Hermione shut the blinds, pulling them into the middle, blocking out the completely dark and surprisingly serene night sky.  It was just after midnight, the last week of August, and Hermione couldn’t control the yawns that escaped her. Hermione looked down at her stomach and lifted her mouth into a small smile as she rubbed it soothingly. The bump that grew there was getting bigger but Hermione could still conceal it... not for long though. She was three months pregnant – the thought made her smile larger but soon the grin disappeared. Nobody knew except Fred, Harry and Ginny.

Hermione felt herself shying from the idea of telling the Weasley family of her pregnancy. Although she imagined what they would say and how they would react, the image was not pretty. Fred hadn’t seen his parents since he came out of St Mungo’s and he would change the subject when she asked him why. Hermione closed two hands around her small bump, cupping her abdomen, and felt rather protective of this unborn, innocent and tiny life growing inside of her. Not for the first time, Hermione thought of her parents and sighed quietly, feeling her chest – which was getting larger – heave at the thought.

Would her parents be happy about her pregnancy? They would be grandparents, of course, Hermione grimaced lightly as the thought nagged on her like an incessant bee attracted to a pretty flower. It kept bothering her. She was, after all, their only child and their only chance to be grandparents. Would they approve of Fred? Of her pregnancy? Would her mother want her to have an abortion or would she be supportive? Hermione didn’t know at all. She had never imagined herself in this position, especially pregnant with Fred’s child. She had never bought home a boy to her parents either. She just couldn’t tell what they would make of the situation.

‘Damn it!’

A bang, as though a fist collided with wood, sounded behind Hermione. She turned around, feeling her stomach tighten at the surprise of the noise. Fred was sat on the desk at the other side of the room, his hands balled up against the wooden desk where he was working. He didn’t look healthy at all. A half full – or half empty, in Fred’s point of view – coffee mug sat next to his stack of papers. Some papers were balled up and thrown on the floor in anger. He had been working non stop since he came from the hospital, writing so much that his hand hurt and she had caught him massaging his hands as he took a small break. Their relationship was doing fine. They didn’t talk about the rejection or dwell on the future of the child. They basically just lived on. Hermione slowly walked over to him, avoiding the litter of papers, and touched his shoulder. Fred held his head in his hands and Hermione leaned down next to him, stroking his hair as she noticed the bags under his eyes.

‘Let’s go to sleep, Fred,’ Hermione whispered, her hands danced along his hair lightly and he looked up. His blue eyes dropped down to glance at her stomach and then back up to her eyes. He had a peculiar expression on his face but Hermione understood what that expression meant. She had seen it shadowing his face a number of times. It basically translated to I-can’t-provide-for-you-and-our-child-because-I'm-broke! Hermione shook her head,  ‘don’t worry about anything, okay? You need a good nights sleep so you can think clearly in the morning.’

‘Hermione,’ Fred’s voice rang out, echoing through her ears and sending a thrill down her spine. He looked down at the shops paperwork, ‘I can’t do this. This is George’s area of expertise and we made a deal that he would do this owl delivery and he’s just left me to do it alone!’

‘You’re not alone. You have me and – no, look at me – you have me and I promise I will help you through this,’ Hermione said, her eyes were trying to convince him. Fred looked weak but he nodded, ‘great, let’s go to bed.’

‘You go to bed. I just need to finish this,’ Fred said, stopping as Hermione frowned at him. He pleaded, ‘please, love. I’ll be there in ten minutes, promise.’

Hermione, feeling as though he was never going to listen to her, walked away. She went into the kitchen and straight to the fridge. It seemed like she was always hungry and ready to eat. Hermione sifted through the contents of the fridge: eggs, milk, frozen pizzas, watermelon... A grin spread slowly on her face as she took the bowl, full of cut watermelon, out of the fridge. Eating it slowly, she looked around the kitchen. It was spotless because she had so much time on her hands.

‘Hermione?’ Fred called out from the other room. Hermione, her mouth full of watermelon, made a mmm sound and Fred chuckled lightly, ‘are you eating... again?’

‘I’m hungry, Fred,’ Hermione said, moving the pieces of watermelon with her fork, ‘what’s up?

‘Can you get the blue folder from my draw-’ Fred stopped suddenly. Hermione walked out of the room as Fred said, ‘never mind! I’ll get it.’

‘It’s okay. I got it,’ Hermione said as she walked into the room.

The drawer was in the room that was George’s. Hermione passed George the owl who hooted at her in recognition until she got to the drawer. Fred appeared at the door behind her and he bit his lip as Hermione opened the first compartment of the drawer. Silence dwelled in the room like a thick fog, Hermione withdrew her hand and Fred closed his eyes in defeat. Hermione stared into the drawer as Fred stood frozen, leaning against the doorway.

‘Are you kidding me?!’ Hermione shouted, turning on her heel to glare at him. Fred was noticeably taller than her but now he looked smaller. Hermione’s anger was momentous but Fred couldn’t seem to get any words out of his mouth. Hermione wheeled around to look in the drawer and a hand went to her stomach as she looked back at him, ‘I can’t believe you! I... when will you ever take responsibility? You should take care of yourself before asking me to marry you!’

