Fractured Triangle

It wasn´t as unbearable as she had assumed it would be.

Yes, Madam Pomfrey was treating her as if she were made of glass, but she didn´t look like she wanted to spit on Hermione for being filthy and corrupted, which was a definite plus.

Professor Dumbledore had hurried out of the wing shortly after Harry had appeared, to contact someone at the Ministry, while Professor McGonagall had apparently gone to send word to Hermione´s parents.

Due to the circumstances, both Professors had thought it best that the Head Girl´s parents were informed of the situation and Hermione had been unable to find the energy or desire to argue with them.

After all, it was more than just being attacked.

There was now the issue of the baby that she had been unable to get rid of, the child that was growing in her teenage body.

She was barely even seventeen and she was still carrying the child of a known Dark Wizard, something that - under any other circumstances - would have made her want to scream and throw things at the thought of it.

However, not now.

Lying in the bed, having been plied with potions, Hermione stared up at the arched ceiling. The light reflected by the lake rippled in dancing patterns, strangely soothing and pretty to watch.

Distracting, too.

Thick, warm blankets had been tucked up to her chest, her hands spread on her stomach. The physical pain she had initially felt had receded to a dull ache, eventually, and she was trying to rest now.

Rest.

Such a simple word.

For nearly an hour and a half, after Harry had left her to go and - allegedly - bash Snape, she had been trying to work out what could drive Ron to believing that she would ever willingly cheat on him.

Madam Pomfrey had insisted that she rest, but the thoughts continued to pour in on her, making her toss and turn until she was given a relaxant potion, which had reduced her body to a boneless mass on the bed.

She felt strangely... empty, now.

Vague, as if separated from the rest of reality by a comfortable, soft and safe cloud of magic, the only thing that seemed important, those swirls of off-white light playing across the ceiling in ripples.

Tapping the tips of her index fingers together over her sternum, a drowsy, weary half-smile on her lips, her heavy eyes kept drooping closed, as if trying to convince her of her need to sleep.

Everything felt so... peaceful.

Madam Pomfrey approached the bed again, touching Hermione´s arm gently. The Head Girl squinted up at her. "We´ve got a potion to help you sleep, Miss Granger," she said softly.

"Mmm," Hermione acknowledged dreamily.

Helped into a semi-sitting position by the school matron, she managed to swallow a couple of mouthfuls of the sweet, thick potion that tasted strangely like a combination of liquorice and chocolate.

"What... what is it?"

"A combined variation of dreamless sleep, restful sleep and standard sleeping potion, so it should provide you with the rest you need," Madam Pomfrey answered gently, stroking a stray hair back behind her ear. "However, should we need to wake you...."

"Wake... me..." Hermione´s world was already blurring into darkness around the edges, as the potions took affect on her, wrapping her up in a cosy and protective blanket of sleep.

Madam Pomfrey´s lips moved in a response, but Hermione couldn´t hear it.

Sleep closed in on her.

***

"I wanna see her!"

"Mister Weasley, I hardly think you´re in a condition to see anyone!"

The fuzzy voices were the first things that the young witch heard, as she drifted out of her potion-induced sleep, Ron´s voice oddly slurred, while Madam Pomfrey sounded both concerned and agitated.

Forcing eyelids that felt weighted open, Hermione blinked in the light, squinting to try and take in her surroundings. The rest of her body was still pleasantly numb and her mind seemed to be the only thing in full working order.

Curtains had been drawn shut around her bed, the daylight through the windows on the other side casting the skewed silhouettes of a tall, gangly figure and the short, plump matron against the fabric.

Ron.

Hermione´s heart jumped violently against her sternum, her hands - suddenly icy - fisting into the blankets over her body. She wasn´t ready to face him, not yet, not without Dumbledore and Harry there to reassure her.

Apparently, he wasn´t in the mood for listening to the Matron which definitely didn´t bode well for her.

"I just wanna talk to her!"

Hermione could see the taller figure trying to reach for the drapes and being blocked by the smaller one.

