May 31st - 1998
It was just passed two in the morning at St. Mungo's Hospital. A steady stream of tears flowed down the frail teen's face as she motionlessly laid in her small bed located in a private room. Her aching body was covered with a white blanket that was pulled up to the top of her neck. It was far too thin to provide any noticeable warmth and she was lightly shivering, but she didn't seem to care. All she could concentrate on was what the Healer had told her when she'd woken a few hours earlier.
You suffered a miscarriage, Ms. Granger.
What?
A miscarriage. A really bad one at that.
I don't understand.
You were pregnant, about 4 to 5 months along I reckon.
Hermione had replayed the moment over and over again, repeatedly torturing herself with the devastating information she'd learned. She couldn't believe she'd been so oblivious. The signs had all been there. In February she had almost always been nauseated, but she'd chalked that up to her sporadic eating habits. Her menstrual cycle had stopped as well, but she had never really paid it much attention; she was irregular even during the best of times. Never had she once thought she could be pregnant, or if on some level she had, she must have been in serious denial. Really, what were the odds? She'd only had sex once. They'd only been together that one time.
They, she remembered. She hadn't been alone in this unbelievable mess; she had a partner in crime. She had been stupid enough to have a one night stand with arguably the most famous wizard in the world and thought she'd be able to pretend it never happened. Of course that night couldn't just be a silly teenage mistake between them like it would be for most people. This was Harry after all, and though it wasn't his fault, nothing was ever easy when it came to him.
Hearing the door crack, Hermione's head turned towards the entrance as she saw a tall figure peak in from the outside corridor. Of course he was here, Hermione thought. He was still the savior after all.
Harry flashed her a weak smile before entering, slowly closing the door behind him. He looked rough, perhaps even worse than she did. His t-shirt and jeans were covered in dark dried blood and his black hair was sticking in all different directions. As he approached her and took a seat on the chair beside her bed, his bloodshot eyes quickly revealed he hadn't slept a wink.
"Healer McMillan told me you were awake," Harry said softly with a concern expression. "How are you feeling?"
Hermione grimaced and she attempted to sit up before quickly resigning. Despite hating the feeling of being so weak and exposed, she didn't have the strength to worry about that right now.
"Like death," she answered honestly.
"Well... you weren't far from it." Harry frowned as he gently took her hand in his and gave her a squeeze. "You really scared me."
Hermione's face twisted with pain as she thought about how worried he must have been. The healer had told her that Harry had been the one to find her passed out in the bathroom. From the amount of blood she was told she'd lost, Hermione could only image the horrific scene he'd walked into.
As Harry continued to stare at her with sympathy, Hermione had a sinking feeling as something obvious dawned on her. If he had been with her the entire time, it was more than likely he knew what was ailing her.
"Did they tell you?" She shamefully whispered, her wide eyes brimming with a new batch of tears.
Harry looked down at her sadly, doing his best to keep his composure.
"Yeah." He gave a small nod and cast his gaze down to the floor. "They did."
Hermione closed her eyes slowly, hoping she'd wake up and find that this was just another nightmare. She didn't want Harry to know. She wanted to endure this terrible secret all on her own.
"Hermione, I'm so sorry."
The agony in Harry's voice pushed her over the edge, and she choke out the sob she'd desperately tried to stifle, her body convulsing as she did. Unable to stand the pity in Harry's eyes, Hermione rolled onto her side with her back towards him as she continued to softly weep.
Harry swallowed hard and watched his friend unravel before his eyes. He couldn't help but think that this was his fault. He did this to her, and he'd never forgive himself for that.
He leaned closer to her and awkwardly patted her upper arm, unsure of what else he could do.
"Do you want me to go?" He whispered hesitantly.
" ... no."
Harry uncomfortably sat next to Hermione's bed for a few minutes, wracking his brain for something to comfort her. He was exhausted as his own fatigue from the crazy day was finally starting to set in.
Deciding that there was nothing he could say or do to make the situation better, Harry carefully stood from his chair and stared down at Hermione. He contemplated his next move briefly before crawling onto the bed and settled in next to her. He turned so his front was flush with her back and he felt her stiffen at his touch. As he slowly pulled her into his arms, her body relaxed against him, and he heard her exhale softly before they both drifted off in to a much needed sleep.
...
