Fractured Triangle

Night had fallen on Hogwarts.

Hermione was still ensconced in the medical wing, gazing up at the arched ceiling high above her, her fingertips tracing distracted patterns on the thick, warm blanket that covered her body.

The whole room was filled with a pale, silvery wash of light from the moon, wisps of cloud occasionally passing before its face and casting flickering shadows into the long, narrow ward.

Shifting onto her side, the young witch curled her arm up, under her head, her other hand pulling the blankets up around her securely to stave off the wintery chill that hung on the air.

According to Professor McGonagall, her parents were travelling up to Hogsmeade from London by train the next morning and, while nervous about what she was going to say to them, she couldn´t wait to see her mother and father.

If anyone would make her feel safe again, it would be her parents.

Beyond exhausted, she tried to let herself fall asleep, but every time her eyes closed, she saw Ron´s face, the hurt, the shock, the pain... all the emotions she never wanted to cause him.

She wanted to hate him for not trusting her. He had claimed to believe that she would cheat on him with their best friend of all people and it should have been so easy to hate him, but she couldn´t.

More than anything, she wanted him to just come back, wrap her up in his warm, familiar arms, hold her tightly and promise that he would never let anything bad ever happen to her again.

He knew what was going on now, which she knew should be seen as a good thing, but she couldn´t help being petrified that it would be the final thing to drive them apart, the barricade erected between them by Malfoy.

There were a thousand reasons why it would push him even further away.

How was he meant to act around her, knowing that someone else had touched her in the most intimate ways possible? If he did touch her, how was he to know it wouldn´t trigger a bad memory? What was he meant to do if she did react badly?

After all, his casual, friendly touches had sent her running from him all term and now that he knew why, he would know that a touch more intimate than the ones he had plied her with would probably initiate a more violent reaction.

How could he want to be involved with someone who might scream in terror every time he tried to embrace her?

That, she thought, was probably the reason that he hadn´t been back to the wing in the hours since he had found out. He didn´t know how to react and she didn´t know how she would want him to react.

Turning back onto her back, Hermione stared at the ceiling, blinking hard. Her eyes were prickling again and she didn´t want to give into the need to cry. The back of her throat was already burning.

All she wanted was the life that she had had before the term started: the life where she was happily seeing Ron and spent evenings fantasising about her wedding dress and honeymoon, instead of having nightmares about the wizard who had attacked her.

She also knew that it was never going to happen.

The curtain around her bed fluttered and she jerked upright, grabbing her wand from the dresser and pointing it shakily at the gap in the drapes.

"It´s just me!" Harry´s voice whispered, appearing as he peeled the invisibility cloak off his body, revealing his striped pyjamas and thick jumper. Hermione released a sound of relief, her heart pounding painfully against her sternum. "Sorry. I didn´t mean to scare you..."

Nodding, she swallowed hard. "It-it´s okay," she said.

"No it isn´t," Harry murmured gently, nodding at the wand that was still pointed at his chest.

Her nerveless fingers shaking around the narrow rod of wood, she dropped it on the blanket. "I-I-I´m sorry, Harry," she mumbled, jerkily fidgeting with her blankets, heat burning in her cheeks. "I-I´m a little jumpy..."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he lifted both her cold hands from the knot they were twisting in the blanket, enclosing them between his own warm ones. "I know," he said, squeezing her hands lightly. "I thought you might be having trouble sleeping."

"Just a little," she admitted, looking up from their hands.

"Want me to stay?"

"In other words, `I´m not staying in the prefect´s rooms with Ron´," she interpreted quietly. She could see Harry´s face tighten by the moonlight washing in on them, the muscles in his jaw tensing. "Am I right?"

He remained silent for a few minutes. "Hermione," he finally said, his voice shaking, probably with anger. "After what he did... said to you... what he accused you of doing, I don´t know how I´m meant to face the stupid git again."

"He accused you of doing things too."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, exhaling a controlled breath, his hands tightening around hers. "But that doesn´t matter now. After everything that happened, he has no excuse for saying half the things he did about you."

"Harry, he didn´t know..."

"You think that gives him a right to..." Harry trailed off, his eyes on her face. "You don´t really care what he said, do you?" he said disbelievingly. "You... you still feel the same way about him..."

"I... how could I just change my feelings for him?" she asked, her voice shaking. She could feel a cold sweat forming on her skin and shivered, pulling her knees up to her chest. Withdrawing her hands from his, she hugged her legs. "I-I need him, Harry..."

