Wow! Last chapter got a huge response. Thank you all for your reviews. Your responses honestly make me want to send me into a writing frenzy!

Horses8 - I mean, I hope she does, but you just don't know...

mhcalamas - Draco experienced pure joy and pure agony all in one chapter, that's for sure! No need to wait - the update is here!

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MotekElm - Yeah...it was likely a little too subtle. You'll have to see about Godric's Hollow!

BlackHeart-FallenAngel - *lips are sealed*

addictedtoloveandfiction - I love this Draco, too. Sometimes I worry that I'm writing him too soft, but I'm glad that you feel I'm doing him justice! I didn't update then, but here it is now!

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Guests - 5 guest reviews! That's so many :) I read and appreciated them all!

Draco is back at Malfoy Manor. That's probably not so good. Let's jump back in time by a couple days and see what's going on back at the tent.

Some of the dialogue in this chapter is taken directly from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - if some of it sounds awkward, it's actually a direct quote!

Thanks as always to my fantastic beta Highlyintelligentblonde!

In the aftermath of Godric's Hollow, Harry slept for longer than he had in months. Despite her own exhaustion and heightened anxiety levels, Hermione kept watch. The events of the last twenty-four hours weighed heavily on her. She had just known that Godric's Hollow had been a reckless choice, but she had agreed to travel there – encouraged it, even. And now Harry was without a wand and the two of them had come within an inch of their lives.

Scratch that. Three of them. Hermione's hand traveled to her stomach as she sat at the tent entrance, rubbing her coat-covered belly with care. Coming face-to-face with such danger for the first time in months shook her to the core, especially since she had her child's life to consider now, too. How could she have been so stupid? Of course it had been a trap.

Hermione sat in silent contemplation until she heard rustling from within the tent. Harry had likely woken up. Sure enough, not even a minute later, a raven-haired teen poked his head through the tent flaps and flopped down beside her. Though he appeared at least somewhat rested, his face seemed rather haunted. The bags under his eyes were growing, and he was impossibly thin. Hermione took in his haggard appearance as he rubbed his eyes, inquiring about his wand.

"Oh, Harry… I'm so terribly sorry, but…" she held out the broken pieces of the Phoenix tail feather wand and he slumped backward, his last shred of hope in the breath he exhaled. Hermione looked at his dejected form and sighed. This certainly wasn't the ideal time to bring this up, but frankly, no time was good.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Harry, there's something I need to discuss with you," her voice cracked when she spoke, and she felt her whole body start to shake. Her baby's existence was about to become a lot more real if she did this. There would be no turning back – no way to remain completely selfish any longer.

Harry looked up from his pity party and frowned. "What's up?"

"I…I don't know how to tell you this, but I'm trying," she began. "I haven't been feeling well these past few months."

"Are you sick?" Harry interrupted, sitting up straighter, concern in his eyes.

"No, Harry. I'm not sick, exactly." Hermione stared down at her shoelaces, trying to find the right angle to continue. "Do you remember when Dolohov struck me with that awful curse during our time in the Department of Mysteries?"

This might be a good way to approach Harry.

"Yeah, I do. Scared the pants off us, you did. Is the curse still affecting you?" Harry tilted to his head to the side in curiosity. "Does it linger and cause you pain or something?"

"It doesn't cause me pain, no. But it does still affect me. You see, when Dolohov struck me, the curse affected many different parts of me; it affected my breathing, my bones, my strength, and even some of my organs."

"Blimey, 'Mione. I had no idea it was so bad. I mean, I knew you were taking loads of potions at the time…" Harry trailed off, his brow furrowed.

"Yes, well… it was bad. Anyway, one of the organs affected was my…" Hermione grimaced and took a breath,"…my uterus."

She paused here as Harry's ears turned spectacular shades of red and purple. He coughed but said nothing. She continued.

"Madame Pomfrey said that based on the damage she saw, the organ was scarred and that I would likely be incapable of carrying children in the future. I hadn't ever thought about having children before, but getting news like that was devastating." She glanced at Harry. The color had faded a bit from his ears, but his cheeks still burned. Hermione could see them even though he was staring pointedly at the grass. She plowed ahead.

"Anyway, this summer something happened. Because I never stopped to consider that my uterus might actually still be working, I didn't bother being, erm, careful." Hermione watched as Harry winced. "I wasn't careful, and well…" she reached out to grab Harry's hand. He whipped around, confusion in his eyes, as Hermione pulled his palm toward her stomach. She lifted the puffy coat so her swollen belly was exposed. With great care, she placed his hand onto her belly and held it there as Harry's eyes grew wide with comprehension.