Rose was topless, laying face down in Scorpius's bed while he drew soft circles on her back with his finger. With his free hand, he casually flipped through the pages of the Daily Prophet, his eyes lazily skimming the headlines for something mildly interesting. The two teens had been in and out of a heavy snog session for the last few hours, taking the occasional break for rest and pillow talk.
Once again, Rose had lied to Ron about where she was spending her afternoon. She had told her dad she was going to browse new books with Roxanne at Flourish and Blotts. Instead she'd Flooed to Scorpius's Penthouse, this time checking with him that his dad wasn't due home. She could not fathom another embarrassing encounter with Draco Malfoy.
Scorpius and Rose were finding it difficult to steal time alone now that he was staying weekends with his grandparents at Malfoy Manor. The arrangement was a compromise Scorpius had made with his father who'd insisted he spent time with Lucius and Narcissa while they were both healthy and, as his dad had phrased it, of relative sound mind. He knew that his dad was only making him go so that they would stop pestering him about it. Scorpius found it rather hypocritical that his father was insisting he build a relationship with his grandparents when he himself couldn't stand to be in the same room with them for more than a few minutes.
"Well?" Rose asked, lifting her head up off her pillow and nudging her chin towards the paper. She wryly asked, "Who's supposedly my father this week?"
Scorpius rolled his eyes.
"I thought you didn't want to talk about it."
"No," Rose shook her head lightly, turning on her side and staring into Scorpius's steel irises. "I just didn't want to talk right then." She slowly put her hand on his chest and dragged her fingers down to his belly button. "I was more concerned with other things."
"Hmm... you'll have to refresh my memory," Scorpius whispered huskily, leaning his smirking face closer to hers. "What sort of other things?"
Rose laughed and briefly connected their lips before pulling away with a devious smile.
"I think we've had enough fun for one day," she said slyly, reaching over the side of the bed for her bra and shirt.
"You're not leaving already, are you?"
The disappointment in his voice made Rose's heart swoon. She was glad he wanted her to stay, but as much as she wanted to, she couldn't.
"I need to get back before Mum's home. If she finds out I was here alone she'll have an aneurysm. A few days ago she asked if we were dating."
"Really?"
"Yeah, but I think I was convincing enough to keep her suspicions at bay," Rose replied as she pulled her pink shirt over her head. "Besides, she should really worry about her own mess of a love life before worrying about mine."
"Love life?" Scorpius asked, his eyebrow raised teasingly as he casually laid on the bed and watched her dress.
"You know what I mean," Rose said dismissively, her cheeks flushing.
Although she and Scorpius still hadn't talked about what they were, she was sure they were at least something. Given what they'd been up to, he had to at least like her, didn't he?
"When are you going to stop taking every chance you get to make digs at your mum?" Scorpius asked, sitting up against the bed frame while he watched Rose fix her hair in his mirror. "Don't you think she has enough of that going on already?"
"I suppose," Rose replied feeling slightly childish. "I know I should stop but everything is just so... I don't know. It's just weird. I can't really describe it."
"You know," Scorpius began with a sympathetic smile. "My parents don't have the best history either. I had to learn to accept that they'd made a few mistakes in their past just like everyone else."
"Yeah but your mum isn't the Minister of Magic," Rose countered, shooting him an annoyed look. "Or a famous war hero."
"No, you're right," Scorpius replied with a twitch on his lips. "My mum is dead."
Rose froze. She hadn't intended to stumble on to that.
"Scorp..."
"Don't," he said, his hand out to stop her from continuing. "I don't need your pity or some heartfelt moment where we talk about my bloody feelings. I just think you should go ease on your mum, okay?"
"Why?" Rose asked with a curious stare. "Why do you even care?"
"Because I don't want to see you make the same mistake I did," Scorpius answered wistfully. "I was so angry with my mum for keeping her blood curse a secret. I realize now I wasted so much precious time being mad that I could have better spent with her."
Rose looked at him heavy-heartedly.
"It wasn't fair that she was taken from you and your dad so soon," she said delicately. "I know you don't want to dwell on it, but I want you to know that I am sad for you. I'm sorry you lost her."
Scorpius nodded with a masked expression.
"I'll see you tomorrow at Al's maybe?" he asked, signally that he was done discussing the topic.
Rose lightly smiled.
"I'll be there."
...
Harry had completely sweat through his best robes. He'd spent the last few hours getting grilled by the Chief Warlock and the Wizengamot as to how it were possible that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement hadn't come up with any solid evidence linking Heista Carrow, Aetes Lestrange, and Euphemia Rowle to the ongoing Dementor sightings. The witches and wizards of the Wizengamot had taken turns picking apart everything Harry had done over the last few weeks without even acknowledging that he and Adam Wilkes had prevented what would have been a tragic attack on children boarding the Hogwart's Express in September.
