The Seventh Year Soap Opera

Chapter One- Hermione's Secret

No, she thought blindly. No, it wasn't possible. Sure, she had been feeling rather ill lately, and a bit more tired than usual. The bushy haired witch cast the charm upon herself once more, and bright purple sparks shot out of her wand. With a sharp gasp of disbelief, Hermione dropped her wand, and sank onto the floor, hands gently touching her belly. But, then, why can't I see any physical changes in myself? she thought, and when a mirror said, "It's different with every woman dear," she realized she had said it out loud.

Hermione bowed her head, blinking back tears.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

When Hermione walked into the Gryffindor common room an hour and a half later, she saw Harry and Ron playing chess by the fire. She checked her watch, saw that it was near eleven o clock, and realized that nearly everyone had headed up to their dormitories. Hermione swallowed the lump forming in her throat as she just stood by the portrait hole, watching her best friend and her boyfriend playing chess. How would she ever break the news to them?

One of the fifth years involved in playing a rather rowdy game of Exploding Snap screamed loudly; her nose had caught fire. The girl's friend immediately put the fire out with her wand, then looked across the room nervously at Hermione. The third girl was giggling madly. Hermione made her way over to the three of them, playing idly with the Head Girl badge on her chest. "Shouldn't the three of you be heading to bed?" she asked.

"We just wanted to finish--" started the one who had been giggling madly.

"It's late, and it's your O.W.L. year. You need your sleep. Now, off to bed!" The girls grudgingly got up and went to their dormitory, muttering angrily all the way.

"We stayed up a lot later than that in our O.W.L. year," said Harry from the chessboard, and Hermione smiled.

"I know, but...who's winning?" she said, walking over and taking a seat next to Harry. She saw a muscle tighten only slightly in Ron's jaw and she scooted the chair so that it was between them instead. Harry didn't seem to notice.

"Who do you think?" Ron said, and as he prodded his knight forward, he sat back and relaxed in his chair, grinning his lopsided grin. "I'm undefeatable."

Hermione watched them play until Ron won the game, which was about five minutes later. Ron bade them good night, and headed upstairs, and Hermione watched him go, then focused her attention on Harry. "Harry?" she started softly.

"Yeah?"

She knew then that she couldn't tell him. Hermione bit her lip, and muttered, "Never mind." She stood up, kissed him lightly on the head and went to her dormitory. You'll have to tell him sooner or later, she thought. I know.

But she didn't tell him the next day. Or the day after that. Hermione woke up every morning before Lavender and Parvati to put Concealment Charms on herself, making sure she didn't look peaky or unlike her natural self. When the slightest curving of her stomach began to show, in the six month, (which she thought was quite ridiculous as most woman started showing long before then), she began changing her shape to hide it. Hermione had been prepared to do this weeks before hand and had read up on it, finding herself relieved that it wouldn't harm the baby.

One thing that was hard to prevent was morning sickness. There just seemed to be no spell that would stop it. So, she placed soundproofing charms on the prefect's bathroom every time she went in, so no one would hear her retching.

One particular morning after Hermione vomited, she leaned up against the toilet, wiping at her mouth with the sides of a washcloth. Feeling horrible, she stood up and headed over to the bath. After turning on the faucets she climbed in, relaxing amid the pink and yellow bubbles, and the white hot steam floating from the water and into the air.

Soon, she became lost in her thoughts. How the hell was she going to tell Harry? How the hell was she going to tell Ron? Her parents? Oh Lord, her parents...what would they say? She felt the tears prickle in her eyes and started bawling her eyes out, and didn't even notice that the prefect's bathroom door had opened.

A small yelp warranted her attention and Hermione's eyes shot open; a tall redhead was standing in front of her, back turned, with a towel wrapped around his waist. Turning maroon, Hermione sunk deeper into the bath bubbles. "Ron, why are you in here?" she asked irritably.

"I could ask you the same thing!" said Ron.

"Taking a bath, isn't it obvious? I meant, why are you in the girl's bathroom?"

