hpnyc's Journal

The boys comfort Hermione after her parents are killed.
Harry walked quietly down the seventh level hall of the Ministry of Magic to his best friend and lover Ron’s office inside the Department of Magical Games and Sports. The door to his office was closed, but Harry let himself in.

Ron was sitting behind his desk. There were three men sitting in front of him, none of them looked over twenty. When Ron saw Harry, he quickly finished up the meeting and dismissed the three men. They all filed past Harry, each shooting a furtive look at Harry’s forehead before leaving.

Ron grinned at Harry and moved around his desk to greet him properly. He reached behind Harry and pushed the door shut. Then he put his hand on the back of Harry’s neck and pulled him close for a kiss. “We missed you last night,” he said, rumpling Harry’s hair affectionately.

“How’s Hermione feeling?” Harry asked seriously.

“Sick,” said Ron with a grin. “She’s had morning sickness since last night. I asked my mum and she said she never had morning sickness all the way into her third trimester. I don’t think Hermione will make it two more months.”

“Did she stay home today?”

Ron nodded. “I convinced her to work from home.”

“Good,” said Harry somewhat distractedly.

For the first time, Ron noticed that Harry seemed a bit preoccupied. “Is something wrong, mate?” he asked.

Harry nodded, but didn’t speak.

“What is it?” prompted Ron, feeling suddenly uneasy.

“Last night,” he began, but broke off. He ran a hand through his already rumpled hair. “God, how am I going to tell Hermione if I can’t even tell you.”

Ron began to feel real anxiety. Things rarely distressed Harry to the point that he couldn’t talk to either Hermione or himself. When they did, it was serious.

“Just tell me,” said Ron. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together.”

“Last night,” he began again. “Hermione’s parents…” he trailed off.

“What?” asked Ron.

“We got a call from the misuse of magic office. They had monitored some pretty extensive dark magic in an all muggle neighborhood. When we went to investigate I realized we were in the Granger’s neighborhood.”

“Oh no, Harry,” whispered Ron.

Harry closed his eyes as he finished telling the story. “We got to the house and the Dark Mark was floating above it.”

“No,” repeated Ron.

“I ran in, but it was too late.” Harry placed both his hands on his head and gripped his hair. “How can I tell Hermione that her parents are dead? They’re her parents. They adored her and she loved them so much. Plus she’s pregnant. What if she gets so upset she goes into early labor. She’s only seven months, we could lose the baby.”

“We won’t lose the baby,” Ron reassured him.

“How am I going to tell her?” Harry asked mournfully.

“We’ll do it together,” said Ron standing up.

“What? Now?” asked Harry, feeling panicky.

Ron nodded. “A Dark Mark appearing over a muggle home will be big news. We can’t risk her finding out some other way. It’ll be best coming from us.” He put a reassuring hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry stood and put his arms around Ron, trying to gather strength in their embrace. Ron hugged him tightly. “It’ll be okay, Harry. We always said that as long as the three of us had each other everything would be okay. We’ll get Hermione through this.” He looked into Harry’s eyes and could see the dread in them. He stroked his hair. “I know it was hard to see.”

Harry smiled sadly. “When did you get so sensitive?”

“It comes and goes,” replied Ron. “Come on, let’s get home.”

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Hermione was sitting in her favorite chair absentmindedly stroking her swollen belly. She had finally stopped throwing up about an hour ago and was now sipping water and trying to read a report she had her coworker owl her from the office. She wasn’t having much success. The baby was demanding all of her attention by kicking her every few seconds.

It was times like these when Hermione was convinced she was carrying Ron’s baby. Only a Weasley could be this much trouble. Reluctantly she put down her report and placed her hand on her belly, pushing back when the baby kicked.

“All right, little one,” she said. “Time to sleep. Do you want to listen to some music?” she asked. She reachd for the muggle CD player and headphones and placed them over her belly. Within minutes she could feel the change in the baby’s movement as the kicking lessened and she seemed to be settling.