"Mister Weasley!" Madam Pomfrey barked, her voice hard and authoritative as an army General´s. "This is my infirmary and when my patients are sleeping, I have every right to let them rest! Miss Granger has had a traumatic day and I do not need you compounding the situation, by marching in there, drunk!"

Hermione´s brow furrowed. Ron? Drunk? Oh Merlin...

"But I... I just wanna talk to her..." He sounded like he was on the verge of breaking down, his voice shaking wildly. "I-I-I didn´t want to believe them... what they were saying about her... but it must be true...mustn´t it? I mean, if she´s pregnant and it´s not mine... I-I didn´t want to believe them..."

Bitter sickness spread through her body, one hand pressing against the swell of her stomach defensively. Through the curtains, Hermione saw his silhouette grab at one of Madam Pomfrey´s arms, his tall form swaying unsteadily.

"She... is she...you know? I mean... with a baby?"

Madam Pomfrey negotiated Ron´s arm off hers and took his arm with a skill that spoke of years of experience. "Mister Weasley, perhaps we ought to discuss this when you´re a little more sober."

"Bugger sober!" Ron croaked, his voice cracking. "Please... I need... that is... just tell me... is she... is she pregnant? Was that greasy git telling the truth?"

"Mister Weasley!"

Ron fell silent for a long moment, then spoke again, quietly, subdued. "I just wanna know what I did wrong... why she hates me... how could she do this to me? I didn´t believe she would... I didn´t... but everybody... they kept saying... saying stuff... `Look Weasley... your girlfriend´s snuggling up with Potter again... famous Harry Potter... your best mate, innie? Maybe she finally thought famous and rich was better than poor and red-haired...´"

Behind the curtain, Hermione pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes stinging. Her heart was thumping so hard against her ribs, she was amazed that Ron and Madam Pomfrey couldn´t hear it.

Someone had been playing a corrupting Iago to Ron´s helpless Othello, leaving her as the reluctant and oblivious Desdemona.

"You know," he waved a finger vaguely in Madam Pomfrey´s direction, while she tried to grasp his arms again and steer him away. "It was just him at first... Malfoy... bloody Ferret..." Ah, that explained a great deal. "I didn´t believe him. Not him. How would he know what Hermione was like, eh? Am I right?"

"Of course, Mister Weasley, but now, perhaps you should sit down..."

"And then," Ron ignored her with a mournful sigh. "Then Dean... and Seamus... and everyone heard about it... they started asking why... I mean, they thought I´d buggered up something awful to make her... you know... but I didn´t want to believe them... and then... then, I tried to hug her and she kept running off... she ran away from me..."

Shifting onto her side, Hermione hugged her arms up against her chest, chewing on her thumbnail. Her eyes were closed in pained understanding as Ron continued to mumble, half-incoherently.

"I got angry..." He laughed weakly. "Do that a lot, y´know... mum blames the hair. Can´t have red hair without having a temper, she says. Always blowing our tops over little things... but then Malfoy scared her... she went to Harry... not me... I was ready to punch Malfoy in the gob... and she went to Harry... hugged him... all of them saw it... I heard them say something... `Right in front of you, Ron... some bloody friend he is´... I-I got so bloody angry... I-I-I dunno why... they used to hug all the time, but everyone... they kept saying stuff...I-I-I bashed him... my best mate..."

"I´m sure it was a perfectly reasonable reaction, Mister Weasley," Madam Pomfrey looked like she was still trying to haul him away from the curtain, but her small frame was worth nothing against Ron´s large, lean body.

"But it wasn´t! I hit him! Smacked him in the chops. And the pillock knows how bad I am at saying I´m sorry and he doesn´t get it and now..." There was a rough laugh, that was devoid of mirth. "Now I think I´ve gone a buggered everything right up and I... I just want to know what´s going on."

"Mister Weasley..."

"I-I just want to know... if she is... and if he´s not..." There was a pitiful hiccough from the other side of the curtains and Hermione bit on her lower lip. "Have I just gone and lost my best mate cos I´m a bloody great idiot?"

