Disclaimer: The plot is my own. J.K. Rowling owns the other characters, and the short excerpt from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire that is in this chapter.
A/N: Ok, just a little explanation, since someone e-mailed me to tell me I wasn't clear on this: Harry's apartment is in a wizard apartment complex on the same street as the Leaky Cauldron. It can be accessed from both the Muggle and Wizard world, but Harry prefers the Muggle way. I did have that in an earlier chapter, but I guess I took it out by accident. So … sorry for the mix-up.
When the doorbell rings, Hermione is reading The Daily Prophet, her feet propped up on the table and a cup of tea clasped in her hands. She sighs, and gets up, opening the door.
"Viktor," she says, surprised. "What on earth are you doing here?"
His hair is slicked back, and he's wearing nice robes.
He's holding a bunch of flowers in his hand. She can't figure out what kind they are, but they smell nice.
They're actually quite ugly.
"Hermione," he says smoothly. His accent is still quite strong, but he's learned how to pronounce her name. That has to count for something, right?
"Please, come in." Hermione opens the door wider, and Viktor steps past her. All too late, she remembers that she's wearing her dumpiest clothing. At least her stomach is concealed.
"How—how have you been?" she asks. "Can I get you a cup of tea?"
"That would be wonderful, thank you." He hands her the flowers.
Who ever decided that bright red and orange-checkered flowers with brown centres were pretty?
Hermione smiles up at him (he is rather tall), and then she walks into the kitchen. She grabs a glass pitcher out of the cabinet, stuffing the flowers into it and adding water. She then sets the kettle to boil and turns around.
Viktor is standing there, watching her. He's got a strange expression on his face, and he's just watching her.
It's actually kind of creepy.
Her coughs. "So," she says uncomfortably. "How is, um, how is the team doing? Are you and Ron getting on all right?"
Krum nods. "He's a very good Keeper."
"Yes, I know."
There's an awkward silence, and Hermione begins to gnaw on her fingernails, a habit she seems to have picked up from Harry.
"So, not to sound like I'm not glad you stopped by, but is there anything that brings you here?" Hermione asks Krum. He's still watching her every move, and it's really starting to make her nervous. The kettle starts to whistle, and Hermione removes it from the heat.
Krum clears his throat. "Vell," he begins awkwardly. "I haff not been able to contact you. It seems you stopped receiving my letters a year or so after I left."
Hermione blushes, grateful to have her back turned to Krum as she pours the hot water into a mug. She had kept up her correspondence with him until the beginning of sixth year. He continued to send her letters for a few months, which she didn't even bother to look at.
"I never got any letters," she lies quickly. "And I did write you several times before giving up."
She could have just been honest. As she hands him the mug, she feels terrible. She should be honest with him. She should tell him that she enjoyed all the time she spent with him, that he really is a great guy, but she isn't interested. That's where he's headed, isn't it? He's going to ask if they can pick up where they left off.
Hermione touches her stomach instinctively. She's sure her skin is blotchy, and she had to enchant her robes to fit over her stomach. She looks terrible right now, she's sure of it. Maybe he'll have second thoughts.
He's still studying her.
Now it's just plain annoying.
"What?"
Hermione asks exasperatedly. "Why are you just staring at
me?"
Krum blinks and sets down his tea. He walks towards her
and grabs one of her hands in his own, touching her cheek with the
other.
"Hermione," he says. "I-I vant you to know -"
Hermione tries not to cough. She can tell he's wearing that new wizard's cologne that everyone else seems to think is so wonderful. It's suffocating, and his hair isn't slicked back with gel, it's just greasy, and his nose is incredibly large and crooked, and—
"I am very much in love vith you."
Any other witch would have collapsed at the way he said it. At the way he looked into her eyes and said those words.
But not Hermione. It was too rehearsed, too pathetic. He has changed too much for her to see any of the things she saw as a fourteen-year old girl. He is different.
Or maybe she's different.
Mabe it's because she's in love with someone else.
She begins to open her mouth to respond, but he puts his finger to her lips.