Quick as a flash, Harry drew his hand back, his jaw slack. "Hermione!" he cried, "You're pregnant?"

She wasn't sure why her mind chose this moment to break down, but the second those words exited Harry's mouth, her lip began to quiver, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. All the pressure of keeping this huge secret for over two months seemed to burst like a dam, and her pent-up fear, loneliness, and frustration came pouring out. Through her tears, Hermione chanced a glance at Harry. She wasn't sure how he was going to react to all this. Surely, he would be disappointed and angry. Perhaps he wouldn't speak to her again or kick her off the horcrux hunt. Her breath shuddered at the thought.

To her relief and surprise, he said nothing, but instead wrapped his arms around her and squeezed tightly. Hermione hiccupped and sniffed as her best friend held and rocked her gently. They sat like this long enough that Hermione couldn't estimate how many minutes had passed. Finally, when the last of her sniffles subsided, she pulled away from Harry's arms and wiped her face with the back of her sleeve.

"You must think I'm stupid," she whispered, chancing a glance at him.

"I don't think you're stupid at all," Harry answered immediately. "Stubborn? Yes. A bit thick? Absolutely. But stupid? Our Hermione? Never." Hermione shot him the ghost of a watery smile and twisted her hands in her lap. "It must be so hard with Ron not here. He is such an idiot," Harry growled.

"Ron?"

"Yeah. He's the baby's father, right?"

There was a long silence as Hermione drew her breath. This part of the conversation was what she had been especially dreading.

"Actually, Harry, Ron's not the father."

"What?" Harry drew back, confusion on his features. "It's not Ron? I thought for sure you two had something going on. Especially during the wedding. Is that not when this…?" He gestured vaguely at her stomach.

"Hermione closed her eyes for a moment. She could see how Harry would have had that impression. After all, the two of them had danced a fair amount at the wedding. What Harry hadn't seen was Draco, his Polyjuice worn off, shagging her under the hanging branches of a willow tree in the Burrow's orchard. Just the thought made her squirm in embarrassment and longing.

"At one point, I had hoped for… a thing… with Ron. But not anymore." Hermione placed a hand on her belly. "Definitely not now, anyway."

"Erm, then can I ask who the father is?"

Hermione sighed. "Please don't be mad, all right?" She watched as Harry's eyebrows practically disappeared into his hairline. "It's Draco."

If she thought it would be easier just to get the information out in the open, she was mistaken.

"It's MALFOY? Hermione, why? How?" All the color had drained from Harry's face as his eyebrows had returned in full force, furrowing in anger.

"I think you're old enough to know how, Harry Potter!"

Hermione watched as her best friend spluttered and the purple color returned to his face. If she wasn't so worried, she probably would have found it amusing.

"But if you must know, Draco and I grew close over the summer. We're quite… fond of each other."

Harry made a face. "But he's Malfoy! He's the git who made fun of us for years – who cursed you – who called you mudblood. How did you even consider becoming fond of him?" Harry said these last words as though someone had covered them in too much salt.

"We spent a lot of time together this summer at my parent's house. It was only a few weeks, but there was a lot of time we spent just the two of us. I really got to know him."

"And after knowing him, you still like him?"

Hermione swallowed and pushed herself to say the words that had been teetering at the edge of her brain since August. "I don't just like him, Harry. I love him." Hermione watched as her best friend did a very poor job at holding back a groan. "He's a good person who just wants to do the right thing, but unfortunate circumstances led him to the path he was following. Draco never wanted to do any of those awful things."

"How do you know, Hermione? How do you know he wasn't just… playing you or something? Teenage blokes would do just about anything to get into a girls' knickers. The way Seamus used to talk in the dormitories… it wouldn't surprise me if Malfoy is the same."

Hermione smirked. "I know where you're coming from – believe me, Harry – but like I said, I really got to know Draco this summer. He's someone worth trusting. I respect his privacy enough that I don't feel comfortable divulging private conversations we had, but if you trust me at all, then you have to believe me. Draco doesn't have some ulterior motive. Actually, I think he loves me, too." A shy smile grew on her face at the thought, her cheeks flushed pink.

Harry nodded along as she spoke. This was one of the many reasons she was grateful for Harry: he didn't fly off the handle as easily as Ron. Of course, he had his moments, but if she had spoken a word of this to Ron instead, he would have probably screamed until he went hoarse. But Harry didn't scream. He listened with an open heart. Or at least semi-open. She knew she had won him over when he sighed and gave her a "so be it" look.

