AN:

A few quick notes about this one:

— on AO3 this story is modern with magic, meaning it takes place in the present day and not what would have been present day in HP canon
— the first half of this story will predominantly take place within the Muggle World and as such, there will be a lot of muggle technology seen and used
— in addition to playing with the years that events took place, I will also be playing with the date of certain events in Deathly Hallows to suit the timeline of this fic

I hope y'all enjoy this one. There are several aspects about the characters and the plot that are completely new for me as a writer and I'm very much excited to spread out of my comfort zone with this one. Then again, it's Flintmione and that seems to be all that's needed to make me excited these days lol.

Chapter One — May 2019

What I Never Knew I Always Wanted — Carrie Underwood

Three weeks since the culminating battle that had taken place on the grounds of a now smoldering and crumbling Hogwarts and life was returning to normal — or rather it was shifting to what normal would become. Those who had either vanished or perished had all been accounted for, recovered or mourned, and laid to rest with honors for the sacrifices they made in the name of freeing their world from oppression. Recovery was slow but steady; the terror of the last several years receding like a natural disaster leaving them all thankful for what they came out on the other side still in possession of but forever changed by what had occurred and been lost.

Hermione herself had faced good days and bad days since Harry showed remarkable triumph over Voldemort. Through a strict course of potions and a carefully tended to diet overseen by Mrs. Weasley at each meal, the worst of the starvation and how it had ravished her body had been repaired. No longer living in a tent, with fear and hopelessness as a constant companion, the stress of the last ten months also began to lift from her shoulders. She was a long way off from true acceptance of the events — the effects of all she had seen, done, and been subjected to beginning to make themselves known and present her with a second, more internal, battle as she got further removed from the situations that had taken precedence over coping with her trauma — but her body was healing and soon her mind would too.

Though changed by new scars, she had returned to a state of being generally healthy. Her skin had a creamy glow, her bones were no longer sharp and protruding, and her hair was once again full of life and lustrous color. She had even begun to fill out, though subtle it was. Her cheeks while still defined had an echo of roundness to them. Her breasts usually small and pert had grown full and heavy though no more noticeable than that of having possibly indulged in one too many servings of Mrs. Weasley's rich food. Her hips had started to carry a gentle flare that hadn't been present before escaping with Harry and Ron and now made it impossible to get the button on her shorts and jeans to close but that was easily attributed to her crossing the bridge from adolescence into womanhood. And her stomach that had always been taut with toned muscle had grown soft looking but again, she had brushed it aside as a result of caloric excess or possible sodium retention from having not had such things in nearly a year.

For three weeks she had done a rather admirable job at denying the truth that was before her eyes each morning as she showered and dressed. However following her latest appointment with Madam Pomfrey the day prior, reality was settling in. Her cycle had always been rather sporadic and quite awful when they did come, something she had once sorted out with birth control potions. In preparation for taking Harry on the run though, she had not counted the easing of her periods amongst the priorities in packing. Even if she had, she would have only been covered for the first three months, having not been allowed to acquire more than a seasonal supply until she was both of age and a graduate of Hogwarts — the two milestones that marked one as an adult in the Wizarding World.

Ultimately, it hadn't been much of a problem. Not long into their journey, the malnutrition and stress had turned her sporadic periods almost nonexistent. Over the last ten months, she had only experienced it three times and each had only lasted but two or three days. The most recent of those being almost four months ago — or fourteen weeks as she would no doubt have to get used to counting by for the time.

Though she wouldn't show it, Hermione knew the lack of her returned cycle was beginning to stress the medi-witch. None of the healers had asked of her sexual history over the last year beyond that of gentle inquires of sexual assault, and she hadn't provided them with more than an assurance that that particular violation was not amongst the deeds she suffered while in Malfoy Manor or at any point. Without her offer of additional information — her and her partner having sworn to keep what had transpired one night when the bleak outlook of their reality had become too much — all that was left to be assumed was that she was facing lasting, possibly permanent, damage to her reproductive system as a result of Bellatrix Lestrange. She knew better though and the time for denial was up.

