A/N: I do not own any character references by JK Rowling in the Harry Potter series or agree with her comments. This story is a product of my pure imagination.

The way she feels inside (Inside)
Those thoughts I can't deny (Deny)
These sleeping dogs won't lie (Won't lie)
And all I've tried to hide
It's eating me apart.
Trace this line back.
I'll keep you my dirty little secret (Dirty little secret)
Don't tell anyone, or you'll be just another regret.
(Just another regret)

~ Dirty Little Secret by All-American Rejects

~*~ 27th November 1997 ~*~

Hermione Granger sat in silence, pulling her jacket tighter to her body. Their tent sat on a small island in the middle of a Scottish loch. Wind howled against the tent's canvas, creating an eerie whistling sound. The snow was beginning to pile up on the ground in front of her, and she brushed it away more frequently as the sun went further down on the horizon.

"Hermione, you're going to catch your death."

Hermione looked up to see her best friend Harry Potter standing behind her, holding a steaming cup. She swallowed hard, seeing the edges of his glasses fogging in the cold. "It's my turn to keep watch."

Harry sighed and stepped out of the tent, the snow that had gathered at the edge of the canvas crunching under his feet as he sat beside her. "Here."

Hermione took the cup from him, smiling as the warmth spread through her hands. "Thank you."

Harry let out a breath and watched the fog float between them. "Hermione, there is no reason for you to sit out here and freeze to death. We are in the middle of an impending snowstorm. We have our enchantments, and no one will cross this icy loch in the middle of the night to find us. Let's get inside before you are buried in snow."

Hermione looked at the setting sun, then over at Harry. With a sigh, she relented. "Fine, but only because despite the warming charm, I am losing feeling in my toes."

Harry held out his hand, and she let him pull her to her feet. "I have some soup warming too."

"Thank you," Hermione said as she sealed the tent's flaps behind them.

After eating a bowl of Harry's tomato soup with some slightly expired bread, Hermione curled up with a book while Harry flipped through his photo album. Looking up from her book as she heard him sigh, Hermione watched his face grow sad. "What's wrong?"

Harry stared at the page of his album before slowly closing it. "I just was looking at Mum and Dad's pictures." He told her softly. "I wonder what they thought in the end, you know? They were hiding just like we are, but they were stuck in the house. They had protection, and they had each other."

Hermione leaned forward and touched his hand. "You have me, Harry. I may not be your partner, but you are my best friend, and I wouldn't be anywhere else."

Harry swallowed hard. "I'll never have that."

Hermione frowned. "What? Friendship?"

"No." Harry shook his head. "What they had. Love. Someone you'd die for." Harry laughed bitterly. "I know you had Viktor. Ginny and I… just some fantastic snogs. I am going to die by his hand, never being loved, never… having sex."

Hermione blinked as he whispered the last part. "I love you, Harry."

Harry shut his album with a snap and stood. "Not like that."

Hermione followed him to the kitchen, where he put his mug in the sink. "No, maybe not yet, but I could. Easily."

Harry swallowed hard and looked at her. "Don't pity me."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I've fancied you since our third year."

Harry gasped, choking on his spit. "What?"

Hermione looked into his eyes. "It was bound to happen, being friends with two boys. It happened."

Harry frowned. "I thought you liked Ron."

"I do," Hermione said as she bit her lip. "But nothing like you." Hermione moved closer to him, "I dream at night, Harry. I dream at night about us battling him, winning, and growing old together. I dream of children, our children."

Harry swallowed hard. "You dream of us together?"

Hermione turned away from him, embarrassed. "I know you want to be with Ginny, it's alright."

Harry caught her wrist. "I wanted Ginny because I thought you wanted Ron."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really," Harry said as he gently touched her face. "So, you want to be the mother to my children?"

Hermione felt her heart race and saw him grin. "You like that? I can feel your heart racing as I called you that." Harry said, feeling her heartbeat through her neck.

Hermione licked her lips. "Only if you are their daddy."

"Bloody hell," Harry said as he leaned down, capturing her lips in his.

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut as his lips moved down her neck. "It's just a pipe dream. We have to survive first." She murmured.

Harry tangled his hands in her hair and gazed down at her. "Until then, it doesn't hurt to pretend. Just for a bit, does it?"