"Well then," he said, slapping his knees and changing to a business-like tone of voice, "I suppose the next thing to figure out is what to do about this." Harry motioned to her protruding stomach.

"Honestly, I need a book."

Harry snorted, a smile creeping back onto his face. "Of course you do, 'Mione,"

"I'm serious! Pregnancy is something I know very little about. I didn't even know how to cast the pregnancy confirmation charm. I had to steal a muggle test."

"You… what? You stole a test? When did you do that?" Harry exclaimed.

Hermione looked down at the snow-covered ground. "The day Ron left. I nicked one from the chemist at the grocery store. I was in such shock from the results that I couldn't really bring myself to try harder to get Ron back."

Hermione could practically see the gears turning in Harry's head as he was trying to recall the events of that day. After a few moments, his eyes turned to saucers. "No wonder you hardly said anything all evening. Jesus, Hermione. And the horrible things Ron said…"

"I didn't have the capacity to comprehend it all, honestly. It's kind of a blur. My brain was practically in overdrive."

"Understandably." Harry patted her back. "Well, what now? When is the baby coming?"

"May twenty-sixth. I saw a doctor at a clinic last week when we stayed outside Manchester."

Comprehension dawned on Harry's face. "So that's why you wanted to get somewhere with people around!"

"Exactly."

"How did you manage to get an appointment? And what did the doctor say? Are you healthy?"

Hermione smiled at Harry's inquisitiveness. "I glamoured myself and confunded the receptionist at the hospital. The doctor says everything looks normal and healthy, despite the scarring. Though she did say that I have to remain vigilant. I also have to eat better or else I'll risk anaemia."

Harry nodded along, his green eyes focused intensely on her.

"And the… the baby?"

"It's a little small, but otherwise perfect."

Hermione patted her stomach fondly, her hand circling the small globe twice. She observed as Harry stared at the protrusion. Different emotions flashed in his emerald eyes. Fascination. Joy. Fear. He reached out, but paused, his eyes flicking between her face and her stomach.

"Can I…?"

Hermione nodded, unbuttoning her coat and revealing her small bump. Harry stretched out his hand. He blinked twice and licked his lips, his fingers shaking. His hand lingered about two inches away for several seconds before Hermione grabbed it with a laugh and laced her fingers through his; she placed his palm firmly on her stomach. Her bump wasn't terribly large yet, so his hand covered much of it. Hermione watched as his expression continued to shift. The gentle pressure on her abdomen felt comforting; having Harry here with her – having her secret out in the open – it certainly didn't erase the fact that they had come face-to-face with You-Know-Who last night or that Harry was wandless. Or that they still hadn't found any more horcruxes.

It still didn't change the fact that she hadn't told Draco.

But someone knew. That was something. She told Harry. And if she couldn't find the courage to tell Draco yet, Harry wasn't a bad start.

The Boy Who Lived sat frozen, staring down at Hermione's stomach. She watched him watching the bump, and could practically see his mind at work, trying to piece together a puzzle even she hadn't yet managed. Around them, the cold winter air nipped at their cheeks.

"So what now?" he asked after a couple minutes of silence, withdrawing his hand.

"I'm not really sure," she answered. "Godric's Hollow was clearly a dead end. We'll have to keep thinking. In fact–"

Hermione pulled out the book she had found in Bathilda Bagshot's home, pristine, its pages clearly never before opened: The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore.

For several minutes, she and Harry poured over its contents. Multiple times, Hermione had to remind herself to keep her stress levels low. For the baby. It killed her to watch Harry come apart at the seams with each word they read. Surely, he wouldn't believe any rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote – especially not after all she had put them through.

But doubt seemed to be clouding him, and Hermione took it upon herself to remove the book from his grasp before his expression turned to despair. It was too late, it seemed. Harry began to spiral into a dark place she had been afraid he'd go. His voice shook with anger when he spoke.

"Look what he asked from me, Hermione! Risk your life, Harry! And again! And again!

And don't expect me to explain everything, just trust me blindly, trust that I know what I'm doing, trust me even though I don't trust you! Never the whole truth! Never!"

He paused, looking over at Hermione. He glanced down at her stomach.

"I'm just glad you decided to tell me the truth. You are telling me the truth, right? You do trust me?" His voice cracked.

Hermione swallowed, reaching for his hands. She caressed his knuckles with her thumb.

"With my life," she stated simply.

Harry nodded.

