A/N: Just an idea that was floating around in my mind. Enjoy :) P.S. if the ending is kind of lackluster to you, let me just say it was better before I accidentally deleted it. Thems the breaks I guess.
Hermione impatiently twisted her gold wedding ring around her finger, her eyes darting from the annoyingly ticking clock on the wall to the platinum-blonde haired receptionist. The witch was leisurely shuffling a pile of papers, oblivious to Hermione's death glare as well as the brown eyed witch's anxiety to get back to work on time. Her boss' impending anger outweighed her primary reason for being in St. Mungo's: the nausea and vomit that had been visiting her every morning for the past two weeks. She had dismissed it as a stomach bug, but Ron's unwavering niggling for her to make a trip to the hospital had finally convinced her to get herself checked out.
However, as she sat in the almost vacant St. Mungo's waiting room, she found herself regretting her decision to consider Ron's nervous qualms that she could be suffering from some little known disease. Hermione involuntarily rolled her eyes and began tapping her kitten toe heeled foot on the linoleum floor, running a hand through her slightly tamed curly mane. She ignored the blatant glares her toe tapping was igniting in the other women awaiting the calling of their names, her agitation overriding her manners.
After what seemed to be an eternity (but was truly three measly minutes), the receptionist finally spoke the words Hermione had been itching to hear for the past twenty minutes. "Hermione Weasley!" the receptionist rang out, a smiled pasted on her heavily made up face, although her eyes betrayed the fact that she was more than happy to send Hermione off.
With a relieved sigh, Hermione stood up from the plastic waiting chair and walked in the direction of the reception desk. "Room 4-B. Your Healer will be with you momentarily," the receptionist said, motioning to the corridor to the right. Purposefully, Hermione strode down the hallway, her eyes scanning the gold nameplates screwed to each door for her assigned room. Finally spotting it, she swiftly walked into the room and sat on the slippery, cotton-filled bed, her mind clogged with thoughts of work.
She started when a motherly Healer appeared at the door, a plastic clipboard in hand and a genial smile across her face. "Hello, dear," she said, her kind blue eyes sparkling. "I'm Healer Roberts. What seems to be the problem?" She leaned against the counter adjacent from the cot, her smile still in place.
"I've just been vomiting every morning consistently for the past two weeks, and my husband is getting worried, so I was just hoping maybe you could prescribe a potion for me?" Hermione rushed out, eager to get the appointment over and done with.
The Healer raised a graying eyebrow. "Every morning?"
Hermione nodded, shifting uncomfortably. "Sometimes at around noon I feel nauseous too. Or when I smell something that upsets my stomach," she explained, eyeing the door. "Do you think it's a virus?" She began biting her nails, a nervous habit she had acquired as her job as assistant to the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures became increasingly stressful.
To her chagrin, the Healer shook her head. "Honey, that doesn't sound like a virus to me. Or anything that could be cured with a potion for that matter. Has anything been different lately?"
"I'm sorry, but what do you mean exactly?" asked Hermione, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. She was fine, maybe a tad bit overworked, but that was all...
"Have you experienced any weight gain? Overactive bladder? Cravings? Rapid mood switches?" the Healer questioned, all the while scribbling on her clipboard.
Hermione immediately opened her mouth to shoot down any of these symptoms of whatever illness the Healer was convinced she had, but then froze, her mind now on overdrive for another reason. Just the other day, she had ordered Ron to buy peach jam and pickles during an odd fit of annoyance. She had feasted on the revolting snack as Ron watched on in apparent disgust. She hadn't recalled any obvious weight gain, although her pants were becoming mysteriously tight...
No! she reprimanded herself. You're just being a paranoid hypochondriac. Nothing is wrong with you! Despite entertaining these beliefs, Hermione couldn't help but be curious as to what the Healer believed her to have.
"I may have displayed a few of those symptoms," Hermione expressed, her voice oddly high. "What do you think that means?"
"I think that you're pregnant, honey," the Healer said, a faint smile on her face.
Hermione shook her head, convinced she had misheard the woman. "Excuse me, Healer Roberts? But, pregnant? That's impossible..." she trailed off. Oh God, was all she could think as she recalled an event that occurred only a month ago. In her haste to leave for work that fateful morning, she had forgotten to drink a vial of the contraceptive potion meant to be taken once a day, everyday at the same time. She had obviously also forgotten her negligence to take the potion, hence the particularly intimate situation she and Ron had found themselves in that night...
Healer Roberts smiled in satisfaction as she viewed the look of realization that had ultimately dawned on Hermione's alarmed face. "It's okay, dear. It's perfectly fine to feel a bit shellshocked. I'm going to take a few blood tests to confirm my beliefs."
