One More Time

*

As August dwindled, Hermione found the weather hot, which would not be a bad thing except for the fact that her protruding stomach was more noticeable as time wore on. She made up for this fact by wearing baggier clothes, knowing it was only a matter of time before she would either have to start wearing robes or hope the weather cooled off fast.

The last week of August found her sitting on her small balcony overlooking the city, a glass of cold lemonade in her hand and a fan in the other. The sun beat down from above, illuminating the glow of city pollution.

Hermione was fanning herself in an almost hopeless manner. She was not enjoying the weather, no matter how much the television weatherman seemed to. At work, everyone seemed tired because of the heat, a little grumpy at times. Hermione took advantage of this as her hormones tended to lash out randomly and unexpectedly. Most people attributed this to the heat, for which she was very glad.

As she took a sip of her cool drink, the telephone rang from inside her flat. Unwillingly, she stood up and pulled open the door, making her way to the counter and grabbing the phone off it.

It had to be a Muggle who was calling her. Only they used the telephone.

“Hello?” Hermione answered, still waving the fan at herself. The heat wasn’t any better inside.

“Hermione, dear, how are you?”

“Hi, mum,” Hermione said, going over to the couch and sinking down on it. “I’m doing well, you?”

Her parents didn’t really call her that much since she was usually so busy with work. It seemed like they were part of another life, a life before Hogwarts, a life before everything had happened.

“Very well,” her mother answered. “How is work? Last your father and I heard, you were heading for a big promotion.”

Hermione grimaced. That had been over five months before. She realized how little she communicated with her parents.

“Oh yes, that went very well. I’m working on developing a new system for the Ministry Court sessions.”

“Oh good,” her mother said, now sounding as though she was simply stalling.

Hermione sighed. “So, mum, why did you call?”

“Well,” her mother said slowly. “Your birthday is in three weeks and your father and I were wondering if we’d be seeing you.”

She sounded so hopeful and Hermione had to frown. She wanted to see her parents, but she wasn’t sure if she could in her present condition. She could hide it alright, but lying to her parents was another story. She’d never been very good at it, even years of hanging around Harry and Ron hadn’t helped.

Glancing down at her stomach, that had a slight curve to it, she paused, thinking hard. She couldn’t avoid her parents forever. They had a right to know what was going on with their daughter, even if it would break their hearts. They would be terribly disappointed to know their perfect daughter was pregnant out of wedlock. They tended to be more traditionalist when it came to love and marriage.

“I…” she said finally. She could almost hear her mother holding her breath. “I’m going to be busy most of the next month, but I suppose we could get together next week sometime.”

“Wonderful!” her mother cried. “I was hoping you’d be available, sweetheart. We’ve missed you so much.”

Hermione actually smiled, though it was almost sad. The tone of her mother’s voice pulled at her heart. She knew she’d been avoiding them; she’d been avoiding almost everyone for the past four months.

After making plans to meet the next Saturday for tea, Hermione hung up the phone and remained sitting on the settee. This new obstacle, her birthday, was going to present a problem. Every year, Harry and Ron threw her a party with all her friends and coworkers. This year, she just didn’t want to, but how would she tell them?

Thinking she should nip the problem in the bud before it even got started, she whistled and her black owl, Kore, fluttered over onto her shoulder. She pulled a piece of parchment and a quill to herself and set down to write a letter.

After much thinking and crossing out, she finally had a satisfactory letter. She held it up to read it.

Harry,

In regards to my birthday this year, I know you always plan a wonderful party, but I think this year I’d prefer something a little more demure. You know, just my close friends like you and Ron. I’ve just been so busy lately and I’m a bit tired. Please, let me know what your plans are. I’d appreciate something smaller than usual.

Love, Hermione

She nodded succinctly and sealed the letter, attaching it to Kore’s leg and watching her soar out the window. She hoped Harry would listen to her request instead of being stubborn and going ahead with what he may have already planned.

She knew he liked to make big celebrations when it came to birthdays. Since he’d hardly ever gotten to celebrate his own as a child, he seemed to take it upon himself to make sure everyone around him had great days for themselves.