Ron shook his head, and she saw his shoulders shake slightly, as though he was trying not to laugh. "'Mione, this is the boy's bathroom."

"Don't call me 'Mione," Hermione said sharply, then comprehension dawned on her. "This is not the boys' bathroom!" she protested, refusing to believe it.

"Yeah, it is," said Ron, and he turned to look at her; she sunk deeper into the water, face hot all over. His face was beet red as well. "Hermione, you haven't been yourself lately."

Hermione let out a tut. "Oh honestly, Ron," she said dismissively, hoping he wasn't trying to tell her that he possibly knew. She stared around at the walls, the golden decor causing her to smile slightly. "I'm fine." She looked back up at him, and saw him raise his eyebrows. "Ron, do you mind?" she said indignantly, splashing the water somewhat.

Ron went more red, if that was possible, muttered, "Oh, right, yeah, sorry...", retrieved his shirt from the corner of the room and walked out rather quickly.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Over the next few days, Hermione decided she needed to tell someone about her dilemma. She was feeling rather anxious and guilty all at once. She just had to tell someone. She had to. The secret was too much of a burden to carry on her shoulders alone. But who? she asked herself.

It couldn't be Harry or Ron, for...well, obvious reasons. And as much as Hermione wanted to tell Ginny, she couldn't. She didn't know why, really. Ginny was Hermione's best female friend, after all, and even though Ginny sometimes gossiped as much as Lavender Brown, she wouldn't blurt out something as this. But something held Hermione back from telling her. She didn't know what it was, but it was a bit along the same lines of why she had not told Ginny about Harry going into hiding in sixth year. She suspected Ginny already knew about that, though.

Hermione's first instinct would be to tell a professor, but something held her back from that as well. She needed to tell a peer, someone who would understand. She needed someone who knew how to keep their mouth shut.

Ah hah! She'd tell Seamus Finnigan. He was there for the Christmas Holidays and knew how to keep a secret; after all, he and Lavender had kept their relationship secret even though they had been dating since the end of fourth year.

Hermione yawned widely as she closed the door to the prefect's bathroom behind her, where she had just retched minutes before. But the fact that she was finally going to tell someone brought a small smile to her face. Feeling light headed, she started walking to the Gryffindor common room, a bundle of books in hand, that way if anyone asked where she'd gone, she could always say the library.

Unfortunately, she was lost in her thoughts, and walking unsteadily to begin with, and she tripped and fell. She lay there for a second, stunned, surprised, and hurt. Tears brimmed in her eyes for a moment, before she jumped up in horror. "Oh my goodness, what have I done?" she said aloud.

"Fell down. Say, did you have a nice trip?" a voice said from behind her.

Oh my gosh, did he hear? she thought as she turned around to face Draco Malfoy. She felt like crying, but held back her tears and looked at Malfoy. He was linked arm in arm with Pansy Parkinson. His taunt rang in her ears and she was compelled to retort. "Yes, yes I did. My trip was lovely," she spat, as she bent to pick up her books, all of which were now sprawled across the floor.

What have I done? she thought as the Slytherin's laughter faded away.

When all her books were back in her bag, she sighed. Now feeling tired, she sat down against the wall. A slight tension in her temples told her that a vicious headache was coming. Great, she thought. And she began to cry.

But she wiped away her tears when she heard other footsteps approaching. She struggled to stand, but her strength failed her and she slumped back against the wall. "Hermione?" a voice said. She looked up to where the voice had come from and saw a concerned Gryffindor face. Seamus Finnigan was standing over her.

Hermione would have laughed outright at the irony of it; seconds before she had been thinking of telling Seamus of her problem, and now here he was. She settled on a small smile instead, knowing that laughter would only bring the headache on more quickly.

"Have you been crying?" he said, noticing her tearstained face. Like a typical male, he looked rather frightened at the prospect. Hermione took his outstretched hand and allowed him to help her to her feet.

"No," she lied, shaking her head for effect, but she could tell it wasn't very convincing.