She put her arms around his neck and jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist. "If we are pretending, then I am Mrs. Potter."

Harry chuckled as he walked them backwards to his bed, tangling his hands in her hair and deepening their kiss. Hermione moaned softly as one of his hands ran down her arm and side, then cradled her hip. As he gently laid her down on his cot, Hermione gasped as she felt his hardening length against her.

"I want you, Hermione," Harry whispered.

Hermione's heart raced as she nodded. "I want you, too."

Harry stood up, reaching behind himself to pull his shirt over his head, his glasses flying across the floor. "Shit."

Hermione smiled as she stood up and picked them up for him. Once seated back on his face, he began slowly undressing her. Hermione helped him, shivering at the breeze floating through the tent, eager to feel the warmth of his body against hers.

Once they were both naked, Harry gently laid her back against his bed again, his body covering hers as he kissed her deeply. She moaned as her hands tangled in his hair and his tongue explored her mouth. She gasped as he kissed her neck, and his hands moved lower to cup her breasts. "I dream that our children will rest here against your breasts." Harry gasped against her neck.

"They will call you Daddy," Hermione groaned as he pinched and rolled them between his fingers.

"Mommy, you will be Mommy to them," Harry said as his hand moved lower, and he looked into her eyes. "Is this okay?"

"Yes! Daddy, yes!" Hermione said as his fingers slid between her folds.

"Fuck, Hermione," Harry said finding her wet as he found her clit that the boys in the dorm always talked about.

"Mommy, I'm Mommy, remember?" Hermione reminded him, cupping his face.

Harry kissed her hard as he stroked her, and Hermione moaned, moving her hips against his hand, finding herself closer to the edge she rarely got herself to. "I'm going to… right there, oh God."

"Mommy," Harry whispered into her ear, and she cried out, shuddering as her orgasm tore through her.

Hermione took a moment to catch her breath and looked up at him to see him grinning. "What?"

Harry kissed her forehead. "Who would have thought that Hermione Granger, the swot extraordinaire, secretly had a Mommy fetish?"

Hermione blushed. "It's just something I never thought would happen to me. Who would want to settle for me?"

Harry kissed her. "Me, gladly. Are you ready?"

Hermione swallowed hard. "Make love to me, Daddy."

"Fuck," Harry said as he moved between her legs, "Tell me if I hurt you."

Hermione moaned as she wrapped her legs around his waist, as he found her entrance and slowly began to slide into her.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Harry groaned as he inched inside her. "You are so tight."

After what seemed like forever, he was fully inside her. "Are you okay?"

"It's uncomfortable but manageable. Move," Hermione told him.

Harry slowly started moving his hips, and Hermione met his rhythm, keeping time with him. She felt herself getting closer and closer to the edge again, trembling as he gasped above her. Reaching up, she wiped away a bead of sweat before it rolled onto his glasses. "Daddy, I want you to come."

Harry groaned, moving faster as she reached down and touched herself. A small spasm around him was all it took. "Shit!" As he came hard, she cried out as her orgasm washed over her.

Hermione ran her fingers through his sweaty hair as he collapsed against her, both catching their breath. "Well, that's one way to stay warm."

Harry chuckled as he slowly pulled out of her and rolled onto his back. "Who knew, Hermione Granger, you are kind of kinky."

Hermione swatted at his chest. "It's called a fantasy, Potter."

~*~ 3 May 1998 ~*~

Hermione stepped carefully over more chunks of rubble as she made her way up to the Astronomy tower, where Harry was last seen heading. Opening the heavy door, she saw that the stairs miraculously looked intact. Taking a deep breath, she climbed, dodging a few pieces of loose stones littering her path. She stepped around them as she climbed out of the stairway and pushed the door on top open, finding Harry leaning on a piece of the remaining railing, looking at the ruined grounds. "I thought I'd find you here."

Harry inhaled sharply as he glanced back at her. "Does anyone else know that I am up here?"

Hermione gently shut the door behind her. "No. Not even Ron."

Harry exhaled, then looked back at the grounds. "They took away five more bodies."

Hermione came to stand next to him and watched another gurney float next to three people as they walked down the path. Swallowing hard, she glanced at him. "What are you going to do now, Harry?"