"I vant to marry you, Hermione. My Herm-own-ninny."
There's silence for a few moments.
"WHAT?" Hermione explodes, pushing Krum away from her. "Are you CRAZY? Marry you? What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"
Krum stares at her, confused.
"Hermione, I -"
Her blood is boiling. Ok, so it was slightly embarrassing when he was admitting that he still had feelings for her. But she could have just said simply that she wasn't interested, and he would have exited her life with her memory of him from when she was fourteen still intact. But not now.
"You don't love me, you don't even know me! How dare you come here, with you ugly flowers and your nice suit, and expect that you can just ask me to marry you!"
"But –"
"I was fourteen years old! Did you honestly think it was going to go anywhere? Really?"
"Hermione -"
"This is ridiculous! I can't believe you actually came here, thinking you could just propose! Just like that! I am pregnant! Do you really think I can just up and marry you?"
Krum's eyes widen. "You're pregnant?"
"Yes." Hermione cups her stomach. "I'm pregnant."
He stares at her stomach in amazement. "But-but …" He breaks off, shaking his head. "That's not possible."
"I'm pregnant," she repeats. "I am going to have a baby in May. I can't marry you."
"Who-who is the father?"
Hermione shakes her head. "No," she says. "That's none of your business." She's still breathing heavily from the effort of yelling, and she feels very tired. She goes to the kitchen table and sits down, folding her hands in her lap.
Krum doesn't say anything for a while, running his hands through his disgusting hair. And then he sits down next to her.
"Hermione—is it Harry Potter?"
Hermione doesn't say anything, and Krum takes her silence as a yes. Krum breathes out angrily. "That-That svirkadjia! That kote!"
"Viktor -"
"Do you love him?" Krum grips her arm tightly, his eyes blazing.
"W-what?"
Krum stands, forcing her to stand up too. She whimpers slightly as he tightens his hand on her arm.
"Do you love him?" he repeats, putting his face close to his.
"Viktor -"
"You do! You do, don't you? That-how dare he!" He presses Hermione against the counter, his hands on her wrists.
"Viktor, you're hurting me!" Hermione cries out, desperately trying to pull away.
The front door slams shut, and Krum freezes. Quickly, he clasps his hand over Hermione's mouth before she can make any more sounds.
"Hermione?" Harry's voice calls from the hall. "Are you here? Listen, I know this will sound really strange, but I thought maybe we could go out tonight -"
Krum steps away from Hermione quickly when he realises that Harry is coming into the kitchen. But he doesn't move fast enough. Harry sees, and he stops. Hermione rubs her wrists, her eyes wide as she sinks slowly to the floor.
Harry hurries over to her, kneeling beside her. He takes her wrists, studying the marks from Krum's fingers. He looks up at Krum.
"What the hell were you doing to her?"
Krum's frown deepens. "You bastard," he says.
"What were you doing to her?" Harry yells.
Krum studies Hermione. "You chose him? Why him? Vat is he?"
Without waiting for an answer, he walks out of the kitchen. The door slams shut a few seconds later.
Hermione throws her hands around Harry's neck, sobbing wordlessly.
He strokes her hair. "You're all right," he says soothingly. "You're all right."
"I don't know what happened. He just—he came in here, asked me to marry him, and when I told him I was pregnant, and he guessed that you were the father, he just—he got so angry, and he grabbed me, and he started yelling at me in Bulgarian."
Harry's
throat is very dry.
"I vant to know wot there is between you
and Hermy-own-ninny."
"Nothing. She's not my girlfriend and she never has been."
"Oh, Hermione," he groans. "He-during the Triwizard Tournament, he asked me if we were dating, and I said no. He must think that I meant I never would, either."
Hermione looks up at Harry, slightly confused. "Well, Harry, we're not dating."
Harry's blood turns cold. "Yeah, yeah I know," he stutters. "I just meant—well, I bet he didn't think you'd be pregnant because of me, either."
He doesn't meet her eye.
Hermione nods slowly. "I'm glad you came in when you did," she says quietly. "I was—I was so scared." She rests her head on his shoulder. "I feel kind of dizzy, actually."