In the past, she had appreciated his enthusiasm, but this year, she just didn’t feel like having a huge party with lots of guests, people she’d have to make polite conversation with. She’d much rather spend the night in with just Harry and Ron.

She sighed. She had no control over what Harry might be planning; she only hoped he would listen to her wishes.

As she looked out her window, the sun began to sink below the horizon. The tops of London’s buildings were gilded gold as the sunk sank lower. Her birthday was little more than two weeks away and her due date was five months ahead.

She’d marked the date on her calendar but was beginning to grow nervous. As of yet, she hadn’t bought anything to prepare such as a crib or other baby items. She supposed she ought to discuss this with Blaise, though she didn’t really see the point. They hadn’t discussed anything pertaining to what would happen after the baby was born.

Hermione wondered if Blaise ever thought about the aftermath. Obviously, he knew what was going on, but did he really consider the consequences? Neither of them had told anyone and Hermione preferred to keep it that way, at least for a little while.

Sinking down in her chair that looked out the window, she took a deep breath. If she managed to survive the next few months, there were the next 17 years of her child’s life to handle. She didn’t doubt that the child would be magical, what with her prowess and Blaise’s lineage. That made it easier, knowing the child would attend Hogwarts for most of the year, but what about before and after?

Hermione didn’t really know what raising a child entailed and the only people she could ask, such as her mother or Mrs. Weasley, were people she’d rather not tell at the moment why she would be asking such a question.

She guessed she would just have to figure it out on her own. It wouldn’t be that hard, she thought. If she found the right books and told the right people, she could get by. It wasn’t as though she was alone either; she did have Blaise, although he wasn’t the best consultant on the subject either.

Hermione sighed and glanced at the calendar again then down at her stomach. Deciding she’d rather not think about anything, she flicked her wand, turning on the stereo. A soft classical piece floated through the sitting room and she closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than to wake up and find this was all a bad dream.

**

Hermione stood in front of a single story house with large front windows. Behind her, a car drove past and a dog barked from somewhere to her left. A kid on a bicycle whooshed by without giving the woman standing on the sidewalk looking up at the house with an ominous air a second glance.

After a moment’s hesitation, Hermione pulled her coat tighter and started up the walk. It was a balmy September evening; there was no real need for her coat, but she felt protected by its bulk, if only a little.

She rang the doorbell and stepped back to wait, glancing around at her childhood home. She remembered when she’d first received her Hogwarts letter. She hadn’t believed it at first, but after finding Diagon Alley, she’d been positively delighted.

She had been standing right behind the very door she was standing at, reading the letter through five times before she realized what it was saying.

Hermione shook the memory away as the door opened and her mother stood on the threshold. Jane Granger had the same frizzy brown hair and wore square glasses. Her smile was friendly and her arms were open.

She welcomed Hermione with a hug and a kiss on her cheek.

“Hermione, dear, I’m so glad to see you,” Jane said, ushering her daughter in. “Let me take your coat.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, reluctantly shrugging it off. “Alright.” She watched her mother put it away in a closet off the door. “Where’s dad?”

“He’s in the sitting room,” her mother said offhandedly. “Do go say hello.”

Hermione tugged at her sleeve self consciously, smoothing down her dress. She’d been wearing dresses a lot lately. She found they hid things a lot better if she wore the right cut.

As she walked into the sitting room, she saw her father sitting in an arm chair, a newspaper held in front of his nose. The paper lowered as Hermione came in and from behind it, her father smiled.

“Come to see your parents like a good girl?” he asked lightheartedly.

Hermione smiled and walked over, giving him a light hug. “Hi, dad, you look well.”

She sat down on the settee opposite and crossed her legs.

“I am well,” her dad said. “What about you? Your mother says you’ve been busy down at that office of yours. You don’t think they work you too hard?”

Hermione laughed. “No, dad, I love my job. And I don’t mind being busy.”

“Yes, but then you have no time to relax,” he said, stretching out his legs. He grinned. “My dear, you never did know how to relax.”