Harry glanced at her. "Help those who need help. Organize funerals, maybe-"

Hermione slid her hand into his. "Harry, you don't need to carry the world's weight on your shoulders to save others. Sometimes, you need to save yourself first. You need rest."

He sighed and, by habit, laid his forehead against hers. "I don't know how to do that."

Hermione closed her eyes. "I know."

~*~ 4 May 1998 ~*~

Hermione woke up in her bed in the Gryffindor Tower feeling disoriented. Her head pounded in rhythm with her pulse, a dull ache behind her eyes. Slowly sitting up, she groaned, swinging her legs over the bed. She was about to stand up when Ron entered the room, the door slamming against the wall behind it. "Ron!?" She yelled, startled.

Ron stood in the darkened doorway, his eyes wild. "Did you get one too?" Ron asked, looking around the room.

"Get one what?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Harry's gone," Ron stated, handing her the letter. "He's taken off."

Her heart dropped as she took it from him, her heart racing as she silently read it. Her breath caught in her throat as she read over the page.

Dear Ron,

Mate, I know this isn't how you expected to hear from me. Not after everything we've been through. I should've told you face to face. I tried, really I did, but something stopped me. The quiet, the peace, is what I am chasing. I didn't want to break it.

I'm not staying. I was afraid you'd talk me out of it, so I chickened out. Hermione said something earlier today, and it's been playing in my head ever since. She said that I don't have to save everyone. Sometimes, you have to save yourself first. I don't know if she meant it like I took it, but it hit me hard, Ron. She's right. I've spent so long trying to live up to what everyone needed from me, what my dad wanted but never could finish what the world expected of me. But now that it's over… I just need to find out who I am. Not who I had to be.

After everyone had gone to bed, I stayed up thinking of it all. I went outside into the ruins and found Kingsley. We talked, and I told him that despite his offer, I would not join the Auror office. I know that's what we always planned and said we'd do together. But that was before I had to kill him.

The truth is, fighting the bad guys was never really a dream. It was just survival. It was something that was forced onto us, and now that I have had a moment to breathe, I don't know who I am without it. I want to see who I am without war.

I'll write, I promise. I'm not disappearing forever. I just need space. Time. I need to do this on my own.

There is one more thing. Hermione. Please take care of her. She's stronger than both of us combined, but my leaving will hurt her. I went to her room to say goodbye, and she was already asleep. The bruises and scratches on her were because of me, and she looked so peaceful. I couldn't wake her. I couldn't say the words.

So, as my brother in all but name, I am asking you to make her happy. Treat her well. She deserves the world. I know you can give it to her. Thanks, mate, for being there and making me laugh when nothing else could. You and Hermione are my family. I'll come back. I need to find myself first.

Harry

A single tear fell down her cheek as she got to the part about how he asked Ron to take care of her. Her fingers trembled as she lowered the letter into her lap.

"He didn't say goodbye to me," she whispered.

Ron swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably. "He said he went to your room. You were asleep, and he didn't want to wake you. Not when you've been having the nightmares."

"But he didn't leave me anything?" She asked as she stood and desperately looked around. "No letter like yours."

She saw Ron hesitate and turned to him. "Ron?!"

"There is one," he said with a pause. "But I thought it'd be longer. I thought it'd be… I don't know. More than this." He reached into his pocket, withdrew an envelope, and pulled out a small, folded piece of parchment. "I was going to give it to you, but I'd hope he put one in here with you."

Hermione took it from him and unfolded it slowly as if it would shatter into pieces.

Just two words stared back at her in Harry's messy scrawl.

I'm sorry

Hermione blinked once, twice, just staring at the page as if more might appear, but nothing did.

Ron watched as she folded the paper back, her fingers now trembling. She would not cry. Not yet.

The silence around them deafened her to the point that she could hear her heart beating within her ears.

"He left," she said more to herself than to Ron. "And that's all he said."

Ron stepped closer to her. "He'll be back. He just… needs to figure himself out. You know Harry."

She nodded, numb, still holding the note as if it would vanish if she let go. Attempting to clear the lump in her throat, she looked at Ron. "Let me get dressed, and then we will see if we can find Kingsley."

~*~ 5 May 1998 ~*~

When she heard Kingsley's voice, Hermione was in the hospital wing, visiting and helping those with minor injuries who did not require transport to St Mungo's.