"But he..."

"I know," she cut him off quickly, her chin resting on her upraised knees. Her fingers were bruising her calves through the blanket. "I know he´s said things he shouldn´t have and acted in ways that upset us... and hurt us... but he´s hurt to."

"How can you justify what he did, Hermione? I don´t understand..."

Hermione lowered her head, squeezing her eyes shut. "He didn´t know what was happening, Harry. If you were in the same position as he is now... if the person that you were involved with wouldn´t touch you and you found out they were pregnant and you knew it couldn´t be yours... I don´t think you would be acting rationally either..."

Harry snorted.

Raising a hand to lift his chin, Hermione forced him to look her in the eyes. "Would you?"

"Probably not," Harry reluctantly agreed, gazing at her. "But I know I´d have asked a lot more questions a lot sooner, though. I mean, you´ve been... well... kind of `off´ all term and he didn´t even bother trying to find out..."

"How do you know?"

Harry tilted his head, a wary expression in his eyes. "He did?"

"My birthday... he said whenever I could explain everything when I was ready, that I could tell him anything... he knew something was wrong and he was willing to wait for me to tell him... if other people hadn´t got to him first..."

"He should have trusted you," Harry argued. She could see his anger in the flush of his cheeks, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists on his thighs. "Even I know you would never and he... he´s your bloody boyfriend and the git didn´t trust you... you deserve someone better than that... someone that trusts you..."

Every word he said was like a twist of the knife that felt like it was lodged to the hilt in her heart and Hermione pressed her eyes shut, her throat painfully tight as she tried to swallow.

"Do you honestly think that I haven´t been thinking about it, Harry?" she gritted out between tightly-clenched teeth. "Do you think I´ve just been sitting here, admiring the colour of the curtains? What do you think has been keeping me awake all night? Do you think I don´t care about all those hateful, horrible things he said to me? Do you think I was deaf? That I didn´t hear them?"

There was a silence, only broken by her unsteady breathing.

"Hermione..." Harry´s voice had softened a little. "Hermione, I´m sorry..."

Exhaling a heavy sigh, she turned to face him and opened her eyes. "He´s going to be hurting too, Harry," she said quietly. "He said all those things, not really wanting to believe them... I could tell from his face...in what he said... then found out the truth... he found out that - in a way - I had really betrayed him..."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but she shook her head tiredly, raising a hand to silence him.

"Harry, I did. Malfoy... he had sex with me. Forced, yes, but it was still sex. Ron´s going to have to deal with that, even if he doesn´t want to..." she said quietly. She rubbed her forehead, her temples throbbing. "He´s going to have to try and come to terms with the fact that I had sex with someone else but in a way that means he wasn´t cheated on. He has every right to be angry, but he´s confused as well... shocked... scared... hurt..."

"He should still have trusted you," Harry said, the anger giving way to pained sympathy for her, for which Hermione was grateful. She didn´t have the strength to face him when he was angry and in need of a vent for his rage.

"I know," she replied, looking down at the creases in the blanket. "But you know what he´s like. He... he´s not used to having something that´s just his, something that no one else can touch. He´s always scared that someone will take his... well, anything. He´s used to people taking his things, just borrowing them without asking - books, clothes, anything they wanted... he just thought that I would be the one thing he had that no one else could take from him."

"That just makes him more of an arrogant, possessive git."

The crack of Hermione´s hand connecting with Harry´s face was deafening in the quiet ward and she clapped the same hand to her mouth in shock, less than a heartbeat after it had come in contact with her friend´s face.

Harry´s surprise mirrored her own, his hand rising to touch the flare of red on his cheek. "Um..."

"Oh, Harry, I´m sorry..."

Rubbing his cheek slowly, he gave her a rueful look. "Actually, I think you think I deserved that one," he said, grimacing. "Now, I´m very glad that you´ve never had to whack me before."

"You... you shouldn´t have said what you said about Ron," she mumbled, her own cheeks flaming with a combination of embarrassment and lingering anger at what he had said. "He might be possessive and a little... stubborn, but I...I..." she trailed off, lowering her eyes.

"That´s why you love him, isn´t it?"

Unable to find the words to reply, Hermione nodded, twisting the blanket between her hands. Drawing several shallow breaths, she raised her face to Harry.

