AN: Thank you for all my great reviewers for the first chapter! Because there was such interest, which I completely didn't expect, I decided to post this second chapter. I am working on the third, and it might be awhile for another update. Actually, the number of story alerts and favorite story alerts that I recieved was positively shocking. I almost had a heartattack. But, I also cried. I feel so loved!
As of now, Hermione is the only one that was involved in the big shebang. Ron and Luna's relationship, however, has been building for a while. Grins evilly You'll just have to wait to find out how. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

The Meaning of Love

The Revelation

Winds of Autumn

Nearly a month later, hand in hand, George Weasley and Hermione Granger walked down the street away from St. Mungos. Hermione's worst fears had been confirmed. When they were a good deal away from the magical hospital, George stopped, tugging her into his arms, letting her cry on his shoulder. Tucking her close to him, George sighed, knowing that Harry and Ron would have to know now.

Poor Hermione would feel like half a person until she told them. He wondered when she would.

"Come on, Hermione. We need to get back so you can tell Mom before Harry and Ron get back." Kissing the top of her head, he took her hand, leading the sniffling young woman up the hill and keeping hold of her hand as he apparated back to the Burrow.

When they walked into the kitchen, Molly took one look at Hermione's wet cheeks and tear filled brown eyes before enveloping the girl in a hug. "It's not as bad as you think, sweetie," Molly cooed softly, stroking a hand down Hermione's hair and down her back, trying her best to soothe the girl.

"It is. I... Molly, I don't know what to do," Hermione whispered, positively broken. Molly swallowed past the lump lodged in her throat. Perhaps it was the part of her heart that belonged to this sweet girl that had befriended her son, had become part of the huge Weasley family.

"You need to tell them, sweetie. Maybe one at a time. Harry's liable to handle it better than Ronald." Closing her eyes, Molly hugged the crushed girl closer, wanting nothing more than to take all the pain away.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered, pulling away. Wipping her cheeks, she offered the worried woman a smile. "I'm going to clean up. I'll tell him... tonight." Nodding, as if doing so would make her decision unable to be parted from, Hermione headed for the stairs. A shower was in order.

After grabbing a change of clothes, Hermione went into the bathroom, locking the door and setting her wand aside, reassured by the simple fact that it was close if she needed it. Turning the water on, making sure the temperature was hot, she slowly stripped. Once naked, she stood, waiting for the bathroom to begin steaming up before she made any move to step under the spray of water. She paused, however, her attention captured on the only slightly growing curve of her stomach. Her waist had thickened, her breasts getting slightly larger. Leave it to Harry and Ron not to notice anything amiss while the rest of her adopted Weasley family and her other numerous friends did. Sighing, she lifted a hand, resting it almost protectively over her stomach.

Once, she had dreamed of what a miracle it would be to have life growing within her. Now, she wanted no part in it. That wasn't to say that she would voluntarilly put the growing life to death. She just... wouldn't necessarilly keep it after it was born. She winced, remembering who had fathered the child.

Slipping beneath the spray of scalding water, she sighed, hoping that the hot water would wash away the memories and the realities. Tilting her head back, she relished in the feeling. The water was so hot that it felt cold, almost like it was melting away her skin. She'd have burns if she wasn't careful.

After washing her hair with a special shampoo that kept her hair in loose, beautiful curls instead of the bushy, wild hair it had been during school, Hermione slipped from the warm cocoon that had delivered her from life for the minutes she'd been safely wrapped inside it. Pulling on one of Harry's old Quidditch jersey's, she smiled faintly. It still smelled of him, a hint of spice and the outdoors. It was rather large on her, the scarlet material slightly faded, with big, gold block letters on the back spelling out POTTER. Adding a pair of sweatpants, she sighed, glancing at herself once more before stepping out of the bathroom.

Ginny had thrown a fit when Harry had given the jersey to Hermione instead of her. Remembering, it made her smile slightly. Ginny was so jealous, and for no reason. Harry would never leave her, not unless he found the other half of his soul. And even saying that, Hermione doubted it.

