Chapter 13

Hermione waved and smiled at the witch manning the information counter, slowly limpimg her way down the long hallway, and willing herself not to vomit with every pained step, hating the cane at her side with every click against the floor. The ringing in her ears was constant, the dizziness they said would fade but the horrible nightmares of being trapped under so much rubble and debris would take a lot longer to go away. Post-traumatic stress, they'd informed her upon waking, a horrible side effect from the war, triggered by the explosion in the storeroom.

"Gods 'Mione, we've been looking for you everywhere!" George exclaimed when he caught sight of her exiting the tall doors marked 'Maternity' at St Mungos Hospital. He rushed to her side, gripping her elbow when she turned too quickly at the sound of his voice, nearly losing her precarious balance with the cane.

"I was just…" she began to explain, letting him lower her into the nearest chair as the ground shifted under her. She groaned as her body sank into the plush folds and thanked Merlin for the break. Bones were easy to heal, she'd been told; cursed flesh, not so much.

"Just nothing, you were told to stay in bed. You nearly died!" he exclaimed, hovering over her, a deep frown forming a crease between his eyes.

"Nearly being the operative word," she grumbled back light heartedly, "I was just checking on Pansy – nobody will tell me anything!"

"That's because there is nothing to tell. The bitch doesn't need your sympathy," George replied bitterly, his tone surprising her. It was rare to see the twins so serious, but the accident three days past had shown her another side to Fred and George. There hadn't been much joking since they'd pulled her unconscious from the wreckage of their shop.

She contemplated the tall redhead, who had been at her side since the incident and felt her heart tug heavily. Her near death experience had done nothing to dampen her feelings; in fact her traitorous heart nearly sung every time one of them stepped into her depressing little hospital room and cried bitterly whenever they left her side for food or sleep. Her little infatuation was threatening to overcome her common sense and it was a fine line she knew she was treading – people were going to end up hurt, herself included.

"Where's Fred?" she asked, resisting the urge to pull him down toward her so she could kiss the frown he still wore away. Deliberately changing the subject from Pansy and definitely not bringing up her unwanted feelings for the twins.

"Looking for you," he said with a stern look he had clearly learned from his mother. She couldn't resist the giggle that escaped when his expression turned comical, but it didn't last, the frown returned and so did her heavy mood.

She felt like a drowning woman, clinging to what she knew was the right thing to do, all the while ignoring the very parts of her that told her things could be different. She was so confused; it made her dizzier than the spell Pansy had flung at her.

"What's wrong? I was only gone for ten minutes. You're worse than Harry sometimes," she sighed, holding out both hands so he could help her out of the too-comfortable chair.

"Speaking of The Chosen One, he's waiting for you," George said, avoiding looking at her as he pulled her tightly to his side, "and Ron."

Hermione went still. Ron had been out of contact for three days – despite numerous attempts to get hold of him, nobody, including Harry, had been able to get in contact with her fiancé.

"You alright?" George asked, when she paused mid-rise, her heart pounding at the thought of facing her fiancé after so much had changed. Never before had she been so terrified to be in the same room as someone as sweet and harmless as Ron Weasley, but her sweating palms and sudden pounding headache made her want to run as far away as she could.

How could she look him in the eye and pretend everything was the same?

"Hermione!" Fred exclaimed from across the foyer, breaking her internal panic. His long stride had him at her side in seconds, "Where were you?"

"Checking on Pansy," George snitched before she could get a word in edgewise. She pulled a face at him, but his attention was on his twin.

Fred took up her arm on the other side and began slowly assisting her through the foyer and toward the ward she would be staying in for at least another week. Her cane was tucked under his arm and she was helpless but to accept the help.

"Well, someone has to," she finally snapped, finding the topic a good way to avoid talking about Ron, when just a minute ago she's been trying to avoid talking about her former school-mate.

Fred adopted the same frown, "She's crazy, 'Mione. She doesn't need your sympathy."

"I'm just curious. That kind of jealous rage doesn't just happen – there has to be a reason she wanted to hurt me, to hurt her baby," Hermione rationalized.

The twins exchanged a look. It was a look Hermione remembered all too well from school and not for the first time wondered if telepathy was a thing between the brothers.

"What? She questioned warily.

"Nothing," they replied at the same time.

Everything in her wanted to scream at them to explain themselves, but she knew they wouldn't until they were ready. Taking a steadying breath as a wave of nausea swept over her, she forced herself continued on as if the look never happened, "She's still unconscious, anyway. Its sad, how alone she is in there. No flowers, no annoying men buzzing about her bedside. I've been thinking I could lend her a few of you to bother her, since that's all you have done since I woke up."

Fred rolled his eyes dramatically, "Well, there is another one waiting to annoy you, so you had best get used to it."

The paused in their slow progression as a young witch, dressed in Medirobes fresh out of Hogwarts, rattled past them with a tea trolley. She flushed and muttered something indiscernible, causing Hermione to frown, "What's her problem?" she muttered.

"Oh, I don't know. One of the Wizarding worlds greatest saviours just passed her in the hall looking a little murderous," Fred replied, steering them back on course.

"More like jealous," George replied with a laugh.

"Jealous?" Hermione squeaked, this time they wouldn't let her stop.

"You're like an open book, 'Mione, everyone can see what's going on in that enormous head sometimes," Fred explained, throwing her a wicked grin.

"Everyone, except Ron," George said quietly, dampening the mood.

"Git," Fred concluded.

"I-I'm a little nervous," she admitted quietly, causing Fred and George to stop walking.