"And I think that´s the reason I might lose him," she whispered, hot tears brimming in her eyes. "And I-I don´t think... I don´t think I could stand it..." Harry caught her in a tight hug as she started to sob, her face buried in his shoulder. "I don´t want to lose him, Harry... I don´t want to lose him..."

"I know, Hermione... I know..."

Safely buried in Harry´s protective arms, she wept until she had no tears left and until the painful, wracking sobs gave way to utter exhaustion.

The last thing she remembered was Harry gently stroking her hair and murmuring softly to her, so softly that she couldn´t make out a word that he said, but his presence was comforting all the same.

***

Warmth and light were the things that woke her.

Not that she wanted to wake up initially. It was the first time in weeks that she hadn´t been woken by a nightmare of some kind and the comfortable blanket of sleep was so warm and snug around her that she didn´t want to even move.

Rubbing her right cheek against her pillow, she gripped the fabric just in front of her nose with her left hand, her right arm tucked up against her chest under the blankets and sheets that were drawn up to her shoulders.

Remaining where she lay, her eyes lightly closed as the sun´s rays wandered through the window and lightly caressed her face, she slowly became aware of voice speaking somewhere nearby.

"Wouldn´t want to disturb her..."

"Decent night´s sleep..."

There was a rustle of the fabric of the curtain and Hermione was sure she could feel the heat of someone gazing in on her. A prickle of unease ran down her back and she had to force herself not to squirm.

The curtains rustled again, falling back into place, and she strained to hear quietly-receding footsteps, her fingers biting into the surface of her pillow as she released a long breath of relief.

To her shock, her pillow rose under her face and she jumped with a little gasp of surprise, her eyes snapping open to find that what she had assumed was a pillow was - in fact - the jumper-clad chest of Harry.

He had apparently just woken when she had dug her fists into his torso, inhaling a breath to yawn then - realising that a head was resting on his left side - was trying to hold his breath so he wouldn´t disturb her.

"H-Harry?"

A rush of expelled air ruffled her hair. "Morning," he said, then drew another breath.

Her arm between them was cramped, but she used it to lever herself upwards into a sitting position, squinting around in the morning light, a little disorientated by the position she had woken in.

"Did... how...?"

Harry was more or less sitting up against the pillows that were propped against the headboard of the bed and apparently had been for most of the night, on top of the blankets that she was snugly tucked under.

"You were dead to the world," he replied softly, as he sat up and stretched his arms, grimacing as his joints cracked. "I didn´t want to disturb you, so I thought it would be safer if I just stayed put and let you use me as your pillow."

Hermione stared at him incomprehensively, one hand rubbing her cheek which was ridged from the folds in his jumper. For the first time, she hadn´t had any nightmares without drugging herself to sleep.

Could it be that having him present while she was sleeping, albeit as a rather large, comfortable and jumper-wearing pillow, his warmth near her, his safe, familiar smell, meant that her mind felt she was safe?

Swinging off the bed, Harry continued to stretch. "Next time we do that," he said, cricking his neck. "I get to choose a more comfortable position to sit in. I don´t think I´ve ever been quite as stiff..."

"N-next time?"

He gave her a half-smile. "Well, you seemed to sleep well, so you know... if you want a Harry-pillow..."

Rubbing her sleepy eyes with the heels of her hands, she nodded. "I-I-I think I need someone close... someone else beside me... so I know," Her words caught and she had to draw another tremulous breath before saying. "So I know that he won´t be able to get to me again..."

"And you know all you have to shout and I´ll come running," Harry said, sitting back down on the edge of the bed and squeezing her hand. "If I can do anything to help you get through this..."

Hermione managed to dredge up a wan smile, the muscles in her cheeks twitching as she did so. It felt such an alien expression now, the heat of his fingers around hers like a furnace to her icy skin.

"You don´t have to, Harry..."

Green eyes met hers, ringed with dark circles which suggested that he hadn´t slept nearly as well as she had. "I know," he replied honestly. "But I want to. I´m a friend, Hermione, and I´m not about to leave you to deal with this on your own."

They were said so simply that Hermione felt a great spring of relief bubble up inside her. However, the relief was rapidly replaced by a surge of pain and agitation, when she recalled how long she had concealed the situation from her friend.

"I... I should have told you sooner," she said unsteadily. "But I thought you would..."

"You thought we would all hate you and blame you," Harry acknowledged, shifting to sit beside her, an arm sliding around her shoulder. "It´s a natural reaction. I should know, Hermione, I´ve been there. But it´s past now and we all know and still love you and everything is going to sort itself out."

