Step by step, the young witch and wizard climbed the steps of Hogwarts Castle, past the many sleeping portraits adorning the walls. Harry and Hermione walked together in silence, and in minutes, they eventually arrived at Gryffindor Tower. At the entrance where the Fat Lady's Portrait stood, Hermione suddenly felt a bit uneasy. She stumbled a bit and held onto the wall for support. Harry quickly rushed over to her and grabbed her waist.
'Hermione!,' said Harry, obviously caught off guard, ' are you alright!?'
Hermione closed her eyes, smiled a small smile, and effortlessly regained her balance. 'Harry, I'm fine…just a bit of dizziness…I'm…Oh Harry, stop looking at me like that –' Hermione half laughed, half pretended to look annoyed. Harry had a frown upon his face. 'You know, Hermione,' he said, 'I think Snape is right – you really do need some sleep. It must be close to 1 or 2 in the morning…'
Hermione turned and smiled at Harry. She took her hand off the wall, and stepped closer to him. She looked in his brilliant green eyes for a brief moment, before caressing the side of his face and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. 'Harry,' said Hermione, '…you really are sweet...' Harry directed his eyes to the floor and chuckled. 'Well, I don't know about sweet, Hermione…concerned is more like it…' and after taking a look at the desolate halls that surrounded them, motioned to the portrait and said to Hermione, '…come on, let's get inside.'
Hermione looked at the Fat Lady, muttering the word, 'Boysenberry' and took hold of Harry's hand as they walked through the portrait into the common room. The red, ornate area rugs, plush sofa, heavy red and gold curtains that framed the massive glass windows, and slowly dying fire that emitted an orangey glow, were surely a welcomed sight to Harry and Hermione. However, what the pair failed to realize, was a tuft of red hair that was peaking out under a tan blanket situated on the large couch in front of the glowing embers of the fireplace.
'…I know,' continued Harry's hushed conversation, as he and Hermione made their entrance into the room. '…I just can't believe that he did this for us…Do you think…do you think he feels sorry for us? …For the baby?'
...And just then, the red tuft of hair that belonged to a Mr. Ronald Weasley moved slightly, and he awoke from his slumber. Ron sat straight up, as if being interrupted from a dream, and with a groggy and scratchy voice, squinted at the pair and spoke to his two best friends:
'Baby…? Baby?! What the bloody hell are you talking about?!' said Ron.
And Harry and Hermione froze in their tracks. For they had failed to mention their predicament to Ron. They had failed to mention to Ron, their best friend, that they, Harry and Hermione, were going to be parents.