The baby was a she this week, a she with red hair and a smattering of freckles on her nose. Last week the baby was a he, a he with lots of black hair and big round green eyes.

The three of them had decided early on in the pregnancy that they didn’t want to know the baby’s sex or paternity until it’s birth. Actually, it was Hermione who decided but the boys rarely denied any of her requests.

Since leaving Hogwarts and moving into their own place they had gained a peace none of them had ever known. In the outside world the war was still raging and there were many demands on all of them, but within the walls of their home, there was peace.

When they first left Hogwarts they had all tried living on their own. Ron was the first one to break even though he had been the most enthusiastic about living on his own. But, eleven years of living with five bothers and a sister and then another seven years of bunking with four boys had ill prepared him for a solitary life.

When Harry realized Ron was spending twice as much time in his flat than he was in his own he promptly asked Ron to move in and for a few months they seemed to be happy with this arrangement. Hermione was very happy for both of them, though it seemed to increase her own lonliness knowing the boys now had each other.

However, unbeknownst to her, after the first three months both the boys started feeling the restlessness and unease they had been feeling before they became roommates. They knew something was missing, but they couldn’t seem to pinpoint what that was. They began arguing more often over the smallest things.

Hermione watched with alarm the distance growing between her boys and knew she had to do something so she began spending more time at their flat. Slowly the tension between the two boys seemed to subside. Then one evening while Harry was getting drinks for them in the kitchen, Ron and Hermione were sittin on the couch talking and Ron was hit with the strongest impulse to kiss Hermione. So he did.

Unfortunately, just as Hermione’s hands wound around Ron’s neck, pulling him closer, Harry walked back into the room. The glasses he had been magically floating ahead of him dropped to the floor and shattered, spraying pumpkin juice everywhere, though no one seemed to notice.

Hermione and Ron pulled apart to see Harry’s face contorted with rage, hurt, and something else they couldn’t quite decipher.

“Harry,” Hermione began, but he exploded.

“What the hell is going on?” he yelled. A thousand accusations raced through his brain and poured out his eyes, but all he could manage was a strangled, choked up, “how could you?” before fleeing to the safety of his room. Hermione and Ron were up in a flash and after him.

Hermione entered Harry’s room without knocking and immediately went to where he was sitting on his bed. Ron hovered nervously in the doorway. Hermione sat very close to Harry and touched his shoulder.

“Leave me alone,” he said, feeling the embarrassment of his outburst.

“No,” she said stubbornly. “We need to talk about this.”

“Well I don’t want to,” he replied just as stubbornly.

“Harry,” said Hermine and she took his face in her hands and forced his eyes to lock onto hers. She was heartbroken to see the tears on their surface being held in check by that fierce control he had developed as a child. She wanted to kiss those tears away Oh, how she loved him, loved them both so much. “Harry,” she whispered again, caressing his cheek.

They sat still, staring at each other and from behind Hermione felt Ron sit and suddenly he was wiping the tears from Harry’s face himself. Then Ron did the only thing he could do. He leaned over Hermione’s shoulder and kissed Harry tenderly.

The next morning the boys moved Hermione into their flat. One month later, Harry made a large withdrawal from his Gringott’s account and surprised Ron and Hermione with a new house not far from Ottery St. Catchpole. The apartment, especially the bedroom, was entirely too small for their new needs.

Two years later, three days before her twentieth birthday, Hermione found out she was pregnant. It was completely unplanned, but not entirely unexpected. They weren’t always as careful as they should have been. Sometimes they were too caught up with each other to worry about contraceptive spells.

Harry had been thrilled with the news, but Ron had had a more subdued reaction. Hermione had known he was worried about his parent’s reaction. They had managed to keep their rather unique relationship a secret from everybody, but once Hermione began to show there would be questions and Hermione knew they would have to supply the answers.