"I think you will have to discuss this with Mister Potter, when you are a little more sober, Mister Weasley," Madam Pomfrey said. She sounded like she was running short on patience. "Perhaps, you should go and lie down for a short time."

"I can do that," Ron agreed, slapping her on the back in a grateful fashion. The Matron made an indignant sound. "I´ll... I´ll go to the common room... get some kip... then I´ll...I´ll come back and see Hermione... and if she was shagging Harry, I´ll bash his face in."

"Mister Weasley, you shall do no such thing! Mister Potter would never touch Miss Granger and you know it!"

"Yeah," Ron retorted, his voice rising, the gloomy tone replaced with anger. "And girls don´t get pregnant by not touching their boyfriends! I´m not bloody thick in the head! I know the whole stork thing is a bloody great big lie! If she´s done something with someone else..."

"Mister Weasley, I think you should depart before you say something you regret."

There was a long silence. "There´s only one thing I regret," he muttered, his voice so melancholy that Hermione wished she had the energy and emotional strength to go to him and hug him. "And that´s not knowing how to make her happy enough to stay with me."

Another moment of silence fell, then she heard footsteps walking away, shuffling slightly on the polished floor of the infirmary wing.

Several seconds later, the pale curtain around Hermione´s bed was drawn back and Madam Pomfrey looked in, clearly unsurprised to see that Hermione was both awake and aware.

"You heard what Mister Weasley had to say?"

Hermione nodded.

"Would... would you like to talk to him?"

Swallowing hard, a prickle of heat dancing across her spine, she shook her head. "I don´t think I can," she whispered. "Not yet... and not when he´s in that kind of state... he´s temperamental enough when he´s sober. I-I-I don´t think I could face him angry when he´s drunk."

"You´ve seen him drunk before?"

Hermione lowered her eyes. "A little tipsy, once... we all were...Fred and George´s eighteenth birthday in the summer... he picked a fight with a table," A half-smile crossed her lips at the memory. "The table won." She looked up again. "He... he has mood swings... bad ones... he´s not safe to himself or anyone else when he´s in that kind of state."

"I had better let the Head Master know." Madam Pomfrey sighed. "We can´t let him run around the school in that state. He might get himself into trouble, which certainly wouldn´t help with things the way they are at present."

"Can... can you make sure he´s all right?" Madam Pomfrey gave her a curious look and Hermione looked down at her blanket, picking at a loose thread. "I don´t want him to get hurt any more."

The Matron nodded, slipping out between the curtains.

Curling in a ball on her side, Hermione tucked an arm under her head and stared blindly at the side of the small dressing table beside the bed.

The soothing, warming effect of the relaxant potion was starting to wear off, leaving her to face cold reality again and she could clearly remember every word that Ron had just said about her.

Suddenly his reactions, his behaviour made so much sense.

He´d always had competition in his family, for everything.

He had always been forced to unwillingly compete against his five brothers, trying to surpass their achievement with his own, to earn some kind of acknowledgement that didn´t just come from being `the famous Harry Potter´s´ friend.

If he wanted something - or someone - that was just his, he was still trapped by the idea that there would always be someone else who would be better, brighter, stronger and more able to steal that special something away from him.

Even if he didn´t want to suspect it, his natural suspicion was in-built, a knee-jerk reaction to everything, because he was simply so used to having to struggle for approval in the wake of his siblings.

Hermione could admit that she didn´t understand it, being an only child, and she knew that Harry would be in the same situation. Neither of them had considered it because they always thought that having brothers and sisters would be a good thing.

They always forgot how put-down Ron always felt, surrounded by those who were smarter than he was, better at Quidditch than he was, funnier than he was, generally everything that he felt he wasn´t.

He was everything that they were and more, Hermione knew. He was funny, sweet, gentle, tender, brave and so many other things that his brothers couldn´t match, all the things that made him perfectly Ron.

Only, his insecurities about himself...

Despite being from one of the most loving families that either she or Harry had ever met, Ron´s self-esteem was almost always rock-bottom, thanks to comparisons to his big brothers, who were so successful, talented, funny and so on.