"He loved you," she whispered. "I know he loved you."

"I don't know who he loved, Hermione, but it was never me. This isn't love, the mess he's left me in. He shared a damn sight more of what he was really thinking with Gellert Grindelwald than he ever shared with me."

Harry rubbed his face in frustration. "I need some time to think. About this. About all this."

Hermione nodded. "Yes. Of course. Do you want to go back inside, then?"

Another glance to her belly.

"No, that's all right. I'll finish watch. You get back in the warm."

Hermione stiffened.

"Harry Potter, I want you to listen to what I say and listen well. I do not need your pity." She stood, towering over her best friend as he looked up, depression lingering in his eyes. "If you think for one moment that I will allow you to wallow in the depths of despair or perceive that I am some helpless, pregnant girl, then you clearly don't know me at all."

Hermione pulled Harry to his feet. She looked at him with fire in her belly and her eyes full of intention.

"We'll figure it out. We always do. I'm not going anywhere. So like it or not, you're stuck with me – someone who loves you very much and who trusts you."

"And the baby?" Harry interjected, hugging his middle.

"Like I said, we'll figure it out. When the time comes, we'll know what's right. We've got loads of time before baby is here, anyway." Hermione paused, taking in Harry's confused expression. "Besides, I'm not called the brightest witch of our age for no reason. I'll think of something."

Hermione's lips twitched, trying to reassure Harry.

With a sigh, his shoulders slumped forward as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. All right. Now get inside and have a rest, will you?"

Hermione recognized that the conversation was over for now. She turned to head back in the tent, but not before running her hand through Harry's messy head of hair a couple times, trying to bring him at least a little comfort. Her poor friend had always had to cope with far too many stressors, and the last thing she wanted to become was another one.

"He did care," she whispered once more before stepping into the tent.

Having stayed up a good deal of the night, exhaustion hit her promptly. Not even bothering to kick off her shoes, Hermione practically fell into her bunk and nodded off only moments later, her world dark and warm.

She and Harry barely spoke over the next two days. They were clearly still in shock after their close shave in Godric's Hollow, and the heavy conversation that had followed the next morning seemed to be in the process of sinking in. Harry hadn't mentioned her pregnancy again. They rotated watch, occasionally sitting together as snow fell all around them.

Over those same two days, her stomach really seemed to have popped more. She wasn't sure if it was because of all the stress, because of the unusually high amounts of sleep she had been getting, or something else. Quiet moments often found her rubbing her belly, reading to it from The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Perhaps a fresh perspective – reading it aloud – could be the key to understanding Dumbledore's gift.

In the middle of the next night, Hermione had been dreaming of long, summer nights past when a masculine voice woke her, calling her name. Harry. She sat up, pushing her hair out of her face and blinking away her dreams.

"What's wrong? Harry? Are you all right?"

"It's OK, everything's fine. More than fine. I'm great. There's someone here."

Hermione scrunched her eyebrows, her eyes bleary from sleep. What on earth was Harry talking about?

"What do you mean? Who–?"

Hermione froze. There, in person, standing in their tent, sword of Godric Gryffindor in hand, was Ron fucking Weasley.

And he had the nerve to wave.

All at once, a fury grew within her. She saw red as she launched herself forward, trying to punch him. Hard. She wanted to make him bruise. How dare he just show up like this? How dare he try to waltz back into their lives after abandoning them?

"Ouch – ow – gerroff! What the –? Hermione – OW!"

"You – complete – arse – Ronald – Weasley!"

She wanted to hurt him as much as he had hurt them. Hurt her.

As she screamed at one of her best friends, it was as though all the pent-up frustrations and self-loathing she had kept bottled up over the past months came exploding out of her. The electricity from her anger crackled in her heart, sending shocks through her chest and abdomen and all the way down to her fingers and toes. Hermione wasn't sure she had ever felt rage this unbridled.

She wanted it to feel cathartic – wanted to feel the release of some great tension that had been building. Maybe, just maybe, if that happened, it would make everything okay again.

But that certainly wasn't to be.

Ron flung his hands up, clearly trying to protect himself. He backed up as she gnashed her teeth, continuing her unrelenting diatribe until she ran out of breath. In the brief pause, she found herself still incredibly annoyed with his presence, and that just wouldn't do.

If a tongue lashing wasn't going to do the trick, then perhaps her wand could speak for her. The moment her air refilled with lungs, she instinctively reached into her jumper pocket searching for…

"Oh, where's my wand?" she spat the words at no one in particular before she remembered.