"To see Ron?" Fred asked, as equally soft, steering her off the main walkway and toward another conveniently plush chair.

"Yes, I suppose," she admitted out loud for the first time, "don't get me wrong, but things have changed. I've changed."

George and Fred exchanged another one of their looks, but she missed it entirely as she lowered herself into the chair, fighting back bile.

"He's a few Gobbstones short of a set," Fred stated.

"A bloody git," George continued.

"But… he's here now." Fred stuttered, his face going red as he rubbed the back of his neck.

It was Hermione's turned to frown, "Tell me, what were you going to say?" she demanded, her worry transferring from who was waiting for her in her room to the man standing in front of her.

George piped in, looking equally uncomfortable, "What Fred was going say is, well I suppose, we've realized lately that…"

"…Things have changed for us too." Fred ended, finally looking her in the eye. The weight of both their stares was heavy, so much so she had to blink a few times to process the meaning of that look.

"How?" she heard herself whisper.

"Its not our place…"

"… It's really not.."

"… But we've been talking…"

"…And given current circumstances…"

"… What with the accident and all…"

"… A man's heart can only take so much…"

"… And well, we both we're wondering…"

"… And you sort of just confirmed it yourself…"

"… But we feel you can't…"

"… No, you absolutely can't…"

Hermione's head spun going back and forth, her eyes were bugging out of her head, "Can't what?!" she demanded, more confused than ever.

The twins exchanged a final look between them before announcing together:

"You can't marry Ron."

It hadn't been just Ron waiting for her back in her room, Harry had been there too, as promised, but so had Mr and Mrs Weasley, Ginny, Bill, Fleur and most surprisingly Percy Weasley.

She was fussed over, scolded and told hilarious tales of various maladies that had landed one of the Weasley clan in St Mungo's at one stage or other, and usually caused by Fred and George. She was both horrified and amused about the things her lovers had subjected their family to.

Hermione and Ron had shared a brief, pecking kiss. He'd been genuine in his concern but awkward showing affection around his family. She never got a chance to ask him where he'd been for the better part of the week and he didn't offer the information. Before she knew it he'd left her bedside to make way for the rest of his family and sat twirling his wand between his fingers in the chair beside the door. Harry seemed to notice this too, and after rolling his eyes at her playfully she put her moody fiancé from her mind and focussed on the people around her.

It was some time before the stern Mediwitch in charge of her care – and keeping The Daily Prophet reporters from her ward - came sweeping through the room, shooing her friends from her side with efficient scolds and formidable glares.

Hermione waved meekly from her bed as they were ushered out the door, allowing the older witch to fuss over the state of her room and grumble about large groups of visitors disrupting patients.

"… leaving their belongings behind…" Hermione caught her mumbling as she straightened chairs.

"Someone left something behind?" she questioned, peering over to the a rather large carpet bag that usually contained brightly coloured balls of wool and wooden knitting needles, "Oh! That's Mrs Weasley's bag, I'm sure you could still catch her if you hurry."

"Do I look like a House Elf?" the witch asked with a look that dared Hermione to answer.

A small knock on the door interrupted the exchange, "She must have noticed it was missing," Hermione said with a small smile, smoothing the blanket over her knees as she called for Mrs Weasley to come in.

It wasn't the elderly matriarch who entered the room, however, but her third eldest son, Percy Weasley.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably as he entered his room, "Sorry to interrupt again, Hermione," he said briskly.

"It's fine, your mothers bag is just on that chair there," she pointed, smiling warmly at his awkwardness.

"Oh, uh, I wasn't here for that…" he stuttered. The Mediwitch glared at him from over the chart she was checking. "But, I'll happy take it off your hands," he amended.

"Is there something I can help you with, Percy?" Hermione asked, more confused than when she had entered her room earlier to find him there.

Percy fiddled with the cuffs of his sharp robes, took a fortifying breath before blurting out, "Is it true, what the twins said?"

Hermione's throat suddenly felt raw. Her heart plummeted to her stomach and she opened her mouth to reply but no sound came out.

"It's okay, I won't tell anyone!" he quickly amended, especially when the Mediwitch's glare grew more pronounced at her patient's obvious distress, "I normally wouldn't pry, but I have to know… is she okay? Is the baby okay?" he rushed out, looking relieved to finally say it.

"Pansy?" Hermione choked.

"Yes," Percy replied, dropping his head to his chest.

Hermione stared at him in shock as so many things came together, Pansy's jealousy, her comments in the storeroom, everything before it all suddenly made an insane sort of sense to her.

"It's yours." She gasped, "The baby is yours, not Malfoy's."

Percy hung his head even lower, "It's true. But I can't visit her and it's killing me. I need to know Hermione, you've seen her," he said with desperation.

Hermione frowned, still trying to process what she'd just learned.

"Hermione please, I have to know. It's killing me," he begged, suddenly meeting her eyes with piercing intensity.

"She appears to be fine, they've given her potions to sleep. I've not spoken to her, but she, and the baby, are fine." She told him slowly, meeting that stare, seeing his need for sincerity and his desperation for answers, "They're both fine."

Percy blinked, breaking eye contact, his restless fingers now adjusting his collar, "Good. Good, keep me informed, Granger." He said briskly before stumbling backward out of the room.

Hermione stared in shock at the door for a moment before the Mediwitch made her presence known again, "Foolish man, he forgot the bag," but her tone had lost some of its harshness.

Neither woman would spread what they'd just learned in the room.

Thanks for reading! Please review!