Unplanned Pregnancies

Summary: Hogwarts has seen Werewolves to Goblins. From Goblins to Muggle-born Witches and Wizards. From Muggle-born Witches and Wizards to half and half. But when a prank is played, can it handle the outcome? Two Pregnant Teenage Wizards and Witch? Containing MPREG

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter! The wonderful, magnificent J.K. Rowling does! So…yeah…BOLD PRINT!

Chapter Twenty-one: One Day with Hermione

Hermione woke up to a loud clatter. She sat up quickly in bed, trying to figure out where the unfamiliar sound came from. Realizing that she was in her grandparents house, a feeling of dread came upon her.

Slowly swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she got up. She waddled out of her bedroom and made way to the kitchen. That was where she thought the noise came from. She was right.

"Oh dear. Pumpkin, did I wake you?" Grandma Sophie asked.

"No Grandma." Hermione said, sliding into the breakfast nook. "I've been awake for awhile." She put her elbows on the table, and then put her head in her hands.

Grandma Sophie picked up the pan she dropped, and gently set it on the stove. Then she pulled a chair up in front of Hermione. "Pumpkin, come here baby." She said softly.

Hermione automatically turned from where she was sitting and turned to her grandma. She wrapped her arms around her and began to cry softly. "Oh Grandma Sophie! Is it my fault they're gone?"

Grandma Sophie patted Hermione softly on the back. "No it's not."

"But they took them away because my magic." Hermione sobbed.

"No. It's because they," Grandma Sophie said, pausing a moment, "whoever they are, has no heart or soul. It's not because of you Pumpkin, and don't think that."

"But if," Hermione began, lifting her head from her Grandma's chest, "if I didn't have magic in me, then this wouldn't have happened."

Grandma Sophie gave Hermione a stern look. "What about the other people who were killed? I doubt their children had magic in them."

Hermione was quiet. She wiped her eyes. "I feel stupid for crying. You've known Mum longer than I have. You should be the one crying."

"We did Pumpkin. We did for a couple hours."

Hermione looked up and saw her Grandpa Frank in the doorway. "Oh" Hermione said. She continued wiping at her eyes. "I messed up your apron Grandma Sophie." Hermione said.

"Don't worry. Aprons were made to get messed up." Grandma Sophie said. She patted Hermione's cheek. "Just sit here, and I'll make you breakfast." She stood up and put the chair back. She went to the refrigerator and began pulling things out. "What would you like for breakfast? Eggs? Pancakes? Steamed Asparagus and rice?"

Hermione grinned. "I'll have pancakes please."

Grandpa Frank walked passed Hermione, patting her head on his way. "That's my Pumpkin." He said, going to the coffee pot and making a pot for himself and Sophie. "Do you drink coffee Pumpkin?"

"No, I really don't need the extra caffeine. Besides, it's bad for the baby." Hermione said, rubbing her eyes. Her eyes were burning and itching after her previous cry.

"That reminds me, are we ever going to meet the baby's father?" Grandpa Frank asked.

"You can…but it might be awkward, because he's pregnant too." Hermione said.

Grandpa Frank dropped the coffee filters onto the floor. "He's pregnant, as in, expecting child?" He asked.

Hermione nodded. "Yep, and so is my other friend Harry."

"So you two didn't have-"

Hermione's hands covered her ears. "Grandma Sophie don't say it!" She said. When Hermione was positive that her Grandma didn't finish her sentence, she withdrew her hands from her ears.

Grandpa Frank shook his head, and then he picked the filters off the floor. "That magical world is surly going to be surprised when they find out that two men are pregnant."

"A huh." Hermione said. She just got hit with sudden images of her best friends. Were they going to be okay, now that she wasn't there? Could Ron handle Head duties with out her?

Grandma Sophie began making the batter for the pancakes. "Do you want fruit in it?" Grandma Sophie asked.

"No." Hermione said. Then suddenly, she threw her hand over her mouth. A feeling of illness had just struck her.

After breakfast, Hermione went to her room and saw that her trunk was neatly in the corner of the room. She opened her trunk and began searching through it for some comfortable clothes to wear. She found a pair of jeans that fitted her loosely, even with the big belly. She began looking for a shirt, when she saw it.

A maroon sweater was in the midst of her things. She pulled it out, and a piece of parchment fell out of it.