Harry found it infuriating that there was such an uproar about not being able to connect the three alleged Death Eaters to the increasing dementor presence around London. The thwarted attack alone was enough to put the old bat behind bars, and Harry was sure that it was only a matter of time before the younger Carrow and Lestrange slipped up. He'd eventually catch the pair, but they'd have to be patient. They'd have to wait. These things took time and investigations were more complex than most thought them to be. After all, Aurors couldn't lock people away without concrete proof and a solid motive, not anymore at least.
As Harry splashed cold water on his face in the men's washroom, he thought about how he was most furious with Hermione. She had been absolutely no help in defending him or his department. In fact, she'd actually made matters worse. She'd ruthlessly outlined every misstep she thought he'd made, and had condescendingly cautioned him about letting a Junior Auror interrogate suspected criminals. Harry couldn't believe it. How did she expect new recruits to learn? It wasn't as if the Junior Auror hadn't been supervised; Wilkes had been with him the entire time.
When the humiliating meeting had ended, Hermione had been the first to exit the boardroom in swift strides, leaving Harry dumbstruck in his chair to think about everything that had unfolded.
As Harry dried his face with paper towel, his blood began to boil as he remembered how cold and callous Hermione had been towards him. What was her problem? Didn't she know he was doing everything he could to find out who or what was behind the dementors sightings? He been working tirelessly on it for weeks.
Feeling an uncontrollable anger within him, Harry stormed towards the main elevator and once inside, pushed the button to the top floor. When the lift doors opened, Hermione's Executive Assistant made a feeble attempt to stop him as he quickly blew passed her and walked straight to Hermione's office, not bothering to announce himself or knock.
"What the hell is your problem?" Harry loudly demanded as he swung the door open and found her sitting at her desk hunched over a stack of papers.
"My problem?" Hermione asked incredulously, her eyes wide as Harry loudly closed the door and stared at her angrily.
"Yeah, your problem," he seethed, approaching her desk with gritted teeth. "You may as well have called me a bumbling idiot in front of the Wizengamot. It would have been kinder than what you'd said."
"Come off it," she said, refusing to meet his glare.
"Hermione!" Harry shouted, his green eyes burning with rage. "You all but castrated me in that meeting!"
"Oh, you're being dramatic!"
"Dramatic?" Harry cried, throwing his head back. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"
"Harry!" Hermione defensively shot back, slamming her hands on her desk and rising to her feet. "I'm your boss, okay? It's my job to ask the tough questions and find out why something went wrong."
"That's not what you were doing," Harry countered sharply, angrily shaking his head.
"Oh really?" she replied quickly. "What was I doing then?"
"I don't know!" Harry shouted, his frenzied hands running through his wild hair. He took a moment to calm himself before loudly exhaling. "It was almost like you were trying to convince everyone."
"Convince them of what?"
"That we're not shagging!"
Hermione pursed her lips and said nothing.
The pair stood silently for a few moments, both stubbornly holding their ground before she gave in with a frustrated groan.
"You should go," she said. "There's been enough rumors about us lately and we don't need to add anymore fuel to this fire."
Harry scoffed, shaking his head disbelievingly. Is that all she cared about?
"Right," he replied after a hard swallow. He turned towards the door, and before he left, he looked back at her emotionlessly. "God forbid someone think you're not perfect, right?"
"Harry - "
He slammed the door before she could finish speaking, leaving her alone in her office to think about what he'd said.
He'd been right to some extent. She was trying to prove to everyone that nothing was going on between them. She hated the whispers and the knowing looks she received whenever she walked down the hall or stepped into the lift. The entire world was talking about her as if she wasn't entitled to any privacy. It was unnerving and she hadn't meant to take out her emotions on Harry.
Hermione knew she should apologize but she was also secretly relieved that his anger likely meant he wouldn't come around for a few days. She needed more time to learn how to interact with him now that she'd acknowledged her feelings. Even though she'd finally admitted to herself that she had a silly crush on Harry, she was still very much in love with and married to Ron. Her feelings for Harry would pass, and after they did, the two of them could go back to being friends and in-laws like they'd been for the last twenty years. Things would be normal again.
It would pass. She was sure of it.