"Are there any additional wounded that need to be transported?"

Hermione left one of the Ravenclaws' bedsides as they slept and walked around the curtain, stalking over to Kingsley. "Tell me where he is!"

Kingsley looked at her. "Miss Granger."

"Tell me, where Harry is," Hermione annunciated.

Kingsley sighed as he looked over toward Madam Pomphrey. "Madam Pomphrey, can we use your office for some privacy?"

"Of course." She nodded as she went back to treat another victim.

Hermione followed Kingsley into the office, where he shut the door behind her. Before he could even speak, Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "Where is Harry?"

Kingsley leaned back against Madam Pomphrey's desk and looked at her. "He came to me saying that he wished to get away. He was tired of the expectations of him, and he wanted to go somewhere where he could learn to be himself. So, I contacted some people, and he left early this morning.

"Tell me where he is!" Hermione stressed.

"I cannot do that," Kingsley told her as she threw her arms up and clenched her hands in anger. "It's against his wishes, even for you. I am sorry that is not what you wanted to hear." Kingsley watched her pace. "It is for six months, if not longer, depending on his wishes. If you want to write to him, I will ensure he receives your letters."

Hermione swallowed hard. "You have to give me something, Kings."

"All I can tell you is that he is safe. This is what he wants, Hermione. We have to respect it," Kingsley told her.

Hermione swallowed back the nausea that had suddenly crept up and opened the office door, fleeing the hospital wing where Ron stood as if waiting for her. "I have to get out of here," she whispered to him.

Ron took her hand. "Come home with me."

Hermione nodded

"Harry, I'm sorry, but I think the real reason you're so angry is that Dumbledore never told you any of this himself," Hermione stressed into the cold air.

"Maybe I am!" Harry bellowed and flung his arms over his head, hardly knowing whether he was trying to hold in his anger or protect himself from the weight of his disillusionment. "Look what he asked of me, Hermione! Risk your life, Harry! And again! And again! And don't expect me to explain everything, just trust me blindly, trust that I know what I'm doing, trust me even though I don't trust you! Never the whole truth! Never!" His voice cracked with the strain, and they stood looking at each other in the whiteness and the emptiness, and Harry felt they were as insignificant as insects beneath that wide sky.

"He loved you," Hermione whispered. "I know he loved you."

Harry dropped his arms. "I don't know who he loved, Hermione, but it was never me. This isn't love, the mess he's left me in. He shared a damn sight more of what he was really thinking with Gellert Grindelwald than he ever shared with me." Harry picked up Hermione's wand, which he had dropped in the snow, and sat back down at the entrance of the tent. "Thanks for the tea. I'll finish the watch. You get back in the warm."

She hesitated but recognized the dismissal. She picked up the book and then walked back past him into the tent, but as she did so, she brushed the top of his head lightly with her hand. He closed his eyes at her touch and hated himself for wishing that what she said was true: that Dumbledore had really cared. * Rowling, J.K.. Harry Potter: The Complete Collection (1-7) (pp. 3648-3649). Pottermore Publishing. Kindle Edition.

Inside the tent, Hermione watched him, his jaw clenched as he stewed in silence. Biting her lip, the weight in her chest was unbearable. Unable to resist, she walked back out of the tent. "Come to bed," she said gently.

Harry's throat bobbed as he swallowed, and she saw his eyes flutter shut. "I need to finish the watch."

"No, you need rest too," she insisted, running her fingers through his hair. He leaned his head into her touch. "Come to bed. Our charms are set. It's safe."

Harry exhaled, then pushed himself to stand, taking her hand as she led him into the tent. Slowly, she peeled the damp layers of his clothing from his body, kissing the reddened skin over his heart where the scarlet oval lay on his scarred skin. Still red and angry. "I'm sorry I couldn't heal it better."

After weeks of practice, Harry pulled every layer from the top half of her body with one try. Lacing his fingers into hers, he whispered, "Don't worry about it."

Hermione moaned as his lips crashed into hers, reminding her that he was alive. He was well. They both were. His mouth moved across hers. Desperate, hungry. She clung to him.

"Hermione." He breathed against her skin.

"Say it again," Hermione gasped as Harry kissed down her neck.

"Hermione!" But the voice was wrong.