"From all the movement," Harry says quickly, helping her up and supporting her to the kitchen table.
Hermione collapses into a seat. "He asked me to marry him," she says disbelievingly.
"Well, do you -" Harry hesitates, knowing he shouldn't push it. He's already given himself away a little, but he can't help it. "Do you have any interest in him?" he blurts out.
Hermione shakes her head immediately. "No! Not at all!" She sighs. "I actually stopped responding to his letters when—when I finally realised how much I liked Ron." She laughs. "And I didn't try to pick it back up when things with Ron didn't work out."
Harry nods, relieved.
There's a pounding on the door. Harry and Hermione both jump. He stands up, taking out his wand. "It's probably Krum again," he says. "Stay here."
"Harry -"
"It's all right, Hermione."
He walks slowly to the hall. In one swift movement, he opens the door, throwing out his wand.
"Bloody hell. Paranoid or something, Harry?"
"Ron," Harry gasps. "I-I thought you might be -"
"Krum," Ron says, shaking his head as he walks in. Harry shuts the door. "I know what happened. I guess it's my fault, in some way."
"What do you mean?"
Harry and Ron walk into the kitchen.
"Are
you all right?" Ron asks. "Did he hurt you?"
Hermione
shakes her head, and Ron walks over to her, kissing the top of her
head. He sits down. "Look, here's what happened. At practice a
couple of weeks ago, Krum asked me about you, Hermione. I told him
you were doing well, and that he should stop by and see you some
time. And I gave him your address." He hesitates. "He asked if
you were dating anyone, and I told him you weren't. I didn't have
the heart to tell him you were pregnant."
"And so he assumed he could come over and ask me to marry him?" Hermione asks, shaking her head. "Ridiculous."
"Yeah, I, uh, he told me he asked you that."
"Did you just see him?"
"I bumped into him on his way out of here. He was heading for the Leaky Cauldron, and I was going to come over here, just to say hi, since I was in the area. He started yelling at me for not telling him that you were pregnant—he seemed particularly put off that it was your baby, Harry." Ron's eyes are twinkling, and Harry glares at his friend. "Anyway, once he had calmed down a little, he asked me to tell you that he was sorry." Ron frowns. "He has quite a temper sometimes, you know. At practise—well, he's sorry, Hermione. And so am I."
Hermione smiles graciously. "It's all right, I guess. I feel kind of sorry for disappointing him." She studies the flowers. "Those have got to be the most hideous things I have ever seen." She stands up, taking them out of the pitcher and tossing them into the trashcan. "Red and orange-checkered—honestly."
Ron coughs. "He, um, he made them look like that, you know. Put his wand to some tulips or something. He said he was sure you liked them."
Harry blushes slightly.
Later, he tells himself.
"Well," says Ron. "I was planning on surprising you two, inviting you out to dinner. But if -"
"Actually, I was thinking that, too," Harry says.
And even though he had planned on it being just him and Hermione, he doesn't mind that Ron's suggested it. Honestly, the idea of it being all three of them is nice.
Hermione smiles. "That sounds wonderful," she says enthusiastically. "But—I need to clean myself up a little." She gestures towards her clothing.
"Me, too," Harry says, looking down at his work robes.
"It'll just take a few minutes," Hermione promises Ron. "You can have that tea, if you like." She points at Krum's practically untouched cup, and exits quickly.
Harry
turns to Ron. "Could you make it any more obvious?"
"What?"
Ron asks innocently. "Oh. You mean the comment on Krum being
mad at you because you're the one with Hermione."
"We're not together," Harry hisses. "There's nothing there!"
"And my hair isn't red," Ron scoffs. "She's going to find out at some point, you know."
"Ron, listen to me. I need you to swear that you won't tell her."
"Harry -"
"Swear you won't tell her!"
Ron sighs. "I promise. But honestly, Harry. I think you should—soon."
Harry turns away. "I'm going to go change. I'll be fast."
-------------
"So, Hermione, how is working at home turning out?"
