Nine Months in F Minor

    Harry stumbled in sometime later, noticeably drunk and having gone to Hogsmeade alone. Hermione and Ron were sitting on the couch, holding hands, her head on his shoulder. They were both oddly soft and giggly. Ron had a hand on her flat stomach.

    Harry stormed over to them. “You’ll never believe what your goddamn sister just told me!”

    “Eh?” Ron raised an eyebrow over Hermione’s shoulder. Hermione, on the other hand, had gone extremely stiff.

    Harry seemed too inebriated to get much more out. Ron, jokingly, said, “Well, ‘Mione here’s pregnant. Lemme guess…Gin is too?” He laughed into his girlfriend’s shoulder. Hermione choked out a tiny laugh of her own.

    “Exactly,” said Harry dazedly. And then he passed out.

    Harry awoke to Ginny dabbing his forehead with a wet cloth. He hit the wall immediately, his head aching, eyes blurring. Hangover time, he thought stupidly.

    Then he remembered. He remembered snapping at her, drinking, what Ron had said. He remembered that in what? one month, two? Ginny’d be round as a beach ball. He knew people would talk.

    “I’m sorry about this baby,” Ginny said. “I stayed up late last night, read up on some charms…I could get a Muggle abortion,” she said softly.

    For a moment Harry considered taking this. But how could he? The whole thing was his fault too, just like it was Ron’s. “No. I won’t take any more lives, if I can help it.”

    Ginny smiled and kissed him. “I hoped you’d say that.”

    “Sorry I went so crazy…”

    “Don’t be,” said Ginny. “Everything you were saying has been running through my mind for the past two weeks. So don‘t be upset.”

    Harry smiled, hugging her to him on the couch. “Ginny,” he said, letting her go. “What’ll your parents say?”

    “Ah…nothing nice, I imagine,” she said. “Though, Mum and Dad both love you, so I dunno, it might go pretty well.” She paused. “Do you remember what Ron told you before you passed out?”

    “About ‘Mione?”

    “Yeah…”

    “I do,” he said, nodding awkwardly. “It’s scary, it’s so much all at once. Your parents will hate you both, and me and ‘Mione.”

    “Nah. Oh, and by the way, we’re meeting them at the Three Broomsticks for lunch Sunday. Tomorrow.”

    “To talk, I suppose?”

    “Of course.”

~

    The foursome headed over to the Three Broomsticks when the dreaded date arrived. Harry and Ginny were dressed in smart Muggle clothes, holding hands. Ginny had less make-up on than usual. “So I don’t look like some kind of whore,” she had said, but Harry supposed it was so her mascara didn’t streak when she cried.

    Ron and Hermione had opted for their nicest school clothes. They were also holding hands, a white rose in Hermione’s hand, her huge ring glimmering on her finger. It had faded into a misty light blue and pink sapphire, though in contrast the amethyst stripes seemed darker and clearer than ever.

    Dumbledore was there when they arrived, chatting merrily with the Weasley parents. He smiled cordially at the foursome, drawing up chairs for them all. Ron and Harry immediately slid their arms around Hermione and Ginny’s waists, respectably. Molly’s eyes narrowed, then bugged out for a moment, then narrowed suspiciously again.

Arthur didn’t seemed to have noticed anything out of the ordinary.

    Five minutes later, all three women were crying, and the men were anxiously trying to comfort their wives. Dumbledore looked distant, sipping his butterbeer inconspicuously while obviously reflecting on the news.

    Finally, when all tears had been dried, leaving three equally red faces and three equally relieved faces, Dumbledore cleared his throat.

    “Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are in their seventh year. They are both 17. They will be two months out of Hogwarts when their baby arrives.” He eyed Molly and Arthur tentatively. “Of course, they will need accommodations. If it would not be to much to ask-”

    “Well, of course we’ll expect them to stay with us! Until they get a place of their own, of course,” said Mrs. Weasley in a girly voice, clasping her hands. Mr. Weasley nodded encouragingly at her side.

    “Good, good,” said Dumbledore. “That ring is looking awfully white, Mr. Weasley,” he added, eyes twinkling.

    Ron and Hermione grinned sheepishly; Ginny and Harry smiled in happiness for their friends; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked positively shocked.

    “I proposed to Hermione, mum,” he whispered, holding her hand out for them to see.