With her eyebrows furrowed she examined the piece of folded parchment. It was crinkled, but it looked fresh. She turned it over, and scrawled in the messy handwriting that she loved, was her name. 'Hermione'

She quickly opened the parchment, and she began reading it, gently sitting down on the bed.

Hermione,

I am absolutely sorry to hear about your parents. I know they meant the world to you. Included with this, in the sleeve of my sweater, is a letter to your grandparents from my mother. Would you mind giving it to them?

I gave you the sweater because I thought you needed something warm…and stuff…

Err…well…bye…

Love,

(Crossed out Love)

Sincerely,

Ron Weasley

Hermione's face went a slight pink color as she reread the letter. She thought the gesture was cute, but she couldn't help but blush, at the fact that he rambled in his note.

She reached inside the sleeve of his sweater and pulled out a large amount of parchment. It was folded over twice and stuck inside an envelope. She set the parcel down on the bed. Then she grabbed her clothes and went to the bathroom. She took a shower and changed into her jeans and Ron's Weasley sweater. It fit, actually, and Hermione was positive that she wasn't going to give it back.

With a little bit of trouble, Hermione managed to get her shoes on.

Finally, she walked into the kitchen, where her Grandparents were waiting for her. She had Mrs. Weasley's letter clutched in her hand. She handed it to Grandma Sophie. "It's from my friends mum." Hermione said.

Grandma Sophie nodded her head. "Are you sure you want to go?" She asked. She wasn't going. It was just going to be Grandpa Frank and Hermione.

"I don't think I have a choice." Hermione said, shrugging her shoulders. Grandma Sophie stood up.

"All right, give me a hug Pumpkin." She ordered. Hermione obediently hugged her Grandma tightly. "Be careful Pumpkin."

"I will." Hermione said, kissing her Grandma on her cheek. Grandma Sophie let go of Hermione, and Hermione smiled at her.

"We'll be back later Sophie. Don't worry about us." Grandpa Frank said.

Grandma Sophie nodded her head. She walked Hermione and Grandpa Frank to the door. They were going to ride in a car to her parents' house. It was a five-minute trip.

As they slowly pulled up to the front of the house, Hermione felt like she couldn't breathe. Her breath was caught in her throat as she gradually looked at her parents' house, her home.

The house, from an ordinary Muggles perspective, looked like it had caught fire. Pieces of the porch were charred; ashes lay in front of the house. But what was odd was there was no smoke from a fire. A Muggle policeman was stand outside the house. Around the house was yellow tape, daring for someone to cross.

When Hermione felt like she could breath again, she looked at her Grandpa. "I'm ready."

"Okay Pumpkin." He said. He opened his door, and went around to the other side of the car. He opened Hermione's door, and Hermione slowly, with a certain amount of weariness around her, got out of the car. She waddled out across from the front of the car, and she went to the policeman.

"Nobody's allowed on the property ma'am." He said, as soon as Hermione stepped in front of him.

"This is my house." Hermione said, her voice wavering slightly. "This was my parents house, our house. I have a right to be here." Hermione said clearly, her voice was shaking with not much effort.

The policeman looked skeptically at Hermione. "I don't think you're stable enough to go in there, at least in your condition."

"Well, you're not a doctor." Hermione shot back, knowing fully well that she could get in trouble for speaking to a man of authority like that. "And I really don't appreciate it when you speak of me like that."

The policeman didn't stand down. He kept his ground. "You know, I can arrest you for insubordination."

Hermione was about to reply but then, someone shouted her name.

"Granger!" The man shouted, his voice gruff and angered. "Why aren't you in here? We don't have all day!"

Hermione jumped as she heard his voice. She looked behind the policeman and saw someone she never thought she'd see at her home. Alastor Moody, A.K.A Mad Eye Moody. He was standing on her porch, his blue eye swiveling around quickly, in a jerking fashion.

Now that someone in the house wanted her, the policeman had to let Hermione through. She walked down the path that led to the porch. She felt, when looking at the burned flowers, that someone was squeezing her lungs, making her breath, as she couldn't do it her self.

Almost dazed she walked onto the porch. A distinct smell of charred wood met her nostrils, and she had to fight from throwing up.

She followed Mad Eye into the house. The foyer was empty. The stairs that led to the second floor were covered in broken items. Drapes, picture frames, glass.

"We don't have all day. Do what you need to do." Mad Eye growled.

Hermione carefully gripped the wall for support. She closed her eyes, trying to regulate her breathing. When she was finished, her eyes snapped open. Almost immediately she began walking, not sure where her feet were going to take her. Walking past the stairs, she went to the room behind them. The sitting room.

