Honestly, Hermione

Chapter Sixteen: Just When You Thought It Was Safe...

It took all of Hermione's forbearance to assist Oliver with the three students who had succumbed to the lure of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Between his cavalier attitude, Kendra's unbelievable remark, and her own fears that Ron no longer wanted or needed her, Hermione's temper was short. Why had Wood come to get her to help with the students? He was a wizard, and a former professional Quidditch player, and there were a number of other teachers in the vicinity. She was no more necessary to the procedure than she was necessary in a Weasley family portrait.

After they'd seen the last student (who was ill with a stomachache, nothing more) into Madame Pomfrey's care, Hermione slowly headed back toward Hogsmeade. "Hold on there, Professor," Oliver said. "Where d'you think you're going?"

She shot him a look he barely remembered from his student days. "Hogsmeade, Mr. Wood. To oversee the rest of my students. You remember them, correct? They're the small, youngish witches and wizards we're responsible for teaching."

"Right." He looked her up and down, and Hermione had the distinct feeling that he was checking her out. She tried to glare, but was really just too tired to do it well. "I don't think that's a good idea, Professor. You're exhausted. That's not good for someone in your condition, is it?"

She couldn't help it. The idea of Oliver Wood giving her maternity advice, and with such a solicitous look on his face, was simply ludicrous. She grinned. "And what would you know about what's good for someone in my condition?" she teased. "Do you have a wife and child hidden away in these walls somewhere?"

He put his hand to his heart, and staggered around the corridor as though he'd been shot. "A hit! My heart bleeds in the face of your small opinion of me, my lady." He faked a swoon, landing on the bench beside her, reminding her for all the world of Ron. "Just because I made my name flying on a broom doesn't mean I'm completely uneducated, 'Mione," he told her with a wink. "I do read, you know."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his melodramatics, but didn't contradict him. She still remembered having the same argument with Ron, only in reverse. "I've heard rumors," she admitted, "but I've never really believed them." Her eyes sparkled with amusement as Oliver pretended to be deeply offended by her remarks. She was surprised to hear a girlish giggle escape from her throat.

Oliver Wood grinned at his fellow teacher, then tucked her arm companionably through his. "Come on. I'll see you to your rooms, then I promise I'll take care of the rest of your students. You just rest, 'Mione."

There is was again. He'd called her 'Mione. Once alone in her rooms, Hermione tried to square this Oliver Wood with the Quidditch-possessed boy she remembered from school. Then, he'd worked Harry and the rest of the Gryffindor team half to death in his quest for the Quidditch Cup. At meals and in the Gryffindor common room, she couldn't remember him ever talking about anything else. He certainly hadn't had time for girls then - especially not bookish, stand-offish, prefect-in-the-making little Hermione Granger. And to be honest, she'd barely had the time for him, either. She was only thirteen when he left Hogwarts. They occupied two very different spheres then, connected only by their shared house and Harry Potter. So what made him so chummy with her now?

A sharp pain in her side stopped all Hermione's musings. She gripped her bedpost and waited for the spasm to end. When it did, she sank down onto the floor, gasping for breath and racking her brain for an explanation other than the one she feared. Another pain shot through her, and Professor Granger fell in a dead faint.

***

The owl that flew with purpose toward Harry and Ron seemed vaguely familiar to Harry, who had kept in touch with Professor Dumbledore since leaving Hogwarts. The familiar green ink on the parchment the owl held clinched it. "It's a Hogwarts owl," he whispered to his friend.

As if Ron needed any encouragement. He'd been waiting to hear from Hermione for months. He'd memorized the owl that carried correspondence between Harry and Dumbledore, and as soon as he saw the owl, he'd recognized it. He tore open the letter, leaving Harry to deal with the owl while he eagerly perused the parchment.

Harry watched anxiously as all the color drained from Ron's face. It seemed even his bright red hair had dimmed. "What is it?" Ron wordlessly passed him the parchment.

Harry read it, and felt the shock hit him like a punch in the gut. His normally bright green eyes dulled as he met Ron's pained gaze. "I'll get Ginny and meet you there. You just -" Before he could finish his sentence, Ron, with a soft pop, had apparated.

***

Ginny left Jamie (a little unwillingly) with Percy and Penelope, and flew with her husband toward Hogwarts. When Harry had told her, Ginny couldn't believe it - wouldn't believe it. But Harry was so serious. And there were tears in his eyes. He'd told her that Ron had apparated to Hogwarts as soon as he got the owl. She'd immediately flooed Percy (who lived nearby) and asked if he and Penelope could take care of Jamie for her. Penelope agreed before Percy could even begin one of his ever-pompous speeches. Then Ginny had flooed her parents, telling them what was happening. In another minute she had pulled her old broom out of the closet (it was faster if she and Harry flew separately), and they were off.