Hermione's eyes snapped open to see Ron standing over her, concerned. As she bolted up, too fast, nausea hit her suddenly. She barely had time to grab the wastebasket next to Ron's bed as she vomited bile, the only thing in her stomach.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked, moving away, grabbing a shirt, and throwing it at her.

Hermione groaned, falling back against the spare bed in Ginny's room. "My head hurts again," she muttered as she ran her hand over her forehead.

Ron scourgified her hands and helped her stand, "Let's go get you something to eat. You probably ate too much last night. Even my stomach was off after eating so much last night."

Hermione nodded weakly and swallowed back the bile that tried to come as she stood. Slowly following him out of Ginny's room, the hallway wavered. The room tilted as she turned the corner, and Ron's voice grew distant as if he were calling for her from underwater. The stairwell grew darker as the shadows grew.

She grabbed the railing, and everything around her spun. Pressure built in her skull, in her chest. Gasping, she wondered how someone was forcing her disapparation. Her knees buckled as she closed her eyes.

Everything went black.

~*~ 6 May 1998 ~*~

The next time Hermione opened her eyes, it was to shouting. Voices cut through the fog in her head. She nearly yelled out for them to stop yelling when she finally recognized the voices.

"How could you, Ron?!"

"Mum, you're going to wake the whole bloody hospital. Keep your voice down!"

Their words echoed sharply and pounded inside her skull. Hermione moaned, shifting slightly.

"Hermione?"

Slowly, Hermione opened her eyes, blinking, her vision blurry. "Where am I?"

"St. Mungo's," Ron answered, sitting on the edge of her bed. "You fainted on the stairs."

Molly scoffed just beyond Ron, and he turned to give her a look. "Mum, please give us a moment."

Hermione frowned as she turned and stomped away. "Why is she so upset?"

Ron swallowed hard. "Hermione, you're… pregnant." He stated, his jaw tight.

Hermione's breath caught, and her hand flew to her mouth. "No. No, I can't be."

Ron bit his lip. "You are," he told her softly, "And you're pretty far along, too. Did you and Harry know?"

A tear slid down her face at the realization, her lips trembling. "Oh my god. Harry."

Ron exhaled. "Yeah, Mum… she assumed the baby was mine. She saw us together after the battle." Ron sighed, looking at her hand. "Honestly, I think it's best until we tell Harry if everyone thinks so. Thinks we are together. Not until you've talked to him."

A knock sounded on the door, and a woman poked her head into the room. "Knock, knock! Good, she is awake." She said as she entered the room. "Hello, Miss Granger. I am Healer Lemon. Lovely to meet you."

Hermione swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise again. "Hello, is what Ron tells me true?"

"That you are with child? Yes." Healer Lemon nodded. "You are very malnourished, though, if this wasn't a magical pregnancy," her voice softened. "You could have lost the baby by now. Did you know that you were pregnant?"

Hermione shook her head as her hand went to her flat stomach, "No, I'm not even showing. Shouldn't I be showing?"

"The way your pelvis sits, combined with your level of malnutrition, we call it a stealth pregnancy. It's rare, but not unheard of." Healer Lemon told her.

She looked at Ron, then back at Hermione. "I know what the Prophet was saying, but is it true that you were hiding?"

Hermione nodded. "We were running. Constantly. Avoiding the Snatchers."

"Camping all over the place," Ron added. "Eating whatever we could find. Would that hurt the baby?"

"We will find out. When was your last period?" Healer Lemon asked.

Hermione glanced at Ron, who looked away, suddenly shy. She cleared her throat. "Sometime in September or October. After we left… our safehouse."

Healer Lemon pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Well, you aren't that far along. I'd estimate conception near late November, possibly early December."

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut. "That sounds… right."

"I want to keep you here for a few days. Get you on some nutritional potions and monitor both of you to be safe." She paused. "Do you have a place to go afterward?"

Ron answered quickly. "She's staying at my home."

"Good, since we can't be certain how far along you are. We cannot be sure when you deliver," Healer Lemon told her. "We will have to watch you closely."

Hermione cleared her throat, "It had to be between the end of November and right after Christmas."

She nodded. "I'll be back shortly."