"Don't lie to me. It's obvious you've been crying. What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Did you and Harry have a huge fight?" he asked as they approached the Gryffindor portrait hole.

"No," answered Hermione truthfully, though Seamus had great reason to suspect that. Ever since Harry had returned from hiding, he had refused to tell Ron and Hermione what had gone on, and how he had defeated Voldemort. It was bothered Hermione very much, and whenever she tried to ask him about it, he shrugged her off.

"Tailfeathers," Seamus said to the Fat Lady once they had reached the portrait hole. It swung open and Seamus pulled Hermione through. Hermione immediately felt better. The aura coming from the room seemed to embrace her lovingly. She felt warmth from the fire crackling in the fireplace and she felt welcome.

"Wizard chess?" Seamus said. Obviously he had decided not to pry Hermione for any more information. Yes, she would eventually tell him her secret, but she wanted to tell him on her own terms--when she felt comfortable.

"Sure," Hermione said, grinning, and they began to play. After a half an hour, Seamus had lost to Hermione and her spirits were lifted immensely. She hardly beat anyone at chess, even though she was smart, and the fact that she knew Seamus hadn't cheated (his facial expressions as his pawns were destroyed were priceless) made her win so much better.

The two of them sank into chairs by the fire and the unpleasantness she had felt when she had fallen down came back full force. She remembered when she had fallen down. She bit her lip worriedly.

"Hermione, what's really wrong?" Seamus said.

Hermione heaved a sigh and gazed at him for a moment. "Okay, I'll tell you. I'm-I'm pregnant." That was the first time she had said the word aloud and it made her stomach churn a bit.

"You're--you and Harry--you're--oh, this is not good," he stuttered in reply. Why on earth had she told him? He was weak, oh so weak. There was no way this was going to stay a secret for long.

Hermione fixed him a stern look. "Now, listen. I don't want you to tell--" She was cut off by the portrait hole opening. Harry stood there, broomstick in hand, obviously coming from flying around the pitch a couple of times.

For about the hundredth time since his return, Hermione observed how different he looked. In sixth year, he had been tall, but thin, with his trademark messy black hair and bright green eyes. His hair and eyes were still the same, of course, but now he had filled out a bit more, and he was more muscular than she remembered. Those muscles didn't come from Quidditch playing, but from training tirelessly to defeat a Dark Lord who was after you.

Hermione instantly pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind, and gave Seamus a piercing look, forbidding him to breathe one word of what she had just told him.

"Hi guys," Harry said brightly, walking over to them. He went over to Hermione and kissed her on the cheek and then turned to Seamus. "What are you guys doing?"

Seamus shot a worried look at Hermione. Oh nothing Harry, just discussing your girlfriend's pregnancy. You're going to be a father! Isn't it great? So, how was Quidditch practice? Seamus felt like he was going to be sick.

"We were playing wizard chess," Hermione replied. "I won."

"Let me go put away my Firebolt, and I'll see if I can beat you. Seamus are you okay?" Harry said.

"Sudden--urge--to--barf," Seamus said, running to the bathroom. Hermione looked after him. Why did I tell him? Why?

"I hope it wasn't something in the food," Harry muttered to himself, going to put away his broomstick.

"I'll go and see to Seamus," she called after him, heading into the bathroom.

"Seamus, are you okay?" Her voice echoed off the walls.

"It was a false alarm," he said coming out of a stall, looking relieved. "Are you going to tell Harry?" He opened the bathroom door and they stepped out into the common room.

"Tell Harry what?" a voice came from the portrait hole. Hermione and Seamus found themselves looking at a certain redhaired, freckle faced someone. Ron?

Why now? Hermione asked herself.

Seamus stared nervously at Ron. "Just how much she loves the bastard!" he said a little too late. Hermione gave him an encouraging smile. Ron looked from one to the other, told himself it was an inside joke, and shrugged.

"Wizard chess anyone?"

