A Whole New Chapter

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. She felt her face contort in disgust. She felt his tongue trying to enter her mouth. She felt a force pull him away from her...

Chapter 7: Together

By that time, weirdly, the crowd had practically dissipated. It had been only her, Adrian, Agnes, and another Healer on the floor right before he kissed her. She didn't feel a spark, she didn't feel a tingle. It was justified; she felt nothing for him, but apparently he felt something for her, because he didn't stop. It wasn't until someone pulled him off of her that the kiss ended (perhaps she herself had pushed him away, but things weren't clear right now except for her revulsion). She backed away, face screwed up in what appeared to be anguish. It felt like kissing Ron, or one of her brothers. It was a crime against nature, she knew. Even if it was only a two second kiss, it was horrible.

With all her willpower, she reached a hand up and slapped him hard. Immediately an angry red mark in the shape of her hand began to appear on his stark white face. She wished she had done that earlier when he had said things about Harry. While she was busy trying to rid her lips and face of his saliva, she heard a voice admonish Adrian.

"What is wrong with you?" Agnes practically screamed. He straightened his robes and just stared at her. "I don't know what's worse: you not telling her how you felt straight away or you kissing her while she is involved. There is no justification for that."

"Agnes, you don't understand--" he tried to explain, but she wouldn't hear it.

"No! I am going to stay here and mediate while you two hash things out. I don't want a half-sided kissing fest. In case you didn't notice, she's not interested." She gestured toward Ashley, who was blinking rapidly. The world seemed different, and she didn't know why. Oh, yeah, her conscience reminded her, you now have something you have to tell your boyfriend that might possibly send him on a rampage. Well, to be honest, she never knew Harry to actually go out and murder someone for something so silly (though it didn't feel the least bit silly at the time), but one never knew...

"Now, Adrian, you tell her exactly how you've been feeling all this time. Ashley, no interruptions." Ashley nodded. "Good, now go ahead." Agnes stood there with her arms crossed. Ashley was rubbing her temples, ready. Adrian took a deep breath and began.

"We've been friends for a long time. I know you find this hard to believe, but I had always thought you were pretty. And then when we got older, you just got even more beautiful and I started noticing the little things about you. You know how you chew your pen when you're anxious or you twirl your hair when you're nervous...I just know everything about you. I don't know when it turned into love, but it did. All these years, I have stood by and watched you live, waiting for you to come to me." Silence followed his confession, leaving even Agnes dumbfounded. "God, I feel stupid saying this."

Ashley didn't know what to say. Well, she did, but she didn't know how to say it. She tried one way. "That's sweet, I guess. But I don't chew my pen when I'm anxious. I chew my pen when I'm thinking, or when I want to keep busy. And I only twirl my hair if I'm bored or if I can't focus on what's in front of me. So...well... I guess what I'm trying to say with that is that you've been falling for a false image, at least that's what I see from my perspective." She saw the look on his face, and decided that maybe she had been too frank.

She went on. "I know you've always been there, but I always thought you were there as a friend, nothing more. I mean, come on, I can't even believe that you've been hanging onto this for all this time. Aren't you the one who's always told me to move on if someone doesn't see you for who you really are?"

He started to flush scarlet. "Well, see, I guess I wasn't trying to be the impartial friend. It's kind of funny when you think about it." She didn't like his tone.

"What's--"

"No interruptions," Agnes reminded her. Ashley kept her mouth shut, albeit reluctantly.

"I was trying to get you to move on quicker from all your crushes so that you could...you know...mumblemumblemumble."

"What was that?" Ashley and Agnes asked simultaneously. Adrian sighed.

"So that you would notice me sooner. I guess it didn't work?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders. Ashley shook her head, brow furrowed, anger in her eyes.

"I can't believe you would do that." She felt a little betrayed. "So all this time you haven't been trying to make my life better; you were trying to benefit yourself? For something that would never happen, by the way." She could see him getting frustrated again.

"No, that wasn't--"

"Yes it was. That's exactly what you've been doing. What kind of friend are you?" she asked, though she wasn't expecting a response. What kind of person would do that to someone else? Malfoy--no, the old Malfoy maybe, but this was low. "I'm going to get on with work." She left, the door swinging behind her. He followed her, Agnes in tow.

"Wait, can't we talk about this?" he pleaded. She looked at him. They had been friends for a long time, but now it felt like everything was a lie.

"We did. Do you know what I think? I think..." it was hard, but it had to be said, " I think that we shouldn't associate anymore. This is all just too weird and I don't think I can look at you for a long time without getting nauseous." The mortified look on his face bothered her, but she felt it was for the best. Now that she knew, she wouldn't be comfortable around him.

He didn't fight, like she had expected. Instead, he sighed dejectedly. "If that's how you want it, that's how it's going to be." He walked away. He walked away from the room, the patience, the people, and his life... He walked away from his job, from his pain, from her. He walked out of her life, possibly forever. He didn't think he would ever get over this.

She slumped against the wall. She was glad and sad it was over. She would never see him again. It would be a long process before she really forgot about him, or even just thought of him without wincing. But it would be okay. The worst was over.