Resting her head on his shoulder, Hermione nodded, her hands playing absently on the blankets. "I wish that I could believe you," she murmured wearily.

"Would you feel better if I said that everything is bollixed to hell and it´s going to stay that way and there´s nothing you can do about it?"

Brown eyes rose to green. "That would actually sound like a more realistic situation to me, at the moment," she answered. "Even if I prefer the first choice more."

Harry sighed, wrapping her up in his arms. "Don´t you worry about it, Hermione," he promised, his cheek resting against the top of her head. "I´ll do everything I can to try and get things as close to normal as possible."

"Something tells me that it could be a bit of challenge," she said sadly. "You and Ron aren´t talking," Harry stiffened and she tried to ignore it. "I´m pregnant with a Dark Wizard´s baby... I can´t think of anything less normal..."

"Once again, I´m conjuring the image of Snape in that damned pink cocktail dress..."

Hermione couldn´t help giggling quietly. "You and your fixation with Snape in that cocktail dress..." she remarked, shaking her head. "I think I should start worrying about you, Harry."

"I blame Neville´s boggart for it," Harry said immediately, a little too eagerly. "He´s the one who has fantasies of Snape in drag! It´s nothing whatsoever to do with me!"

"And the fact that you´ve taken him out of Neville´s grandmother´s clothes and put him in a pink cocktail dress - probably with taffeta ruffles and sequins - is nothing to do with your imagination."

Harry remained silent and she looked up to see that his face had gone an odd shade of grey-green.

"Harry?"

"Please never ever mention Snape in the context of being taken out of clothing..."

A very scary and equally naked image - which she would rather have burned her eyes out than seen - immediately leapt up in front of Hermione´s eyes, which widened in horror. "Yuck!"

"I´ll say," Harry mumbled. "Quick... give me something else to think about!"

"Dumbledore?"

Harry´s expression fell. "Even worse..."

His generosity with mental images was beyond compare.

"Oh God! Harry! Stop it!" Hermione couldn´t help laughing, slapping Harry on the leg. "I didn´t need to imagine that."

"May I inquire what you might be imagining?" another voice asked, as the curtains opened to reveal none other than the Head Master. Hermione´s hand clapped over her mouth to smother a giggle and she heard Harry utter a feeble choking sound. "Ah... I assume that means I am best left in the dark as to your thoughts."

"It was his fault," she said primly.

"I´m sure, Miss Granger," the Head Master said with a suggestion of a smile. "Now, though, your parents have arrived and I was wondering if..."

"Can I see them?" Hermione demanded, the words out of her mouth before she could stop them, although a nervous flutter had begun in her belly. What if they thought that she was...

"They won´t blame you or hate you or anything like that," Harry said softly, as if he could read her mind. His arm was loosely draped around her shoulder and he gave her a reassuring smile when she looked at him questioningly. "They love you."

Dumbledore nodded, giving Harry one of those small smiles that could be interpreted in so many ways. "They will be here momentarily," he said, drawing the curtains open around the bed.

Shifting uncomfortably, Hermione nervously smoothed the blankets over her legs again, then looked at Harry. "Could you...?"

"Stay?" She nodded, licking her lips. They felt so dry suddenly and her mouth wasn´t any better. Swallowing several times, she tried to find her voice to answer, but no sound came out. "Of course. You know you don´t need to ask."

Smiling faintly, she drew and exhaled several slow breaths, trying to push aside the dizzy, nauseous feeling that was rushing through her, her head throbbing.

"Hermione!"

Looking towards the door of the wing, Hermione felt all feelings of unease dissipate instantly at the sight of her mother hurrying down the ward towards her. Reaching out, as her mother approached, she couldn´t help whispering, "Mummy..."

Warm maternal arms wrapped around her, enveloping her entirely, the familiar scent of her mother´s perfume washing over her and Hermione felt safer than she had in months, even in Harry´s embrace.

Even though she felt happier than she had in weeks, she couldn´t hold in the tears, clinging to her mother, her face buried in the thick, warm material of her mother´s scarf, inhaling the warm, safe, mummy smell that was mixed up with the equally well-known whiff of antiseptic from the dental practise.

"Mum´s here, Hermione," Her mother´s voice was shaking, but it was the most wonderful thing Hermione had ever heard. The rocking motion as her mother cradled her felt so natural, so safe, so right. "Mum´s here...it´s going to be all right, love... we´re here, love... it´ll be all right..."