Hermione frowned. He was perfectly right, but she’d never wanted to admit it. “Of course I do,” she said. “But personally, I think it’s better to be productive than to sit around all day and read the paper.”

Her father shook his head, still smiling. “Just wait until you have children, Hermione. Then you might find it nice to sit around and do nothing.”

Hermione flushed a little but nodded. Her dad didn’t say anything and her mother came in and sat down beside Hermione.

“Well, Hermione,” she said, “tell us a little more about your job.”

Hermione smiled at the easy subject and began to tell them all about her work at the Ministry. They seemed genuinely interested in everything she told them, though she knew they understood very little.

They had always been supportive, however, of her desire to learn magic and stay in the magical world, even if it meant seeing them less. They knew she was happy there and they wanted nothing more than for their daughter to be happy.

After a few moments of chit chat, her mother stood up. “It’s such a nice evening,” she said. “I thought we might eat outside.”

Hermione smiled and rose from her chair, leading the way through the kitchen to the backyard. As she disappeared into the room, her mother whispered to her father.

“Gained a bit of weight, hasn’t she? I do hope she’s completely healthy.”

Her father merely grunted in agreement. They followed Hermione to the patio where they enjoyed a relaxed meal in the warm afternoon.

Hermione tried her best to act normally, but the small bubble of guilt in her stomach was constantly turning as she told her parents that no, she did not have a boyfriend, and no, she wasn’t see anyone. She knew they were interested in her future and hoped she would one day marry and have children.

She hated to see their faces if she told them she was closer to that goal than they expected. She didn’t want to crush their vision of a perfect daughter with a perfect future. So far, she had done well for herself, completing school, helping defeat the most evil wizard of all time, and acquiring a position at the Ministry, all within a period of seven years.

It hadn’t been easy, but she prided herself on rising to the challenge of life and succeeding. She wanted her parents to be proud of her also.

The rest of the evening passed quickly enough, without too much avoidance of questions on Hermione’s part. She was attempting to be as honest as she could without actual lying to her parents.

At the end of the night, they all rose from their chairs in the dining room where they’d been having an after-dinner cup of tea. Her mother was the first to hug her and wish her well at work, expressing her wish they could meet more often.

Her father also rose, hugging her. “Don’t be a stranger,” he said, giving her an extra squeeze. “I like to remember that I have a daughter on occasion.”

Hermione smiled. “I’m glad. I’ll try to stop by more often, though I may be busy over the next few months.”

“Promises, promises,” her father said. “As long as you keep them, that’s all I care.”

“I always do,” Hermione said quietly as they walked to the front door.

After another hug each, her parents let her go, watching until she’d walked all the way down the street and vanished in the blink of an eye.

Standing in their doorway, Jane turned to her husband. “Did she seem alright to you?”

“A bit tired, if you ask me,” he said, turning and heading back into the house.

Jane remained at the door for another moment and sighed. “Dear, Hermione, I do hope you know what you’re doing.” Then she turned and disappeared inside, shutting the door behind her.

**

It seemed a very short amount of time that Harry’s “get-together” for her birthday happened. One week she was evading questions about her personal life with her parents and then she was doing something similar at Harry’s house.

He’d heeded her wishes and it wasn’t a big fiesta like always. Instead, only Harry, Ron, Mandy, Padma, and Ginny were there. The feeling of relief that washed over Hermione as she realized they were the only invitees was immense.

It was a simple dinner Harry had planned, with all of her favorite foods, although when they set down the salad with vinaigrette dressing, she had to turn away, only taking a little and not really eating it. The smell was overpowering for her.

No one really seemed to notice. They were all talking merrily, happy to spend time together. Hermione joined in as best as she could, watching the happy couples and secretly longing for the same. A part of her wished Blaise or someone was sitting next to her with their hand around her waist, like Harry was with Padma.

She made it through the salad alright and was delighted when Harry brought out the kidney pie, claiming he had made it himself.

Padma laughed. “If you count laying the crust.”

“I did more than that,” Harry said indignantly. “I turned on the oven too.”

“Of course,” Padma said, still laughing slightly, patting Harry on the arm. “I forgot.”