She almost smacked herself when she remembered: she still had to tell Harry.

~~~~~~~~~

"Hermione, what is it that you wanted to tell me?"

Hermione sat at the kitchen table with her mother, wringing a napkin nervously in her hands. She had initially thought that telling her mother that she was pregnant would be easy, but now she wasn't so sure. At first, she thought her mother would jump for joy (or show at least some sign of joy, as her mother was usually a reserved woman) and congratulate her on entering motherhood. But now, Hermione suspected her mother would highly disapprove, saying she was too young to have a baby, not to mention she had only just gotten married barely 5 months ago.

Oh, she dearly wished that Ron was there with her, but he was at work. He was always there to grasp her hand under the table, to gently nudge her forward, lent her a comforting smile. He was her rock. She couldn't believe she was doing this without him.

There wasn't much to do in her department lately, so Hermione didn't have to go in. She then took the opportunity to invite her mother over for tea. Soon after her mother arrived, they began to engage in small talk. Her father had started another practice, but was now seriously thinking of passing it on to someone else. Her mother was starting to do house calls; she thought it brought more business. Ron was doing well at work. In fact, he was eligible to be moved into the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Harry was happier than anyone had ever seen him. Ginny was trying to find her way with things. Hermione was...

That's where trouble came.

"Hermione? Dear, what is it?" Hermione looked into the face of her mother, the woman she had adored forever. The one who had looked after her when she was sick, who supported her in everything, even when it came to magic. She was the one who gave her advice and boys and life, and she always took pride in her little girl's success. Would she be happy to be a grandmother at age 45?

"Mum, how old were you when you had me?" she asked. Her mother laughed, the crow's feet at the edges of her eyes deepening as she did so.

"I was about 23, I believe. It seemed that I had had you so old, but now that I look back, I see that I was still very young. I mean, I graduated with an extra 17 pounds in my stomach!" She laughed. "Oh, I know it seems silly, but maybe I should have been older. I don't regret it, though, don't you dare think that way." She got up and walked around the table to hug Hermione, who had tears in her eyes. "You are my baby. I'm so proud of you. I just hope you have sense to just sit back and be married for a while. Children can wait." She squeezed Hermione tightly, who couldn't bear to tell her mother anything now.

"What was this all about, anyway?" her mother asked, squeezing her daughter's shoulder. Hermione hid away her frown and smiled brightly, blinking back her tears.

"I'm trying to find out more about family history. I might make a little book. You know, something that displays bits of information on everyone? Now, I just need to ask you about Uncle Yorick."

Dorothy Granger never noticed her daughter trembling voice as she spoke, like she was about to burst into tears at any moment. If she did, she didn't mention it.

~~~~~~~~~~

She opened the door to his flat to find him cooking in the kitchen, reggae playing in the background. She smiled. She doubt he knew that she was aware of his humming when he thought no one was around. She didn't know why he didn't do it more often. As she strained her ears over the music, she knew he could carry a tune. She noticed that his place was tidier than usual. He really went all out today.

"I'm here," she announced, not wanting to startle him. He looked through the opening that allowed those in the kitchen to see into the rest of the apartment. He grinned.

"Hey. Just sit down, make yourself comfortable. You can change the station of you want." She sat down on the couch, smoothing out her skirt. She was so glad Harry didn't have the WWN. The announcements and songs annoyed her to no end. Just because they were magical didn't mean that every song had to mention a troll dipped in Love Potion No. 9. She much preferred Muggle tunes.

She rotated the dial, listening for just the right song.

"Like a movie scene, in the sweetest dream, I pictured us together. Now to feel your lips, on my fingertips, I have to say is even better..."

Close, but not quite what she was looking for.

"Ooh, ooh-ooh, when the boy next door (next door) don't wanna be my homeboy no more, saw something that I never saw before. I think he wants to be my baby..."

She almost threw the thing across the room. Hurriedly, she moved the dial as far as it was go and decided that whatever song she heard was the song that would stay.

"It's the only explanation to the question at hand. Like years of pain gone away in a single day..."

Hey, that one set the mood. She wiped her forehead. She just didn't need any reminders yet. She had decided earlier in the day that, yes, she would tell Harry exactly what happened. She would tell him that it wasn't her fault; she didn't like it, and that she had never even lead Adrian on.

"Are you hungry?" she heard him ask from behind her. She felt her stomach grumble (an emergency caused by biting toilets caused her to miss lunch) as she turned to face him.

"Are you kidding? I had to miss lunch because--" Oh, Sweet Merlin!

Harry was wearing crisp black pants, a few spots darkened further from what could have been water. He left two buttons undone on his dark red button-down shirt, the one she had gotten him for Christmas (or some other holiday. She couldn't remember now). His sleeves were rolled up to the middle of his arm, and he was rubbing his hands together to rid them of whatever substance he had been handling. Tonight, his eyes were the deepest and most inviting green she had ever remembered them to be. His hair was the same, but it fit him well, especially with his outfit. She hoped she wasn't drooling.

"Ash?"