Head whipping to face Harry, she was about to advance on him and snatch her wand out of his fingers when the raven-haired boy got to it first.

"Immobulus!"

Her body froze on the spot, her hand stretched out toward Harry. The abrupt stop to all her motion jarred her; all the momentum she had been gaining as she prepared to barrel toward her friend was gone in an instant. The only thing left in motion was her heavily thumping heart. It was so persistent that she was certain it could be heard in the otherwise deathly-silent tent.

Unable to move, she watched as Harry took two steps forward toward her, his face stony. Hermione wanted to draw away as he leaned in, but the freezing charm kept her in place.

When Harry hissed into her ear, his voice shook with forced calm. "You need to breathe, Hermione. Think about–" He paused, his eyes darting to her stomach, and then over to Ron.

Though she could only stare at Harry in return, she tried to really convey with her eyes alone that he should shut the hell up and let me punch the fucker.

Judging by the way Harry's own eyes widened, perhaps some of that came through in her expression.

Good.

With all the rage simmering just below the surface of her skin, he should understand not to interfere. He should back off and remove the charm so she could give Ron a piece of her mind.

"Hermione…" he warned, "this isn't about you." His eyes darted down again.

Dammit. Didn't he know that Ron could see his eyes move? Didn't he realize that she wasn't ready for that redheaded wanker to know yet? Hermione felt her veins begin to vibrate as she continued to fight against the charm. She had to prevent him from giving away any more than he already had. Though she couldn't see Ron's face, she was thoroughly convinced he was about to ask all the wrong questions.

Hermione was not going to back down; she would keep fighting until he unfroze her. Couldn't he see that?

Yet, instead of acknowledging defeat, Harry leaned in closer – so close, in fact, that she could feel his hair brush her skin. What the hell was he doing? She knew her best friend was a fucking Gryffindor, but was he that stupid? To get so close to her when she was about to explode?

When he spoke again, it was in a whisper; not in a harsh one, where the words sound more like daggers meant to pierce, but a soft, gentle whisper that filled her ears like an embrace and made her defenses fall away.

"Hermione, please…" he pleaded, taking his time with each word. "I know you're angry. I do. I'd be furious. But you have to walk away. Please. For the baby. For you."

He reached between them and gently patted her stomach away from Ron's purview.

Hermione felt her heart stagger at the touch. Had she forgotten so easily that she was pregnant? Was the baby that unimportant to her that she had nearly pounced on Ron without thinking of her exposed belly?

The fire in her veins dulled until it was nothing more than flickers; the pounding of her heart slowed to a steady thump. Though she remained immobilized, Harry must have sensed a change in her, because he pulled away from her a moment later.

"I'm going to remove the charm in a moment," he said, his tone wary, "but I need you not to try to kill Ron when I do. I want you to take a walk, 'Mione. Breathe it out. Ron can explain everything when you've calmed down."

Half a second later, she felt all the muscles in her body turn to butter. The momentum she had gained as she had hurtled toward Harry to snatch her wand came back in a rush; she would have barreled into him if he hadn't been at the ready, his arms outstretched to steady her.

When she was sure she could stand unassisted, Hermione glanced back at Ron. The redhead stood, jaw dropped, confusing swirling in his eyes.

"Is… everything okay?" he asked after a moment, looking between the two of them.

Hermione was about to open her mouth to reply when Harry beat her to it.

"Yep. Hermione's just going to take a walk while we get changed into warmer clothes. Isn't that right?"

Under normal circumstances, Hermione wouldn't stand for being bossed around like that. She was the one who usually gave marching orders – not the other way around. But in that exact moment, somehow, she liked being to be told what to do. Though imperative, Harry's words were saturated with care.

And after months of trying to figure out how to take care of herself in this strange situation all by herself, it felt rather… nice.

So instead of arguing or putting up a fuss, she grabbed her jacket from its spot by the door and padded outside into the crisp, December night air. Try as she might to think calming thoughts, her mind buzzed as she walked in circles around the tent. Ron was back. Ron was back!

She didn't know whether to kill him or cheer.

But the first wasn't an option. Clearly. Harry had pointed that obvious point out to her. So she continued to drag her feet, rubbing her stomach as she did.

She wanted to write to Draco more than ever. But what would she say? At this point it was dubious whether she would ever find the courage to actually tell him what she needed to say.

Dear Draco, I'm pregnant and on the run from You-Know-Who with Harry and Ron. Almost got killed by the snake a couple days ago, but other than that doing fine. Do you want to find out the sex of the baby before it's born? Love, Hermione.