* * * * * * * * * * * *

"Gosh Hermione, you sure have been eating a lot lately," Ron noticed the next day at breakfast. Hermione bit her lip; she really didn't like how much he was noticing the fact that she was different lately. She shrugged indifferently.

Seamus, however, choked on his water. No one seemed to notice except Hermione and Lavender, who clapped him on the back, asking him worriedly if he was okay. Hermione wanted to say something scathing--that, no, he wasn't okay because he was keeping a secret that could change all of their lives, combined with the fact that clapping someone on the back when they are choking does nothing to improve the situation.

She wondered if she should have told him. He was reminiscent of Neville, Professor Quirrel, and Peter Pettigrew rolled into one, now that he knew her secret. Whenever Harry came close to him, he would squeak and become tongue tied, and walk out of the room, muttering. Whenever he saw Hermione, he would gaze at her pityingly.

"I 'ike foo'," Hermione said, trying to cover up Seamus' coughing fit. She said it through scrambled eggs smothered in butter and ketchup. "Besides," she added, swallowing, "You're one to talk. You eat like a pig."

"I do not!" Ron argued. He couldn't see the egg dangling from his chin.

"Here you go mate," Harry said, handing Ron a napkin. "You do eat like a pig," he whispered to his friend. Honestly, his eating habits reminded Harry of Uncle Vernon's.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

After breakfast, Hermione gripped Seamus by the elbow and led him away from the table. "Seamus!" she said sharply, as she led him into a deserted corridor.

"What?" he said, looking panicked.

Her eyes glittered dangerously. "You came this close to letting it slip!" She held her thumb and index finger as close together as she could possibly get them without touching. "You--you...can't do that, Seamus! You promised not to tell, but if you keep acting the way you do, people are going to know something's up!"

Seamus rolled his eyes. "Sorry, Hermione, but I didn't think you'd tell me that you were bloody pregnant when I asked what was wrong, so forgive me for going bloody bonkers over it!" Hermione let go of his sleeve and stared at him; he reminded her irresistibly of Ron at the moment. "I feel like I'm going to go mad, I mean I look at Harry and just want to tell him!"

"Don't you dare," whispered Hermione. "I will tell him, but not now. Can you understand that?"

Seamus sighed. "Look, Hermione, I don't know if I can deal with this burden..."

Hermione drew her wand from her robes. "I can perform Obliviate if you like," she offered.

Seamus stared at her wand in horror. "You could wipe out all my memories!" he sputtered, looking defiant.

"Well," said Hermione stiffly, "would you rather keep my secret or take that risk? It's up to you." There was a tense moment, Hermione holding her wand upward at Seamus, and him staring down at her, contemplating.

"What are you guys doing?" came a voice, and Hermione lowered her wand at once, searching her mind for something to tell Lavender, as she gave them an odd look and clutched her boyfriend's arm.

"We were just..." started Hermione, wracking her brains.

"...er...practicing some former D.A. moves," supplied Seamus, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and gave her fellow classmate a grateful look. "We're done now, though, Lav. What do you say to...er...a walk by the lake?"

Lavender stared at him like he had grown two heads. "It's December and it's freezing!" She gave a shudder for effect.

"You're a witch. There are such things as Heating Charms."

"Oh, yes, there are, aren't there?" murmured Lavender absently, raising her eyebrows questioningly at Hermione over her shoulder.

Hermione's eyes remained on them as they walked away. Seamus had his arms around Lavender and she was leaning into his chest contentedly. Hermione's breath caught in her throat and her wand accidentally slipped from her hand as she wished for that--someone to hold her like that. What are you thinking, Granger? You have Harry, remember? she scolded herself mentally, sinking to the floor.

She grasped her wand and held placed it behind her ear, the way that Luna Lovegood always did. It was actually a rather sensible place to keep it, as you weren't in danger of losing a buttock over it.

"Aarrgh! What am I going to do about you?" she muttered, a bit frustratedly, to her unborn child.

"Hermione?" came Harry's voice. Hermione stood up, dusting off her robes.