Hermione vaguely felt herself nodding, making a minor attempt to comfort herself with the fact that she was basing her fear off of a Healer's premonition. However, she now almost fully believed that she was indeed pregnant; she couldn't see how she couldn't be. She faintly registered the Healer pricking her thumb and forearm with a needle, but felt no pain, her confused mix of emotions meddling with her ability to think correctly.
"I'll be back in a few minutes with your results," Healer Roberts said soothingly. Hermione felt the impulse to beg the kindly witch not to leave her to her buzzing thoughts, but instead nodded stiffly, her arms subconsciously crossing over her stomach.
"Pregnant. Pregnant," she muttered to herself. The word sounded unfamiliar on her tongue. Of course it had been repeated quite frequently over the last eight years; only two years ago Harry and Ginny had welcomed their first child into the world. Bill and Fleur were about to have a third child, and George and Angelina had just announced their second pregnancy. But for her, Hermione, the bookish, overachieving, painstakingly meticulous member of the expanding Weasley clan, to be pregnant...it was almost unfathomable. For one, she and Ron hadn't even planned on getting pregnant. They both wanted children but not until much later.
Suddenly, anxiety and fear gripped her. What if Ron didn't want to have a baby yet? What if he left her and their unborn child? Almost immediately after those thoughts flew threw her head, anger consumed her. She would castrate him with her bare hands if he even thought about doing such a thing.
Thankfully, Healer Roberts returned to the room before she could get too carried away with her murderous thoughts. "Hello, dear. Are you ready for the news?" she asked in a joyous tone.
Hermione found that she couldn't possibly talk without either vomiting or yelling, so she settled for a polite nod. The Healer shot her a brilliant smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're pregnant!"
Hermione rushed from the hospital ward as quickly as she could without seeming rude. She had accepted all of Healer Roberts' congratulations and informative pamphlets with a gracious smile, suppressing the urge to retch as she felt bile creeping up her throat. Hurriedly, she had set an appointment with a maternity ward Healer before fleeing the room, plans to return to work forgotten. As fast as her wobbling legs could carry her, she hastened to the Floo Network station, her hair windswept and eyes wild.
"Potter Manor!" she yelled as she stepped in the grate, throwing a handful of the glittering Floo powder at her feet. The whooshing and whirling sensation that traveling by the Floo Network entailed did not fare well against Hermione's ever increasing nausea. Upon tumbling out of the fireplace at Potter Manor, she promptly vomited into a nearby flowerpot. She vaguely heard the sound of footsteps bounding down the hallway before she was overcome with another wave of nausea.
"Hermione!" Ginny shrieked, running into the room with Harry not far behind. The glowing redhead immediately trotted over to her retching friend, pushing hair from Hermione's sweaty forehead. Hermione finally finished vomiting, her throat sore and eyes watery.
"I'm really sorry," she croaked, feeling the sudden urge to burst into tears. Being ever helpful, Harry swiftly conjured a goblet in thin air and caught it, filling it up to the brim with water.
"Thank you, Harry," she said gratefully, gladly accepting the offered drink.
"What's wrong?" Ginny asked nervously. "Are you sick? Did something happen?"
"Calm down, Gin. Give the girl some space," Harry chided lightly, gently helping Hermione to her feet. Ginny quickly Vanished the lingering puddle of sick that had been floating in the flowerpot, a disgruntled look on her face. Together, the couple led their shellshocked friend to the family room, where Teddy and James were screaming joyfully over the Muggle video game Hermione had bought Teddy for his eighth birthday.
"Aunt Hermione!" they screeched excitedly as they caught sight of her. She attempted to smile at the exuberant children, but only succeeded in grimacing at them as yet another ripple of queasiness swept over her.
"Aunt Hermione isn't feeling so well today, boys," Harry said to the two kids, bending down to their level. "Teddy, why don't you take James downstairs for lunch? Kreacher is making treacle tart for dessert..." he trailed off, grinning at the squeals the boys emitted.
"Okay, Uncle Harry," said Teddy, whose still squeaky voice had taken on a responsible tone as he waved at Hermione and led the giggling toddler downstairs.
"Now, tell us what's wrong Hermione!" stressed Ginny, her brown eyes conveying her worry. "You look like you just saw Aunt Muriel naked or something."
"Because we all needed that mental image, Ginny." Harry shook his head in disgust.
"Sorry," she grinned, before turning back to the still quiet, wide eyed Hermione. "Really, though. Tell us what's wrong," Ginny coaxed.
"I'm - I'm," she stammered.
"You know you can tell us anything, right Hermione? Just spit it out," said Harry, patting his best friend on the shoulder.
Ginny scoffed. "You're so persuasive, Harry. What a way t -"
"I'm pregnant!" Hermione blurted out, her hands immediately going to her mouth. Harry gaped at her, his eyes almost popping out of his head. Ginny, on the hand, squealed, bouncing up and down on the couch before throwing her arms around Hermione.
