I had it pointed out to me that my story was very contradictory, and that everyone would be betrothed, not just Harry. Also, a question about Pansy's reaction. I'll try to fix this, but I'll justify it by saying that I realize this. I only made Harry and Hermione my main focus. In this chapter, I promise I'll clear that up.
A reminder: Nothing NC-17! Even if it is their wedding night, I will not write it in. I will suggest that, but I will not write it.
Anyway, not much else, except thanks to all my faithful reviewers! You guys are the best! Constructive criticism welcome!
Also, sorry for the long space between chapters. Writer's block took its ugly hold on me, I confess, and I couldn't think of what to write for a while.
Disclaimer: Nope. I wish I owned JK's master files of post-its, but no, I don't. Alas.
--
After the reception, Harry and Hermione had gone back to their quarters. Harry had carried her over the threshold, then they had sat in their common room on one of their many overstuffed couches. Finally, Harry spoke.
"I understand if you don't want to, but this is our wedding night." She looked at him, startled.
"I...I've never..."
"Me neither," Harry cut her off. Summoning her resolve, Hermione dragged him to their bedroom.
--
Pansy Parkinson sat in her customary chair in the Slytherin common room. Across from her, fidgeting nervously in his seat, sat Ron.
"I didn't think that they'd actually go through with it!" Pansy was saying furiously. "I thought it was some sort of joke! I mean, Granger and Potter? Honestly. And now that he's eloped, according to the Act, my parents pick another suitable husband."
"But they did go through with it."
"Yes, and now something must be done. If I can't marry him, nobody can."
"What can you do? It's legal now. They're married. There's nothing we can do." A mischievous glint appeared in Pansy's eye.
"You've forgotten that crucial reality called divorce."
"And exactly how are you going to make that happen? They," a lump formed in his throat as he continued, "love each other." Pansy smirked.
"You'll see. But to pull it off, I need your help."
--
Two weeks later, Hermione had gone to their common room during lunch to fetch her History of Magic text. She paused before leaving, staring around. She smiled, remembering the night before, then left the way she had come. She had just reached the bottom of the marble staircase when she stopped dead. She gasped and dropped her books. Harry was standing in the entrance to the History of Magic classroom, kissing Pansy Parkinson. She felt a sob start in her throat. As Harry and Pansy broke apart, she gathered up her fallen books and sprinted back up the marble staircase. She heard Harry calling after her, but she didn't stop until she had reached their portrait. After entering the common room and placing several locking charms on the portrait, she tossed her books on the floor and sat down on the couch.
"Hermione, come on, open up!" Harry was knocking at the portrait. After trying the Alohamora spell (which hadn't worked), he'd resorted to knocking.
"Go away!" she screamed tearfully at the portrait's back.
"Just let me explain."
"Why should I? I think that your actions speak for themselves!" She got up and went into their bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Flinging herself down on their bed, she lay there and let the sobs come. She sat up, tears streaming down her face, and took off her newly-acquired wedding ring. Throwing it a disgusted look, she gave a scream of frustration and hurled it across the room.
--
"I don't believe that, how could I?" Ron had come to Hermione to offer her Harry's story.
"I only know what Harry told me." Tears sprang to Hermione's eyes again.
"He told me he loved me. At the reception when we were dancing, that's what he said."
"You didn't tell me that!" Ron exclaimed, indignantly.
"How could I have been so stupid? How could I have believed him?" Ron rubbed her back soothingly as she cried. "Especially after we-- " But Hermione cut herself off. She had better not tell Ron that. Perhaps she'd tell Ginny. Ron had stopped rubbing her back.
"You what?" he prompted her. She decided to make something up.
"—after we said our vows and everything. I just can't believe it!"
"Do you want me to curse him? I will, you know, I learned some good ones from Fred and George..."
"No, that's alright." Hermione gave a watery laugh. Ron checked his watch, groaned, and stood up.
"I...should go. I've got Transfiguration. McGonnagal will kill me if I miss another class." Hermione gave him a quick hug.
"Thanks, Ron," she murmured into his shoulder. He said nothing and walked out of Hermione's common room. She watched the portrait slide smoothly closed behind him.
--
"Well? What did you tell her?" Pansy said to Ron the moment he had emerged from the portrait hole. Ron grinned.
"That Harry didn't really love her, and that this was all an act." Pansy returned his grin.
"Good. But she'll figure it out sooner or later. For one thing, if he really loved me, why didn't he just marry me under the betrothal act? She'll think, and it'll come to her. We've got to act fast."
"What's next?"
"You'll see."
--
"Hermione! Wait!" Harry said, running after her as she climbed the stairs to her Ancient Runes class. She turned and glared at him.
"What?"
"Just let me explain." She tapped her foot. When he didn't speak, she said,
"Well? I'm waiting." Harry sighed.
"We can't do this here. Come on, let's go somewhere else."
"I have a class."
"So do I!"
"The difference between you and me is that I actually care about my classes. I find that hard to say in your case."
"Fine. If you don't believe what I have to say, that's just fine. But at least hear me out." Hermione scowled.