"Huh?" she asked stupidly. He raised an eyebrow. "Sorry. I guess that's what happens when I skip lunch." He grinned.

"Well, this is definitely going to make up for it," he assured her. Taking hold of her hand, he led her into the kitchen.

The table was set spectacularly. A wine red cloth covered the table, giving off a romantic quality to everything. Two white candles were set in the middle, the light from the flames flickering on the walls. Harry's specialty, pasta with a bit of his 'special ingredients', was at the center of the table, glistening in the candlelight. Mashed potatoes, gravy, salad, and the works were placed expertly around the main dish. Ashley thought that she was in some fancy restaurant in London. Harry pulled out a chair for her, gesturing for her to sit. She complied eagerly. Everything looked so good.

"Thirsty?" he asked, pulling out a bottle from behind him. She was about to protest to wine (she didn't feel like drinking) when she realized what the label said.

"Grape juice?" she asked, amused. He grinned, a light pinkish hue on his cheeks.

"It tastes better. Trust me," he insisted, pouring her a glass. "Oh, and I almost forgot." He opened one of the cabinets, flipping something around. She tried to peer around him, curious, when she heard the loud voice of Emilio Baggins, sport's announcer.

Of course, she thought to herself. Quidditch. She grinned brightly, thoughts of her earlier purpose absent from her mind.

"I know you wanted to see the game," he said, pulling out his teleprism (it allowed witches and wizards to see games on from the comfort of their home. The appearance of it was more 3D, unlike a Muggle TV. It was like the game was actually happening right in front of them.) The two of them sat there, glued to the teleprism, making remarks on how great or poor each individual player was playing.

"Davis is not on board, today."

"He's doing better than Cren, believe me. But did you see Howard make that dive?"

"That was great!"

After the game was over (Puddlemere 170, Chudley Cannons 180), they ate and talked, the issue of this morning slowly reappearing in Ashley's mind. Harry was so good to her. She had to tell him, but she didn't know how. She had no idea how to steer the conversation even close to the subject. The more she delayed, the guiltier she felt. The food was excellent; the setup was perfect, and the game made everything ten times more enjoyable. Harry was the best she could have ever asked for.

She thought that she could tell him over dessert.

"Harry, there's something I want to tell you..." she trailed off. Frowning, Harry tilted her face toward him so they were eye to eye.

"Shoot," he said.

"I've been dying to tell you all day," she said slowly. Harry felt his eyes widen, and he nodded slowly. "What I want to say is..." Go on, her conscience screamed, do it already! Good Lord, are you slow! "See the things is, I really...wanted...to tell you that...I was so grateful that you let me stay over here last night and that you've cooked such a great meal. You're too much." Harry smiled at her genuinely. She smiled back, albeit a bit painfully. She couldn't stay with this guilt, but what was she to say?

"You're great too," he said, getting up to kiss her on the head before serving dessert. She smiled, a pang in her chest.

Oh, joy. That went wonderfully.

~~~~~~~~~

Ron knew something was wrong, even if no one told him. Hermione just wasn't acting like herself. Never mind the fact that she was pregnant. In Ron's mind, she wasn't acting like a pregnant Hermione anyway. She wasn't buzzing around, preparing. She wasn't sitting around, ordering. All she was doing was sitting quietly in her chair, a book on her lap, her eyes shiny, though pointed down. Ron definitely knew something was up when he realized she hadn't even turned the page for 15 minutes.

He walked into the living room, where she currently was, and frowned. Not wanting to startle her, he gently rapped on the doorway. She slowly looked up, and it nearly broke his heart to see the unshed tears in her eyes.

"Mione, what's wrong?" he asked, sitting beside her. She shook her head adamantly and went back to her "reading." Ron put an arm around her shoulder, and almost immediately she sank into him, her body trembling. "Love, I can't help unless you tell me what's going on."

She was going to tell him, honest she was. But she breathed in his scent and felt his arms around her, his gaze burning a hole through her. She couldn't bear to tell them that her own mother wouldn't accept their baby. She felt guilt and shame wash over her as she fibbed.

"They're--they're not going to reprint the new edition of Hogwarts, a History," she told him, wiping her eyes. She felt him let out a breath of relief.

"Is that all?" he asked, a bit relieved.

She roughly shoved him back to peer at him. "What do you mean by that?" she questioned, her hormones causing an instant reaction to his statement. He shook his hands in front of him, scared.

"I just thought it was..." now he was stuck. If he said serious, she would go on a rampage about "what could possibly be more important that?" If he said "trivial", she would probably start yelling about how serious the issue actually was.

"I thought it had something to do with family," he said. He thought he had saved himself. But the word 'family' struck a cord with Hermione. She began to wail uncontrollably. Sighing softly, Ron hugged her close, offering words and kisses of comfort.

~~~~~~~~

Harry was starting to suspect that something was wrong. His girlfriend had been acting weird lately, more so than usual. She was jumpy and trailed off quite often in the middle of a sentence. That just wasn't like her. He knew something was on her mind. He just wished that he knew what it was.