"I´m sorry, mummy... I´m so sorry..."

"Oh, Hermione..." Gentle hands stroked her tangled hair and she felt kisses pressed to the top of her bowed head. "You didn´t do anything wrong, love..."

Unable to voice another word, Hermione just clung tighter to her mother, the hot wetness of tears burning down her face, as she was rocked, just like she had been so many years before when she had woken in the throes of a nightmare.

"You know we love you, sweetheart," another voice added. Daddy! Lifting her face, she tried to smile, but her lips refused to respond, her vision blurring with overflowing tears and she saw her dad´s face crumple in grief. He squeezed onto the bed behind her, touching her shoulder. "Oh, love... why didn´t you tell us?"

Twisting in her mother´s arms, she flung her arms around her father´s neck. "Daddy, it was horrible..." she sobbed, clinging to him, his arms closing around her. "I-I didn´t want you to be upset..."

Her mother moved closer and both of them wrapped her up in their arms, shielding her from the cruel and painful world, whispering reassurances and hugging her as if she were the most precious thing they had ever touched.

***

Sitting on a large couch, provided by Dumbledore, in front of the fireplace at the far end of the infirmary, Hermione was safely sandwiched between her parents, Harry sitting at her feet on a heap of cushions.

After a shower and dressing in warm clothing, she had managed to force herself to eat something, with her parents and Harry, although she had more or less just picked at the massive plate of food.

Outside, the wind was whistling shrilly, slashing occasionally spatters of rain against the glass of the tall windows.

However, despite the cosy atmosphere, the subject was far from comfortable.

With her parents and best friend there, reminding her that she was safe and loved, no matter what, she had finally been forced to confront the ever-growing issue of the baby that she was carrying, the child of the man who had raped her.

"Professor Dumbledore told us you were going to abort it."

Hermione couldn´t bear to look up at her mother´s face, blankly watching her blunt-nailed fingers flex around her mother´s tidy ones, where they rested on the dark green corduroy material of her skirt.

"I... I thought it would be better if it was gone without anyone else knowing about it," she mumbled, her other hand squeezed gently, reassuringly by her father´s. "If no one knew, then no one would get hurt..."

Her head resting against her mother´s shoulder, she felt a hand stroking her hair. "I know it´s hard to believe, but we do understand why you wanted to do it, love," her mother said softly.

Nodding, her throat constricting, Hermione pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. Drawing a breath, she lifted her face a little, as Harry´s hand patted her on the knee comfortingly.

"I couldn´t do it, mummy..." she whispered. Her voice sounded even thinner than it had before. "I thought I could, but I couldn´t. I... I was going to drink the potion... make it all go away... but then I-I-I thought... it isn´t just a sickness... it isn´t like a bug or infection of something... it´s a baby..." She looked up at her mother, half-expecting to see anger or disgust, but was only greeted with concern and love in her mother´s brown eyes. "It´s a little person, mummy... I was going to kill a little person..."

"Oh, love, you had a good reason..."

"But you didn´t do it," Harry said softly, drawing her attention. "You didn´t."

"But I thought about it, Harry... I wanted to..."

Harry knelt up and Hermione leaned forwards and wrapped her arms tightly around him, his touch so comforting now that she just wanted to stay there, just close her eyes and be held, safe and warm, forever.

"S´all right, Hermione," he murmured, his hands spreading on her back, hot even through the wool of her dark blue jumper. "We´re here for you, remember... we´re all here for you..."

"What am I going to do?" she whispered, as she slowly sat up and was gathered between her parents, her voice trembling so badly that she could barely make out the words. "I-I´m not... it´s his... I-I... it´s mine, but it´s his too..."

"What do you want to do, love?" her father asked.

A thousand responses ran through her mind, overlapping one another: curl up and sleep for the rest of my life, hide so no one will ever find me again, go back to the ways things were before, have Ron care about me...

"Do you want to have it adopted?" her mother prompted gently.

Sliding a hand under her jumper, Hermione spread her cold palm on the light swell of her warm stomach, a shiver running through her. Palpating the skin, she looked down at it.

"I don´t know," she said, her voice choking in her throat. "I-I´m too young... but I-I don´t... I don´t want to get rid of it. I know it... it came from him... and I-I know if it looks like him... I-I think I would hate it... but it´s part of me... I-I want to protect it..."