No. Somehow, that didn't seem like the right way to tell him.

But what was?

Though she listened with rapt attention to Ron when he regaled the story of his return, Hermione didn't do much to respond. Frankly, she didn't have the energy to formulate a proper response.

Ron conveyed so much in his tale – how sorry he was, how much he wanted to return, and to her despair, how much he loved her. Though he hadn't said those last words exactly, she could see it in his eyes.

She knew that look.

Coming from Draco, it made her heart soar, her stomach swoop, and a smile dance on her lips.

But coming from Ron? Her stomach had bottomed out when she saw that look in his eyes; not because he felt that way for her, but because that look confirmed that that the baby growing inside her would absolutely crush him.

And she took no pleasure in that.

So she avoided the boys purposely for the whole of the next day, taking to curling up in her bunk for most of the day, re-reading Tales of Beedle the Bard. Again. Hermione managed to write Draco a note to respond to his Christmas message; once again, she had tried to tell him, but only managed to tell the truth indirectly. When she finished writing, frustrated, she switched over to Rita Skeeter's book.

But after two hours of staring at the strange mark written on a page of The Tale of The Three Brothers, she couldn't take it any longer. Rolling out of her bunk and making her way over to the boys, she spoke her first words in over twenty-four hours. The words felt scratchy in her throat.

"I want to go and see Xenophilius Lovegood."

It didn't take much convincing on Ron's part, but Harry was another story. He kept sighing, looking at her stomach when he thought her head was turned the other way. But she saw.

After Ron had practically forced a vote, she pulled Harry aside.

"Look." She began. "I know you're concerned about me and about the… the baby." Hermione stumbled over the last two words. "But you shouldn't let that concern get in the way of us doing what we need to do."

"But Hermione," Harry interjected, shifting from foot to foot, "What if something happens to you? To the baby? I don't know if I'd ever get over that."

"Oh, stop making this about you," Hermione snapped. "I'm fine. I told you that. I'm planning on putting a shield charm around my stomach just in case. Maybe a limited disillusionment charm. But I'm not not sure about that one. Can you see my belly much when I'm in this jumper?"

"Well, no," began Harry, "but–"

"But nothing. It's settled. I know my limits and no one will suspect anything if it's not visible, anyway." Hermione blew a strand of hair out of her face. "Besides, we're just going to see Mr. Lovegood. I hardly think even a shield charm will be necessary."

Hermione's entire body thrummed with adrenaline. Even hours after their disastrous visit to the Lovegood's home, she couldn't seem to stop the blood pounding in her ears. That day's scene played over and over in her mind… Mr. Lovegood's slow descent into desperate panic; the gruff sounds of the Death Eaters' voices just down the stairs; the floor giving out underneath them as she blasted through it… landing in safety once more, if only just.

From the moment they had landed in the field, she had only one goal in mind: get to safety. Put up enchantments and get to safety. She had been so single-minded in her task that she jumped nearly a foot off the ground when Harry yanked her away from casting the muggle-repelling charm. Why was he interrupting her? He shouldn't do that. There could be more Death Eaters here. They could be waiting just around the corner; they would find them again. She just knew it. All she had to do was get up these damn enchantments…

Harry yanked her away again.

"What?" she shrieked, tears threatening to leak from her eyes.

"I asked you if you were all right."

"I'm fine, Harry."

"Is your… did the shield charm work?"

For the first time since crash-landing, Hermione paused. Her hands flew to her belly as though she could diagnose herself by touch.

"I… I think so."

Harry visibly relaxed and released her to continue working.

Hours later, shame still filled her to the brim as she laid awake on her bunk. Sleep had yet to find her. As much as she tried to close her eyes and will herself to sleep, her mind was only able to focus on one single fact:

She had put the baby in danger and hadn't even stopped to consider its safety when she practically fell on her stomach. Thank Merlin she had placed that shield charm around her abdomen. Hermione shuddered and felt the urge to cry every time she considered the possibility of what would have happened if she hadn't…

Hermione shifted onto her side. On top of her mental anguish, she just couldn't seem to get comfortable. Since she had crawled into bed two hours previously, her legs had been cramping like crazy. Of course, she had gotten charley horses before. But these were almost worse, because they kept happening again and again until she was sure her face would settle into a permanent grimace.

After the latest bout of leg cramps, Hermione rolled into a sitting position. Though her stomach was barely visible under her lumpy jumper, she could see the faint outline of it nestled on top of her legs. In a poor attempt to get more oxygen to her leg muscles, she breathed deeply several times, her hands circling her belly with care.