She walked towards him. She didn’t know why this angered her so much and later, when she thought back to it, she would hold her hormones responsible. Each step seemed to echo like a giants step in Fred’s ears. All he could do was stare at her as she walked up to him, her anger clouding her brown eyes like a storm clouding the sky. She stopped in front of him and Fred saw that glint deep in her brown eyes. The glint held anger and, with a shock of disappointment coursing through Fred as he looked into her eyes, also hurt. Soon he would lose count of how many times he had hurt her. Tears welled in her eyes and Fred felt his hands rise to comfort her. Hermione shook her head and a sob erupted from her. She knocked into Fred whilst walking past him, her sobs becoming more pronounced.

‘Mia,’ Fred croaked out but she didn’t stop. Fred grabbed her arm before she went into the kitchen and pulled her to him. He wouldn’t let her walk away from him like this. He had learned from previous experience – and he had a lot of experience in hurting her, Fred thought with bitterness – that he had to fight and not just let her walk away or one day she’d walk out of his life without a backwards glance.

‘Let me go!’ Hermione said, pushing his chest with her whole strength. Fred shook his head and let her push and punch him. After a minute of her fruitless attempts, Hermione broke into sobs and let her head rest on his chest, stifling her huge, gasping breaths.

‘Let me explain,’ Fred said, stroking her soft brown hair. He looked into the room and saw that the drawer was still open. Two offending bottles of strong firewhiskey were stowed there, on top of the quills and parchments. Fred sighed, closing his eyes tightly as the sound of her cries pierced his heart. It was his fault that she was crying and he had to make it better.

‘Why, Fred? I thought you had stopped drinking?’ Hermione said, taking deep breaths to calm her weeping self. She looked up into his eyes and her hands wrapped loosely at the back of his neck. Fred looked up and let out a breath before looking down at her as she continued, ‘you told me you had stopped drinking. I can’t marry someone who constantly drinks and-’

‘I don’t drink, Hermione, okay?’ Fred said, his felt impatient but his voice masked that. Instead he said lightly, ‘I’m not a drunk. I threw out all of my alcohol for you-’

‘Then why do you have two bottles?’ asked Hermione, frowning lightly.

‘I try not to give in to it. It reminds me of... you know,’ Fred rubbed her stomach and looked up at Hermione, ‘I think of you and our child every time I want to drink. It helps me to stop myself.’

Hermione looked into his eyes, deep down. Fred had an urge to look away but he didn’t, he looked back confidently. He had no reason to lie and he wasn’t lying. Hermione nodded and let go of Fred. She turned around so that Fred could see the back of her neck. Her shoulders heaved slightly, taking a deep breath. Fred waited anxiously. He didn’t want to lose her over something as stupid as this. Something as stupid as drinking – or stopping to drink but keeping alcohol anyway, in his case.

‘Okay, I believe you. I’m going to bed,’ Hermione said, turning around and hugging him. Fred’s hands were on her hips as she pulled back, ‘don’t work too long.’

‘I’m coming to bed too,’ Fred said, ‘I’m just going to tidy things up.’

Hermione moved around like a ghost as Fred went to tidy. She went into the bathroom, washed her face void of the small amount of make up she wore, brushed her teeth, changed her clothes. Hermione wore a light blue tank top and some grey pyjama trousers. The tank top did not hide the bulge in her stomach but she didn’t care. No one was going to come home and accuse her of sleeping with her ex boyfriends brother. Hermione lay on the bed, her hands resting on her stomach, and she didn’t notice as Fred got in beside her. They lay on their backs, each thinking their own thoughts, their breathing synchronized.

‘I’m sorry,’ Hermione whispered into the air. The words sliced the silence like a sharp knife. Fred grunted slightly and Hermione sighed, ‘I over reacted and I should believe you. I do believe you, Fred. I’m just worried for our baby. I can’t do this alone.’

‘Yet you won’t marry me,’ Fred said. The subject of marriage appearing for the first time since Hermione rejected him. Fred had a bitter tone to his voice and he didn’t try to hide it. He waited and Hermione waited. Both silent. Both breathing lightly, listening to the others breaths. Finally Hermione spoke.

‘I’m not ready yet,’ she said, her hand travelled under the duvet and grasped onto Fred’s hand, ‘but I... I want you in my life. I need you, Fred. Will you stay with me? With our child? You won’t leave me, will you, Fred?’

Hermione grew anxious as she rambled on. Question by question asking the same thing; you will stay with me and your child, won’t you? Fred turned on his side to look at her. Slowly he reached forwards, cupped her cheek and moved next to her. He kissed her slowly. Passionately. Hermione sat up slightly, kissing him back. They kissed for a while, each basking in the others presence. Finally Fred pulled back and their eyes met.

‘I’ll stay with you forever, Mia,’ he muttered.

Hermione smiled at him. They kissed again and again. Fred made no move to go further nor did Hermione. They were perfectly fine, kissing and talking and whispering sweet nothings to each other.

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I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Lunalovegood114 (again) She probably knows why I've dedicated it to her. You should fan her and read her story because it's awesome and she said I inspired her. You'll love her story, trust me.