Whatever it was, he suspected that she had been trying to tell him that one night where he had cooked for her. He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes screwed shut, his neck cracking as he rotated his head.

"Women. Can't live with them..." he paused, the memory of the night she slept over in his head. She had fallen asleep before he had, and he remembered seeing her roll over on top of him, letting out a low, satisfied moan in her sleep. It had gotten his heart thumping, his pulse racing, and his...

"Definitely can't live without them," he groaned once his reverie was over. Just then the door to his office opened, and Ron barged him, hair a mess and his robes on backward. "What the hell happened to you, mate?" Harry asked, trying not to smirk.

Ron shook his head and leaned forward on Harry's desk. He took a few gasping breaths before uttering his wife's name. Harry's eyebrows shot up. Ron could sense it. "That's right. She's been happy, sad, mad, hysterical, and now--" he peered around to check if anyone was listening--"she's been quite randy."

Harry's mouth practically hit the floor before he finally managed to close it out of manners. 'Hermione' and 'randy' were not to be used in the same sentence unless that sentence included 'not' or 'thought Ron was'. "Well," he said, running a hand through his hair, "I guess you two were made for each other." Ron glared at Harry.

"Very funny. Merlin forbid you ever go through this Harry," he said sarcastically, before his eyes widened and he shook an accusatory finger at Harry's face. "You, my friend, are one to talk." Harry was confused.

"What are you on about?" he inquired. Ron narrowed his eyes, fueled by Harry's display of ignorance.

"Don't think I don't know about you and Ashley that day when Hermione and I went to your flat." At Harry's lost expression, Ron went further. "You had just come out of the shower, mate. And I have reason to believe that you weren't alone." He was startled when Harry broke out into laughter.

"What's so funny? This is serious," Ron whined. Harry only laughed harder.

"Oh--I mean--oh, come on, Ron!" he exclaimed between laughs. Ron furrowed his brow. Harry wiped at his eyes before continuing. "I really was in the shower. Alone. She was waiting for me in the living room, but she heard you guys running toward the door. Talk about randy." Here Ron blushed. "Anyway, so she came and knocked on the bathroom door to tell me you guys were coming, so she left with my invisibility cloak. Which she never returned," he added.

Ron stood there, comprehending all this information. It made sense. But, "Why hide it?"

"We didn't want you to know you were right," Harry explained simply. Ron nodded, holding back his indignation.

"A bit evil, but understandable," he agreed. He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry for the attitude mate. It's--you know, family and all." Harry waved him off.

"Don't worry about it, Ron. I understand. I guess Hermione got you all wired up today," he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows. Ron grinned.

"Yeah," he said, scratching his stomach and yawning. "I took a lot out of her. See you later, I've got things to do."

Harry hid his smile behind clasped hands as he saw Ron limp pathetically out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Did you tell him yet?"

Ashley jumped as she heard Agnes from behind. She turned around, hand over her chest. Agnes (now with an engagement ring on her left hand, thank Merlin) peered at her suspiciously. Ashley sighed. She couldn't lie to Agnes.

"No," she admitted, ashamed somewhat. "I just couldn't. I don't know how."

"Saying you were kissed by another man might help," Agnes supplied sarcastically. "Besides," she added seriously, "I'm sure the guilt is ripping you apart." Ashley nodded ever so slightly.

"I mean, I didn't do anything, but still... I feel like I betrayed him," she said. Agnes patted her shoulder.

"Why don't you practice what you're going to say to him on me?" she suggested.

"I don't know..."

"Oh, tush, it's good for you," she urged. Ashley agreed. She paced for a bit, stopping every so often with a thought but then dismissing it. Agnes was getting impatient. When the process had been repeated seven times, she burst.

"Get on with it!" she exclaimed, earning several "Shh!"s from other Healers. She paid them no heed.

"Okay!" Ashley hissed. She crossed her arms over her chest. Agnes removed them and placed them at her sides. Ashley jutted a hip out as she stood. Agnes whacked her to get her in place. She was going to start slouching, but didn't want to know what Agnes would do if she did.

"Harry," she began, "I have been wanting to tell you this for a while, but have had no way to do so. A few weeks ago," boy it's been a while, her conscience remarked, "Adrian came up to me and we were arguing and all of a sudden he kissed me. He just walked forward and kissed me. I didn't force anything to happen. I just stood there and it happened. I didn't like it and, well, that's all there is to say." She stopped. Agnes had a look of shock on her face.

"That bad?" Ashley asked. Agnes shook her head vigorously.

"No, that was great. Very straightforward," she stated. Ashley smiled out of relief.

"You know, you were right. I think I feel ready to tell Harry about it."

"Really?" Agnes asked.

Ashley nodded. "Yes."

Agnes nodded as well. "Well, now you can turn around and tell him to his face." Ashley tensed. She felt her legs become weak as she reluctantly turned to stare into the green eyes of Harry Potter.