As the door clicked shut, Hermione started sobbing. Ron took a breath as Hermione cried so hard that her shoulders shook. "So… the whole 'I see her like a sister' thing Harry fed me was just a load of rubbish?"

Hermione didn't look at him as she angrily wiped her tears. "He's not exactly here to ask now, is he?"

Healer Lemon stopped in just before dinner to check on Hermione and give her the next round of potions. Hermione took them, shuddering as the bitter taste hit her tongue.

"I'm sorry," Healer Lemon said sympathetically. "Adding flavouring changes its effectiveness. If you do not need anything else, I'll stop in before I head home."

"Actually," Hermione stated, hesitating for a moment. "Could you bring me some parchment? I'd like to write a letter."

"Of course, I'll be back with a glass for you to wash that down," Healer Lemon told her as she turned and left the room.

Hermione laid her head back against the pillow with a tired sigh. Closing her eyes, she laid her hand on her stomach. "Hello, little one."

As if the realization that someone was sharing her body finally hit her, Hermione felt a slight movement for the first time. A real sign that she wasn't alone.

"Do you want to know the sex of your baby?" Healer Lemon asked as Hermione heard the glass touch the table beside her bed.

Hermione opened her eyes as she sat back up and took the quill and parchment as it was handed to her. "I'm not sure yet."

"It is something to discuss with Mr. Weasley, I'm sure. Just let me know. The monitoring spell shows that they are doing well," Healer Lemon stated, nodding behind her bed.

Hermione noticed the glowing display behind her, showing runes and text for the first time.

"Their levels are improving, as is yours. I will feel comfortable sending you home tomorrow with nutritional and prenatal potions," Healer Lemon told her as she looked at the clock. "A medi-witch should be by with your dinner soon."

Hermione licked her dry lips and nodded. "Thank you."

Healer Lemon gave her a warm smile and then left her room.

Hermione reached over, took a drink, and laid the parchment on her raised legs. Biting her lip, she put the quill to the parchment.

Dear Harry,

Why did you run?

I've gone over every moment, every word, every glance between us, and still, I don't understand. One day you were here, then you weren't. No goodbye. No note to me. No explanation. Nothing.

Did something happen between you and Ginny? Is that why you left?

Hermione stared at the last words, frowning. She bit her lip, took her wand, and erased the previous sentence.

I'm angry, Harry. Furious actually. But most of all, I'm hurt. You left me with all these pieces and no way to put them back together.

But more than anything, I need to know. Are you okay?

Please, Harry. Just tell me that you're safe. That you're alive. That wherever you are, you're breathing, still thinking, and still the same person who looked at me and promised that he'd never leave me behind when we lay.

Because right now, I feel very left behind.

Something has happened, something. Fred's funeral is coming up. We're all barely holding it together.

So come home. Please, Harry.

Just come home. Tell me you're okay. Tell me you're coming back.

Love,

Hermione.

~*~ 7 May 1998 ~*~

Hermione awoke the next day to the feeling of someone tucking her body in. She blinked to get rid of the dryness in her eyes and saw Molly messing with her sheets.

"Did I wake you?" Molly asked softly as their eyes met.

Hermione swallowed, her throat also dry, and Molly handed her the glass of water at her bedside. "Thanks." With a sip, she handed it back to Molly. "I was already waking up."

Molly nodded and sat on the edge of her bed, taking Hermione's hand. "Hermione," she said softly. "Why didn't you tell us? If we knew, we wouldn't have let you fight in the battle."

Hermione sighed, fighting the urge to wrench her hand from Molly's. "I didn't know."

"Well," Molly said, taking a breath, "This baby is such a blessing after losing my Fred."

Hermione's heart pounded in her ears. She was about to open her mouth to speak, to correct her, as Ron walked through the door with Healer Lemon behind him, discussing her potion regimen. "Morning."

Healer Lemon smiled. "Ah, good. You are awake. I am officially releasing you to go home."

Hermione's chest tightened as her heart raced. She tried not to yell out, "It's not my home! Harry is my home!" Instead, she licked her lips and replied with a fake smile, "Great."

~*~ 2 June 1998 ~*~

The sun had just risen when Hermione stirred beneath the quilt on Ron's bed. Her eyes opened, adjusting to the soft light coming through the orange curtains. She turned her head on the pillow, and for a moment, she expected to see messy black hair beside her.