It definitely cast a new light on the current situation and Hermione wished more than anything that she had the courage to face him, to explain everything and then hope he would understand.

Closing her eyes, Hermione pulled the blanket up to her chin, remembering the last time that Ron had wrapped her up in his long arms and told her that everything would sort itself out and be all right.

How she needed him to tell her that now.

In spite of everything, he was the one she wanted to have beside her, comforting her and reassuring her, muttering all kinds of nasty things that he wanted to do to Malfoy, when he got his hands on the wizard.

Unfortunately, she knew, that was the one thing she couldn´t have.

Not until she was able to find the courage to explain everything that had happened and until she was able to make Ron understand and, perhaps, accept it.

Otherwise, it was going to take some time to get used to life without him by her side.

***

It might have been minutes or it might have been hours until she next opened her eyes, half-hoping that Ron would be sitting there, by the bed, waiting for her to wake up, smiling that familiar smile.

Green eyes gazed down at her, a rough hand closing over one of hers. "All right?"

Despite the sting of pained disappointment that there was no sign of Ron awaiting her, she nodded. "I-I´ve rested a little," she replied quietly. "I... I feel a little better than I did, earlier."

"Not really surprising, though," Harry murmured, squeezing her fingers gently. "But you aren´t one hundred percent..."

Hermione knew she didn´t have to reply. He knew her so well, after so many years, recognised every nuance of her every mood. A weak smile lifted on side of her mouth, his gentle, familiar half-smile warming her and she struggled to sit up.

Immediately, Harry seemed to sense what she needed, rising from the seat and sitting on the edge of the bed. Her arms wrapped around his neck and he gathered her close to him, holding her tightly.

"You´ll be all right, Hermione," he whispered, one hand stroking her tangled hair as she clung to him. She nodded against his shoulder, her fingers biting into his back, no tears left to fall. "We´re all going to help you get through this."

"Pr-promise?" She wondered why her voice was suddenly shaking so hard, her cheek pressing so tightly against his bony shoulder that she was sure she could feel a bruise forming already.

She felt his lips rise in a smile against her forehead. "Don´t you forget," he muttered, looking down at her. "I´m the Boy Who Lived and all around super duper hero kind of person. Whatever I say, I mean."

Unable to smother a laugh, she shook her head. "Of course," she replied, drawing a slow breath. "You´re just so perfect."

"Naturally," he retorted gently, rocking her slowly from side to side. "Do... do you want to talk about it? About what happened?" Hermione stiffened. It felt like her blood had been replaced with a burning rush of sulphur. "You don´t need to, if you don´t want to," Harry added quickly. "I just thought... well... I... Hermione, I know what it´s like to be..." She felt a hot breath against her forehead. "I-I-I´ve never told anyone this, but the Dursleys... I was only a little kid... I was too small to fight them. I know what it´s like to be scared and to want to keep it all a secret...to be scared what other people would think of me..."

Hermione´s brow furrowed. What was this? "Harry?"

Green eyes that had always seemed so much older than they should have met hers and Harry sighed.

"It´s nothing compared to what you went through," he said quietly. "But before I came here, they could do whatever they wanted to me. No one knew about it and there was no one to stop them. Sometimes, I..." He face tightened in pain. "Sometimes, I got hit. Other times, locked in the cupboard under the stairs, usually in the dark. I..." He laughed, a tight, strained sound that reminded Hermione too much of her own laughter of late. "I learned not to cry. I had to and I had to learn quickly. It didn´t help to cry or make a fuss. It didn´t stop them doing it. Ever since I can remember it was the same. If it wasn´t Uncle Vernon, it was Aunt Petunia or Dudley. They hated me and they didn´t mind showing me just how... warm those feelings were to me."

"Oh God... Harry..."

A weak smile was directed at her from a face that was as pale as her own one.