She was silent as they flew over the English countryside. Her mind whirled with thoughts and bits of the past, snippets of memories, partly-forgotten aches, anguish for her friend and for her brother. She urged her broom to go even faster as tears began to slip unnoticed from her eyes.

A miscarriage. Her soul ached as the word emblazoned itself in her mind. Ginny well remembered the emptiness, the hollow pain, the heartbreak that came from that word. She and Harry hadn't talked about it much, with each other or anyone else, but three months after their wedding, she had miscarried their first child. Jamie, cherished baby though he was, was Ginny's second child. She would never forget the first one, the one she had only know existed for five short weeks. She could well imagine what Hermione was going through now.

***

Ron sat beside the infirmary bed, staring at his beloved with tear-washed eyes, willing her to wake up. He'd tried to apparate into Hogwarts, but was blocked at the entrance - apparently all the wards were still up and going strong. He'd had to settle for the Forbidden Forest, through which he ran with no thought to the dangers that lurked therein. Hermione was in the castle. Nothing could have kept him from her.

But now he'd been sitting by her side for over an hour. He had cried at the sight of her, lying there, pale and unmoving, looking for all the world as though she'd been visited by Death. Nor was he ashamed of his tears. This was Hermione, after all. He would not lose her again. He couldn't.

The door opened, and Ron looked up. Harry and Ginny came in, to share in his silent watch. Later, others filtered in. Wood, McGonagall, Snape, Dumbledore, several of Hermione's students, Lavender Brown and two other witches Ron didn't recognize. He could hear half a dozen members of his family out in the corridor. His mother was insisting she be let in. Ron smiled - Madam Pomfrey was no match for Molly Weasley. As if to prove his point, his mother made her way to Hermione's bedside a moment later.

***

Hermione heard a buzz of activity around her: whispered voices trying not to wake her. There were so many, though, that she couldn't help but hear them. She was acutely aware of two things. One: the pain in her abdomen. Two: Ron. Her eyes were closed; she couldn't see him. In all the whispers, she couldn't hear him. But she knew as well as she knew what had happened to her that he was at her side, holding her hand. She smiled faintly.

"'Mione?" he said aloud. She was shocked at how loud his voice was. "'Mione!" he said again. She forced her eyes open and smiled wanly.

"Quiet," she croaked. "My head hurts."

***

Some time later, when the cheering had died down and Hermione had slept off her draught of Dreamless Sleep, she woke again to see Ron at her side. He gave her a heartbreakingly dear smile. She bit her lip. "I - I lost the baby," she told him softly. "I knew it as soon as the first pain came. Ron - I'm so sorry." She began to cry, tears of guilt, mostly. She'd known she wasn't taking the best care of herself since she arrived at Hogwarts. She hadn't eaten well, hadn't slept well, hadn't been active enough, had wallowed in self-pity while she should have been caring for the child in her womb.

Ron brushed her wild curls away from her face and tried to hush her. "It's okay, 'Mione. It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was."

"It wasn't. Hermione, accidents happen. No one blames you."

"I blame me!" she emphasized, sitting up with some effort. All of Ron's sweet excuses did nothing for her state of mind. She was guilty; she was at fault. Like the Head Girl she once was, she was tormented with responsibility, and felt it only right that she atone for her actions. Her temper rose with every kind word he said. "You don't know. You weren't here!" She winced as she heard the accusatory tone of her voice. "What I mean is, Ron, I -"

But her unplanned barb had hit home. Ron flinched at the words that spewed from her mouth, and she nearly cried at the hurt she saw in his eyes. Hurt she had caused. He nodded slowly. "I know what you meant, Hermione." His bleak gaze swept over her now-flat abdomen. "I know, and I'm sorry. You don't want me here now. I'll go." He gently pulled his hand from hers and set it on the bed. Then he turned and walked slowly out of the infirmary, a stooped and beaten man.

Hermione turned to face the wall and cried.

***

Days later, Hermione had been permitted to leave the infirmary. Poppy Pomfrey, as overprotective as ever, had been unwilling to let her go even then, but there was really nothing else the medi-witch could do for Professor Granger. And Hermione had not been the pleasantest of patients. She'd had more visitors than anyone since Harry had graduated from Hogwarts, but they hadn't put the professor in any better a mood. In fact, they made her even more irritable.