Instead, she saw Ron. Still asleep, sprawled across the bed that Harry used to sleep in. The sight stole the air from her lungs. She rolled onto her back, one hand resting on the curve of her belly. The baby kicked, a soft movement that was beginning to feel familiar.

Her body was no longer just her own. In the last month, her waistline had grown between Molly's cooking and the relentless cycle of potions. There was no hiding it anymore. She was visibly pregnant.

Hermione's bottom lip quivered as she stared at the ceiling. In the quiet of the early morning, Harry's voice echoed in her mind. "Mommy"

A tear slid from the corner of her eye. Brushing it away, she took a breath and slowly pushed herself upright. Ron didn't stir as she quietly exited the room. Wrapping a knit blanket around her shoulders. The house was still and cool as she made her way down the stairs to the kitchen.

Molly stood at the window overlooking the garden, a cup of tea cradled in her hands.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Good morning."

Molly turned and smiled. "Good morning, Hermione. How are you feeling today?"

Hermione lowered herself slowly into a chair. Her hand automatically went to her bump. "I slept better last night. Ron only had to wake me once… another nightmare."

Molly sighed, her gaze going back to the window. "I don't know what the three of you…you both went through," she said softly. "I know neither of you is ready to tell. But I'm here. I hope you know that."

Hermione nodded, pressing her lips together, even though she knew Molly couldn't see.

"Ron mentioned…" Molly hesitated as she glanced at her. "Your parents, that they're… gone?"

Hermione shut her eyes tight. "I found a memory spell," she whispered. "I erased myself from their minds. Made them think they wanted to move to Australia. They sold the house and left England. That's all I know."

Molly crossed the room and rested a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Until we can bring them back," Molly said gently as footsteps creaked down the stairs behind them, "I can't wait to be Gran to this little one."

Hermione's eyes flew to the doorway to see Ron standing frozen in place.

"Um… morning?" he said awkwardly.

Hermione opened her mouth when a sharp scratching sound interrupted her. They all turned toward the window, where an owl sat and started tapping at the glass.

Molly frowned. "The Prophet already came this morning," she said, hurrying over and unfastening the latch.

The owl swooped in and landed on the counter, offering its leg. Molly untied the scroll from it, and the bird turned and took flight again through the open window.

"It's for you," Molly said as she handed it to Hermione.

Hermione stared at the parchment, her fingers trembling as she unwrapped the string and unrolled the parchment.

There were only two words.

I'm okay.

Her throat closed as she stared at the page, her vision blurring as the room's noise faded to a dull, distant ringing. Ron's hand was all she felt as he squeezed her shoulder and stepped away, muttering something to Molly that Hermione didn't hear.

Clutching the letter in her hand, it was proof that he was out there somewhere. Alive. But not here. Still gone. Even though their child had just kicked her, she had never felt so completely alone.

~*~ 19 September 1998 ~*~

The room was quiet on the day of her 19th birthday, except for the rhythmic creak of the rocking chair against the wooden planks of the floor and the soft sounds of her daughter nursing. The morning sunlight streamed through the window, telling Hermione it was closer to noon than she once thought. Hermione sat, gently rocking, her arms curled protectively around her daughter.

She gazed down at the small bundle in her arms. When she entered the world with nearly a full head of hair courtesy of the messy hair of both her parents, her little girl's auburn curls that she was born with stood out against Hermione's arm. Rosella's long eyelashes fluttered against her rosy cheeks, her tiny hand resting on Hermione's chest.

Hermione gently traced the back of her finger over her daughter's cheek, marveling at its softness. As Rosella finished feeding, Hermione glanced up to see Ron leaning in the doorway, watching them.

"I swear she's going to have freckles," she said softly.

Ron smiled, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "Wouldn't be surprising. You do. Might help with the whole Weasley story too." He crossed the room and dropped onto his bed, still watching them. They quickly got over their shyness and modesty after the first week alone.

"She was born with Lily's hair. That sold it right there." Hermione smiled, brushing a curl away from Rosella's forehead.

Ron propped himself up on his elbows. After the last twenty-eight days, he'd grown used to these moments of Hermione feeding her daughter. "How is Rose this morning?"

Hermione gave him a pointed look. "Her name is Rosella."