Photographs hung haphazardly on the wall, or weren't hung at all. Glass was all over the room, from the photograph frames, the broken television, glass antiques and etcetera. The coffee table that usually held a few magazines was broken, the magazines themselves nowhere in sight.

Hermione saw the red blanket that she got her mother. It was lying in the middle of the room.

Hermione turned quickly, trying to remove the images of what may have happened days earlier. She walked out of the sitting room, and back into the foyer. Not wanting to see the dinning room, or the kitchen, Hermione made her way to the stairs.

Taking one at a time carefully, Hermione managed to get around the wreckage on the stairs and get to the hallway. One bedroom door was blown off its hinges completely, and Hermione closed her eyes quickly. It was her parents' bedroom.

Looking further down the hallway, Hermione saw the bathroom. She went to it, unprepared for what she was going to see.

She saw, to her surprise that the lights were all on. The bathtub was filled halfway with water, her mothers blow dryer was plugged in. The window was open, blowing cool air inside the room. The white shower curtain moved with the breeze.

Hermione looked at the toilet. Or what was left of it. It was smashed, porcelain all over the floor.

Hermione wiped her eyes, leaving the bathroom. She knew her mother had to have been up here when the attack started. She was getting ready for her nightly bath, something she did every night.

Feeling ill to her stomach, Hermione went to her bedroom. It was trashed. She looked around. The periwinkle wallpaper was doused in scorch marks; holes lined the walls, as if someone's angry fists made contact with them.

Hermione quickly began searching through her things. She was looking for a box, a chest of some sort. When she didn't find it in the wreckage, so she knew it was still in its hiding spot.

Hermione got on her hands and knees, crawling to her closet. She began pulling out box after box. When all the boxes were out of the closet, she lifted two loose floorboards. She pulled out a brown wooden chest, about the size of a small dog. She got out of her closet, tears close to pouring out of her eyes.

She sat down on her bed, ignoring the pain she felt in her back. She opened the chest, carefully trying not to damage it. She was hoping against all hopes that the Death Eaters hadn't found this.

She had forgotten this at her home, the summer before sixth year. That was the last time she had been in this house.

The box held all the letters she had received from her friends, notes she got from her friends, flowers, quills, letters from her family, and pictures.

It was a keepsake box.

'If the Death Eaters had gotten this box, they could have gotten the address to the Burrow, and the Dursley's. I don't want even bear the thought of what Death Eaters could do to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. They are like my surrogate parents, and I love them as my own. Not only would it be Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, but also I'd be hurting Ron. If Death Eaters got Ron's address, they would kill his parents instantly, causing him pain. I hate it when he's in pain. I hate seeing him upset. And Ginny, she would be hurting as well. No, I'm glad they didn't get this.' Hermione said, trying to think rationally. Her brain wasn't working properly.

With a little difficulty Hermione got off the bed. She put the box underneath her arm, and she began walking out of the room. She couldn't tolerate being in this house anymore.

Hermione, after talking for a moment with Mad Eye, left the house. Dirt and ash streaked her hands, tears were running down her face, and her back was hurting, but she managed to get to the car. She hadn't realized that her Grandpa Frank hadn't followed her into the house.

Hermione opened the car door, and climbed in. She shut the door, and fastened her seat belt.

"Are you ready to leave?" Her Grandpa Frank asked. Hermione just nodded her head. Sobs were forming in her throat, and she couldn't speak.

Hermione lay in her bed, sob after sob was racking through her body. She was holding Ron's sweatshirt tightly in her arms. Not having the comfort of actually having him there, she sobbed into the sweater. She couldn't help it. It was just a little past noon.

Hermione didn't have an appetite for eating, after leaving her old home, and then finding out that she had to go to her parents' funeral. It was in two days, being held at her parents' church, their old church.

With that, news sobs formed in Hermione, and she couldn't control them.

Crying herself to sleep was the only thing Hermione was able to accomplish that day, and it took a while yet to do it.

BB/N: A thought just occured to me...

Why do people send such hateful reviews? I mean, I understand critisism is okay, by plainly stating that you hate the story is a bit harsh, and then saying that the rest of the reviews I've gotten were sent out of pity...That's not cool...

And the story I'm talking about is my 'This Really Sucks' Jurassic Park Fanfic. It's not great, but you needn't tell me you dislike it!

Thanks for listening to me ramble!

Sincerely,

Bob Bennit