Voldemort that was weighing on her? Perhaps getting away to London for a few days would do her good?

'All right, my dear, you can go to London for the weekend, but only if you stay at Grimmauld Place. Remus is living there now and he'll look after you. And I don't want you gallivanting round London in the evening on your own, so I'll tell Fred and George you're coming. They are bound to lay on some entertainment for you.'

At any other time, the prospect of a weekend like that would have made Hermione delighted. As it was, she barely remembered to say thank you. Dumbledore reached across for a calendar.

'You can't go this weekend as it won't be … errr .. convenient for Remus, but you can go the weekend after.'

Hermione almost ran back to her room to start making preparations.

~@~@~@~

'How did you get Professor Dumbledore to agree to let you go to London?' said Ron, clearly both impressed and jealous.

'I told him I'd been working too hard – hardly an argument you can use!'

'Why can't we go with you?' asked Harry.

'Because I want a bit of time away on my own. Perhaps if you ask Professor Dumbledore he'll let you go on a different weekend.' In truth, Hermione doubted that – Voldemort's malice was now closely focussed on Harry. As Head Girl, Hermione knew how much effort was expended on keeping Harry safe, without him knowing about it.

'You'll miss the quidditch match against Hufflepuff!'

'Oh, shucks! Well, that's another reason why you can't go.'

The boys had to admit Hermione had a point there.

~@~@~@~

It had been agreed that Hermione could travel down on the Friday night. Ron and Harry walked her down to Hogsmeade where she could disapparate. They both gave her a hug, sensing that something was very wrong, but she was so keen to be away that she hardly noticed.

Remus met her in the hall of Grimmauld Place. He looked surprisingly well, given the strain of the war against Voldemort. Since he had no current employment, he seemed to be devoting his efforts full-time to the Order of the Phoenix and he was at least able to live for free in Sirius' old house. He was even being paid some sort of housekeeper's allowance out of Sirius' estate, so he was no longer destitute. Over the past two years the house had been totally done up and bore no resemblance to the gloomy place Hermione had first visited in her holidays between the fourth and fifth year. Dumbledore had installed Dobby as the resident house elf and everything was spick and span.

Together Remus and Dobby had cooked up a veritable feast for Hermione, and the three of them stayed up late into the night eating and drinking and reminiscing. Now that she was actually doing something concrete about her problems, Hermione felt much more cheerful. Remus, who had been warned to look out for odd behaviour, thought that she seemed a bit brittle but otherwise all right.

The Saturday morning dawned bright and cold. Fred and George had arranged to meet her at lunchtime in the Leaky Cauldron, so she had the morning for her main errand. She had chosen a copious handbag to hide her purchase. With this clutched firmly in her hand, she made for Oxford Street as being the busiest and most anonymous part of London. Within a few minutes of coming out of the tube station, she spotted a huge branch of Boots' which seemed perfect. Looking carefully around herself to make sure there was no one she knew about, she entered the shop.

Where would the pregnancy tests be? Asking was out of the question. She would rather have died! But she wandered up and down the aisles until she spotted a sign saying 'Family planning'. And there they were. At least three different makes. Single packets . Double packets. (Why would you need a double packet, wondered Hermione.) She read the back. They all guaranteed high accuracy and results in under a minute. Hastily she grabbed one and covered it in her basked with an assortment of shampoos she didn't really need. Now for a deep breath and the check out. She knew that she was blushing bright read, but the assistant was either well used to young men sidling up to buy 'something for the weekend' or too bored even to notice.

Once out of the chemist, Hermione went into one of the large department stores that she knew would have loos. There she repacked her bags, hiding the pregnancy test at the bottom of her handbag. And now she was ready to face Fred and George.

~@~@~@~

The twins were such a breath of fresh air, Hermione found herself laughing properly for the first time that year. Their shop was wonderful and she spent the afternoon just browsing in their store room. Once they had closed up for the evening, they took her out for dinner and then to a comedy show. She was delivered back at Grimmauld Place very late in the evening.

There seemed to be no sign of Remus, so Hermione went up to her room. Now – finally – for the test. She unpacked the box and read the instructions carefully. It hadn't really occurred to her to wonder how the test would be performed, but now she was suddenly worried that she would need a pin to prick out some blood. But, no, it was just a urine test. It all seemed straightforward enough, but she would obviously have to transfer to the bathroom. She hid the box up the sleeve of her robe and went out in the corridor. Remus must have come home, because she could hear voices from downstairs, but they didn't seem to be interested in her, so she slipped across to the bathroom and locked the door.

Mindful of Bridget Jones' unnecessary panic, Hermione forced herself to reread the instructions very slowly and carried them out to the letter. As the urine rose up the absorbent stick, the first window stayed wonderfully clear and white, while the blue line appeared in the second window. Hermione compared the result with the picture on the box. And then she waited an extra minute and looked again. Absolutely no doubt – she was not pregnant.

With a wonderful feeling of relief, Hermione slipped back out into the corridor. The voices downstairs were now raised in a heated argument. Hermione couldn't resist leaning over the banister. Remus and his guest were in the front parlour and the door was open a crack.

'If you hadn't taunted him, he would still be alive today!' shouted Remus.

Hermione couldn't hear the quieter reply, but Remus' words made clear that he must be talking to Snape.

'You're just a frustrated and bitter man!' said Remus.

Hermione bent over further to hear the reply.

'Frustrated? Look whose talking! When was the last time you had a woman?' said the smooth sarcastic voice that Hermione knew so well from Potions lessons.

'I'll have you know,' said Remus sounding rather smug, 'that I have a very happy relationship with a significant other.'

That was news to Hermione, but she didn't have time to stop to consider it before Snape replied with his trade-mark snideness.

'Well, it's easier if you have two species to choose from.'

The remark clearly riled Remus for he shouted, 'You are just the nastiest, ugliest excuse for a human being I have ever come across!'

'I don't have to stand here being insulted!' shouted Snape, and Hermione realised that they could spill over into the hallway at any moment. She scuttled off to her room, every last trace of her pregnancy test hidden up her sleeve.

But Remus' final words rang in her brain. Nastiest. Ugliest. Snape was the nastiest, ugliest man she had ever met. She couldn't believe that it hadn't occurred to her before, but that was the answer to her problem staring her in the face. She had to sleep with Snape to become clean again!

But how? You don't just waltz up to a teacher and ask them to go to bed with you. Well, perhaps you could have done with Gilderoy Lockhart, but not with Snape.

Hermione's mind began to scheme. And then it occurred to her that Valentine's Day was coming up soon and Professor Dumbledore had announced a masked ball. A smile spread across her face. Valentine's Day. She had just the idea for a Valentine's card. And a disguise.

A/N: For the record, the story about the woman who was pregnant and didn't realise is based loosely on a story I once heard, but I think that she had always had irregular periods and therefore wasn't alarmed when her periods stopped.