From the mouth of the tent, she heard a small cough.

Ron.

Sighing, Hermione pulled herself to her feet. Sooner or later, she would need to have a real sit-down chat with him. The events of the day had left them all shaken, but grateful to be alive, and their revelations about Hallows that had followed had seemed to really put Ron in a better mood. Perhaps now was as good a time as any to tell him.

Reaching her arms to the sky in a stretch, Hermione padded past Harry, fast asleep, glasses askew, toward Ron. The redhead had his back to the tent flap, a maroon jumper covering his hunched-over torso.

"Budge up, will you?" Hermione whispered as she emerged into the chilly December night.

Ron turned and smiled at her, scooting over a few inches on the log he was currently occupying. As Hermione lowered herself down, her leg started to cramp up again. Though she tried to mask the pain, it clearly showed on her face as she landed with a thump on her rear end.

"Are you okay, 'Mione? Are you hurt somewhere? Harry seemed awfully worried after we apparated here earlier."

Ron's eyes conveyed utmost concern for her wellbeing as he looked her up and down.

"Oh, no. I'm fine. Thank you."

"But I'm sure… I'm pretty sure I saw you took a nasty fall when we landed earlier. Did you at least take a pain potion?"

"I didn't–" Ron almost cut her off, but she pushed on. "But I'm fine. Honestly. Just a leg cramp."

Ron nodded, seeming to accept her answer. They sat in silence for several moments, Ron shaking his leg and Hermione fighting the urge to rub her belly. She was highly aware of Ron's presence, and it felt odd to be walking on eggshells again after spilling her secret to Harry.

Telling Harry hadn't been easy, but it had felt tangible. Harry was just… Harry after all.

Telling Ron, on the other hand? That felt impossible. Her relationship with him had always been more complicated – steeped in feelings of both loathing and longing. Though her affection had faded, the vestiges of it hung around, wanting to keep Ron Weasley from pain. This, of course, put her in a bit of a bind; she suspected how he felt about her, and she knew this news would absolutely crush him.

But she wasn't getting any less pregnant. She wasn't falling out of love with Malfoy, either.

"Hey Ron," she began, keeping her eyes trained on the ground. "Can I talk to you about something?"

He turned his head. She could see the movement in her peripheral vision. "Yeah, all right."

"I want to be honest with you. Because you deserve honesty."

Hermione lifted her hand to put on her stomach but faltered. Instead, she placed it on top of his hand. Though she couldn't see Ron's expression while she continued to look down, she wouldn't put it past him to look quite surprised.

"You're scaring me a bit, Hermione. What's going on?"

Hermione took a deep breath, tongue searching for the right words to begin.

"Gosh, this is hard to say." she gave a nervous laugh and looked up at Ron's face properly for the first time. He was smiling down at her with utmost care in his eyes, and the expression damn near broke her. "Can you just… listen? I don't want you to interrupt until I'm done."

Ron nodded.

"This summer changed a lot of things… for me," she began, speaking slowly and considering each word before it rolled off her tongue. "You have to know that before this summer, I felt a certain way about you. I was quite infatuated with you, actually."

She chanced a glance at Ron as she spoke and watched as several emotions crossed his face in a matter of moments. Concentration. Curiosity. Elation. Confusion.

"'Mione, what do you mean–?"

"Please don't interrupt me, Ron. I have to get this out."

He nodded again, withdrawing into himself, eyes still on her.

"It's true. I… liked you. A lot. Even though you really pushed my buttons much of the time, I wanted nothing more than to be your girlfriend and to be loved by you." She paused here as she searched for the right words to continue. Thankfully, Ron remained silent.

"But this summer… I didn't see it coming, I swear. I… I fell in love with someone else."

Another pause. This time, she didn't dare look Ron in the face.

"Who?"

Hermione heard his voice croak as he asked the one question she was afraid to answer. Honesty. Ron deserved honesty.

"Draco Malfoy."

She looked up to watch the confusion on his face turn to devastation. This was clearly not the answer he had been expecting.

"Malfoy? You're… you're in love with sodding Draco Malfoy? How? Why? Hermione?" Ron's face became more choked up as he spoke.

Shit. She knew this was going to be difficult, but trying to talk to Ron when she knew her words would wound him, it felt like her mouth was filled with glue.

"Draco and I grew… exceptionally close this summer. And he was a complete arse at first."

"He's still an arse!"

"Ron!" she hissed.

