Chapter 5

Hermione's private anguish lasted little more than an hour; a timid knock at the door broke her silence. She barely lifted her head from where she was attempting to smother herself to look at the door; she knew it would be Harry.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, already halfway to the bed, she shrugged her shoulders and felt the mattress dip at her side.

"If you want," she mumbled into her pillow.

"Bad day?" he asked, tugging the pillow from her face and shoving it under his head.

She glared at him before responding, "You could say that."

"Anything I can do to help?" he offered half heartedly, completely ignoring her glare as he stared up at the ceiling.

"Not really, I don't think even you can get me my job back," she muttered bitterly.

Harry turned his head to look at her, first in disbelief and then with sympathy, "Hermione, I'm sorry."

"What's done is done; nothing is going to change it. Plus it's not you who should be sorry. It's Pansy Parkinson who caused this whole mess."

"Pansy? Merlin, I haven't seen her since Hogwarts," Harry said in surprise, watching Hermione's face screw up now.

"Me either to be honest, I mean she is featured in the Prophet occasionally, but she just turned up in my office today and from there it was all down hill," she huffed, throwing her hands up to cover her face.

"How about I get us a drink and you can tell me all about it," Harry offered, sliding off the bed in search of firewhisky.

"Only if you tell me your problems too," she scolded half heartedly; suddenly grateful she wasn't going to be on her own.

"Deal," Harry called from the other room, emerging a moment later with a bottle in hand and two glasses floating behind him, "So Pansy huh? Still a pug faced cow?"

"A pregnant pug faced cow with a liking for revenge," she muttered, downing her drink with a wince, hissing the breath out between her lips when the amber liquid burnt all the way down her throat.

"Dear gods, even in Azkaban Malfoy managed to do that," Harry breathed, blinking down at her before downing his own drink.

"I know!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up, empty glass clutched in her palm and all, "I wonder how he is going to take the news. He will probably try to use it as another plea for early parole. I can just imagine him now, marching up and down Diagon Alley pronouncing his innocence the moment he gets out. Mind you, she didn't even know she was pregnant, she just thought her house-elves were all play and less work."

"She never was the brightest potion in the classroom." He smirked, before a thoughtful expression crossed his face. "You know, that's probably why he got her knocked up in the first place, to get some kind of early parole," Harry theorised, filling her glass again.

"That's the funny thing though," she mused. "When I told her she was pregnant she started shouting at me, saying I was accusing her of infidelity. I don't think this baby is Malfoy's."

"But she did make that visit to Azkaban a few weeks ago; remember it was in the papers and everything. She had to get special permission from the Minister."

"A few weeks ago, Harry. She was showing and her house elf has already given birth, you know that doesn't occur until after the first trimester. She is a more than 'a few weeks' along. I would say months by the look of her."

"Wow," was all the Auror had to say, sitting back against the headboard and downing his drink.

"So anyway, after I told her she was pregnant and refused to take the house-elf off her hands she exploded and ran out of my office. The baby was distraught, so I had to take her away; Fred and George agreed to look after her for a few hours." She didn't mention that there was much more that had happened at the joke shop. "When I came back from lunch she was standing there in the office with my boss and I was told to get out, just like that."

"That bitch!" Harry's eyes were wide with indignation.

"I know I had pissed off my boss a few times in the last week, but I never thought… I never saw this coming," she said shakily, flopping back on the pillows, feeling a little better having told someone.

"What are you going to do now?" he asked after a few moments of silent drinking.

"Look for another job I guess. I have enough saved to last me a few weeks, but I know any idle time will be taken up with Ginny and Mrs Weasley trying to get me to plan this wedding," she tried not to grimace at the thought.

"Too soon, huh?" Harry guessed, not missing the look.

"A little," she whispered, "I don't want to upset anyone by pushing it back again. I love Ron more than anything but it's just, well, I don't want things to change."

"Who says they have to?" he asked, frowning down at her.

"I know they will Harry, even if you don't want to admit to it happening now. Soon enough you will move out, Ron and I will start to look for a bigger place, I will fall pregnant, stop working and, before I know it, I will be wandering a lonely house, looking after babies and waiting for Ron to come home to have an interesting adult conversation."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Harry said, trying to sound optimistic, but failing miserably.

"Not bad for some," she reasoned.

"But it's not you?" he smiled, patting her shoulder before pouring them both another drink.

"No, not me. I want Ron to be happy, and that future would be enough for him. I feel so selfish putting things off all because I am happy with my independent lifestyle. I want things to follow their course naturally; you know, get married when I'm ready, to start a family and to take time off work to have a baby but just not yet. I want to grow old when I am actually old," she sighed.