Ron grinned. "Just saying, no one's gonna call her Rosella. Too fancy for a kid."

"Rosella Lily," Hermione said softly as Rosella let go of her nipple and fell asleep. Hermione gently pulled her shirt up as she rocked a little slower. "Named after the Lily flower, Rosella."

"Happy birthday, by the way," Ron added, sitting up and pulling a small parchment from his pocket. "This came for you this morning. I'll take her."

Hermione hesitated, then carefully passed Rosella into his arms. Ron smiled at her, humming something as the baby burrowed against him while he left her alone in the room. Alone, Hermione unfolded the parchment.

Happy Birthday, Hermione.

No signature, but she didn't need one.

Pressing her lips together, she squeezed her eyes shut. Crushing the letter in her palm like it would help the ache in her chest go away. It didn't.

She sat there momentarily, blinking hard, and then stood. Walking to the small desk in the corner, her fingers moved almost without thinking. Dipping the quill into ink, the words flowed from the quill, dark and angry, across the page.

She rolled up the parchment, then reached for the same string he had sent. Tying it carefully, she set it aside. Later, she would send it to Kingsley. He would know how to find Harry. It was time. He had to know.

~*~ 18 December 1998 ~*~

The Scandinavian Ministry of Magic was so much larger than the British Ministry. Sleek black stone and glass surrounded Harry with a humming of workers moving about that he wasn't used to compared to the few times he had been to the British Ministry. He stood near the welcome desk, looking at the signs in various languages as the welcome witch spoke to someone else, trying to understand where to go.

He sighed, gripping the strap of his rucksack, trying to find the Office of Magical Transportation on the list.

"Harry? Harry Potter?"

Turning at the sounds of his name, his eyebrows lifted in surprise as a stocky, broad-shouldered man with a familiar scowl approached him, and his scowl turned into a smile.

"Viktor?" Harry asked, blinking, surprised to see someone he knew.

Viktor Krum grinned and reached out to shake his hand. "Da! It is you! Vat are you doin' here?"

Harry forced a smile, caught off guard by the sudden rush of memories Viktor brought of Hermione. Hermione in that damn periwinkle dress. Hermione dancing the night away with a smile on her face. Clearing his throat and shaking away memories, Harry adjusted his rucksack. "I've been studying here. At Durmstrang for a bit, actually. I decided to train as a healer. I'm trying to find the Office of Transportation so I can head home."

Viktor grinned. "Good for you. I hope Durmstrang treated you vell."

"It was… cold," Harry said with a slight smile.

Viktor chuckled. "Always is. So, you goin' home to see the baby, yes?"

Harry looked at him, confused. "Baby? What baby?"

Viktor blinked. "Her-my-knee's baby."

The ground seemed to drop out from under Harry for a moment.

"She didn't tell you?" Viktor asked, surprised.

Harry's mouth was dry as he replied. "No."

Viktor's expression softened. "I've seen photos. She is a doll. Bright ved hair. Reminds me of your friend's sister. The one who hated me for taking Her-my-knee to the ball." He chuckled.

Harry's stomach churned. "Oh, she does?"

Viktor nodded. "I'm surprised they didn't tell you." Viktor looked up, thinking for a moment. "Vhat vas her name… Ah, yes. Rose. Rose Veasley."

The name tore at him like the thorns of a real rose as he swallowed down the bile that tried to come forth. "I should go. Find that office," he muttered.

"It's down the hall to the left, then through the arch with runes. Good luck. Maybe ve talk again soon, yes?" Viktor called out as Harry walked towards the welcome desk.

Harry nodded, waving him off as he walked up to the welcome witch, chest tight and head spinning. "Excuse me," he said, his voice catching. "Do you know how I can contact the British Ministry?"

The witch smiled. "Of course. Who would you like to reach, Mr. Potter?"

Harry hesitated. "Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Minister. I need to extend my trip."

She nodded and reached for a quill. "Right away, sir."

A/N: This is a preview fic (think of it as a movie trailer) for my story this summer The Ghost of You and Me. Stay tuned for Part Two. It may be posted tonight, may be posted in two weeks. Depends on a few things. I still have Die With a Smile going on, full-time teaching as well as it's the last two weeks of my Master's semester. I just had to get this out there. I was excited about it.