"Yes, Harry?" she said tiredly, as the raven haired teenager came into view.

"Would you mind helping Ron and I on Shacklebolt's essay?" he asked hopefully. Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. Ron and Harry were seventeen years old and they were still coming to her for help with schoolwork. Kingsley Shacklebolt had become the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor right after Harry had gone into hiding from You-Know-Who.

Hermione stared at him. "You two have had all break to work on that essay!" she said. "All this time and you still leave things to the last minute!"

Ron ambled toward them, a piece of toast clutched in his hand. "That's because we know you can help us," he said. Hermione glared fiercely at him. "Oh come on, Hermione, you know we aren't as brilliant as you."

"Flattery will get you nowhere Ron Weasley," Hermione retorted haughtily.

"So, you're not going to help us?" Harry said.

"No! Now stop pestering me, Harry! I have more important things to worry about than your essays!" She stormed away from them, and Harry turned to Ron.

"You reckon there's something wrong with Hermione, mate?" he said.

Ron nodded grimly, as he continued watching her. When her bushy head rounded a corner, he looked at Harry. "Yeah, there is."

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Harry and Ron did their essays by themselves, both scraping A's, but stayed away from Hermione for awhile. She seemed on edge these days, and they wondered if she was sleeping well enough, because there always seemed to be bags under her eyes. It was like she was staying up at night, worrying about something.

It wasn't until the end of the December holidays, when the other students came back to Hogwarts that they approached her. She was reading a very fat textbook and looked like she would fall asleep at any second.

"Hermione?" Ron said timidly.

"Hermione, do you want to have a snowball fight?" Harry asked. It hadn't started snowing until a couple of days ago, and he wasn't sure how long the snow was going to last.

"Harry, I can't," she said, exasperated.

"Hermione, why not? When was the last time you had fun!" Harry demanded. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron and I won't throw them hard. Promise."

Hermione supposed she should be happy that he was coming out of the hole he had been hiding in ever since he returned from killing Voldemort, but he was making her angry. "Honestly, Harry, don't treat me any different because I'm female!"

"So you'll come?" Ron interjected, staring at her hopefully. Hermione swiped a strand of hair irritably from her face and gave him a look he was familiar with--the one that made it clear she was not in a good mood. This one clearly said, 'Do I really look like I want to freeze my arse off while you pelt me with snow?'

"No," she said firmly.

"Why?" sighed Harry.

"Will that hurt the baby, Hermione?" The voice came from Seamus Finnigan, who was sitting on the floor by Hermione's table, teaching Muggle cards to the fifth years Hermione had told off for playing Exploding Snap when they should have been asleep.

"I don't know!" she snapped.

"Baby? What baby?" the fifth years said wonderingly, staring at one another, then to Hermione.

"What?!" Harry and Ron said at the same time, looking from Seamus to Hermione. Seamus turned a shade of green, realizing what he had said.

"Oh nothing," he said weakly, sinking into a chair, rubbing his forehead. He didn't dare look at Hermione--she would kill him for certain.

"I'm pregnant!" Hermione said defensively, and she stood up abruptly. She didn't know why she had snapped at them or why her voice had suddenly raised several notches. Perhaps pregnancy resulted in mood swings?

"Hermione, please tell me I'm dreaming. Tell me this is a dream," Harry said, getting choked up.

"No," Hermione said evenly. "It's not. I'm pregnant." She tried to meet his eyes, but couldn't. Her face was hot and she wanted nothing more than to run away and never come back. "I-I'm pregnant, Harry...it's true." She could feel Harry's eyes on her, and Ron's.

Everything was silent. After a few awkward moments of looking at each other, Harry broke the silence.

"Who's the father?" he said quietly. Hermione raised her head and looked into his eyes, which showed every sign of being betrayed. She glanced at Ron, who had gone white and was apparently in shock; quickly, she looked away and faced Harry again. "Hermione?" he prompted.

She tried desperately to hold back the tears that were threatening to cascade down her cheeks.

Harry knew the baby wasn't his.