He looked a bit wounded and fell silent.

"Yes, Ron. Draco isn't some perfect person a pedestal who was meant to sweep me off my feet. I know that. But somehow, when we're together, we just… we just fit. We work."

She swallowed again, digging deep as she prepared to shatter her best friend's heart.

"I love Draco. I love him and I'm…" she closed her eyes, willing herself to keep speaking. "I'm pregnant, Ron." To demonstrate this last point, she let go of his hand and placed it lovingly on her distended belly.

The beginnings of rage grew in Ron's eyes as her words sat heavy between them. The December air had grown thick and impossibly hot, somehow. Any sort of winter wind felt numb on her skin. No one moved a muscle; only the rustling of the barren branches above made any sound at all.

Hermione withdrew slightly as she watched the cogs of Ron's mind churn furiously. The rage in his eyes had faded slightly, and he was now looking between her face, her belly, and some space out in the dark woods. He was clearly wrestling with his fight or flight instinct. That was how he normally reacted to bad news, after all. She had been expecting an explosion or another attempt at running away. But not this. She had not expected angry contemplation – for him to think before he responded.

After several minutes of silence, he spoke again. The sudden noise made her jump.

"Hermione, I–" he began before stalling, licking his lips and running his hands through his already-disheveled hair. "I can't say I'm not angry. Because I am. I'm angry and I'm sad and I'm about a thousand other things I can't describe with words."

"Ron, I'm s–"

"Hermione. Let me finish. Please."

It was her turn to nod.

"I… I love you, Hermione. Always have. Even when I didn't know it. Even when I didn't show it. And I wish I had shown it." He ran his hands through his hair again. "But there's no use dwelling on what could have been, is there? You love him. That's that. You're… gods, are you really pregnant?"

Ron seemed to break his inner monologue as he looked over to her. Where fire had lived in his eyes, now there was only pain.

"I am."

Ron's gaze seemed to focus solely on her belly now. Fingers shaking, he reached out an arm and caressed it almost lovingly.

Hermione wasn't focused on that, however. She was focused on the longing and devastation now etched in every inch of his expression.

"You know," he said after a minute, fingers still brushing her stomach, "when I dream about this war ending, there are loads of pictures that flash in my mind of what that's going to look like. But of all the wonderful stuff that I see, there's only one thing that pops up again and again." Ron took a deep breath. "And… it sounds ridiculous, I know. But I… I always picture us. Just us. Living somewhere. Just being, you know? And we're happy. I can feel it. But there's always a… a baby. Our baby. I can never see a face, but it's got your curls. Every time."

He withdrew his hand and ran his hands through his hair yet again. "It's just hard to watch a dream die right in front of you, you know?"

Hermione had braced herself for yelling and rage and fire. She had steeled herself for his wrath and his jealousy.

But this? She was not prepared for sorrow.

"Oh, Ron…"

"I'm really sad right now, Hermione. I'm not gonna lie. But you know, I'm okay. Or… I will be. I love you, Hermione, and if that means being your friend and sticking with you and the… baby, then that's what I'm going to do."

Hermione promptly burst into tears. She wasn't sure if it was the hormones, but something about the way Ron looked at her with such adoration pushed her over the edge. To her surprise, he chuckled and rubbed her back as she wept. The steady feel of his palm relaxed her until she was only hiccupping.

"I take back what I said fifth year." She sniffed. "You don't have the emotional range of a teaspoon."

Ron laughed again, though she could see it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"What can I say? I grew up a bit."

The air around them had returned, and it felt refreshing as it filled her lungs, breathing life into her body once more. The cold pinched her cheeks, and out of nowhere, a bout of fatigue settled in her bones. She yawned.

"You should get to bed, 'Mione. You need to get plenty of rest, all right?"

Hermione stifled another yawn as she stood and stretched. As her skyward arms fell limply to her side, she caught Ron staring at her belly once more.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she prodded once more.

He gave a weak smile. "It's like I said. I'm not. But I will be."

Honesty in exchange for honesty.

"Right, well… have a good watch." She cast a warming charm over him and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "Goodnight, Ron."

He waved vaguely before curling his legs up into his chest, his head turning to face the dark expanse of the woods.

As Hermione climbed back into her bunk and closed her eyes, she could here the soft sounds of crying from just outside the tent.

There's a lot of crying going on in this story, isn't there?

So...she told someone. Harry and Ron know. Do you think she'll tell Draco? Tell me your predictions!

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I'll be posting more often there once my grad school semester ends next week!