"I think Ron would be happier if you told him this. You don't have to do what you aren't ready to do, he will understand that."

"I know he will, but I don't want to make him unhappy," she whispered, dropping her head to rest against her best friend's stomach sadly.

"Seeing you unhappy makes him unhappy, you should know that," Harry told her gently, his fingers whispering across her hair in comfort.

"Yeah," she agreed sadly. "But enough about me, what's happened to you today?"

"I uh, asked Ginny to marry me," he frowned.

"What happened?" she asked, her eyes widening.

Harry coughed uncomfortably and took a long sip from his drink before finally confessing, "She threw up on me."

"Oh."

"Yeah, maybe I should have waited to ask her the most important question of our lives when we were both a little more sober," he speculated sadly and Hermione couldn't help it - her lips twitched for the first time all day and before she knew it she was smiling and laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Harry stared at her a moment before he too found himself laughing. It was an interesting end to an interesting day.

Hermione cracked open a wary eyelid, waking for the second time in as many days with the mother of all hangovers. Ron rolled over, his arm flopping over her waist as his brow knit together in frustration.

"Will someone shut whatever that is up?" a muffled voice said from her other side. She whipped her head around so fast she was sure to have a crick for days. Harry lay close to her side, slumped where they had fallen asleep talking the night before.

It took her another bleary moment to recognise that the noise - that didn't seem to want to stop by Hermione's sheer will power - was the baby house elf on the floor. Pulling herself from between the two heavy men, she wiggled down to the end of the bed and pushed herself off.

Her legs felt like jelly and her head felt like lead, she had trouble standing there, swaying dizzily, so she quickly decided being on the floor was best. Crawling on her hands and knees to the cardboard box by her bedside table she made quick hushing noises to no avail. It wasn't until she picked up the house elf that its squeals of torment came to an end.

"Thank bloody Merlin," Ron muttered into his pillow, which was quickly followed by Harry's answering snore.

"Sorry," she whispered loudly, already hoisting herself to her feet and unsteadily making her way toward the kitchen.

She pulled the blanket off the back of the couch, folding it over a few times before wrapping it around the elf and herself in a sling, leaving her hands free. Before she did anything today, she would need to replenish her sober up and hangover potion stores. By the smell of Ron's breath and the look of Harry, she wasn't going to be the only one worse for wear today.

Humming softly, she set about lighting the stove and placing her old pewter cauldron on to heat. It was a simple enough potion, one that she had perfected over the years, perfectly designed to be made with little thought and little time.

"Need a hand?" a husky voice whispered in her ear, moments before long arms wrapped around her middle and a pair of chapped lips caressed her cheek. She smiled and leaned back into Ron's arms, enjoying the feeling of quite comfort he offered.

"I'm nearly done, but you can sterilize a few jars for me if you like," she replied, pulling away and adding the final ingredient, watching as the whole concoction turned a brilliant shade of purple.

Ron shuffled to the other side of the kitchen, finding a whole cupboard full of old vials from potions long gone. He set about his task as they fell into familiar comfortable silence. The mood in the kitchen reminded her of older, happier times when they had first moved in together.

Away from Hogwarts, his bustling family and any work mates, Ron had matured into a rather level headed individual. Where he may have once complained to help out like this in the kitchen, now he quietly set about the task he knew would be of some benefit to him in the end. The war had made them all more humble about their existences, making them appreciate things they may once have taken for granted.

"Um, Hermione…" Ron said a few minutes later, his back still turned to her as he hunched over the sink, scrubbing away any lasting residue.

"Yes?" she asked, turning the flame off to look at him curiously.

"Fred and George told me you lost your job yesterday. I'm sorry," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture she would almost call guilt.

She stared at him for a moment before crossing the small space between them. Gripping his shoulder tightly she spun him around, "What do you have to be sorry for?" she asked, clearly seeing he was upset about something.

"I wasn't there for you; I just walked out the door and left you to deal with it. I'm sorry," his face was drawn, his eyes downcast. She couldn't stand it.

"That's very sweet of you Ron," she whispered, leaning in to kiss his cheek, "but there was nothing you could have done."

"Yeah," he said, but he sounded anything but convinced.

"If you want, we can go through the classifieds when the Prophet arrives," she cajoled, smiling when his lifted his eyes to meet hers.

"How about some of this potion and maybe a coffee first?" he said. Pulling out his wand he began levitating the jars toward the still bubbling cauldron. She smiled at him, even though he knew the task would be as boring as one of Professor Binns' old History classes, he was still willing to sit down to help.

"Sure, I'll go wake Harry up."

Still smiling she left the room, feeling better than she had in days; maybe things were looking up for her after all. Maybe losing her job wasn't the end of the world, but the start of a new era. She could only hope.

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