"Merlin's beard, Hermione! You're pregnant! Merlin's balls, you're pregnant!" she shrieked, her fiery hair swinging wildly. "Oh, but Hermione! I'm pregnant too!"
Harry spluttered. "I thought we were gonna drop that news later! You're only two months along!"
"Oh, phooey, you know we can trust Hermione! Does Ron know?" Ginny asked, her eyes wide with excitement.
Instead of answering, Hermione burst into tears, her head falling into her hands. Ginny deflated immediately, her arms wrapping around the sobbing woman. Harry sat next to Ginny awkwardly; comforting crying women had never been his best talent.
"What did my tit of a brother do?" Ginny growled, stroking Hermione's hair with a blazing look on her face.
"No - nothing," Hermione choked out. "I'm just a blubbering mess, Gin! Ron doesn't even know! I just found out." Hermione extracted herself from Ginny's embrace, embarrassedly swiping her tears away.
"Don't worry, 'Mione! It's normal to get a bit emotional when you're pregnant," Ginny said consolingly, rubbing her best friend's back.
"You didn't get emotional though. You hated me when you were pregnant with James," Harry said confusedly.
Ginny laughed. "I didn't hate you! I was just...moody. I was carrying your child Harry James Potter! I had a right to be moody!"
"And so it begins again," he said, flinching as Ginny swung a punch at him. He turned his attention to the now more subdued Hermione. "You'll be a great mum and Ron will be a great dad. He'll be happy. I know he will be," Harry said, smiling at her. Hermione reluctantly cracked a slight grin in return, her eyes bloodshot and nose runny.
"I'm just nervous about telling him," confessed Hermione, biting her lip.
"Don't be." Ginny waved away Hermione's fear. "If you're happy, Ron will be happy. You are happy, right?"
"I...didn't stop to think if I was happy. Anxiety was kind of running the show before," Hermione said with a watery laugh. Now that she was more clearheaded than before, she stopped to think about this whole situation. She could see Ron and her nursing a small baby, chasing after a rambunctious toddler, buying their child his or hers first Hogwarts supplies...Hermione felt herself grin, a huge, toothy, genuine smile accompanied by a feeling that spread warmth throughout her whole body. She was carrying a baby, a baby that she and Ron had made together, and she felt unbridled euphoria.
"That's the spirit!" Ginny giggled as she saw the bright smile that lit up Hermione's whole face.
Hermione breathed deeply, enjoying the feeling her acceptance of the pregnancy had given her. However, she still felt a niggling nervousness at Ron's reaction. She was more than ecstatic, but would his reaction be the same?
"How did you find out Gin was pregnant, Harry?" Hermione questioned in an uncharacteristically timid voice. Almost instantaneously, Ginny and Harry burst into peals of laughter, tears forming in their eyes. Hermione stared at them confusedly, an eyebrow cocked. The couple finally calmed down, although Ginny had to wallop Harry on the back a few times as he choked on his laughter.
"I kind of...screamed it at him," Ginny admitted, slightly abashed.
Hermione chuckled. "Oh, Ginny," she said, shaking her head in mock shame.
"It's not my fault Harry had left oil in the frying pan! Alls I wanted was two fried eggs and some bacon, but then I had to clean out the bloody pan," she pouted.
"If I recall correctly, your exact words to me were 'I'm having your flippin' baby, you pumpkinhead! Can't you clean the ruddy pans?'" screeched Harry in a terrible impersonation of Ginny.
Hermione laughed, while Ginny glared daggers at Harry. "I hope you don't think I really sound like a dying bird."
"Of course not, Ginny," promised Harry, although his smirk gave him away.
Hermione stood up before Ginny could start yelling at her mischievous husband. "I should be on my way. I need to owl my work to make up some excuse for not returning after lunch and mentally prepare myself for Ron's reaction," she said, feeling a bit uneasy. "Thank you for helping me." She smiled, leaning down to give her friends hugs.
"No problem, Hermione!" Ginny grinned, wrapping her arms around her. As she pulled away, Hermione noticed an odd, pensive look on Harry's face.
"Is something wrong, Harry?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.
He shook his messy head, the right side of his mouth quirking up. "It's so surreal. I thought it was unbelievable when my two best friends got married; it's even crazier that you guys are having a baby now," he said, his whole face now split in a grin. Hermione almost burst into tears again as she hugged Harry for a second time, this time giving him a kiss on the cheek. She was scared to say anything in fear of sounding emotional so she grinned happily, biting her lower lip, and waved before traveling from the living room to the Floo Room.
Her elation abated some when she was faced with the next terrifying obstacle: telling Ron.