Up before the rest of the Burrow's occupants, Hermione had stashed herself away in the powder room on the ground floor. Reading over, What to Expect When You're Expecting: Witchly Edition 8, she practiced the wand movements and mouthed the incantation for the pregnancy charm in the first chapter for the hundredth time. She had been up most of the night studying not only that, but reading and rereading everything within the chapters that covered the first trimester in its entirety and the first weeks of the second which was where she guessed she was currently at. Unless of course the alternative was true and she was in fact suffering damage to her ovaries or possibly her uterus. She didn't believe herself to be that lucky though.

Taking a deep, resigned breath around the spot on the side of her thumb that she was picking at with her teeth, she lifted the new wand she had been matched with no longer wishing to carry around the taint of Bellatrix and cast, "Date Cyclum," at her reflection. The golden ribbon of magic floated from the tip of her wand to collide with the glass. Bouncing off the lower abdomen of her reflected self, it traveled back on a gentle wave to thread and tie itself together around her.

Forcing her eyes to remain open and her ears active, it wasn't long before she was greeted with a rapid whooshing. Its sound, though not initially what she wanted to hear, was the sweetest rhythm she had ever experienced. The second heartbeat growing inside her was so small, so fast, so incredibly fragile but so strong. The tiny thing inside her — the tiny baby — had not only implanted itself inside a brutal and hostile host but had survived and was thriving. Just as she had been, just as the baby's father had been, her child was a determined, stubborn fighter and Hermione found herself instantly in love, her own heart growing and filling in a way she never thought possible.

"Hi, sweet girl," she gently cooed, lifting her shirt to observe her stomach from the side. "Or boy. The book says even with magic I won't know for a few more weeks but girl feels… right." Caressing her hand over the barely noticeable bump she had told herself was bloating, she whispered, "I'm so sorry you've had such a rough start at life. I can't promise I'll be a perfect mum — I will do my very best by you every single day though — but I can promise that all the horrible things we've gone through over the last few months are over and no one will ever hurt you again. Your daddy and I will make sure of that."

Summoning a self-inking quill to her, Hermione cast the charm at the mirror again, once more becoming entranced by the sound of her baby's heartbeat, requiring her to cast for a third time. On her next attempt, she was finally able to take down every detail it returned. As she had guessed, she was fourteen weeks along, putting herself right into the beginning stages of her second trimester. Heavily annotating the pages of the book she had now fully commandeered, she made a list of everything she had missed and would need to be seen for, as well all the things she would need to be on the lookout for and to read up on more.

First on her list, telling the father. Their situation wasn't ideal — in fact it was potentially problematic — having had a multitude of reasons as to why they agreed to never speak of what had transpired between them. But neither of them had ever been the type to falter when a challenge was presented and with no remaining family — either living or aware of their existence — to be had between them, she knew this baby was a blessing. Even if the sort of love between her and the father was more platonic than romantic. They still cared for one another, respected one another, and though they had their scuffles in the past, they were ultimately of the same compassion and moral compass. They were undeniably young but if they could survive the last seven years together, there wasn't a doubt in her mind that they could navigate parenthood together given their unique situation.

Closing the book, Hermione banished it and the quill, to her beaded purse before leaving the powder room. Finding it to still be far too early for the rest of the slumbering house to wake, she made her way through the kitchen and out into the back garden of the Burrow. Atop a particularly grassy knoll, she took a seat in her pajamas, her hand drafting to her stomach as she watched the sun begin to rise, speaking softly to the little life that had stolen her heart.

Not long into her musings over the admittedly fanciful daydreams of what motherhood would be like, she was interrupted by Harry's arrival. Plopping down beside her, he opened up his arm for her to lean into him and kissed the top of her head asking, "What has you up so early?"

"I imagine some of the same things as you."

