Chapter 5

The next few weeks passed quickly, caught up in events as they were. Harry and Ginny's new baby was named (by her mother) Harriet Potter, and allowed home, a tiny wisp of a girl, inheriting her mother's pale skin and father's dark black hair. The children at school informed their parents of the houses they had been sorted into a various events going on at school that seemed so very important to their young minds. The Yule ball was being re-instated as a sort of Christmas party for the students, just before they broke up for the holidays, Someone had charmed the lights in the school to spell out rude words, the new potions teacher was re-decorating the dungeon classrooms in a nice yellow colour…

All these events passed Hermione completely. She knew it wasn't like her to allow any news from the school she loved so dearly to pass her in a fog of confusion, but between her work at the ministry and Ronald taking to the idea of another baby like a duck to water, she found herself driven to distraction.

Of course, the fainting spells weren't helping. She'd first dismissed them as symptoms of tiredness, and it wasn't as if they were serious, just her gently resting back into her seats and drifting off as if asleep. That was until the nightmares started.

Now, mid-way through September, Hermione couldn't recall a night when her precious sleep hadn't been interrupted by dreams of a dark figure looming over her, violating her in the worst possible way, and all the while laughing.

She'd tried to keep it to herself though, because Hermione Weasley nee Granger, was a sensible woman. Besides, she didn't want to worry Ron, who, despite his masculine bravado at school, was quite simply one of the most sensitive men Hermione had ever met. If she let him become aware of her illness, he'd most likely tell the ministry that neither of them would be coming to work and would spend the day trying to look after her.

She couldn't have known that Ron was worried anyway, he was so completely in tune with her and after so many years of marriage, he'd learnt her habits. He knew she wasn't sleeping properly; he never slept as well himself when she was struggling to rest. He also knew something was resting on her mind, although when he questioned her about it, it almost seemed as if she herself wasn't quite sure why she felt so anxious.

The couple's fears vanished in a puff of joy one chilly morning when Ron had awoken to the sound of Hermione coughing in the bathroom. He winced and rose from their still-warm bed, wrapping the sheets around himself (she always told him off if he wandered about naked, even in private) before hurrying through to find his poor wife knelt over the toilet.

'Stomach?' he asked somewhat redundantly, kneeling behind her and carefully pulling her hair back from her face as she retched again.

Rubbing her mouth, Hermione nodded, 'I bet it was that food last night… remind me to never ever try to cook ever again.' She whimpered, 'Get me some water?'

Ron dutifully stood, running the cold tap at the sink and tipping over the glass that held their toothbrushes. His Hermy wanted a drink, organised toothbrushes would have to take second place.

It was as he filled the glass that his mind connected the dots of her behaviour lately. Moodier than usual, tired all the time, and now illness in the morning…

He cleared his throat, as embarrassed as ever when it came to discussing anything 'biological' with Hermione. 'Love, you know you've been tired lately?'

Hermione took the glass he offered and sipped the water, 'I had noticed, yes.'

'And now you're chucking up in the morning?'

Hermione pulled a face, 'Don't use that expression. What's your point?' she almost snapped, before she caught the look in his eyes. Of course, Ron had worked out when she'd became pregnant with Rose long before Hermione had, he was a lot more observant of her body changing than she was, while the witch was so consumed with her mind.

She did a little mental arithmetic over her body's cycle and the time since she had stopped using the contraceptive charm. Then her cheeks flushed pink.

Ron smiled. 'Are you?'

Hermione replied with a mutter of 'You always know before I do, you rotten, brilliant man.'

Ron laughed and drew his wife into a hug, nuzzling her bushy hair before mumbling, 'Weasley thing, love.' He placed a hand on her tummy, although there was no sign yet of the apparent baby. 'What do you think, boy or girl?'

Hermione smirked, 'Ron, it's only the size of a pea at the moment… I couldn't possibly tell you what it's gender is.'

Ron ignored her, 'I think it's a girl. Another pretty one like our Rosie. That way little Harriet will have someone to play with.'

In Harry's house, the couple were not so happy. Ginny was already up, feeding her new-born daughter. She hadn't slept, Harriet was struggling to learn how to sleep through the night and Harry had complained so violently about the noise that Ginny, fearful for the baby, had moved herself and the little one to a room on the other side of the house.

It wasn't so bad, she told herself, Harry needed his sleep, and besides, plenty of couples slept in different rooms, especially when they had a baby who needed round-the-clock care, as tiny Harriet did.

A traitorous voice at the back of Ginny's mind muttered 'And how many of those couples do you know, Ginny? Do you remember being told about your mum and dad spending a single night apart, even when they had mischievous toddling twins, a colicy infant Ron, and a newborn girl?'

In her arms, Harriet whimpered as a few stray tears splashed on her tiny face. A tiny hand clasped her mother's dressing gown and Ginny managed a smile.

'Shh, it's all right little one.' She whispered, even though she could see it wasn't.

'Pst. From James.' Rose hissed, jabbing an elbow into Lavinia Longbottom's side and smoothly pushing a piece of folded paper across the small space between their desks.

Rose didn't need to read the note that had rapidly made its way around the D.A.D.A. classroom from her cousin's own desk (Professor Sternaleg had placed young James at the front where he could watch him like a hawk). All she had to do was watch Lavinia's face, which was first surprised, then suddenly flushed pale pink as a smile stole across her features.

Rose rolled her eyes, turning to Scorpious beside her and whispering, 'How did he ask her to the ball then?'

Scorpious, who had taken the chance to read the note his fellow Gryffindor had sent, smirked. 'It just said Do you want to go to the ball with me? Tick one of the options below. And he'd drawn some boxes and put 'Yes' next to all of them.'

Rose smirked, 'He's got confidence, I'll give him that.'

The Yule ball was rapidly approaching and had become the subject of almost every conversation in the school, one by one students were pairing up to attend, many young faces had flushed that same shade of pink as Lavinia's. A number of parcels had begun to arrive by owl containing ballgowns and dress robes, the dance lessons had begun and were a source of much embarrassment to Scorpious, as he was one of the few who already knew how to waltz and was continually called upon to demonstrate to his peers.

The aristocratic young man nodded, toying with his quill as he watched the professor admonish James for some misdeed, apparently involving a frog and a pot of ink, to judge from the blue flipper-prints over the professor's desk.

'I'd call it arrogance, myself.' He replied to Rose. 'Oh, I like your cousin well enough, but if he weren't so charming…'

Rose laughed softly under her breath, 'I know… sometimes I want to tell him off for how he acts, but…' she stopped herself mid-sentence, about to say 'considering how bad it is at home I think he needs a little arrogance.' But realising in time that she wasn't talking to someone who needed to know about the abuse her poor cousins were suffering at home.

Then who should know, Rosie? Her mind snapped in a voice like her mother's. You're going to have to tell someone, someday. They need help and you can't give it.

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she missed Scorpious' question. She shook her head to herself and turned to him, blinking in puzzlement. 'Pardon?'

The platinum blonde's face turned red slowly, making him look not unlike a strawberry covered in cream. 'I…oh, nevermind…'

'Mister Malfoy,' a irritable voice growled from behind the two, 'Miss Weasley, five points each for talking during my lesson.' Professor Sternaleg huffed to himself, 'And as Miss Weasley apparently missed it, He asked you to attend the ball with him. Now if we can all manage to tear our thoughts from such frivolities, who can give me five uses for powdered earwigs in reference to airborne simians?'

Contrary to her nature to please her professors, Rose's hand didn't shoot up to answer, she was too busy smiling and answering another question with a mouthed 'yes'.