A few months into the pregnancy, Ron visited his parents and told them Hermione was pregnant. They immediately assumed Ron was the father and he didn’t have the heart to correct them.

Harry had been furious. He didn’t speak to Ron for a week. Hermione was eventually able to smooth things over, exacting a promise from Ron to come clean as soon as the baby was born and making Harry understand that it would be hard for the very traditional Weasley’s to accept their rather unorthodox relationship. “The baby,” she explained, “will make it easier for them to accept.”

“Unless it’s mine,” said Harry bitterly.

“No,” Hermione reassured him. “You’re just like one of their sons. Any child of your would be a grandchild to them, just as Ron’s would.”

Despite the extra tension the pregnancy caused, Hermione couldn’t be happier with her dreams of their future. She knew what awaited them if anyone, The Daily Prophet in particular, discovered their secret. She comforted herself with the knowledge that no matter what happened they would always have each other and in two months they would have a baby of their own.

When Ron and Harry arrived home, they found Hermione dozing in her favorite chair, with a report on the floor next to her and a pair of headphones draped over her belly. Harry and Ron smiled at the image and Ron moved closer to wake her, but Harry grabbed his arm, stalling him.

“Let her sleep,” he whispered.

“We can’t put this off forever,” replied Ron.

“I know, but you said she was up sick all night. She needs her rest,” argued Harry.

“Harry, I know you don’t want to tell her, but there’s going to be a lot to do. I’d rather give her time to absorb the news, before she has to deal with the Ministry and the press, not to mention all the funeral arrangements we’ll have to make.” Ron then resolutely walked over to Hermione and placed a hand on her shoulder, shaking her very slightly.

Hermione moaned contentedly and opened her eyes sleepily. “Ron,” she murmured. “What are you doing here? What time is it?”

“It’s not even lunch yet,” he replied. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Harry,” she exclaimed with happy surprise, spotting him behind Ron. “We missed you last night.” She held out her hand and he came close and took it. He leaned down and kissed her forehead gently. “No more overnights,” she said. “I hate not waking up with both of you.”

“Me too,” he said kneeling down next to her. Ron dragged an empty chair and pulled it closer to Hermione and sat. She glanced from one man to the next.

“What’s going on?” she asked suspiciously. “What are you both doing home?”

Harry looked to Ron for help.

“The thing is, Hermione,” began Ron taking her other hand. “There’s something we have to tell you.”

Hermione could feel her pulse picking up speed. “Something’s wrong,” she said.

Harry nodded, but he didn’t speak. He just couldn’t say the words that were going to break her heart. He didn’t want to have to be the one. He felt like a world class jerk for putting it onto Ron, but every time he tried to form the words in his mouth, it went all dry and he found he couldn’t talk.

Ron could see Harry struggling and knew he had to be the one. “Hermione,” he began. “It’s your parents.”

“What about them?” asked Hermione, feeling panic well up in her throat.

“Last night they were killed by Death Eaters,” said Ron, needing to get the words out quickly.

Hermione’s mouth parted, but she didn’t speak. Instead she turned to Harry, her eyes full of doubt. He could see she wanted him to deny what Ron had just said.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said. “It’s true. There was an alert of dark magic in their neighborhood last night. My unit responded. It was too late. By the time we got there they were already gone.”

Hermione stood, bringing both boys up with her. “No, I don’t believe you.”

“Hermione, I saw them,” said Harry.

“No,” she screamed. “I don’t believe you.” She wrenched her hands out of theirs and before they could stop her she had disapparated.

“Damn it,” said Ron.

“She’s gone to her parent’s,” said Harry unnecessarily. “Let’s go.” Both he and Ron disapparated.

When they arrived at the Granger’s it was unusually noisy. There seemed to be several members of the Ministry in the house including the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They spotted Hermione immediately. She was arguing with some wizard they didn’t know. Ron and Harry rushed forward.