"It´s nothing, compared to what you went through," he said softly, his arms still around her. "I...I don´t know if it´ll help, but I know... I can understand why you wouldn´t tell us. It´s a self-defence mechanism. I... that was why I never told anyone what it was like at the Dursleys. I said it was bad, but no one ever knew just how bad it could be."

"You... you didn´t want people thinking you were weak..."

"And that you couldn´t defend yourself..." Harry nodded slowly. "If you couldn´t defend yourself against those kind of people, if you could get hurt so badly by such hideous people, what did that make you?"

"You feel useless," she agreed.

"Used."

"Pathetic."

"Worthless."

"Disgusting."

Looking her in the eyes, he said, "Damaged goods."

Hermione felt a rush of emotion, part pain at knowing that Harry had been through Hell before Hogwarts, but also part relief in knowing that someone else could understand, that someone else could see what it was like, to know how it felt to be holding such a painful secret inside.

And survive to stand as proud and tall as Harry did.

Clinging to him, she squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her lips together. His hand was still lightly moving on her hair, his other arm around her body, as he continued to soothingly rock her.

"Does... does it get easier?" she asked after several minutes of silence.

Harry sighed, resting his cheek against the top of her head. "I can´t lie to you and say that everything´ll be perfect, Hermione. It´s hard. Very hard. And it takes time," he replied seriously. "But you´re strong. I know it and you know it. You´ll survive. We both will. That´s what life is. Surviving."

"That´s optimistic," she muttered sarcastically.

"That´s life."

Opening her eyes, Hermione looked up at him. "You know so much," she murmured, studying him. "I mean, you understand things that no one else can. You see things in ways that other people wouldn´t."

"Are you saying I think strangely?"

"No!"

Harry gave her a lop-sided half-smile. "Call it the experience talking," he suggested modestly. "I´ve been through a lot, so I didn´t really have a choice. I had to pick up a thing or two about life. If I didn´t... well, I´d probably not have lasted this long."

"I´m glad you did," she said, trying to smile, but the muscles in her cheeks refused to respond. "I-I don´t know what I would do if I didn´t have you to talk to now."

"You would be able to talk to Dumble..."

Hermione shook her head, laying her head against his shoulder, her hands bunching into the back of his jumper. "No..." she replied. "I could tell him what happened and he... he would nod and look sympathetic, but he wouldn´t be able to understand."

Harry nodded, his chin coming to rest on top of her head. "I´ll have to remember to thank the Dursleys for that," he said, a mock-serious tone in his voice.

"Harry..."

"I know, I know. I shouldn´t joke about it, but you..." he exhaled a long breath, rubbing his cheek against the top of her head. "You´re the first person who I´ve actually told and it... it feels... it´s a relief to have it out in the open now."

"I-I have to admit I-I-I feel the same. I just wish..."

"That Ron knew?"

Lowering her head, Hermione nodded, her stomach twisting at the mention of his name. "I... he was in here earlier. Drunk."

"Yeah. I heard about that," Harry winced. "I was going to go to Snape, but I thought I´d see if I could find Ron first. He wasn´t on the Marauder´s map, so I guessed that he went off-grounds and then Dumbledore found me, on my way to Snape... he said Madam Rosmerta had sent him an urgent owl and that we had to get to Hogsmeade right away. He had apparently been able to get a bottle of firewhisky, although no one knows how, and had almost finished the lot."

"Oh dear..."

"You could say that," Harry agreed quietly. "We got there just too late and I think he must have been using one of the secret passages. By the time we got back, Madam Pomfrey had just delivered him to the common room."

"Have... did you speak to him?"

Harry shook his head, an apologetic expression on his face. "He was still out of it, last time I looked. I don´t think I´d be the best person to talk to him now, not if he´s still so upset."

"I want to talk to him... but he won´t understand, Harry. He... he´s not like us."

Like us.

Those two little words had such a reassuring, unifying ring to them that Hermione could feel it. She knew Harry felt the strengthened connection they had too, his arms tightening around her.

"We should tell him together, explain everything."

"We should," she agreed. "I-I don´t want to lie to him anymore."

"Lie to me about what?"