"What was that?" he asked, his voice low, his brow furrowed. This was not good.

~~~~~~~~~

"You haven't told your mother you're pregnant?"

He was going to shout it, but Ron didn't want to upset her more. Hermione already appeared as if she were going to burst into tears at any moment. She couldn't focus anymore. She didn't even remember how Ron had come to find out, but the point was that he had. She felt even worse now than she did before.

"No," she admitted quietly. She could hear Ron walking closer to her. She looked down, ashamed to meet his eyes. Hermione Granger did not back down, no matter what, and being married and pregnant didn't change that. She didn't like the fact that she had changed it now. "Ron, you weren't there. You didn't hear her talk about how she wished she had had me when she was a bit older, how she hoped that I would have the sense to stay married for a while before considering children. Ron, I... you just don't get it...I'm tired of fighting everyone." She sighed dejectedly.

This confused Ron. "Fighting with whom?"

She sighed again. "Everyone." She turned to look at him, eyes red, face puffy, and expression somber. "I feel like everyone is against this. Or if they aren't, they have a lot of problems to dump on me, and I can't help everyone, Ron. Is there a sign on me that says 'Problem Dump'?" She put her head in her hands. "I don't know what to do anymore. It's all falling out of place."

Saddened by her thoughts, Ron sat down beside her, not knowing what to do except hold her close and watch helplessly as she released her tears. Hermione clung to him like a frightened child, feeling as if she would lose all control if she lost him. This too saddened Ron. He didn't want her to feel this way. She was his angel; he didn't want her to be hurt.

Then he got an idea.

~~~~~~~~

"What was what?" she reiterated.

"What were you two talking about?" he asked. She realized that he didn't know; he probably had only caught the last two words of her speech. Somewhere behind her, she heard Agnes shuffle away.

"I can see that you two have some things to discuss. Until later," she waved, running off toward the elevators.

"Are you still there?" she heard him ask, a light chuckle somewhere in the back of his throat. Easy, she thought. Just like you practiced earlier. She nodded mentally, taking a deep breath. Never mind that she had only practiced once.

"The other day, after you dropped me off here, Adrian started arguing with me, and then we were just yelling back and forth, and all of a sudden he just kissed me." She couldn't discern Harry's expression.

"Oh," was all he said.

"No, now hear me out," she said. "I was just trying to get him to relax because he saw you and I together and then he just kissed me. I didn't like it at all. It was vile, and tasted like cow manure, not that I know what that tastes like," she added, seeing his stunned look. "I can't remember if I pushed him away or if Agnes pulled him off of me, but either way I slapped him hard. The kiss didn't mean anything and I'm sorry it even happened even though, when you think about it, it wasn't my fault. And just in case you're going to ask, just in case I hadn't pushed him off, would you have pulled away two seconds after someone kissed you by surprise? I'm glad Agnes stepped in!"

She was out of breath at the end of her story. Harry rested his hands on her shoulders. "I believe you," he said, staring into her eyes.

She was shocked. "You do?"

"Look me in the eye and tell me you didn't do anything to cause it, that it didn't mean anything to you in the least," he told her. She complied.

"I didn't do anything to cause it. I made no moves on him. It didn't mean a thing. Like an appendix, only more insignificant," she threw the last bit in for good measure. He smiled.

"Okay," he said.

"Oh, what a relief!" she yelled, throwing herself at him. She pulled back, a bit suspicious. "I thought you would be more upset."

"I was," he said.

"Then?"

He sighed. "I know you're telling the truth. Besides, what do you want me to do, go after him?" She giggled.

"No. Oh, I'm so glad you're taking it this way. I mean, most guys would probably freak out and go on a blind rampage, but you kept your cool and you actually listened to me. You're one in a million, Mr. Potter," she said, aiming to kiss his cheek. He grasped her chin and held her steady so he could look into her eyes. He loved the gold flecks that added to the warm, chocolate brown.

"One in billions, actually," he said, kissing her. When they pulled apart, he still wouldn't release her from his arms.

"For future reference," she said slyly, "rampages are dead sexy." He raised his eyebrows.

"Are they?"

"Mm-hmm," she asserted. He thought for a moment.

"They don't necessarily have to be angry rampages, do they?" he asked innocently, his hand snaking around her waist to rest on her bum. She felt tingles where they made contact.

