This isn't possible.

Hermione stares down at the small object clutched in her hand.

How could this have happened?

She's finding it difficult to breath.

She pulls it closer to her face.

The word PREGNANT is written in blue font.

She's pregnant.

Why me?

Hermione sits down on the edge of the bathtub, her eyes stinging with tears.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

"What am I going to tell mum and dad?" she wonders aloud. "And my friends – what am I going to tell Ron?"

Isn't she forgetting someone kind of important in this?

Hermione wipes her eyes and stands up. There must be some mistake. She looks down at the word.

Pregnant.

She drops it on the floor and walks out of the bathroom, walking to her closet.

Soon, she won't be able to fit into any of these clothes.

She puts her hand on her stomach. It's warm, but she can't feel anything. Can there really be a baby inside.

Hermione lets her bathrobe drop to the floor. She looks in the mirror attached to the inside of her closet door.

And then she starts to cry, tears rolling down her face as she pulls out a robe. Sobbing as she brushes out the numerous knots in her hair. And wiping her eyes once more as she pulls her wand out to Apparate.

Harry is sitting reading The Daily Prophet when he hears a movement behind him. He jumps up, clutching his wand as he spins around.

And Hermione is standing before him.

"You scared me," he says, lowering his wand and swallowing. How long has it been since he last saw her?

A month. Since he woke up holding her in his arms for the second time. And they had dressed, said goodbye, and that was that. Neither one of them was able to make a connection after that. It was too hard, too dangerous – they were both afraid of what would happen. How Ron would feel. What people would think.

"I'm sorry to just barge in like this, but … we've – we've got a problem."

Harry frowns. "A problem?"

Hermione pauses, looking away. How can she put this?

"Harry, I'm – I'm – I'm late."

She looks back up into his eyes. And he just looks utterly confused.

"Come again?"

Hermione rolls her eyes. "I'm late." His expression doesn't change. "Do you know absolutely nothing about females?" she snaps.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about? Look, Hermione, if you have a point, make it, Ok?"

"You're serious? You honestly don't know what the phrase I'm late means?"

"I obviously don't, so why don't you tell me!"

"I'M PREGNANT!" Hermione screams at him. She doesn't really know why she's screaming. She can feel a lump in her throat, and all of a sudden, she's very dizzy.

Harry stares at her in disbelief. "Pregnant," he repeats stupidly.

Hermione closes her eyes and nods. "I'm pregnant," she says again.

She feels weak. She walks over to his sofa and sits down, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands.

Harry watches her for a few moments. He can see her chest, rising and falling. And he wants to hold her, wants to kiss the tears off her cheeks and tell her everything is going to be Ok.

He's going to be a father. Harry swallows. He's going to have a child.

She's going to have his child. Hermione. His best friend. The girl he's in love with.

What?

No. He can't be in love with her. That's not possible. Two nights can't possibly change a lifetime of friendship.

Can they?
She's having his child.

They're having a child.

"Her-Hermione?" he says softly. He walks over to the sofa, kneeling in front of her. He gently pulls her hands away from her face. Her cheeks are wet and she's gasping for air.

And she's beautiful.

"What are we going to do, Harry?" she whispers. "What can we do?"

Harry gingerly pushes a few strands of her hair away from her face. "We'll figure it out, won't we? It's going to be all right. I'm – I'm not going anywhere."

Hermione looks into his eyes. "Are you – are you sure?"

They stare at each other for a few seconds before he raises his lips and kisses her forehead.

"Postive."