Chapter 14: Unseen Truths
Mary tightened her grip on Hermione, trying to keep her calm as she held her trembling body. Hermione's face was pale, beads of sweat collecting on her forehead, and her breathing was shallow. Blood soaked through the blanket, staining the carpet beneath them. Mary's heart raced as she frantically whispered reassurances, but Hermione's pain was clearly getting worse.
"Hang on, Hermione," Mary murmured, brushing a damp strand of hair from Hermione's face. "The ambulance is coming. Just hold on."
Suddenly, there was a loud pop from outside the house, followed by a sharp knocking at the door. Mary's head snapped up, her heart leaping with hope. She hurried to the door, expecting to see paramedics, even though there were no flashing lights or sirens. But when she flung the door open, she came face to face with Mycroft Holmes, his expression as grim and composed as ever. Beside him stood a man and a woman she recognized from photos but had never formally met: Harry and Ginny Potter.
"Mr. Holmes?" Mary stammered, confused and anxious. "What are you—"
Mycroft didn't wait for an invitation. He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the scene inside. "I intercepted your emergency call," he said curtly.
Before Mary could respond, Ginny pushed past them, her healer's instincts kicking in at the sight of Hermione sprawled on the floor, pale and covered in blood. Ginny's breath hitched, her eyes widening. "Oh my God, Hermione, what happened?" she gasped, but she quickly steeled herself, shaking off the shock. She knelt beside Hermione and pulled out her healer's kit, her wand already in hand as she began to cast diagnostic spells.
Harry hurried in behind Ginny, his face turning white as he took in the scene. Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees beside Hermione, taking her hand gently in his. "We're here, Hermione," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "We're going to help you."
Mary, overwhelmed and utterly out of her depth, hovered anxiously nearby. She didn't understand what was happening, but the way Ginny moved with purpose and Harry held Hermione's hand with quiet determination, she could only hope these people knew how to help. She had suspected that Hermione was more than she appeared, but she had never imagined anything like this.
"Why did you block the ambulance?" Mary demanded, her voice breaking with a mix of fear and frustration. "She needs to get to a hospital!"
Mycroft adjusted his coat, his eyes never leaving Hermione. "It's too risky. She can't go to a muggle hospital when we don't know what's causing this. It could be… complicated."
Mary opened her mouth to argue, but Harry glanced up, his expression sympathetic yet firm. "It's not safe, Mary. We can't take any chances."
Ginny's diagnostic spells flickered uncertainly as she muttered under her breath. Hermione's spasms were unrelenting, and the pain didn't seem to be subsiding despite the potions Ginny administered. Ginny's brow furrowed with concern as she adjusted her approach, finally casting a stasis spell over Hermione, enveloping her in a soft, shimmering light. Hermione's body stilled, her breathing evening out as the spell took effect, placing her in a temporary, magical coma to give her a chance to stabilize.
"She's in stasis," Ginny explained, glancing at Harry and Mycroft. "It's a temporary solution. I need to figure out what's causing this."
Mary, still deeply unsettled by the peculiar behaviour of these people Hermione called friends, took a step back. This was far beyond anything she could handle. The strange language, the unfamiliar actions—it was all too much. She watched helplessly as Ginny moved her wand over Hermione again, the light from the spells reflecting off the sweat on Hermione's forehead.
Harry squeezed Mary's shoulder gently. "It's okay, Mary. We've got this."
As Ginny worked through various diagnostic spells, her wand began to vibrate with a strange hum, and she froze. Her eyes widened as she realized what she was detecting—a second heartbeat, faint but unmistakable. She pulled back, her own heart pounding. Could it be?
Ginny hesitated, glancing at Hermione's unconscious form. Did Hermione know? Was she aware of her condition? Ginny assumed that she must have known, but there were no guarantees. Why was she here, at her parents' home, in this state?
Mycroft, impatient for answers, stepped forward. "Well? What is it? What's wrong with her?"
Ginny took a steadying breath, her mind racing. "There's… something I need to check," she said carefully. She leaned back over Hermione, her wand glowing once more as she focused on the new revelation, trying to confirm what she suspected.
The silence was thick as Ginny worked, every eye in the room on her. Finally, she pulled back, her expression a mixture of shock and resolve. She looked at Harry first, then at Mycroft and Mary.
"She's pregnant," Ginny said, her voice low but firm. "Hermione's pregnant."
The room fell into stunned silence. Mycroft's eyes flickered with surprise, his typically stoic demeanor momentarily breaking as the gears in his mind shifted into place. The reveal tallied with several observations he had made—Hermione's sudden reclusiveness, her withdrawal from work, and her uncharacteristic absence from the public eye. A faint understanding dawned on him, though it brought with it more questions than answers. Could this be the reason for Sherlock's recent behavior? Mycroft's mind connected the dots swiftly. Sherlock's turmoil, his erratic actions—it made a twisted sort of sense now, though not in the way he had anticipated. He couldn't imagine Sherlock being the father; rather, he assumed that Sherlock was devastated by what he might perceive as Hermione's betrayal, having a child with someone else. But who?
Despite his own misgivings, Mycroft's tone remained firm, commanding the room with a sense of urgency. "Do whatever you need to save her—and the child."
Ginny nodded, her resolve hardening. There was no room for hesitation now. She had to act quickly, and with precision. Hermione's life—and the life of her unborn child—depended on it.
As Ginny continued her work, Mycroft stood back, his face masking the true fear underneath. He knew that whatever was behind this situation, Sherlock would never forgive him if something happened to Hermione. Regardless of their recent distance, Mycroft was certain of one thing: he would do everything in his power to ensure Hermione's survival. The implications of this child, of Hermione's condition—those were secondary to the immediate need to save her life.
Mary, though still confused and frightened by the turn of events, watched in silent hope. These people, as strange as they were, seemed to be Hermione's only chance. And as she saw the determination in Ginny's eyes, the resolve in Harry's grip on Hermione's hand, and the unyielding command in Mycroft's voice, she clung to the belief that somehow, they would pull Hermione through this.