Waving her wand, Hermione's hair dried, falling around her shoulders and down her back in shining waves of dark brown. Padding softly down the hallway, she slipped into Harry's room, which he shared with Ron. Finding a piece of parchment, she sat at the messy desk, scowling at the state of disarray which the boys left the desk in. Books were scattered over the surface, quills tossed at random, ink bottles left open, some having already spilt. Rolling her eyes, Hermione quickly cleaned the surface up, too afraid for her life to delve anywhere near the drawers.

Scratching out a small note in her neat, percise handwriting, Hermione rolled it up, putting it somewhere that only Harry would find it. Sighing, she closed the bedroom door softly behind her. Leaning back against it for a moment, Hermione drew in a deep breath before going in search of her shoes and a light jacket. A good, long walk would be good for her.

Harry frowned, sitting back in the Quidditch shed at Hogwarts. Early that morning, he'd returned, intent upon helping McGonagall again in restoring the castle to its complete former glory before term started. As it had turned out, he'd only been needed for half the day. Now, near noon, he found himself in deep thought. What was wrong with Hermione that was tearing her apart so badly? He could see it. She didn't talk to him anymore, didn't hardly leave George's side, using him like a balm against whatever was hurting her.

His brow furrowed as he stood, his hand fisting at his side. He didn't stop to question why it concerned him so much. She was his best, best mate. They'd been even closer than him and Ron. It was only natural that he was worried. Pacing along the length of the room, he glanced up, remembering. Hermione had come to meet him after countless games, her cheeks rosey and her eyes wide and sparkling, wanting to congradulate him before he was swept up into the congradulatory party. And she had always managed to make him want to stay with her, talking, rather than enjoying the party that was thrown.

Rubbing the back of his neck with a hand, Harry sighed. It was time he confronted her, demanded to know what was wrong. It was what friends did. Rolling the tension from his shoulders, Harry closed his eyes and apparated back to the Burrow. He stumbled slightly as he opened his eyes to see the place he'd come to think of as home in the past few years. He smiled slightly at the familiar sight, his heart warming in his chest, dispelling some of the worry for a brief second.

Seeing Hermione walking along the edges of the Weasley property, however, brought it all crashing back. Frowning slightly, he narrowed his eyes, grinning slightly at the sight of Hermione's cute, small form tented in his old Quidditch jersey. Picking up into a jog, he quickly came up behind her.

"'Mione?" he asked, slowing his pace to a slow walk as he came closer. He could see where she'd been crying, and it bothered him deeply. His heart... shattered.

"Harry!" she cried, whipping around at the sound of his voice. Immediately, she turned her back to him, starting to murmer a spell that would conceal her crying, but changed her mind. "I... I've been meaning to talk to you..."

Harry smiled and nodded, moving closer and pulling her slight body in for a hug. She was shorter than him, her head brushing his chin, and her small body, packed with curves that he noticed before, yet never thought of in anything more than a passing appreciation, fit perfectly against his. "Come on. Spill it. You know you can tell me anything."

Hermione nodded, taking a deep breath before stepping back. Taking Harry's hand, she pulled it to her stomach, pressing it there, his fingers splayed wide. She waited, watching his face. Harry frowned, moving to pull his hand away from her.

"What are you---"

"I'm pregnant, Harry," Hermione rasped, her voice breaking. Harry's emerald eyes widened, his heart stopping in his chest. Hermione Granger, Gryffindor Princess, pregnant? "Two months along, actually."

"How? Who?" His mouth opened and closed, yet no intelligible question came out. Hermione turned her eyes away in shame, telling Harry more than words ever could. "Who?" he demanded, his voice stronger, raised slightly in rage at whoever had forced himself on his sweet best friend.

"Death Eaters... during the battle. I cornered Goyle's father and they came out of nowhere..." She lifted her gaze slightly, staring at his chest rather than meeting his eyes. Harry reached out to hug her again, but she flinched. Her eyes were full of pain, testifying to a broken woman inside.

"Malfoy threw back his hood...

A sneer marred his perfect features, his grey eyes staring down at her in hatred and something else. Hermione shuddered, wincing and biting her lip to keep from crying out at the latest curse that had been hurled at her, slashing her skin in another spot. Blood already stained her skin, her clothes, and pooled below her on the forest floor. They'd dragged her into the Forbidden Forest, declaring they wanted to hear one last Mudblood cry out as they tortured her.