"No. But they don't have to be in the middle of my job either," she mentioned, reluctantly pushing him away. She blew him a kiss before running off, knowing she would go back if she turned around.

~~~~~~~~

There were three knocks to be heard. Adrian got up and answered the door to face his other friend, Jazmine.

"Oh, it's just you," he said, but Jazmine interrupted.

"I just came to type in the code to enter the building. I'm not here to talk," she interrupted briskly. She opened the door wider. "He's here to talk to you."

Adrian felt that his death day was coming as he looked into Harry Potter's eerily calm face. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he didn't appear to be happy today. He suddenly seemed so huge.

"Afternoon," he greeted. Adrian gulped.

"Hello. Would you like to come in?" WHAT ARE YOU DOING? DON'T INVITE HIM INSIDE, YOU DILLHOLE!

"Yes," Harry said, walking inside. Adrian was going to keep the door open so that Jazmine could be a witness, but she had already left, probably to her place upstairs. He closed the door resignedly. He timidly made his way toward Harry.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Actually, I just came here to tell you something," Harry said, looking around the place. It was all right. It was a bit empty, save for a few photos here and there of friends and family. He didn't dare try to venture into the bedroom or the bathroom; apprehensive of finding something he would never want to see.

"What's going on? Did something happen?" Adrian asked, trying to sound innocent. Even if he hadn't known, Harry would have seen right through him.

"I know exactly what you did the other day, and frankly I'm not happy about it," he informed him. "I don't appreciate guys running around snogging someone I'm in a relationship with. Mind you, in order for it to be snogging, both parties have to be interested," he pointed out, and Adrian felt the rip through his chest once more when he remembered that she was disgusted by him.

He tried to get out of this confrontation. "I didn't want to make things difficult between you two."

"Who said things were difficult?" Harry asked in return. Then he knew. "Ah. So you think that that little incident has got her to rethinking everything, don't you. Well, you're wrong." To be honest, Harry himself hadn't been sure, so he had asked her if it had. She responded seriously, saying that the only thing that had changed was her view of her former friend.

"If there is anything I can do--"

"Let's get one thing clear: you are not to touch her or come near her unless she says so," he demanded. He wasn't going to do this, but he felt that he had to say it to him. Harry wanted to make it clear that his girlfriend wanted nothing to do with this guy. She, of course, didn't know that he was doing this. She probably would have withheld from him if she did know. Harry could barely stand 3 days without her; a month or two would surely kill him.

He kept his word by not swinging a fist, but it required great willpower. Now that he actually saw Adrian's face, anger flooded to the surface. How dare he take advantage of someone who considered him a friend! Harry did all he could to keep his anger in line.

Adrian tried not to show his fear. "Listen, man, I didn't mean to kiss her. I mean, I did, but not in that way. Well--"

"You're not helping yourself, mate," Harry said, and Adrian stopped babbling. Harry sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm not going to hex you or beat the living daylights out of you. I know she wouldn't want me to. But I am warning you." He walked up to the shorter man, staring him down. His vivid green eyes blazed with power and sincerity.

"What?" Adrian asked, voice cracking.

"If I hear that you've been bothering her in any way, don't think I won't hesitate to put you in St. Mungo's," he said. "In the Insanity Ward," he added. Adrian gulped.

"You seem to think that 'fear' is a prominent word in my vocabulary," he said, trying to sound brave. He had been in Gryffindor after all, never mind that it took a lot of begging with the Sorting Hat. "It's not."

"Perhaps," Harry agreed, "but it's in your eyes." Adrian felt like running away. "Now, do you understand what I'm saying here?"

"Yes, I understand. I won't speak to her or make any contact with her ever again," he said. Harry clapped his shoulder.

"Glad that we're on the same page," he said, smiling. He was halfway out the door before he turned around briefly. "Don't think I'm kidding about the whole St. Mungo's thing. I could be worse than she is when provoked." With that he slammed the door, one of the paintings on the wall falling and crashing to the floor. Adrian slumped on his couch.

"I could have taken him," he suggested to the empty room.

No, you couldn't have, a voiced that sounded like Harry's spoke in his mind.

~~~~~~~~~

The phone rang, and Ron jumped up to answer it, smiling. Right on time. When he answered, he found that it was just the person that he had been expecting to call. He hurriedly got up and ran to the bedroom, yelling for Hermione. He found her sitting on the bed, knitting something for the baby, her hair tied up in a bun near the top of her head.

"Hermione, it's for you," he announced excitedly. She looked at him, one eyebrow arched.

"Why are you so happy about it? Did I win a contest or something?" she inquired, taking the phone from his grasp. "Hello?" She sat there in shock as the speaker answered. "Mum?" She quickly looked at Ron, who motioned for her to get on with the conversation. She complied.

"Well, I wanted to...yes, but you said that you regretted...and you're not disappointed...oh, Mum, you're the greatest!"

Ron quietly walked out of the room, allowing the mother-daughter moment to continue.

~~~~~~~~

November was quickly upon them. It seemed as if only yesterday that Hermione and Ron had first told everyone that she was pregnant. Now, at 8 months into the pregnancy, Hermione's belly was roughly the size of a rather large beach ball. As the entire family gathered at the Weasley home for a long awaited family gathering (the last before Christmas would arrive) to honor Bill's promotion at work, they all sat and chatted, discussing past, present, and future.

"I don't know how many I really want," Hermione was telling the women, rubbing her stomach affectionately. "As long as they are healthy, it really is fine with me."

"Not too many, but not too little. I don't want them to be left out of the Weasley tradition," Ron told his brothers (Harry among them). They all laughed aloud at this comment. Mrs. Weasley was bustling around, making sure everyone, including her new daughter-in-laws (Fred had married Angelina Johnson, Charlie was with Tonks, Bill was with his fiancé, Emma, and George sat with his betrothed, Anna) were comfy.

Eventually, the two sexes separated. The men sat together, laughing rambunctiously in the living room. The women were settled in the kitchen, making small talk over tea and cakes. Small talk, however, ended abruptly as Ginny entered the room with a determined smile on her face.

"I still don't believe it," she said, tying her hair into a loose ponytail. "I never thought that a plan initially thought of by Ron would last this long. That goes for you and Hermione," she mentioned, speaking to her cousin. Molly whacked her daughter on the shoulder.

"Ginevra, be civil," she warned, her wand waving threateningly toward Ginny before chopping the potatoes. "You may be 22, but you're still my child." Ginny rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"Of course, Mum," she said. Then she beamed. "Hermione, really, you've been coming along nicely. How many months?"

"Eight," Hermione replied, grinning. "I wish this thing would come out already."

"Open your legs. Maybe we can smoke it out," Ashley suggested, searching for a lit candle. The kitchen filled with laughter, Ginny grabbing onto the table so she wouldn't fall off. Hermione shook her head, wiping the tears that had leaked out of her eyes. Oh, how she loved these people.

"Anyway," Ginny started, "how are things going around here? Any surprises over here that I haven't figured out yet?"

"Now that, Ginny, is never going to happen. You are way too sneaky," Ashley pointed out. Hermione and the others nodded their assent.

Ginny grinned. "I'm trying the humble approach. Help me out here."

