Chapter Twenty-Nine

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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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7 May 1998

"Psst! 'Mione! Wake up."

Hermione felt light penetrate her black vision, even through eyelids pulled over. It was like consciousness created light itself. Not fun.

"What?" she groaned, twisting in Ginny's bed. It suddenly dawned on her why she'd ended up in Ginny's bed in the first place.

"Your son's here. Merlin, that sounds almost foreign to say."

"Huh?" Hermione arched her back and stretched oddly.

"Oh my god, you're a mum."

"Yeah?"

"Anyway," Ginny shook her head to relinquish the amazement of that sentence, "Bill and Fleur have just arrived, and of course, they brought Archie with them."

"Okay."

"Are you going to be alright?"

"Yeah," she mumbled.

"Are you sure? You don't seem well."

"How do you expect I wake up, Gin? I'm tired and haven't fully woken up yet!" She laughed, still scrubbing at her eyes with the pads of her fingers in a clockwise motion.

"Okay. Be down for breakfast in a few minutes, Mum's cooked eggs again. Scrambled, this time. Unless you want them done a different way. Omelet, perhaps? Or a full-grown and birthed embryo?"

Hermione gripped the corner of Ginny's throw pillow and launched it full force at her best friend's head. "Shut up!" And Ginny squealed with her hands shielding her head.

"All right, all right."

"I promise I'll be down in a bit. Tell your mum I'm good with scrambled, will you?"

"Sure."

"Oh, and Ginny?"

Ginny abrasively stopped before exiting onto the staircase. "Yes?"

Giving thought to what she wanted to say to her friend, Hermione hesitated. Words twisted in her mind, half-formed and quite humble. What did she want to say? She needed to give thanks to her friend for remaining by her side despite the ugly truth. Ginny might not have physically done anything she believed worthy of praise, but her presence alone supported and soothed the distraught mother. So what could she possibly say to Ginny to voice these praises without turning it into a new matter that would reduce her to tears?

"What time is it?"

That was not what she'd had in mind.

"I believe it's half-past eight o'clock."

"Oh, thank you. Are Ron and--"

"--No."

The two exhaled through their noses sharply in repressed laughter. "Okay. I'll be down momentarily."

"Do you need me to wait?"

"Only if you want to. I just need to brush my teeth."

It seemed only a miracle that the single bathroom in the house was empty and prepped for Hermione's dispense. She squeezed a pea-sized dollop of paste on her brush and smiled half-heartedly at Ginny, who waited patiently at the frame of the door. "I'm the daughter of two dentists," she added before polishing away at her teeth.

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