She rolls her eyes. She had hoped working at home during the pregnancy would be a good thing: it wasn't. "I just feel so detached," she explains. "I'm going to be so behind on paperwork by the time I get back."
"Hermione, this isn't school, you know—this isn't your homework," Ron teases her. "You'll be fine, I guarantee. I bet you're handling it all right."
"It just gets a little boring," she admits. "At least in the office, I had some connection to everyone else. At home, I just have … me."
Home.
Harry takes a sip of his Firewhiskey.
Home.
Does she feel at home with him?
"But sometimes, it's a good thing, I guess." She shrugs. "It's all right. And it means I get to spend more time with mum and dad."
Harry nods. There was one night when she actually decided to stay the night in her own room.
He hated it. Hated lying on his bed, knowing she wasn't in the next room. He had become so accustomed to sensing her presence, just feet away, a thin wall between him and her—the apartment, which had seemed so perfectly fit for him before she moved in, now seems too big for him when she isn't inside of it. And he doesn't understand why.
"And what about you, Harry? You never talk about work."
"There hasn't been much lately," he says slowly. "I mean—we don't have anything new and exciting. It's the same old." He pauses. "I'm rather bored, too, honestly. I don't really think that the Ministry is all it's hyped up to be."
"I think it's more that, now that you've gone against the worst things anyone could imagine, everything pales in comparison," Hermione says.
Harry shrugs, slightly embarrassed. "Maybe."
Maybe it's just her imagination, but she can feel something from him that she hadn't noticed before.
No, she's sure she's imagining. She wants so desperately to believe that something is there that she is pretending there is.
Right?
Maybe not. The way he's looking at her right now, his eyes glowing in the candlelight, the smile playing on his lips … is there something?
He blinks and turns his head away from her.
No, there is nothing.
---------------
It's quite late when they enter the apartment. Harry helps Hermione take her coat off, running his fingers through her hair without thinking. She doesn't seem to notice, but it sends shivers through him.
"That was lovely," she says. "I'm so glad we went out." She sighs. "And I'm so sorry about—about the Viktor thing."
Harry shakes his head. "It's not your fault. I can understand why he'd still be completely infatuated with you."
I didn't mean to say that. Did she notice his hint?
Hermione laughs, apparently oblivious. "Thanks, I guess."
They walk into the living room, and Hermione notices something blue and white on the coffee table.
"Harry, what's that?"
He spots what she was pointing at. He totally forgot. "Oh, those—well, I -" He laughs. "There's a little flower shop that just opened, in Diagon Alley. And, well, I remembered that you really like -"
"Forget-me-nots," Hermione says, studying the little bouquet. "They're my favourite." She smiles.
"I thought they were completely inferior to Krum's, so, I, uh, decided to hold off on giving them to you," Harry explains with a smile.
Hermione laughs. "They're lovely," she says. "That's so sweet of you."
She looks at him, standing there, just looking back at her. He doesn't stare her down with the creepy intent she found on Krum's face. He just looks at her.
Or is he looking through her?
No, he's looking at her.
But is he looking at her any differently that he did before this all began?
She can't tell.
She walks over to him and kisses his cheek. "Thank you," she says, feeling colour flush to her cheeks in spite of her attempts to keep it under control.
Harry tries to find his voice. "You're welcome," he manages.
Hermione walks to the kitchen and places them into the empty pitcher that had been filled with Krum's hideous flowers. "I think I'm going to put them in my room, if that's all right," she calls to him.
"Yeah, sure," Harry calls back. He closes his eyes.
He doesn't know how much longer he can keep this up.
Four and a half months is a very long time.
Hermione sets the flowers on her bedside table, breathing out heavily as she sits down. She wishes she could explain to him how much these flowers mean to her. That he was actually thinking of her! —but it was probably just an impulse. He saw the shop and walked in. A simple move. It was probably nothing to him.
Harry sits down on the couch and puts his head in his hands.
He can feel himself spinning out of control.
Hermione feels fluttering in her stomach.
The baby.
This is why he's still here.
He's here for the baby.
Not for her.
The house is completely silent except for the sound of their breathing.