~~~~~~~~~

"I'm telling you mate, this is the scariest thing I've ever had to go through. Asking her out on the first date was better than this. Well, I shouldn't say better, but it was easier. Now I really am delusional."

Harry and Ron had separated from the crowd of older Weasley males. Now they were outside on the porch in the chilly November air, pulling their coats tighter around their bodies. Harry felt the temperature drop ever so slightly, and, squinting into the distance, he found that he could see the first snowflake begin to fall.

Ron was babbling about how nervous he was about becoming a father. He listed all the advice he would no doubt be getting from his family. He went on and on about how he hoped that he didn't make any mistake. He voiced that he hoped that his child, and hopefully, children, would know that he and Hermione loved them unconditionally, no matter. At the present moment, Ron was going on about how scary this all was.

"You lucky bastard."

Harry barely had time to register that Ron was referring to him. "What?"

Ron was smiling, though. "In a way, you're lucky that this hasn't happened to you yet. Notice I say the word 'yet'." Harry rolled his eyes. "Seriously, you two have seemed a lot closer. I think it's safe to say it's more than a fling."

"Ron, it was never just a fling, thank you very much," Harry pointed out, laughing softly. He resumed his stargazing, watching the snow become thicker and thicker as it fell. "I don't know. I can't say anything about us right now. Everything's so...hazy. I don't know where we stand."

"Have you told her this?" Ron asked.

"No," Harry answered. "I don't want her to think that I'm questioning whether we should be together or not."

Ron frowned. "No offense, mate, but it sounds like you are." Harry whipped his head to the left to face Ron.

"I don't question why. I question where," he said. He clasped his hands in front of him, unsure of how to say it. "I just don't know where we stand. I don't know the levels of things like this. How can you move forward if you don't know where you're at?" Harry was amazed that he was actually voicing his thoughts carefully, and also that he was going to Ron for help. All of a sudden, his best friend seemed to have gotten wiser. Thank you, Hermione.

Ron processed everything that Harry was saying, thinking. "Harry, all of this is based on feeling, at least that's what Hermione told me." Harry snorted. "You two come up a lot in conversations now, Hermione's doing of course. Luna tells me it's all about the dream phase of pregnancy." They both looked at each other. Luna Lovegood had never been pregnant before, but no one ever questioned her 'logic' before, and they weren't going to start now.

Harry realized that they had been silent for too long. "Ron?"

"Hmm?"

"What's wrong with you?"

"Sorry mate. That's the best I can tell you. You'll have to ask Hermione."

So much for wisdom.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Ron's right. It's all about feelings."

Harry had, indeed, gone to find Hermione. His pregnant friend had stared at him with confusion on her face. Hesitantly, Harry told her the gist of what was said earlier outside with Ron. Now they were sitting at the kitchen table, alone, as everyone else was in the living room now, enjoying each other's company. Harry felt much warmer, a warm mug of tea in his hands, the fire burning merrily.

Hermione took a sip of her warm chocolate milk (her new craving) and continued. "Different stages come about with different feelings. Some relationships that are solely based on lust only stay on that stage: the one where everything is new, you don't know anything about the person, and you're just having a good romp for now." She narrowed her eyes. "I presume you've set nowhere near that platform?"

He shook his head adamantly. "Good. Now, other relationships are based on that level, but only barely. They usually move on to more important things, like comfort, fun, the ability to get along but still disagree, and compassion for one another. What do you feel about her? What do you feel when you're around her?"

He laughed nervously. "Hermione, let's not go there." She raised her eyebrows in an expression scarily similar to Ron's.

"Oh? Any nasty thoughts, then, Mr. Potter?" she teased. She smiled triumphantly when she saw him blush. "I guess you're thinking that it all depends on how she feels about you."

He snapped his head up. "What?" Hermione gave him a look that seemed to say, 'Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. It's been on your mind forever.' "Whatever."