Harry and Hermione jerked apart with a gasp, both looking around at Ron, who was standing at the foot of the bed. His expression was neutral, his arms crossed over his chest, only his eyes giving away the hurt that Hermione could sense in him.

"Ron..."

Ron´s lips spread in a cold, emotionless smile that showed no teeth. "Hermione."

Just the way he said her name made her go cold to the bone, the emptiness, the cold, harsh pronunciation, so different from the way he used to speak to her, the way he spoke normally.

"Ron, we need to talk."

"Yeah, Harry, we do," the tall, red-haired youth took a step forward. "But first, I want to know something."

"Wh-what?" Hermione asked, her pulse accelerating. He would ask, he would get the answer he expected and he wouldn´t leave room for explanations, yet now that she had the chance to blurt it out, the words caught in her throat.

"Are you?"

"A-a-am I what?"

"You know," he replied, his face paler than usual, his freckles nearly neon bright against his grey-white skin. He looked awful, but his dark brown eyes were clear and his expression determined. "Pregnant."

The way he said that one word was like a slap and Hermione recoiled.

"Well?"

"Hermione," Harry hissed urgently. "You have to explain."

Pushing her hands into her hair, her fists tangling in the knotted mass, she shook her head. It felt like a giant hand was rhythmically contracting around her stomach. "I-I can´t..." she whispered. "I can´t do this... I can´t... not yet... please, Ron... please..."

"Hermione," Harry´s voice grew stronger. "You have to..."

"No... no, I can´t..."

"Can´t what?" Ron demanded sharply, his angry, cold tone suddenly replaced with something that sounded close to fear and concern. "Hermione?" Shoving Harry out of the way, the red-haired boy sat down on the edge of the bed. "Hermione?"

Clumps of hair tearing free in her hands, her knees pulled up to her chest, Hermione shook her head, pressing her eyes shut. "Don´t ask me... don´t... please, Ron..." she whispered desperately. "Please..."

Ron flashed a look up at Harry. "What´s going on?"

"I...it´s not my place to tell you," Harry replied quietly.

Pushing a hand through his hair, Ron exhaled an angry huff. "Look, I just want to know what the hell is going on around here. I feel like I´m the only person left in the dark! Even Snape knows more than I do!"

Hermione forced herself to lift her face to his. She could feel the colour drawing from her cheeks, leaving her whiter than before, her throat thick with mucus. "I want to tell you, Ron... I...I don´t want you to hate me..."

"So it´s true..."

Looking back down at her fists, that were pressed against each other in front of her chest, she slowly nodded. "But... it-it´s complicated..."

"What´s complicated?" he demanded angrily. Grabbing her chin, he lifted her face to stare at her. His eyes locked and she saw the moment the emotions in her eyes hit him. His expression changed, a thread of confusion in his features. "Hermione?"

Slowly wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue, one hand pushing against the light swell of her stomach to try and force down the nausea that she was feeling, she tried to steady her breathing and bring the room back into focus.

She felt dizzy and sick, but he had to be told. He had to know.

A large, warm hand enclosed one of hers, which was ice-cold and shaking, and the heat of her body escalated even further. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to look up at him.

"I-I am pregnant, R-Ron," she said, her voice shaking. She held up a hand to silence the words he opened his mouth to say. "I..." Harry nodded reassuringly, sitting down on the other side of the bed and touching her blanket-covered knee comfortingly. "It... it´s Lucius Malfoy´s baby."

Ron stared at her.

It felt like every beat of her heart was an eternity.

His reaction, though, when it came, stunned them both.

Shaking his head, he started to laugh, softly at first, then increasingly loudly.

"You... you honestly think I´m going to be stupid enough to fall for that?" he asked, surging to his feet and pointing down at them. "I know Malfoy. Malfoy wouldn´t touch you, so don´t use that bloody excuse!"

"It´s not an excuse, Ron!"