Molly looked decidedly dizzy for a moment, then smiled. “Oh, I’m so happy for you kids! I’m so excited. When will you get married?”

    “Well,” said Hermione, pulling her hand back and smoothing her robes. “After the baby, of course. Sometime in August, I imagine.” She coughed uncomfortably. “If the ring fades into diamond in time.”

    Mrs. Weasley looked as though she was about to go off on a tangent of roses and wedding dresses, but Dumbledore brought her back to Earth.

    “Mr. Potter is also in the seventh year, of course,” he said. “Miss Weasley, however, is only in her sixth year at Hogwarts. If she expects to graduate and earn money at any wizarding career, she will have to finish school before pursuing a life with Harry and their baby.”

    Hermione and Ron were holding hands, heads together. They were obviously trying to look unimportant, so the conversation could flow without mention of them.

    “Well,” said Arthur. Harry looked up; Mr. Weasley had barely spoken the whole time except to agree with Molly. “I suppose - since we’re going to be taking care of Ron and Hermione’s child for a while…one more couldn’t hurt.”

    Ginny grinned from ear to ear and hugged Harry. Dumbledore clapped his hands together once. “Good, good. It is lovely to have that all worked out. I have some books on teen witch pregnancies, if either of you would like to borrow them.” They both would, of course, be expected to borrow them. “And I suppose we will worry about other students noticing when it happens.” He smiled down at them all. “I will not inform the other teachers unless absolutely necessary.

    “Molly, Arthur, next week, Ron and Hermione will be meeting with the Grangers. It may be in your - and your son’s - best interest to join us.”

    “Of course,” said Mrs. Weasley, nodding. She looked teary again, but as Arthur pointed out earlier, they really had no room to complain. Molly had been in her seventh year when she was pregnant with Bill.

    “I shall see you here next week, then,” said Dumbledore, standing and walking to the door. “And I will be seeing you four-” he tilted his head down to get a better look at the friends, “-around Hogwarts. Good day.”

~

    It was exactly five days later - that Friday - that it happened.

    Only two days away from the end of her first month, Hermione had already began to swell slightly. A bump, barely noticeably unless she had pulled her shirt up and you were familiar with the normal curve of her belly, had formed. Ron was always running his hand over it when they were alone in the common room, and Hermione had already developed a habit of resting her hands on the modest bulge. Ginny, being exactly eight days behind Hermione, wasn’t beginning to show yet, though she was definitely firm, and Harry was quite sure it would only be a couple days until she was as large as Hermione.

    Hermione, Harry, and Ron were in Advanced Charms. Flitwick had been going on about very complex Fire Shield/Tickling Charms for some time now. Even Hermione was beginning to drift off, her hand grasped in Ron’s large one under the table. So far, all Harry had grasped was that they were supposed to become fire resistant and experience a ‘gentle tickling sensation’ where the flame touched them.

    Incidentally, when they were given the incantation (finally!) they had absolutely no idea what to do.

    Harry and Ron were failing spectacularly.

    “Okay, Herm, go ahead. I’m ready,” said Ron for the third time, none of which had been very successful.

    She sighed. “I hope so - Incendio!”

    A lovely cascade of bluebell flames surged from the tip of her wand. It took Ron at least six seconds to realize that he was on fire (again), and Hermione at least four more to splash water on his flaming cloak.

    “I’ll fix it for you this evening, alright?” she said, giggling slightly at the state of his robes.

    Hermione seemed to successfully cast the charm. She glowed with a vague azure aura for a moment, which soaked into her skin, and that looked quite promising to them all.

    Harry lit the hem of her skirt with a plain orange blaze. He wondered to himself how she was able to produce the beautiful sparkling cerulean flame.

    The fire licked its way up her legs, leaving unmarred wool and silk behind. She laughed slightly as it reached her knees, her giggles permeated by shrieks from various flaming students.

    It pooled at her stomach like liquid for a moment. She laughed harder than ever, then broke off. She screamed, louder than anyone else. Her yelps of genuine pain were at least an octave above everything else going on in the room.

    People turned to stare. Dean Thomas was still flaming, his robes turning to ash, but he did not seem to notice.

    She clutched at her belly, her budding lump, for a moment, grappling for her wand. Ron got to his before her, executing the flames from her stomach as she passed out. On closer examination, her robes were still unmarked, and they would have to wait until she woke to find out what happened.