"Do you want to keep it or give it away?" Harry asked, although there was a tone in his voice that made her look at him.

His expression was neutral, but there was a wary uneasiness in his green eyes that reminded her that he had been given to people who had hated him and made him suffer for what he was.

If she gave this baby, the child that was growing inside her, the bastard´s bastard... no, Hermione corrected herself firmly, gritting her teeth together, my baby. If this baby was given up for adoption and ended up in the same situation as Harry, she knew she would never be able to live with herself.

"I don´t want it hurt because of where it came from," she finally said, looking around at them. If... if it gets adopted, I want to see the people it´s going to. I want to know it would be loved..."

"If it gets adopted?"

Hermione swallowed a bitter lump in her throat. "I-I can´t decide... not yet... I know it´s... I should hate it... because of where it came from... but I can feel it growing... it needs me... I´m the one who is making it... it´s... it´s mine... I´m carrying it... feeling it living... I... I don´t know if I would be able to give it to someone else..."

"It´s your decision, love," her mother´s said, both of her hands enclosing one of Hermione´s. "You know we´ll stand by you whatever you decide to do and if you want to keep the baby, we´ll do what we can to help you with it."

Nodding, Hermione´s eyes were burning, her mother´s arm slipping around her shoulder and drawing her close. Swallowing hard several times, she drew a shaking breath to speak.

"It´s just..." she began, then trailed off. "I... I had so many plans and things I wanted to do... and now, even if I don´t keep the baby... everything has changed and I don´t know if I would be able to do... well... anything that I thought..."

"You can still do anything you want to do, Hermione," Harry said quietly. She looked at him, but he was staring at his bitten nails, a pensive expression on his face that spoke of memories and experience. "I know you´ve been hurt, but you can get back up. Show them that you´re stronger than anything they can throw at you, even if inside you feel like you´re going to break at any minute. Stick your finger up at them and show them that even though you are afraid of them, you can still be whatever you want to be. They can´t stop you."

"How?" The question came out as a squeak.

Green eyes rose to her beneath a tangled fringe. "Do everything and more. Become the Minister of Magic. Take over the world. If you can´t do it wizard style, do it in the muggle world. Become someone that they can´t ignore."

"Or...?"

Harry shrugged, one side of his mouth rising slightly. "You could always just do what you had planned to do all along, but personally, I think you would make a bloody good Princess."

"Princess?" Hermione echoed, unable to smother a shaky laugh.

"Er... I meant Prime Minister," he replied sheepishly.

Raising her hands to push her unruly hair back, Hermione considered what he was saying, aside from the Princess comment. There was no doubt in her mind that he was reflecting on his own experiences and he knew what he was talking about.

"You´re right, Harry," she said, nodding. "If I do what I feel like doing and leave the wizarding world, to hide in a nice muggle house in a nice muggle town, away from everything, they´re going to have won. I... I´m scared of them... but you´re right... I can´t let them beat me into a corner. I´m not brave, but I... I´m not a coward. I´m not going to hide. I had a life before and I can have it again."

"Of course you can, love," her father said, squeezing her shoulder. "You´re a clever, strong young woman and nothing can ever take that away from you."

"I-I hope so," Hermione agreed fervently. "I... I want to get on with my life. The... the worst part of this... it was no one knowing... hiding it... trying to keep quiet so no one would hate me and now... now, you all know and I feel better knowing that."

"Told you it helped," Harry murmured with a half-smile.

Hermione reached down and smacked him on the head, receiving a yell of protest and a futile swat. "You´re just so wonderful, aren´t you?" she said, sarcasm dripping off the words. "Oh, Boy-Who-Lived, what have I done to deserve your wisdom?"

"I don´t know, Girl-Who-Slaps, but I think I´m starting to regret it!"

***

In then following few hours, Hermione and her parents deliberated in depth over what they would, could and should do, regarding the child that she was carrying, Harry departing to try and find Ron, albeit unwillingly.

Despite accepting that Hermione still wanted his former best-friend nearby, Harry still refused to forgive him for what he had said and Ron hadn´t even come close enough to apologise.

As the afternoon brightened, Hermione had found herself glancing longingly out at the grounds, bathed in a winter light, the snow deep and crisp. WIth fresh air in mind, she had offered to show her parents around the school while they were there, since neither of them had seen the castle before.

