One Night Stand

One night of pleasure can lead to a lifetime of pain. One night of lust can lead to a lifetime of love.

Disclaimer Harry Potter is not mine. I do own the many posters on my wall of Rupert Grint, though! And the background collage of Rupert on my computer. Haha.

Chapter 4: The Baby Doll Bond

February fifteenth found me altering my clothes, robes, and cloaks. I was standing in front of the full length mirror, modeling a pair of jeans Ginny had handed me. The size was finally right, but it did not hide my slowing growing pudge. Ginny then handed me my school robes to put on. Thankfully, the robes (as well as my cloak) covered my stomach. I wondered how long this would work. The goal was to hide my stomach for as long as possible to avoid gossip. Once June thirtieth arrived, I didn't have anything to worry about. Next weekend was the next Hogsmeade visit and I would be able to buy clothes that were my size and maybe larger robes for when my stomach grew. Thinking about the village reminded me that Ron's eighteenth birthday was in two weeks.

"Have you gotten Ron anything for his birthday?" I asked Ginny, hoping she could give me an idea.

"Not yet." Damn. "I was thinking of a broomstick servicing kit, though. You remember, like the one you gave Harry for his thirteenth birthday. Fred and George are getting him a Lightning4000. My gift will just correspond I guess."

"That's true."

"Have you gotten him anything?"

"No."

"Any ideas?"

"None at all," I sighed. "You got any?"

"This is me we're talking about, Hermione, do I ever have any ideas? In a way I got my gift idea from you. What about something to do with the Cannons?"

"Nah. Harry's spoken to Dumbledore and there's a match the day before. They're allow to go."

"So why not a shirt or hat?"

"Harry brought him a hat a few years back and I got him a shirt last year."

"This is hard."

"Really, Gin!" I didn't hide my sarcasm.

"Sorry," Ginny replied, rolling her eyes. "I don't know what to tell you."

"It doesn't help that he will hardly speak to me. When he does he always starts with 'Are you alright?' It's a bit annoying, really. Otherwise, he won't say two words to me."

"Ron's a prick."

"Not always," I muttered.

"Yes, always," retorted Ginny. "Anyways, still no word from your parents?"

With this simple sentence, my eyes began to water. I had written my parents four more times since my first letter, none to bring a reply. I feared the worse and I was sure they would never speak to me again. Madam Pomfrey had sent an owl to them after I had had my first ultrasound to ask about medical history. They replied, told her that there was no line of diseases, but did not ask how I was doing. It was unbelievable, me being their only child and all. I prayed each night that they would find it in their hearts to forgive me and welcome me back with open arms. Since a month had already past, I didn't think they would change their minds.

"No. I think they disowned me."

"They didn't. Now, here, take this," she said, handing me my school uniform.

It was a week before Ron's birthday and I was still failing at retrieving a present. It didn't help that I didn't have any time whatsoever. Certain professors had every seventh year from here to China weighed down with extra N.E.W.T.s work. To complete every single assignment given took an average of five hours. This kept even me up until ten o'clock at night. I was still very sleepy and slept every opportunity I had. These opportunities didn't come very often. I was trying to keep up appearances as to not raise any suspicion. My morning sickness had subsided to a minimum of once or twice every two weeks. I still had many mood swings that didn't make things better. Friday I had snapped at Professor McGonagall, losing Gryffindor House ten points. After class I apologized, trying to make an excuse around my pregnancy. She forgave me, but a nagging voice told me she knew the whole story.

Harry, Neville, and I were sitting around the Heads' Common Room. I was curled up in the large armchair, devouring my all time favorite childhood story, Matilda. Harry and Neville were in the middle of their seventh game of Wizard's Chess. As I was about to start the chapter entitled "Bruce Bogtrotter and the Cake," Ron burst into the common room, returning from his fifth and final detention for fighting with Malfoy. His expression was all but pleasant as he took a seat next to Neville on the couch. He sighed in relief and immediately started offering Neville tips on where to send his Knight. Neville tried his best to ignore Ron, which only made him lose, again. While Harry sat up the board for another game, I thought I would have another go at Ron.

"So, um, Ron," I began, sitting down my book. Ron turned in my direction and let out an "Uh-huh." I rolled my eyes and continued. "I was wondering, what do you want for you birthday?"