Hermione decided not to illuminate Madam Pomfrey on the real reason for her irritability. The last thing she needed was any more pity. Harry's green eyes were filled with pity whenever he looked at her. All of the other professors had practically drowned Hermione in kindness - even Professor Snape, who had taken over most of her Arithmancy classes while she was an invalid. Her students, most of whom were a bit scared by her situation, nervously brought cards and news to the infirmary; the sixth- and seventh-year girls were especially solicitous to her situation. (Hermione, being obviously pregnant and just as obviously unmarried, had become a natural confessor for the hormone-driven teenage witches of Hogwarts.) Only three people didn't appear to pity her: Ron - who hadn't come back - and Ginny - who counseled Hermione as one who had been through it before - and Oliver Wood, who regarded her with some sadness but felt it his duty to take her mind off her situation.

In fact, Hermione thought with a modicum of pleasure, Oliver had been brilliant. He'd been the one to charm Poppy into releasing her from the infirmary. He'd overseen the cleaning and redecorating of Hermione's rooms. He'd visited her every day after the evening meal, bringing her contraband Every-Flavor Beans (which he'd carefully screened for unwelcome flavors, he told her with a wink) and gossip. Mr. Wood was every boy's favorite teacher, bar none, and a good number of the girls thought he was handsome and dashing and someone to swoon over. As a result, he was privy to a lot of gossip even Professor Dumbledore was unaware of. He shared all of it with Hermione, making her laugh with his impersonations.

And he didn't mention Ron once.

***

Ginny helped Hermione move back to her rooms, asking her one last time if she was certain she wanted to stay. "Mum wants you to recuperate at the Burrow, 'Mione. And you know that you're always welcome to stay with Harry and me." She took a deep breath and continued, "And Ron's going mad in London without you." At Hermione's closed-up face, she said, "Honestly, Hermione, he's blaming himself. He thinks it's his fault, because he wasn't here. No matter what Harry tells him, he won't believe it. And you're not making things any easier."

Hermione glared at her closest girl friend with all the anger she could muster. "I'm not making things any easier? I'm not?" she repeated. "So you think it's my fault, too? Of course you do. He's your brother, after all. When it all comes down, blood always tells. Well, I'm so sorry your sad, unhappy brother can't deal with what has happened. But to be honest, I really don't care. He's not making this any easier for me, either, Ginny. Remember me? The woman who lost her baby all over the floor of Hogwarts? He hasn't even tried to speak to me since it happened. Do you know who has? Oliver bloody Wood, of all people! The man teaches flying, for heaven's sake. We have nothing at all in common, but he's been here for me! Him! Not Ron. So spare me the pity for Ron, if you please."

Ginny shook her head. "I'm not taking sides, 'Mione. I know what you're going through." Hermione snorted. Ginny narrowed her eyes and decided it was time for some tough love. It had only been a week, and Ginny knew Hermione was only at the beginning of the healing process, but Ginny had an extremely low tolerance for self-pity in any form. She figured she had given Hermione long enough. After all, she'd already shouted at Ron for his wallowing. It was Hermione's turn.

"I do know," she insisted. Hermione's eyes held a sharp gleam of challenge. Ginny just arched one of her fine eyebrows. "Do you really think you're the only person this has happened to, Hermione? D'you think you're some kind of medical miracle, the first witch ever to miscarry? Well, I have news for you - you're not. My mum was pregnant ten times, 'Mione. Ten. And Jamie wasn't my first pregnancy. I lost a baby a few months after Harry and I got married. Okay? So when I say I understand what you're going through, I do."

***

Long after Ginny had gone - promising to return the next afternoon - Hermione sat in her bed, pondering the revelation she'd heard. Ginny had gone on to shock her a few more times, but nothing had been as astonishing as the first. Why hadn't they ever said anything about the miscarriage? she wondered. Hermione had been Ginny's confidante for so long that she thought she knew everything about the younger woman. Being one of Harry's best friends just meant Hermione had even more insight. Yet Ginny had never said a thing to anyone about her miscarriage. Until now, so much later. It was enough to chew on for the next three weeks, all by itself.

But that hadn't been the end of Ginny's tirade, not by a long shot. She'd also attacked Hermione about her friendship with Oliver Wood, suggesting that there was more to it than met the eye, and that was why Hermione had sent Ron away - why she hadn't spoken to him since coming to Hogwarts in the first place.

As vehemently as Hermione denied anything untoward in her unexpected friendship with Oliver Wood, Ginny only put words to Hermione's own unspoken thoughts. Bu that was nonsense! There was nothing at all between her and Oliver. They were friends, peers, if you would. And Hermione loved Ron.

Which only made her feel worse about the way she'd treated him.