Hermione got up and pulled his chair backward with all the force she could muster. He stood up abruptly, startled. She pointed a finger between his eyes. "Now, see here," she said, "you go up to her, alone, and figure everything out. I can't tell you how she feels about you and vice versa. Only you can figure this out. Now UP TO!" She practically knocked him upside the head trying to push him out of the kitchen. "She might be upstairs with Ginny."

Harry, a bit scared of her wrath, followed Hermione's guidance, climbing up the rickety staircase to Ginny's old room.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Sweet Merlin, I really have to go to the loo," Ginny rushed, hobbling her way to the bathroom. Ashley laughed.

"So ladylike, Gin," she remarked. She heard Ginny laugh from behind the bathroom door. Sighing, Ashley resumed looking at Ginny's old photo album. She grimaced upon seeing pictures of herself when she was younger.

She and Ginny were climbing a hill nearby the Burrow. Tired, the two of them in the picture stopped, turned around, and lay flat on their backs to relax before starting up again. Ginny was an adorable nine-year-old, her vivid red hair done in two braids, her freckles seeming to gleam in the summer sun. She was wearing jeans cut into shorts, and an old shirt of Charlie's. Then there was Ashley.

She was wearing shorts, but of another kind; they were of thin, patterned material, and were below the knee. The shirt she was wearing, with the phrase "PUNK ROCKS" emblazoned on the front, was stretched across her belly. In only a month, she had managed to outgrow it. Her mother and sister tried telling her it was because of her developing breasts, but she knew better. She was fat, and no one had to tell her different. Her thick, frizzy hair was tied into a low ponytail, as high as she could ever do it at the time, completely doing her appearance wrong. One chunky leg crossed over the other, and she saw herself laughing.

What ever made her think life was okay back then?

"You there?"

She jumped, quickly closing the album as she saw Harry enter the room. She stashed it underneath the pillow, smiling coyly at him. He didn't need to see that. The one picture downstairs was enough, Aunt Molly.

"Actually, I plan on leaving," she replied jokingly. He sat next to her on the bed. He simply stared at her. She was getting nervous. "What?"

"You really thought I wouldn't notice?" he asked incredulously, pulling out the album. She was stunned.

"How long were you standing there?" she asked, eyes narrowed.

"Since Ginny laughed from the bathroom. No need for details, please," he said, opening the album. She turned away. Oh, she didn't want anyone to see those pictures, least of all Harry. She was shocked when she heard him laugh.

"Cute," he said, turning it toward her. In the picture was a thin, tanned version of her at seven years old, her hair tied back in a sleek bun. That was when she had vacationed to California with her family. The results had only lasted so long.

"That's a rarity," she said. She didn't know why, but she wanted to show him the one she hated. "Look at this one." She turned a few pages to find that, yes, the hill was there, but where were she and Ginny?

"Yes, hills are fascinating, just like Divination," he remarked sarcastically. She punched his arm.

"Don't-ah, see? There we go." She did a double take as she saw her and Ginny reappear in the picture. Ginny was wearing the same ripped shorts, but her shirt read 'I'M A WEIRD SISTER AND PROUD OF IT!' Her hair was in the same style, but it was a darker red, and her freckles were less noticeable.

Her eyes roamed the photograph, looking for her. She couldn't believe it when she saw herself in Daisy Dukes, the Falmouth Falcons T-shirt she was wearing tied strategically at her waist. She was wearing a tank white tank top underneath. Her hair was cropped short, up to her chin, and it was sleek and straight. She had died it purple that year. She was fourteen.

"Who's that girl with Ginny?" she heard Harry ask. She shook her head at him.

"That's me, Harry. Don't tell me you never saw pictures of me when I was fourteen," she said, still confused. Earlier, she had seen a totally different picture. Was it just her imagination?

"Don't blame me," he said, throwing his hands up in defense. "I've only seen that one picture downstairs and then from sixteen forward. Sue me."

She scoffed, waving a hand carelessly. "You've got nothing I want." He grinned.

"That's not what you said yesterday," he whispered in her ear. She smiled back.

"Stop living in the past. Besides, I wasn't myself," she argued, turning away from him to gaze out the window. She felt his arms wrap around her, and instantly she felt warmer. He kissed her shoulder.

"I came up here for a reason," he told her, nuzzling her neck. Heat began to creep up her body. Dear God, let it not be that reason, she prayed. I'm not wearing cute underwear. He rested his cheek against hers, and she turned her head so they were eye to eye.

"And what reason is that?" she asked him coolly.

"Well," he said, pulling her backwards with him. Now her body was on the bed, so she could turn and face him properly. He grasped both of her hands in his, caressing them gently. "I found out something quite remarkable today."

"What?"

He was quite nervous as he went on, though he didn't show it. "These past few months have been great. Every day with you has been so special, I just don't know what I've done to deserve you." He took her arms and hooked them around his neck, connecting his forehead to hers. The green of his eyes was dark and alluring in the soft lamplight. "I think that..." he paused. She frowned.

"Yes? You think that...?" she pressed. He took a deep breath.

"I think that I--"

"Hermione's going into labor!"