Our Constellation--Dramione

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, plotlines, characters, places, events (etc.) all belong to J.K. Rowling, she is the rightful owner. When a character is created by me, you'll know right away ;)

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6 May 1998

Hermione chuckled wryly. "I'm not pregnant. What makes you say that?"

"Well, you've just been so emotional lately, but I didn't wanna say anything because that could be a symptom of a plethora of things, but also there's post-traumatic stress we're all dealing with, so maybe you've just been mentally exhausted; but also, your appetite is somewhat different than it used to be--"

"--What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"No, no! Not like that. I only mean that you hardly touch your food and I'd wager as one of your best friends that the only reason you do eat is so you don't offend Mum. Am I right?"

"You're not wrong."

"But you're not pregnant?"

"No." Hermione laid her head against the frame of the bed and held her knees close to her chest.

"Good."

"Ginny?" It was now or never.

"Yeah?" Hermione had a surge of confidence that in itself was petrified to utter a word.

"I need to tell you something. And you're not going to like it."

Ginny sat down beside her friend, against the frame of the bed, but close enough to provide comfort should Hermione require it. "Hermione, you can tell me anything, I'm not here to judge, my place is to love and listen." Ginny's heart was racing. Was this the moment Hermione would open up to her about the war? Come to her with the gory and devastating truth about what she'd seen? Metaphorically and literally, Ginny was on the edge of her seat.

Hermione took a few deep calming breaths. "I'm not pregnant. But I was."

An alarm bounced through the redhead's nervous system and she nearly leaped to her feet. "What?!"

"Just a little over five months ago," she said quietly, reminiscing the painful memories of having to hide every moment of something that--in a married and well-off person--should be enjoyed and celebrated.

"Wait, but isn't that how old Archie is..." It ceased to be a question the more Ginny thought it through. "Oh my god. Archie is your son, isn't he."

Hermione threw her head back and looked up at the ceiling. Her eyes watered and she purses her lips. "Yeah. He is."

"But how...?"

She suddenly turned and faced her friend. "Ginny, I need you to promise me you won't utter a word to anybody else, not Ron, not Harry, this stays between us. Just until I find a way to tell them."

"Of course, but 'Mione, why can't you tell them? Why haven't you told them?"

"Because doesn't finding out your best friend had a child on her own raise some suspicions? Then they'll want to know who the father is. I won't lie to them but I also can't bear to face their anger."

"Why? Why would they be angry about who the father is?"

Hermione sighed. She didn't want to make it too obvious, but she'd rather have Ginny figure it out for herself rather than have to say it out loud.

"Ginny, I need you to do something for me."

"Anything."

"I need you to search through my memories. It's gonna hurt me to show you, but some things are better off shown than they are said."