“Those are my parents,” she was arguing. “Let me go.”

“Step back miss, you don’t have permission to be here,” said the wizard. He had her by the shoulders and was forcing her backwards.

“Get your hands off her,” said Harry sharply, coming up behind Hermione.

“Who are y…” the wizard paled seeing Harry and his mouth dropped open stupidly.

“I said take your hands off of her,” said Harry, just as angrily.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Potter,” said the dumbfounded wizard, immediately dropping his hands. “But I can’t let anyone upstairs.”

“If you know who I am then you’ll know I have every right to go anywhere in this house that I want.”

“Of course, Mr. Potter,” said the wizard. “You can go upstairs, but no one else can.”

Harry shot him a withering look. “What’s your name?”

“Mills, sir.”

“Well Mills, I’ll be sure to let your superiors know you’ve done your job.” He turned and put his arm around Hermione. “Come on, Hermione,” he said leading her around.

“But sir,” sputtered the wizard. Harry ignored him and continued to lead her back to where her parents were. Ron gave the wizard a withering glance, as if daring him to stop them and followed.

When Hermione entered her parents bedroom and saw her father’s body she nearly collapsed. Harry grabbed onto her tightly and Ron was by her other side in a flash, supporting her.

“No,” she cried softly. She advanced and knelt beside her father. “Dad, no,” she said. Her head dropped to his chest and she wept. She stayed there for a long time while Ron and Harry stroked her back and hair, whispering words of comfort to her. After several minutes, she lifted her head and spotted her mother’s body. She crawled to it, and gently brushed her mother’s hair off her face. She took one of her mother’s hands and pressed it to her lips, then she cried huge heartbroken sobs.

“Harry,” said a soft voice from behind. Harry looked up and saw his boss, Amelia Bones. Harry stood and greeted his boss.

“I just heard,” she said quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you, Amelia,” he replied. “I know we don’t normally let anyone on the scene until we’ve gone over everything…”

She held up her hand. “Don’t worry about it Harry. I know Miss Granger is a close friend of yours. How is she doing?”

They both peered behind them and saw Ron leading Hermione away from the room. Her sobs had subsided into softer cries and she clutched Ron tightly.

“We’ve only just told her,” said Harry. “She apparated here before we could stop her. Do we know who did this yet?” he asked.

Amelia shook her head. “Just the usual list of suspects. Unfortunately there are a lot of Death Eaters who would want to hurt Miss Granger. She’s been instrumental in the capture of nearly as many Death Eaters as you’ve been. I wouldn’t be surprised if the order to kill her parents came from Voldemort himself.”

Harry nodded. He had come to the same conclusion. “I’ll need a team of at least four for this one,” he began. “Tonks, Shacklebolt…”

“Harry you’re not leading the investigation on this one,” Amelia broke in.

“What? Of course I am. I responded to the call last night. This is my case.”

“You’re too close to the subject,” she said. “It’s your best friends parents.”

“That’s exactly why I have to do it,” he said.

“Besides you asked for some time off in a couple of months. I need you to close out the cases you have right now before then.”

“I can do both,” said Harry.

“Only if you kill yourself,” said Amelia.

“Harry,” Ron interrupted. Harry turned and faced Ron. “I’m taking Hermione home. Are you nearly done?”

“Go,” said Amelia. “Your friends need you. I promise to keep you informed.”

“Harry,” Ron prompted.

Reluctantly Harry followed Ron back to where Hermione was waiting. She looked miserable and heartbroken.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said softly, helping her stand. “Let’s get home.”

The three apparated back to their house and immediately Ron and Harry set out to put Hermione to bed. It was the middle of the day, but she didn’t fight them. They went to their bedroom and Harry helped her change while Ron turned down the bed.

Hermione numbly allowed Harry to help her out of her maternity dress and into her nightgown. She couldn’t seem to do these things by herself. All her energy was going to blocking out the horrifying images of her parents lying dead in their bedroom.

