When The Dog Bites

5. Scandal

Breakfast might not have been the best idea. Hermione didn’t think much of it when she sat down that morning in the great hall. She was very hungry really, she hadn’t eaten since lunchtime the day she got infected.

Before making her trek down to the great hall, she woke up in a cold sweat. Her muscles were twitching fiercely causing spasms to rack through her body. Her wounds had ripped open again in her sleep and her bedsheets were crimson with her blood. 

She read somewhere that the first month was the worse, but she never imagined anything like this, and it was only day two.

She covered the wounds with a flesh bandage as she had many times the day before and dressed on wobbly legs. For good measure, she threw back a vial of wiggenweld potion that she had brewed a few weeks prior. She still felt awful, but at least she could stand upright without falling over. Her flesh bandage felt a bit thicker and her broken ribs weren’t nearly as painful, but her empty stomach still churned and her muscles still twitched violently. 

But now her stomach wasn’t empty, and the churning of her insides only intensified as she sat through a charms lecture.

Professor Flitwick had his eyes trained on the girl. He couldn’t help but notice the way her shoulders jerked every few minutes and the way her face paled in time with loud, sickly gulps. Twenty minutes passed by, and he noticed her begin to weave in her seat. He lost his train of thought in the middle of his lecture. All he could think about was what could possibly be wrong with the girl.

“Miss Granger,” He spoke up. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Erm yes,” She gulped mid-sentence, her breakfast sat threateningly in her throat. “I’m- I’m perfectly fine.” She stuttered out her lie.

It was obvious that she was being dishonest though and Flitwick conjured a bucket right on time. Hermione lost her meal right then in front of nineteen other people who all had their faces screwed up in disgust. Once she finished, he spoke again. 

“You should go see Madam Pomfrey. She may be able to figure out what’s wrong and help you feel better.”

Her panic was short-lived as she quickly came up with an excuse that wouldn’t give away her condition, and she didn’t even have to lie this time.

“With all due respect sir, I already know what's wrong, and she can’t help me,” Hermione explained, attempting not to gag as she did so.

Flitwick’s eyes went wide as he came to a realization. It was the wrong realization of course, but she couldn’t bother worrying about it because her stomach was lurching again.

She retched into the bucket again before croaking out a quiet “Might I be excused?”

He nodded and cast evenesco on the bucket.

Hermione left quickly trying desperately to hide her limp. Her bandage ripped on the way out leaving droplets of blood in her wake. No one noticed the trail though, not even Flitwick.

Later that day in the staff room, a multitude of teachers expressed their concern for their best student. Professor Sprout was asking if anyone had seen the head girl since Sunday afternoon. Headmistress McGonagall informed her that Hagrid had Hermione excused from her classes the day before for some unknown reason that had her worried. Snape worded his suspicions that the half-giant was lying but wouldn’t say what he thought he was lying about. 

“She attended my class this morning… er well, she ‘attempted’ to attend my class,” Flitwick spoke up over the chatter.

“What do you mean ‘attempted’?” Snape’s voice droned in an accusing tone.

“I mean, Severus, that miss Granger came to class this morning a complete wreck. She looked like a corpse by the time I sent her on. Had to conjure up a bucket before she could make a mess of the floor.” He explained in a rather nonchalant manner. The man loved to gossip. 

“Poppy didn’t say anything about a visit from Miss Granger.” McGonagall sounded confused.

“She didn’t go to Pomfrey.” He informed. “She said she knew what was wrong and that the matron wouldn’t be able to help.”

“Whatever could be wrong with her that even Poppy couldn’t cure?” Sprout asked exasperated.  

“Well, morning sickness of course!” Flitwick exclaimed.

Snape choked on his coffee, Sprout gasped louder than was necessary, and McGonagall spoke quickly. 

“Excuse me?” She asked as if she heard him wrong.

“Miss Granger is pregnant. Isn’t it obvious?” He said as if he was the only one with any wits about him.

“But who?” Sprout asked.

“My guess is the Weasley boy.” He replied. 

“Come now Filius.” Said, McGonagall. “Hermione Granger is much smarter than that.”

“Even I must agree with Minerva,” Snape said coldly. “Miss Granger would never do something that would put her education in jeopardy.”

“Just watch her then. You'll see. It’s so obvious.”

They were all in various states of disbelief. None of them had actually seen Hermione since Sunday so how could they know. Hagrid did seem weird the day before, but he wouldn’t have been so distraught if this were true, would he? Hagrid loves babies. Wouldn't he have been overjoyed? But Flitwick was usually right about these things.

So the rumor spread throughout the Hogwarts staff and by morning the question everyone in the faculty was asking- who fathers Hermione Granger’s baby?