"He hates muggles and muggle-borns, Hermione! I´m not thick! I know he wouldn´t touch you! If you don´t want me to know who the father is, then fine! I thought we had something special, but if you..." Pressing the heel of his right hand to his forehead, he drew a shaking breath, pointing from one to the other with a trembling left hand. "Fine... whatever. You can do what you like."

Hermione stared at him, as if the ground beneath her had just been pulled away to reveal a gaping void. She couldn´t even form words to protest, her eyes prickling with the need for fresh tears.

She had never believed it was possible to feel a heart breaking, not until that moment and all she could do, as her heart was torn into tiny pieces, was sit there, staring at him and shaking her head.

"You bloody idiot!"

"Don´t you start on me, Potter!" Ron snapped, his voice strained. He sounded like he was almost going to... cry?

"Aren´t you even listening to anything she´s said, you daft pillock?" Harry yelled back at him, also on his feet. His face was scarlet with anger. "Do you think Hermione would lie about something as serious as that?"

"Well... well, what am I meant to think?" Ron burst out, his voice shaking with emotion. "She... we... she´s pregnant! She´s pregnant and it can´t be mine and she said we were still going out! She didn´t even break up with me!"

Gripping her head between her hands, Hermione could feel her nails biting into her scalp, blood warm against her fingertips. Rocking back and forward, her breathing grew increasingly ragged.

"Stop it..." she whispered over and over. "Stop it... stop it... stop it..."

Above her, it looked like Harry was ready to throw a punch in Ron´s direction and Ron looked like he was considering the same course of action, both of them scowling at each other with rage in their eyes.

"Don´t you think there´s a good reason for that, you twit? Don´t you think there´s a reason she´s been so bloody jumpy all year?"

"Stop it..."

"Yes! She thought I was going to catch her out with her other boyfriend!"

"Stop it... please, stop it..."

"Ron, listen to yourself! This is Hermione! Do you honestly think that she would cheat on you with another bloke?"

"Well, she´s bloody pregnant, isn´t she?"

"Please... stop... stop..."

"She said it´s complicated, you divvy! Why don´t you let her explain?"

"Stopstopstopstop..."

"Then explain, Potter!" Ron shouted, his voice broken and filled with despair. "Tell me! Tell the stupid Weasel just how she managed to get herself knocked up if she wasn´t shagging someone else!"

"Stop it!" Unable to hold it in any longer, she cried out. "Stop this!"

"Only if you tell me!" Ron countered.

"Tell you?" Sitting up, Hermione stared wildly at him. "You want to know? You really want to know? Okay, Ron, this is what happened...I was raped!" She half-laughed, a manic sound. "Okay? Was that clear enough for you? Lucius Malfoy raped me! In my room in the Leaky Cauldron! He raped me and left me pregnant!"

The whole infirmary wing was plunged into deathly silence.

Ron´s already white face went several shades paler, laced with grey. "Hermione?"

Sinking back down, pressing the heels of her hands against her forehead, Hermione started shaking with quiet little sobs. "I wanted to tell you... you couldn´t understand... no one understands..."

"I-I..."

Hermione felt arms around her, too short and muscular to be Ron´s. Harry. He gently drew her closer, one leg behind her back, the other raised protectively in front of her as he hugged her close.

"You need some time to think," Harry said quietly, his voice directed at Ron, but his attention on Hermione. "You... you can come back when you´re ready to deal with this. You´re not ready."

"But I want to..."

"Ron," Harry´s voice had a core of diamond. "Listen to me. I´ve been through the same kind of thing. She doesn´t need you to try and make things up to her now, when you´ll be spending all your time trying to sort through everything you´ve just been told. Go and think about it and when you understand..."

"Yeah..." Ron replied quietly, his voice shaking. "Yeah, I-I need to think."

Hermione didn´t look up as she heard Ron slowly turn and walk away, her hands bunched in Harry´s jumper as he held her, wrapped safely up in his arms and legs, shielded from the outside world by one of her best friends.

"You all right, Hermione?" he asked softly.

"I-I-I´ll survive," she whispered back, before burying her face in his chest and letting him embrace her protectively, safe in his arms.