She clumsily climbed into bed, but as soon as her head hit the soft pillow she began to cry again, feeling the misery beginning to overwhelm her.

Harry climbed in behind her and spooned up against her, hugging her tightly to him and letting her cry. As he held her there was a knock at the door. Harry gave Ron a look that plainly said, get rid of whoever that is. Ron gave a small nod and went to answer the door.

“Mum!” he said in surprise.

Molly Weasley’s eyes were full of tears. “I just heard, Ron,” she said entering the house and hugging her youngest son hard.

Ron returned the hug. “How did you hear?”

“Your father. Where’s Hermione?”

“She’s in the bedroom,” he replied. Mrs. Weasley made a move toward the bedroom. “Where are you going?” asked Ron in alarm.

“To see Hermione,” said Mrs. Weasley, matter-of-factly. “She shouldn’t be alone at a time like this.”

“She’s not,” said Ron. “Harry’s in there with her.”

“Oh, well that’s good. She’ll need her friends at a time like this.” Mrs. Weasley again made a move toward the bedroom.

“Mom, let me just make sure she’s decent,” said Ron, getting ahead of his mother.

“Decent?” questioned Mrs. Weasley, but Ron hurried into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

“Mum’s here,” Ron announced. Harry was still in bed, holding Hermione tightly, but at least she had stopped crying.

“Okay,” said Harry, not moving.

“She wants to see Hermione,” explained Ron.

“Hermione?” questioned Harry.

She nodded. Ron gave Harry a pointed look.

“What?” asked Harry in irritation.

“Don’t you think you ought to get up?” asked Ron. “Don’t you think mum will jump to the wrong conclusions if she’s see’s you on bed with her?”

Harry narrowed his eyes at Ron. “I don’t care,” he said through gritted teeth. “And actually, she’ll probably jump to the right conclusions.”

“I don’t think now is the time to come out to my parents,” whispered Ron.

“Well if you had just told your parents the truth…”

“Please stop it, you two,” begged Hermione.

Harry and Ron felt awful. This was the same fight they had been fighting for months. Harry resented Ron’s ability to be open about his love for Hermione and Ron resented Harry’s refusal to understand his predicament. Neither of them had ever adored Hermione more, but their love for each other was beginning to show signs of strain.

“I’m sorry,” said Harry immediately.

“Yeah, we’re both sorry,” said Ron. “I’ll get rid of my mother.”

“No,” said Harry, getting up. “I’ll go get her.” He went to the door and opened it. “Molly,” he called. Harry held open the door and Mrs. Weasley bustled in.

Hermione took one look at Mrs. Weasley’s warm sympathetic face and welled up with tears again. “Oh, poor dear,” said Mrs. Weasley, rushing forward and embracing Hermione. “There you go,” she said. “Yes, have a good cry.” Hermione sobbed in Mrs. Weasley’s arms, but felt a little comforted. Once Hermione had cried herself out, Mrs. Weasley tucked her back into bed. “Rest dear,” she said gently. “You have to keep yourself healthy for that grandchild of mine. The boys and I will take care of everything.”

Mrs. Weasley bustled the boys out of the room. “All right, you two,” said Mrs. Weasley. “Arrangements are going to have to be made.”

“I think we should let Hermione make those decisions,” interrupted Harry. “They were her parents.”

“Harry dear, she’s not in any shape to make any decisions.”

“I agree,” said Ron. “She’s so upset. You saw her.”

Harry took a deep breath, fighting to control his temper. “If they were my parents, I would want to take care of it myself.”

“Harry, I know you mean well,” began Mrs. Weasley gently. “But maybe this isn’t your decision.”

Harry glared at Ron. “Can I speak to you for a minute?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Excuse us, mum,” said Ron with a weary sigh. He followed Harry from the room. “Please spare me the lecture, Harry,” he said when they were out of ear shot.

