Disclaimer: J.K Rowlling managed to snag the rights to everything here, unfortunately. She can't have the plotline though - it's mine, it's all mine!

A/N: Well, I was inspired to write this fic by the Daily Prompts Thread over at the HPFC, so thanks go to thegirlofcrazy (and her virtual baby :P) for submitting the prompt.

Prompt was 'I'm pregnant.'

This fic is about two characters that I've never written before, and also a genre that I've never ventured into, so feedback would be greatly appreciated! Happy reading :)

"Rose?"

Hermione knocked softly on the door of her daughter's bedroom, trying to mentally prepare herself for what she would find inside. She was a strong, mature woman now, absolutely no question about that. Throughout her life she'd faced more challenges than most would have been able to handle - mountain trolls, love triangles, even Voldemort himself. But nothing, nothing in Hermione's life had ever prepared her for the toughest challenge a person could possibly face.

Parenthood.

The trouble with it was that it was constantly changing - one obstacle gave way to another, a problem solved left room for the next. She'd learned more from motherhood than she'd ever learned from books, or blackboards, or carefully copied notes...and in truth, it terrified her. Hermione was always the one to research the issue, find the solution...but as a mother, she couldn't always do that.

She could only offer advice, and comfort, and hope that things would turn out right.

And that's exactly what she did as she gently pushed her way into her daughter's bedroom, and then slid down the wall to sit beside her.

"G-go away! Go awa-ay!" the pretty sixteen-year-old choked out against the sobs racking through her body, still pressing herself against the door, as though continuing her futile attempt to keep her mother from seeing this private break down.

"Rose, you know I can't do that, sweetheart. You need to talk to me, tell me what's wrong." Hermione kept her voice soft, level, strong, trying desperately not to let the panic and fear she felt leak out of her. Her daughter was nearing hysterics now, and if she let her own hysteria overcome her at the sight of her little girl's gut-wrenching anguish, the situation would quickly dissolve into chaos.

A mother had to be strong, an anchor that her children could cling to in their times of need. And instinctively she knew that now, more than ever before, Rose was going to need that anchor.

"Rose," she pressed firmly, placing a hand gently on her daughter's shoulder. "Tell me."

"It's all wrong, it's all wrong!" It was becoming harder to distinguish her words now, as the tears continued to flow down the teen's face, mascara and eyeliner staining her lightly freckled cheeks. She grew louder and louder as she wrapped her arms securely round her knees and began to rock herself - back and forth, back and forth. The high-pitched mantra carried on. "It's wrong, it's wrong...oh god, what am I going to do-oo-oo?" Fresh sobs waved out of her, and once again Hermione had to bite back her own choking flash of hysteria.

She slid her arm more fully around Rose's shoulders, and began to rock with her, controlling the pace so that the movement became slow and soothing, nothing like the distraught despair that had powered it previously.

"Shhh, shhh, shh," she murmered softly, cooing it exactly the way she had when this beautiful young woman she'd raised had been no more than a baby. "It's going to be fine, baby. Everything's going to be fine, ok?" She repeated this over and over and over again, always rocking, always soothing, just the way a mother should, and was relieved when her daughter's sobs began to quiet, becoming muffled and erratic, until eventually they stopped.

She stopped rocking then, and drew back slightly, continuing to rub circles softly into her child's back. "It'll be fine, trust me." She repeated it once more, more for her own benefit really - the shock of seeing her only daughter in so much pain had been devastating, despite her outward appearance, and she needed the reassurance (even if it could only come from herself) that the worst was over.

Which is why it broke her heart to see Rose shake her head slowly, defeatedly, against her arms. She heard her draw in a deep breath, and then blue eyes met brown ones, filled with such despair and sadness that it sent a pang straight to Hermione's chest.

"No, it won't be fine, Mum," she whispered helplessly, shaking her head again. Her voice was thick with emotion, and she paused for what seemed like an eternity, swallowing back a fresh wave of sobs as she tried to steel herself against the helplessness. And then she couldn't contain it anymore. "Mum, I'm pregnant." And then there were tears once more, trickling down her wonderfully baby face as she shrugged hopelessly.

A pause. A silence. An infinite moment of nothing stretched on.

"Oh, Rosie!" Hermione whispered, as her own tears started to fall.

A mother had to be strong. Soothing. There to give comfort and advice, whenever it was needed. She had to be fair, and firm, and able to fight when things got hard. She had to be indestructible - an anchor, always, no matter what.

Her daughter shouldn't have to be those things. Not now. Not yet.

"I...is it...Scorpius?" she questioned gently, knowing the answer before she asked it.

Rose nodded, her eyes blurry as she pressed her lips together until they were white, trying to fight back the tsunami of emotion inside of her.

"Yes." She took a deep breath, and then let the fear come flooding out of her.

"So how can this be OK, mum? I mean, dad hates him...his dad hates me...and we're so young, and I had so many plans, and now I don't know what I'm doing or where we're going or what's going to happen and how do I get through this..."

Her voice tailed of as she wrapped her arms around herself once more, and for a few minutes Hermoine could only watch as her daughter fell to pieces in front her, wanting nothing more than to join her in that oblivion. To throw herself into the darkness inside of her and weep. For herself. For Rose.

Be an anchor. Be an anchor.

When she finally spoke, she laced her voice with conviction, as though she could really believe the words she was saying.

"This will work out, Rosie. I promise you, sweetheart." She guided her daughter's chin upwards until their eyes met, and her gaze was firm and unfaltering. "Trust me."

And then she wrapped her daughter in her arms and held her, and knew she would do everything in her power to make the words she had just said true. After all, she was a mother. An anchor. She had to.

A/N: Same as always, folks. Read and review! :)