"I told you, Hermione, why do you have to be so stubborn? Nothing!"

"But, Ron," I whined, "it's your eighteenth birthday. It's special. You have to want something."

"Nothing," he insisted, "nope, nada, no."

I pouted, but Ron turned away from me and began playing chess. Harry and I exchanged looks. Harry shrugged and smiled, the mysterious glint in his eyes.

Over the next week, I turned the tables and decided to give Ron the cold shoulder. Not that it mattered, he avoided me at all costs. My only companion was Ginny, who kept chanting, "I'm gonna know what the baby is, I'm gonna know what the baby is." Tuesday, I had seen Madam Pomfrey, who had informed Ginny that she would know the baby's gender in the next month. I was also told that my baby was healthy and all looked to be order. I was still told to follow the diet and exercise charts given to me. The exercise was fine, but it was hard to follow the diet. Certain foods were not always offered during meals. Harry eventually went to the kitchens where he gave Dobby a copy of my food chart, and he made sure that whatever I needed, was sent to exactly where I was sitting. Lucky for me, no one noticed I was eating different foods, or maybe it was because I would always sit away from the other students of my house. Harry, Ron, and I had done this enough during the years, no one ever questioned us.

On Friday morning, I was surprised to look up from my toast and jam to see Hedwig flying toward me, letter in tow. The letter fell face down in front of me and I cautiously picked it up. Hermione Jane Granger was written across the envelope in my mother's neat handwriting. My eyes widened and I looked around me. I was sitting alone, having gone to breakfast early. I waited several minutes, hoping to see one of my friends walk through the doors of the Great Hall. I wanted, no needed, someone here with me while I read the letter from my parents. I felt sure I was disowned and would never be allowed back into my home again. Just as I was unfolding the letter, Ron took the seat across from me and grabbed a piece of toast.

27 February 1998

Hermione,

Let me apologize for taking so long to reply to your letter, things have been busy. Well, actually, the truth is, I didn't know what to say. I still don't. But, you deserve to know how your father and I feel. We are both greatly disappointed and very angry. I always thought I wouldn't have to say, "Hermione's pregnant," until you were at least twenty-two. But, Hermione, your seventeen years old! We have come to the decision that we will not financially support you. Which means, you can't come live back home. We feel that this was your mistake, so you have to take care of it yourself. We will not help you. Don't come crying to us when you don't know what to do. But, remember, you are our daughter, and we will love you always.

Love,

Your Mother



The relief I had felt when I read the first sentence vanished and was replaced with resentment. Me, being their only daughter, their only child, and they didn't want to help me in any way whatsoever. Angry tears stinged my eyes as I folded the letter into squares. My mother had never been a harsh person, but her words spelled 'harsh' over and over again. Again, I reminded myself that it could be worse. They may not be supporting me, but they weren't disowning me. I still had a family, I just didn't have a place to live after school. Oh God, I thought, I can't support myself, how am I to support a newborn baby? The clinking of a goblet brought my attention to the person sitting across from me. Ron was carelessly refilling his goblet of pumpkin juice, a mouth full of food. It only angered me more to know that he wasn't speaking to me and I was carrying his child. For a moment, I wondered if I was being selfish. In a way I was, but wasn't Ron at fault also?

"Who's that from?" Ron said, swallowing.

"My mother," I replied, my voice a bit cold.

Ron dropped his fork and turned his full attention on me, "Really?"

I nodded, unable to speak through my sobbing. Ron studied my face for a moment, and I knew he was unsure of how to handle the situation. He's not ready to have a child. He can barely get his emotions together. I let the tears flow, clutching the letter in my hand. Slowly, I began to shake. I grabbed my school bag, threw the letter in my plate, stood, and ran off crying. I didn't even turn back as Ron started after me, screaming and calling my name all the way up to my room.