“Well, I did help with the dessert,” Harry said pointedly and Hermione laughed. She forgot at times how much she enjoyed spending time with this group.

She ate with gusto now, thoroughly enjoying the food. She always seemed to be eating more than usual now. Her books had told her this would happen, that her appetite would increase the closer she got to her due date. She was always snacking nowadays.

When the dessert was brought out, she helped herself, listening contentedly as Harry told a story about something that had happened at work.

Hermione laughed with the rest of them as she took a second helping. Harry glanced up at her.

“Hermione, I’ve been meaning to ask,” he said. “Whatever happened to that story you said Zabini was writing? I didn’t see anything in the Prophet.”

Hermione took a rather large gulp of water as she thought fast. At Harry’s words, Ron looked around sharply.

“Zabini? What was he doing nosing around the Ministry? He should leave you alone, he should,” he said fiercely while Mandy held onto his arm to keep him from standing up and up-ending the table.

Hermione took a second to think of an answer, hoping her face gave away nothing. “Oh, I think he said it wouldn’t be printed for a while, or maybe they didn’t end up printing it.”

Harry frowned. “If it wasn’t going to be printed, he shouldn’t have had bothered you. I don’t like him hanging around there.”

“How many times has he been there?” Ron demanded.

Hermione sighed, not noticing Padma watching her carefully. “Only twice, and you are making too big of a deal out of it.”

Ron looked disgruntled but only huffed and fell silent. Harry didn’t look convinced either and Hermione knew it would take much more than verbal reassurance that Blaise was not up to anything.

Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin seemed to be Harry’s mantra, at least when it came to Blaise and Malfoy.

Padma broke the silence that had sprung up with a wave of her wand and a bottle of champagne appeared on the table, accompanied with six flutes.

“Shall we toast to your birthday?” she asked, uncorking the bottle. “You’re twenty-five now, Hermione, soon you’ll be thirty.”

“Don’t remind me,” Hermione said, tying to smile, but falling a bit short. The discussion about Blaise was still in her mind. If this was how they reacted to him simply paying her a visit at work, she couldn’t imagine what they would do when it all came out. She saw Padma pick up a glass and fill it, handing it to her. “Oh no, I couldn’t.”

“Come on,” Padma said. “It’s your birthday and it’s not like you’re driving home.”

“No,” Hermione repeated. “I really shouldn’t this late.”

Padma paused, then handed the glass to Ginny on Hermione’s left. The rest of the flutes were handed out and Padma conjured some sparkling cider for Hermione.

Harry raised his glass. “To Hermione, happy twenty-fifth and may she have many more.” He raised the glass and they all drank.

After dinner, they all made their way into the sitting room with their drinks to spend the evening in pleasant conversation. Padma caught Hermione as she made to follow everyone else.

“Hermione, could I talk to you for a moment?”

Hermione hesitated, glancing to the sitting room where Harry and Ron were already, talking about the latest Quidditch match.

“Well, alright,” she said finally.

Padma smiled and called to the boys. “We’re just going to clean up in here,” she said, and when she got a waved hand in response, she turned around and led Hermione, not into the kitchen, but down the hall to a small bedroom Harry had set up for guests.

Padma closed to door and turned the lights on with a wave of her wand. Hermione stood in the middle of the room, wondering what Padma could have on her mind that they had to go this much in private.

Turning around, Padma walked over to the bed and looked at Hermione, silent for only a minute as she looked her up and down.

Hermione frowned. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Precisely what I was going to ask you,” Padma said calmly. When Hermione looked away, Padma sighed. “Hermione, I’m worried. You haven’t been yourself lately, and don’t say it’s because of work,” she added as Hermione opened her mouth. “I really wish you would tell me what’s happening.”

Hermione didn’t say anything, knowing Padma was smart enough to figure it out, she just didn’t want her to. Already, she could see it was beginning to be harder to hide. Almost out of habit, Hermione smoothed down her dress, drawing Padma’s eyes to her stomach.

“Hermione,” Padma said seriously. “Are you pregnant?”

~~**~~