"No," he responded after mulling her words over for a minute. "If that were the case you'd be inside reading or if you were too anxious to sit still, cleaning something ridiculous for Mrs. Weasley, like the underside of her kitchen table. There's something else bothering you.

"Come on, tell me. There are no secrets between us anymore," he chuckled, the sound at once being both mirthful and hollow.

Watching the brightening sun cast its rays further and further over Ottery St. Catchpole calling the wildlife awake, she was briefly entertained by a flirty squirrel jumping through the tall grass as it gave chase to a potential mate. As the two ran up the side of the tree, her gaze drifted over to the coop of chickens the Weasleys kept. Inside was a small littering of fluffy, yellow chicks, chirping and stumbling about as they followed their mother hen around desperate for breakfast. All around her were signs of new life growing and being created, a sight she hadn't previously ever spent much time examining but was now deliriously thrilled to secretly be apart.

Sitting up with a serene smile, she met Harry's inquisitive gaze and said, "I'm pregnant."

The assessing quality of his face, smoothed out into blank shock as his bottom lip repeatedly parted from the top before saying, "What?"

"I'm pregnant; fourteen weeks to be exact," Hermione repeated. "I've suspected it for a few weeks now but haven't had the courage to confirm it until this morning. I don't really think I need to say this but you're the father."

"No I'm not."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm not the father. I can't be."

Scooting back from him, she tilted her head in disbelief and tried to rein in the snappish quality of her voice as she asked, "Oh you're not? Then who is? Because I certainly didn't climb on top of myself and get myself pregnant in that tent. And to the best of my recollection, you're the only wizard I've been with unless you know something I don't."

"Yes… I mean no… I mean… shite," Harry stuttered, running his hand through his perpetually messy hair. Bringing his fingertips together, he pleaded, "You can't be pregnant, Hermione. It was one night. One. No, it's not possible."

Crossing her arms, she huffed, "Oh it is. I've confirmed it several times already. Would you like to see for yourself?" she asked, getting her wand ready.

"No!" he shouted back. Balling his hands into fists, he knocked them into his forehead several times before saying, "You can't do this to me. Please, I've only just defeated Voldemort. I'm not ready for another responsibility. I don't want another responsibility. Especially not another that's forced upon me."

"Forced upon you?" she repeated in angry disbelief. "I didn't force anything upon you, Harry Potter! We got into this situation together and we will deal with it together."

Standing up, he held his hands out and emphatically said, "No, we won't. I'm not even eighteen, I can't do this. I won't do this.

"We've just finished a bloody war, for Godric's sake! We're not fit to be parents, we're too messed up in the head and it'll only get worse before it gets better.

"No, absolutely not. No, I refuse. Just get rid of it, yeah?"

"Get rid of it… like I'm carrying around an old jumper and not a baby. A baby we made."

"Fine, don't get rid of it but don't expect me to help you. I will not have anything to do with this and I will deny that child is mine. You won't steal the rest of my life from me, Hermione. I fought too hard and for too long to be strapped with another burden, especially one I can't ever rid my hands of."

"How can you be so cruel?" she softly asked, placing a protective hand over her abdomen. "This is your baby; a part of you. This will be your family, the very thing you've alway yearned for. And you want me to just throw him or her away like garbage.

"I don't know if it's the shock of the news speaking or the rattling of the war but this isn't you, Harry. The person speaking to me right now, isn't my friend. Whatever this is," she said, gesturing to him with confusion, "I want no part of it. You aren't the person I spent the last seven years protecting, helping, and fighting for; the person I went to war for; was tortured for.

"You're not the friend I thought you were, nor are you someone I want in my child's life. I've experienced enough hatred and resentment to last a lifetime and I will not allow that to be cast upon this baby. Not by anyone, but especially not by their father.

"So don't worry, Harry, I won't be asking for your help or your support or for you to recognize this baby as yours. I don't need you; we don't need you," she ended, with surprising convection and calm resolve.