"Such a pretty wench," Lucius sneered, shrugging out of the black robe, tossing it to the masked Death Eater to his right. Beneath his plain black robes, he had stylish robes, more suited to the higher class and their parties than a Death Eater in the middle of a war.

Hermione, never one to be cowed or fearful of something as despicable as Malfoy, spat a mouthful of blood at him, not caring that it didn't quite reach him. Lucius only chuckled, shaking his head and nodding to the hooded figures that surrounded him.

"I bet you're a virgin, too, Gryffindor," he taunted, slowly pushing clothes out of his way. He waved his wand at her, leaving her body naked under the unforgiving, cruel eyes of the many Death Eaters that surrounded them. A few of them laughed at her, rubbing themselves lewdly, encouraging Lucius as the man lowered himself on top of her.

He took his time, slowly stroking the young body that had outdone his son in classes so many times. Stroking the fire of hatred in her brown eyes. He enjoyed himself emensely, leaving his own marks upon her virgin body before he took her. For the rest of his life, he'd never forget the way her eyes had filled with tears, yet she had somehow kept them from spilling, her eyes spitting fire at him. If looks could kill, he definately would have joined the scores of dead on this day.

When he was done with her, he waved his wand, cleaning the evidence of her virginity from his body before redressing. Snickering as the broken girl turned on her side, curled into herself, crying softly and murmmuring insanely, he nodded to his fellow Death Eaters.

Hermione jerked from the memories as she felt strong arms wrap around her, crushing her to a solid, male form. She stiffened, then relaxed as she realized it was just Harry, trying to comfort her. "George found me, and he summoned Molly. They helped me get cleaned up so no one would know." Sniffling lightly, she clung to Harry. He was her light in this darkness that consumed her now.

"God, Hermione. You should have told me sooner." His hand slipped down her hair, burrying in the thick tresses to keep her head pressed into his chest. He could feel the tears burning his eyes, the complete anger and frustration building inside of him. He'd sworn to protect her, and he'd failed.

"I couldn't, Harry. You had enough on your mind. I couldn't add to the guilt." Lifting her head, she pulled back a fraction, studying his face. His jaw was clenched in rage, every muscle in his Quidditch toned body drawn taut. Lifting a hand, she cupped his cheek. "I'm going to keep the baby, Harry," she said. She frowned slightly at her own revelation. Until she'd said it, she hadn't been entirely sure what she was going to do.

"I figured you would," he said softly, his hand slipping through her hair then delving back in. He'd never noticed how soft her hair was. It was beautiful. "You're too sensitive to get rid of it, wanted or not." Sighing, he rested his forehead against hers. "I'm with you, Hermione. If you ever need anything, I'm behind you."

Hermione smiled, her eyes filling with tears again. Throwing her arms around his neck, she hugged him tightly, her tears sliding down her cheeks to spill against his collar. "Thank you, Harry! I was so worried you wouldn't understand." Harry sighed, understanding better than he wanted.

His gut was still clenched in anger, his hands itching to strangle the life out of Malfoy. If only the bastard wasn't already dead. He couldn't bear the thought of someone else touching Hermione, stroking her body, taking her willingly or against her will. It made him see red, made his blood boil, made him want to destroy something. And yet, with her sweet body pressed so close to his, the slightly rounding stomach pressing against his flat one, he knew that his feelings would have no weight if she ever found someone to make her happy. His wants and wishes were dust in light of hers. Harry closed his eyes, quite disturbed by his sudden realization. If it meant making her happy, he'd willingly watch her walk into the arms of another.

It scared him. He'd never felt that deep of an emotion for anyone, not even Ginny. Was this love? The kind that Molly talked about, the kind she'd found in Arthur? The kind Lily had found in James? The kind that Remus had found in Tonks? If it was, he wasn't sure he wanted it. It involved too much pain and feelings that he didn't want, nor did he have time for. He couldn't love his best mate. He couldn't be in love with Hermione Granger. He was seeing Ginny Weasley.

Harry nearly growled as Hermione pulled away from him, his arms aching to drag her back to his chest. He could still feel her body pressed against him, and he wanted, under no circumstances, to let her slip free. But he had to let her, so he regretfully did so.