The three of them were sitting on the couch, as Hermione pulled on her shoes, when Professor Dumbledore entered the room, all three turning to see who it was. His expression was serious, as he walked up the ward towards them.

"Head Master?" Hermione started to her feet instantly, one shoe on, the other in her hand "What is it? What´s happened? Is it Ron? Or Harry? Is something wrong?"

Making a calming motion with one hand, Dumbledore´s expression didn´t lighten. "I think it may be best if you sit down, Miss Granger," he said gently, which did nothing to ease Hermione´s sudden wave of fear.

Her stomach clenching, her palms sweating, she slowly sank back down to sit between her parents. It felt like her heart was being crushed through a wringer as she wet her lips. "What... what is it?"

"I have just come to inform you that it might be best if you remain in the wing for the rest of the afternoon," he said, gazing at her over his glasses. "I am aware you wished to go out for some fresh air, but I would not recommend it."

"But why...?"

Her question tailed off, her hands suddenly shaking, as she realised just why.

"He´s here... isn´t he?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I´m afraid," he said. "That we would be unable to control him elsewhere, as he tends to be somewhat unpredictable when it comes to magic. Hogwarts is the only place that we would be able to control and arrest him. We did not expect him to comply so quickly."

"Of course," Despite the dizziness assailing her, she could understand. Her face felt cold as ice, while her hands felt like they were on fire. Her stomach was twisting in knots like a next of snakes. She raised her eyes to him. "He can´t disapparate out and there are charms against dark magics..."

"You have read Hogwarts: A History?" Hermione nodded. "That is, indeed, the case. I am afraid I was forced to summon him here. The Aurors have been summoned and will be here as soon as they can."

"Does... does he know?"

"About the infant?" Dumbledore shook his head in the negative. "He knows he has been summoned to the school, regarding his child, but I... neglected to inform him that it was not Draco."

"That was cunning," Hermione muttered in a flat monotone, staring at the fireplace in front of her. It felt like she was on fire inside, burning up, nausea assailing her. Her hands clenched into fists on her knees. "Where... where is he?"

"I am to take him to my office," Dumbledore answered quietly. "It is the most powerfully protected area of the castle and I believe the Aurors will be there shortly."

He was here.

The one who had done it all.

The person who had taken her strange, yet happy life and torn it completely asunder.

The individual who had forced her apart from her friends, who had shattered the relationship she had with the only person she could ever imagine spending the rest of her life with, who had - with one gesture - ruined everything.

Her hands started shaking, but it wasn´t from fear.

Far from it.

Yes, she was afraid of the man, but not here, not now.

He couldn´t hurt her here. She was protected, safe, loved and no matter what the son of a bitch said, his words were the lies of a snake and she knew she didn´t need to believe them anymore.

Raising her face to Dumbledore, her expression tight she actually saw him recoil at the look in her eyes. No wonder, she thought grimly. She had never felt so full of hatred and rage in her life.

"I..." Did she? Did she want to put herself through the fires once more? "I want to..." But what if he did it again? What if, despite Hogwarts´ spells, he managed to hurt her again? "I... want to see him."

The words were spat out.

"Hermione," her mother started to say, but Hermione shook her head, determined.

Her legs trembling with fear and anger, she managed to stand upright, her chin raised proudly. "Harry was right," she said, ignoring the feeling that her stomach was slowly turning inside out. "I need to prove I´m stronger than them. I want to face him and show him that he didn´t beat me."

"I don´t think Harry meant quite like this, love," her father stood quickly, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Don´t you think...?"

Looking up at her father´s anxious face, Hermione swallowed hard and drew a determined breath. Her heart was constricting with terror, but she knew she had to do it. "Daddy, I need to do this... for me... and to show him."

"Do you want us to come with you?"

Shaking her head, she wet her lips. "No. I need to do this... and the Head Master will be there..." Dumbledore nodded immediately. "Sir, do you think...I mean, would I be insane to...?"

"If this is what you feel you need to do," he said seriously. "I would not be the one to tell you otherwise. Do you feel that you must?"

Hermione thought about it for several moments.

Was she really ready for this? Would she ever really be ready? Did it matter? What would she say? Do? Would he mock her? Would he be afraid? Would she freeze up, as she had before?

She looked at Dumbledore.

Somehow, knowing that he would be present made it seem less terrifying. Still enough to make her tremble, but she wasn´t alone this time. He couldn´t degrade her or hurt her.

"Yes," she finally said. "I have to face him."