Hermione had given seven years of her life to him and their friendship. Even when he would be caught in the middle and intentionally or unintentionally leave her out in the cold, she had stood by his side. Her loyalty to him had been endless and she had thought it was reciprocated. She never imagined that after all they had been through this would be what tore them apart.

True, they had their reasons for having agreed to never repeat or speak of the night they had spent together when they were facing what they thought would be an inevitable end to their too short lives. The knowledge of their shared loss of virginity would have devastated Ron and Ginny. It was better they had decided to act as if the moment had never happened in order to spare the feelings of the one he loved and the one who loved her. But her pregnancy changed that and though it would be hard, she had thought that for once, Harry would have been unquestioningly on her side, their baby's side. And whether temporary or not, it just wasn't meant to be. It never had been.

Their friendship had finally reached the impasse that would send them on different paths. They hadn't reached its end in a blaze of spells and curses as they had too often feared. Instead, they greeted it quietly and without production. He couldn't, wouldn't be a father and she wouldn't, couldn't imagine a life without the one she was growing in it.

Leaving him behind, though she hoped not forever even as she knew there was no coming back from this morning, she started down the knoll back for the Burrow. Only a few steps past the base and he called out, "What about Ron and Ginny and what this will do to them? It's not just you and I, Hermione. You're being selfish."

"Maybe, but I've made up my mind," she shrugged without looking back.

Heading up to her lone room, Hermione collected the few odds and ends she had forced herself to keep out so that she wasn't still living as if she would need to pick up and run at a moment's notice. Placing everything within the purse that had been their lifeline and that would continue to be hers, she pulled out a change of clothes and cinched the bag closed with her worn pajamas inside. And with her wand wound through her hair and the purse tied to her wrist, she headed back downstairs and into the kitchen that was coming alive with the other occupants of the home.

"Good morning, dear," Mrs. Weasley, greeted over her shoulder from the cooktop. "Goodness, you're up and ready early today. Another appointment with Poppy?"

"No, actually," she responded, avoiding Harry's gaze as much as he was avoiding hers. "I've decided to head to Australia today. Madam Pomfrey said I'm right as rain so I figured no sense in putting it off further."

"We'll go with you, won't we, Harry?" Ron quickly volunteered. "Let us eat and dress and we'll get going. One hour, promise."

Smiling at her friend whom she wished she could love as he did her, she shook her head and said, "Thank you but I need to do this alone. It's… it's not going to be a happy reunion and I think I would rather experience that by myself. Plus, I don't know how long I'll be and you're needed here, Ron."

"You'll come back though, right?"

Closing her eyes against the sadness she saw in his blue ones, she jerkily nodded, "Eventually. I just… I need time."

Coming away from the cooktop, Mrs. Weasley took her hands and led her from the kitchen, quietly saying, "You write to me, you hear? I want you to keep in contact with me and you tell me if you need anything. Either of you," she knowingly added, before hugging her. "Regardless of who that baby's father is and how they came to be, know that I'll think of them as my first grand baby. And if you decide you don't want to do this alone, you come right back here and I'll be with you every step of the way."

Sniffling as her eyes blurred, Hermione tightened her arms around her only remaining maternal figure and murmured, "I will, thank you."

"No need to thank me, dear. You're family and that's what we do for the ones we love. You're going to do splendidly. Now go on, I'll handle Ron for you."

Squeezing the woman who had only just lost a child of her own and still managed to show endless compassion and support for her, Hermione whispered, "I love you too," before taking a deep breath to banish her tears.

Though she knew motherhood, single motherhood at that, wouldn't be easy, especially at nineteen, she had survived six years of near constant danger and a year of war. If she could do that and come out on the other side still strong in herself and her beliefs even when it alienated those she thought she could rely on, then she could do anything. She didn't need Harry and her baby certainly didn't need him either. And if he changed his mind about the blessing he saw to be a burden, he knew how to contact her. Until then, it was just the two of them and she was more than okay with that because girl or boy, her child was exactly what she never knew she wanted, let alone needed.