"Thank you, Harry," Hermione whispered again, lifting a hand to his cheek softly. Harry fought the urge to turn his face further into her small hand.

"What are friends for?" His gut clenched again as he saw a small smile slip across her face. She was so damn beautiful, so innocent even after all that they'd experienced, that all he wanted to do was protect her. It wasn't completely new to him, as he'd wanted to protect his friends and family since the day he learned of who he was and what he had to do, but the strength with which his inner male had roared to life at the thought of her being touched and hurt? It hadn't happened before, ever.

And suddenly, he realized, that since the search for the Horcruxes and the battle, he'd been in love with her. Her beautiful smile, her bookwormish ways, the tentative smarts, the fierce way she leap up to protect himself and Ron, her deep loyalty that ran deeper than Ron's, her wild hair, her amazing eyes, the way her nose wrinkled when she concentrated, the way the firelight played upon her features when she read in the living room in the evenings. So many little things that made his day... wonderful.

When he didn't talk to her, he was a crab. When he didn't see her smile, he was grumpy all day. Even Ginny had commented on his sour mood the past month. Hermione had been spending more time with George than him and Ron. Swallowing tightly, he blinked as she slid under his arm, her arm around his waist, as she leaned her slight weight against his side. It felt... perfect. Like she was filling some void space inside him that had been missing before.

Smiling slightly, allowing himself to ignore everything else for just a moment, he wrapped his arm firmly around her small waist, anchoring her to his side.

"Harry!"

Harry froze, as did Hermione. As if touching him burned her, she moved back, away from him, causing a shift inside him akin to pain. It was Ginny.

"Hey Ginny," Hermione said softly, offering the red-head a smile. Turning her head, she gave Harry a sincere smile, one that made her eyes light up and made his body surge to life. "Thanks for your help, Harry. I'll see you two later." Moving around Ginny, Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, then headed back down the hill toward the house.

Dragging his eyes off her retreating figure, he lifted a brow to find Ginny studying him. "I understand that she's your best friend, Harry, but theres something else going on, isn't there?" Harry blinked. He'd been caught. He should have known that Ginny would be able to see right through him. It wasn't hard.

"She's special to me, Gin. She was there for me when Ron wasn't, and now I have to be there for her." Harry took a step forward, lowering his voice and dipping his head slightly. "She was raped, Ginny. And she's pregnant with Malfoy. I can't just turn my back on her when she needs her friends the most."

Ginny sucked in a breath upon hearing what Hermione had been through. Her eyes widened. And to think, poor Hermione had been a virgin, introduced to the world of carnal pleasures only to feel pain. "Oh Merlin. I didn't know!" Lifting a hand, she covered her mouth, her eyes wide in shock as she stared past Harry.

"Ginny, I won't let her go through it alone." Ginny's head jerked up at the tone in Harry's voice. Loyalty. Devotion. A desire to forsake everything else in order to persue this one path. Her eyes went wide. He was in love with her! Perhaps he didn't realize it yet, but he was. It would explain... everything.

"Neither will I," tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop it. It surprised them both.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked slowly, unsure that he wanted Ginny anywhere near his Hermione while she needed him. It was bound to get rough, and he knew that there was a chance of deeper bonding. Did he really want to share that?

Ginny nodded slowly, biting her lip. "Yeah. If she wants me to help. We haven't been very close lately." Harry nearly nodded as he saw his girlfriend look sad at her last statement.

"Talk to her. I'm sure she wouldn't push you away." It was torn from his throat. He didn't want them getting close! Was it too much to ask to have someone to himself? Someone to depend on him for once? Someone that he could protect and love? Was it too much to expect that he could repay her for her complete devotion since their first year? Without Ginny's interfering presence?

Ginny smiled at him, leaning forward to brush a quick kiss over his lips before heading back for the house. Harry shoved his hands into his pockets, staring blankly after the beautiful red head. Only, his heart didn't soar like it did at the sight of a bushy, brown haired girl that wore baggy clothes.

Following slowly, Harry frowned. How could he ever tell Hermione? And, on the same token, Ginny? He'd have to. There was no way he could be happy with the rest of his life stuck with Ginny, seeing lines of struggle and a harsh life appearing on Hermione's beautiful face. He would tell them, he decided. He'd tell Ginny that it just wasn't working, and he'd allow things to flow a bit between Hermione and himself before he decided how he should tell her.