The week passed rather slowly for me. I stayed in my room most of the time, depressed and sulking. I only showed up for two classes; Potions, where Snape was giving a very crucial pre-N.E.W.T.s exam and Astrometry, for a review. Otherwise, I stayed curled up in a tight ball on my bed, sleeping for a good twenty hours. Harry checked on me three times a day, morning, lunch break, and before he went to bed. I had locked Ginny out of my room. I didn't want to see her, or get any of her advice. I wanted to be alone to my thoughts. My thoughts haunted me, but in a way they were comforting. They drove me insane, but kept me the sanest I have ever been. Of course, my dreams were even more frightening, most resulting in me murdering Ron with an ordinary pair of kitchen scissors.

Saturday morning I mustered up the strength to get out of my bed. I was going to go down to breakfast for the first time since my mother's letter. I hadn't been eating well, and my stomach rumbled in protest with every move I made. I carelessly threw on some clothes after my short shower. The oversized black sweatshirt I was wearing hid my stomach well. I made a mental note to ask Madam Pomfrey if there was anything to hide my pregnancy. Before I left, I wanted to see if Harry was awake so I could have someone to walk down with. As I neared his bedroom door, I noticed it was open a crack. Two voices were carried into the common room for me to hear, loud and clear.

"Ron, if you really care for her, you will stick to this, understand?"

"Yes, but, Harry-"

"No buts! You agreed to this, you are going to follow through."

I cautiously dared a peek. Harry was leaning against his bed post, Ron standing in front of him, cradling a baby? Held gingerly in his arms was what looked to be a small baby doll. As Ron opened his mouth to speak again, the baby began to cry softly.

"Dammit, not again," Ron groaned, shh-ing the doll. He rocked the baby back and forth for several seconds until it quieted again. "What I don't understand is why we have to do it this way."

"The least you can do is try," Harry stated matter-of-factly. "You have endlessly told me you want to help Hermione in anyway you can. It doesn't help that I know you fancy her. Don't try to deny it, because I know you do. Frankly, I think you should just tell her and get it over with. Who knows, maybe she fancies you, too."

Did Harry just say Ron fancies me? I moved steadily closer.

"But why do I have to use a baby doll?"

"Have many times do I have to bloody tell you? It's the closest thing to a real baby we have. Now, I want to see you change her. I put all the changing supplies in the my bottom left drawer."

"Yes, Sir!" Ron sat the doll down on Harry's bed, heading for the desk.

"Now, Ron," Harry lectured, eyes on the bed. "Never leave a child unsupervised."

"You're standing right there!"

"I won't always be here," mocked Harry.

Ron sigh, clearly pissed. "Bloody prat," I heard him mutter. He turned on his heel, picked up the baby (causing it to cry again), and went to get the nappies and wipes.

"I heard that."

Ron shrugged. As he lay the baby down on the bed again and started to get the "fresh" nappie ready, he spoke again. "How do you know so much about childcare?"

"Long story, and believe me, you don't want to hear it. I'll be back in a second, I want to go change before the match."

When Harry shut the door to his bathroom, Ron finished and picked the child up. "You know, taking care of you isn't so bad. I may not be the best father, but at least I will have some idea of what I am doing. I just hope Hermione is proud of me. Harry's right, if I want any kind of a chance with her, I need to shape up." He smiled down at the doll and proceeded to rock it to sleep.

I backed away from the door in a sort of trance. Here I was, being thoroughly pissed with Ronald Weasley and he was learning to be a good father. I couldn't believe my eyes or my ears. It was the most unselfish thing I had ever seen in my life. The tears that I had thought were gone formed slowly beneath my lids and I sighed heavily. Ron's words echoed in my head. Harry's right, if I want any kind of a chance with her, I need to shape up. In my opinion, he was shaping up quite nicely, and I had finally found the perfect birthday gift.
Author's Note A bit shorter than I would have liked. This chapter took me forever and an eternity to write. Very difficult, and I couldn't even produce a good chapter. Not one of my favorites, I can tell you that. I had Chapter 4 all planned out and then I had a brain freeze and forgot it all. The letter from Hermione's parents displeased me greatly. Sorry. Also, the whole baby doll scene didn't turn out as I had hoped. Oh well, maybe one day I will get a brainstorm and come back to do some major editing. One last thing, for any of those interested, my story "I Can't Help But Feel" has been updating, courtesy of my best friend. She is the one finishing it for me. Check it out if you ever get the chance. Thanks! Want to make my day? (Probably not, but it may make your day, you never know.) You can by reviewing.