After scrawling a quick owl to her office, Hermione changed out of her uncomfortable work clothes and into a roomy pair of jeans and an oversized light blue T-shirt before going straight to work on an elaborate dinner. By five, there was chicken roasting deliciously in the oven and marinated vegetables cooking on the stove.
Hermione felt the dread return as she concluded her culinary activities at five thirty, the oven timer beeping loudly. She took her time setting the table, getting out clean glasses and utensils, making sure that everything was in place. After that, she even decided to change out her loose fitting clothes and into a casual skirt and tighter scoop neck shirt. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she couldn't resist lifting the shirt up to marvel at her still flat stomach. Hermione felt it hard to believe that a little baby was currently in there, and even harder to believe that soon she would be sporting a swollen pregnant belly.
She jumped when she heard the door open, quickly pulling her shirt back down over her stomach.
"I'm home - " she heard him begin before stopping suddenly. Hermione rushed out of their bedroom to see Ron staring open mouthed at the table laden with their dinner.
"Wow, what's the occasion?" he asked, dropping his work bag on the floor, his red hair sticking up haphazardly after the Apparition home.
"I just...felt in the mood to cook," she said lamely, her hand resting subconsciously on her tummy.
"Well, it looks bloody delicious!" he exclaimed, crossing the room to kiss her. "Thanks, 'Mione." He grinned at her before taking a seat at the table. Pushing aside the warm feeling his smiles invoked in her, she sat down at the table, bracing herself for what she predicted would be the longest dinner of her life.
And she was right. While she loved their conversations about work and their bickering (but loving) banter, she was anxious to tell him of her doctor's appointment and her news. She inwardly groaned every time he reached for another helping, cursing her good cooking and his ravenous appetite. When he finally set down his fork and leaned back in his chair, she jumped at her chance.
"So, I went to St. Mungo's today," she nonchalantly said, twirling her fork in her hands.
Ron immediately sat up straighter, his chair slamming down on the floor. "Why didn't you mention this before?" he said worriedly.
"I wanted to bring it up at the end of dinner. So I had your full attention," she smiled coyly, feeling her fear mysteriously dissipate. You can do this, she thought to herself confidently.
"Is there anything wrong?" he asked, moving into the chair next to her. She took this opportunity to clasp his hands in hers. He automatically assumed she was going to break somber news to him, his eyes widening. "What's -"
"Shh," she quieted him, smiling softly. "It's a good thing. Well, I hope you think it's good." She bit her lip, her eyes connecting with Ron's worry filled blue ones.
When he remained silent, she decided to follow Harry's eloquent advice and 'just spit it out'. "I'm having a baby," she breathed, feeling the remaining stress drain from her body. She stared at Ron hopefully, trying to size up his reaction. His eyes widened before rolling back in his head as he slumped down in his chair.
"Oh, Ron!" she shrieked before rushing to their bedroom. Grabbing her wand from the bedside table, she dashed back to the kitchen, where Ron hadn't moved an inch.
"Ennervate!" She resumed her seat next to Ron, eyeing him anxiously as he stirred awake. Finally, his eyes fluttered open.
"Wha - Hermione - what hap -" he began before freezing mid-stammer. "Did you say something...big that made me pass out or was I dreaming?"
Hermione shook her head, failing to suppress a nervous laugh. "No...was it okay that you weren't dreaming?"
Hermione's heart sped up as he stared at her, his mouth slightly open in disbelief, before framing her face with his hands. Leaning forward, he kissed her gently, with a tenderness that struck Hermione in her chest, warmness flooding her stomach. Her eyes fluttered shut as she allowed herself to become immersed in Ron's kiss, the feeling leaving her breathless.
Drawing away, he breathed out, "That was the best news I have ever heard in my life." Hermione gasped before lunging forward, almost knocking Ron over with the force of her embrace. For the second time that day, she burst into tears, unable to contain the overwhelming emotions flowing over her in droves. Ron, however, didn't know of the day's rampant waterworks, and was automatically alarmed.
He pulled away, fearful. "Did I say something wrong? Did I hurt the baby? What - "
"You didn't nothing wrong, you idiot!" she choked out, fruitlessly wiping at her face. "You said the most perfect thing ever." After a series of deep breaths, she finally regained her composure, although she was still hiccuping.
"Oh," he muttered, confused. "Are you okay?"
She nodded, still taking prolonged breaths to maintain her calmness. "Sorry for fainting by the way," he apologized sheepishly.
She laughed, wrapping her arms around him once more, burying her head in his neck. "God, I love you," she murmured, feeling nothing but safety and contentment as Ron swayed her in his arms.
"I love you, too," he said, kissing her the top of her hair. She inwardly shook her head, feeling slightly ashamed that she had been been so worried about telling Ron the news. How had she forgotten that she had the best husband in the world?
A/N: Hope you enjoyed :) Please review!