"Fine. But let's go to the Room of Requirement. That way nobody will overhear us." Harry looked at the ceiling, exasperated, then led her to the Room's corridor. He paced three times in front of the solid wall, then, after the third pass, opened the door and ushered Hermione inside. They walked in to find a nice quiet room, apparently equipped with Muggle soundproofing, judging by the walls. Once the door had closed behind them, Hermione locked the door with her wand and cast a silencing charm on the walls before she went to sit in one of the chairs that had appeared in the middle of the floor. She poured herself some tea from the tea service on the table in front of her, then waited for Harry to speak.
"Well?" she said, taking a sip of her tea. Harry sighed and began his story.
"I know you're not going to believe me, but just let me finish before you interrupt," Harry said, for Hermione had opened her mouth to say something. "I was on my way to History of Magic. I was just about to go in when Pansy stopped me and said that she had to talk to me. I don't know what came over me. I kissed her." They sat in silence for a few seconds as Hermione helped herself to a raspberry cookie from the tea service. "Look, I'm not saying that it looked innocent by any means."
"And why should I believe you?" Hermione was getting annoyed now.
"This is why." Harry took a package out of his bag and thrust it toward Hermione. She looked at it disdainfully.
"So? What's that supposed to be?"
"Open it." As she went to open the package, she saw Fred and George's logo emblazoned clearly on the box. Inside the box was a mass of paper with an impression of a vial in it. Laying on top of the paper was a violently pink wrapper with the words "Weasleys Wizard Wheezes Original Love Potion" elegantly written on it. Hermione looked at it coldly.
"A package from a love potion. How does that prove anything, pray tell?"
"I...found it under Ron's bed." Hermione stared disbelievingly. "It's true, I couldn't help it! I was getting out my money bag to go to Hogsmeade and a Galleon rolled under his bed..."
"Harry, I cannot believe you're trying to blame Ron for this!" Hermione had found her voice. "That could be for anything. Fred and George might have sent it for a laugh. It's just the sort of thing they would do, really—"
"This was in there with it." Harry slid a piece of paper across the table to Hermione, who picked it up and glanced at it. It seemed to be a receipt of sorts. Sent to Pansy Parkinson by Fred and George, it detailed her order of one vial of love potion.
"I...I still don't see how this proves anything. Harry, this is Ron we're talking about! Your best friend, through thick and thin! Do you seriously think he would do that to you?" Hermione's voice had gotten shrill. "After his own experience—"
"Hermione." She huffed and settled back down. Her emotions had taken control again. She finally spoke after a moment of silence.
"Look, just give me some time. I'm not saying that I believe you, but give me time. I'll think it over."
"Fair enough."
--
Hermione debated over going to class the next day. Her school priorities were wrestling with her need to sort out her thoughts. In the end, she had gotten back into her pajamas and curled up with her diary and a quill. After she had been writing a while, she looked up at the clock. She sighed. 8:00 in the morning. She returned to her diary, only to be hit with a wave of nausea. She ran to the bathroom and promptly vomited what little food she had eaten for breakfast. As she left the bathroom, she heard someone knocking at the portrait.
"Who is it?" she called.
"It's Ginny." Hermione hastened to open the portrait for her.
"What are you doing here? Don't you have a class now?"
"No, I've got a free class this term. Where'd you disappear to the other night after dinner?" Ginny walked after Hermione into the common room, where they sat down. "You look terrible! Are you feeling alright?"
"It's alright, just a touch of the flu, I think," Hermione said, as Ginny nodded.
"So where were you the other night? I looked everywhere for you." Hermione felt a tear slide down her cheek as she launched into the whole story. By the time she had finished, Ginny looked abashed.
"I can't believe he's trying to blame Ron for all of this!" Ginny's ears had turned a bit red. Hermione hurried to calm her friend down.
"I know, I don't understand it either. Maybe by tomorrow he'll have the real explanation. In the meantime, though, we'll just have to wait," Hermione said and Ginny settled back, her face still slightly pink. Another wave of nausea hit Hermione, and she ran to the bathroom. Ginny, who had followed her, held back her hair as she vomited.
"I think you need to get to Madam Pomfrey. This isn't just the flu."
"No, I'll be fine, I—"
"You're going to see Madam Pomfrey. You look horrible. She can help you, you know." Hermione sighed. She knew Ginny wouldn't give up until she agreed.
"Fine," she said, "I'll go, but I doubt she can do anything to help me. It's just the flu!" Hermione put her robes on over her pajamas, then allowed Ginny to walk her to the hospital wing. She sat down on one of the beds while Ginny went to fetch Madam Pomfrey.
--
A half an hour later, Madam Pomfrey came back to tell Hermione her findings. She had a smile on her face as she sat down on the end of Hermione's bed.
"Well?" Ginny said impatiently.
"It's definitely not the flu," Madam Pomfrey said.
"So what is it?" Hermione asked, a bit nervous now.
"Congratulations, Mrs. Potter," Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, smiling. "You're pregnant!"