The strangest part was, he knew that as long as he had Hermione, he'd gladly raise Malfoy's baby as his own. Unintentional as it had been, Malfoy had given Harry a gift; a way to gain Hermione's love. If Hermione hadn't been raped, he was sure he never would have come to the realization that he loved her. No one else mattered, no one else held a candle to her beauty, inside and out.

Entering the Burrow throught the kitchen door, Harry paused and smiled, leaning against the doorjam as he watched Molly fawning over Hermione openly now.

"What color do you think? Pink? Blue? Yellow? Or a pale mix?" Hermione looked dazed as Molly prattled on about plans. Apparently, she thought that Ron knew. And if her excited words were any indication, she thought that Ron was supporting Hermione, 100.

"Eh, Molly?" Harry interrupted, smiling slightly at the dazed look in Molly's eyes as she finally realized that Harry was in the room.

"Yes, dear?"

"Ron doesn't know yet," he said, his eyes flicking to Hermione. His stomach errupted in butterflies at the small smile she gave him, full of gratitude.

"Oh. I just... assumed that..." Molly broke off, frowning.

"Molly? I took everyone's advice. I... I was hoping that Harry would be with me when I told Ron..." Hermione broke off, glancing at Harry hesitantly.

"Of course I will," Harry answered, no pause needed to consider or process the question. It was an immediate answer. No thought needed. His quick answer seemed to reassure Hermione, for she beamed at him.

"I see. Well, Ron should be home soon. I'll start on dinner." Still frowning slightly, Molly turned, waving her wand to draw the necessary things for lunch to her. Harry stepped forward, waiting for Hermione, before walking up to the room he shared with Ron. Sitting on his bed, he glanced at the desk and grinned. Hermione had definately been in here.

Suddenly, images filled his mind. A quaint little cottage, filled with books and little things Hermione. A baby, brown haired and just as intelligent as Hermione. Grimmauld Place, redecorated and homey. Another baby, black haired with huge brown eyes, held tenderly in Hermione's arms.

"Hermione? I was thinking... About redecorating Grimmauld Place." Harry looked at her, leaving the discussion open. Her eyes widened, a smile spreading across her features.

"I think thats great, Harry!" The house was his, handed down for Sirius. Redecorating and flushing out the rest of the small touches of the Dark Arts and replacing it with something that made it home to him would be good. It would give Harry something to go to everyday, somewhere where he would feel safe. Somewhere he could start a family.

Her gut twisted, her heart thudding harshly at the thought. Harry? Starting a family? With... another woman? With... Ginny? The thought was too revolting, threatening to make her throw up all over the boy's room.

"Would you help me?" Harry asked, trying not to look too interested in her response. He didn't realize for a few seconds that he was holding his breath, hoping with everything he had that she would agree. The soft noise of a sob broke his concentration, made him look up.

"You... You'd want me to help?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide, filling with tears as her lips trembled. It seemed that in one day, every emotion she'd ever felt for Harry, even the ones she'd locked away during the years, had tumbled forth and drawn size from freedom.

Harry smiled, so big that his glasses lifted slightly off his nose, and leaned forward to brush the tears off his best friends cheeks. Her eyes met his, then fluttered closed for a moment before opening and concentrating on his face again. "Of course. What kind of home would it be without the help of my best mate in redecorating?" he teased. Hermione's lips tilted up into a smile and she moved forward, resting comfortably against him. He hugged her easilly to his form, smoothing his hand over her hair as she leaned into him. It gave him the funniest feeling, a sense of contentment and peace.

It was strange; he'd felt it with Ginny once. It had never been as complete, but he'd felt it. Maybe he found it in acceptance. In those he loved and who loved him in turn. As he thought of this, his hand slowly moving up and down Hermione's back in calming motions, he had to admit that he wasn't ready to admit his feelings just yet. He and Ginny were doing good, and Hermione would only think he was pittying her. He sighed, lowering his cheek to Hermione's hair.

For now, he'd just see how things went. Maybe these feelings for his best mate were confused, scrambled up by the new realization of what had befallen her. That was it. It had to be. If not, how in the world could he face himself and everyone else?