Harry stared unblinking at Ron. “I am going back into our bedroom to sit with Hermione. And I don’t care what conclusions your mother comes to.” He started to move back to their room, but stopped. “Just once,” he said. “I wish you would act like you love me as much as you claim to.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Ron. “Of course I love you. You and Hermione are my life.”

“You can say that until the end of time and it won’t mean a damn thing,” said Harry.

“Harry,” said Ron. “I love you. But you have to understand about my parents…”

“I don’t,” said Harry cutting him off. “Hermione and I are secure in our feelings for each other and you. You obviously aren’t.”

“You know that’s really easy for you to say, considering you don’t have any parents to tell,” accused Ron angrily.

An intense look of hurt passed across Harry’s face. “I guess Hermione and I are the lucky one’s then,” he said softly and left.

Harry saw Mrs. Weasley watching him curiously. He didn’t say anything and went back into their bedroom. Hermione wasn’t sleeping.

“Are you and Ron still arguing?” she asked when she saw his face.

Harry shook his head. “Don’t worry about Ron and I. You’re the only thing that matters now.”

“Harry why is this happening?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied.

“Can I tell you something?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said. He sat on the bed next to her and took her hand. “You can tell me anything.”

“You remember when I went home to tell my parents about us and the baby?”

Harry nodded.

“I didn’t tell you and Ron the truth about what happened,” she said. “My parents didn’t take the news well at all. They said it was embarrassing that I didn’t know who the father of the baby was.”

“Oh Hermione, why didn’t you tell us?” he asked.

“I was angry at them for not understanding,” she cried. “And I didn’t want you or Ron to blame yourselves. I don’t care what they think. I don’t,” she cried harder.

Harry embraced her tightly, “shh,” he hushed her. “Shh, it’s okay.”

“Oh Harry, the last thing I said to them was that they’d never see their grandchild unless they accepted you and Ron. My mother was so hurt. I think I broke her heart.”

“No,” Harry reassured her. “Your parents loved you so much and they knew you loved them.”

“Do you think so?” she asked tearfully.

“I know so,” he said. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Don’t question it.”

Hermione reached up and brought his face to hers. “Harry,” she cried.

Harry kissed her tenderly, knowing instinctively what she needed. He pressed kisses onto her mouth, cheeks, and eyelids. “I’m here,” he murmured. “Everything is going to be okay.”

Hermione clutched at Harry. “I need you,” she whispered.

“I’m here,” he replied.

“Harry, I’m so frightened.”

“Don’t be frightened,” he said. He stretched out over her, cradling her body next to his. “You’re safe with us,” he murmured, kissing her deeply.

She clutched at him, needing his warmth desperately. Harry and Hermione were so focused on each other they didn’t immediately notice when Ron slipped into the room.

Ron cleared his throat. Harry rolled over and motioned Ron closer. He slid into the bed with them and he and Harry sandwiched Hermione between them.

“I sent mum home,” he said. “I told her we needed some quiet time.”

“Thanks, Ron,” said Hermione. Her cheeks were still wet from her tears and he reached out and wiped them. His soft touch sent her off again, but it wasn’t the heavy heartbroken sobs from earlier. She just couldn’t seem to stop the tears from coming.

“It’s okay,” he sighed. “We know.” He held her close, letting her cry herself to sleep against his chest.

When he looked over at Harry, he was surprised to see tears running down his face. Sometimes Ron felt like such a prat. He should have been watching out for Harry as well as Hermione. He should have known Harry would feel her parents death in a far more personal way than he would. Ron reached out instinctively, but Harry pulled away. It tore his heart out.

“Harry, please,” said Ron. “Don’t pull away from me.” He reached out again and this time Harry let his hand fall on his arm. “I know this is hard for you too,” he said. “And I’m really sorry for what I said earlier.”

“Forget it,” said Harry softly.

“No, it was wrong. But I do love you and when everything settles down I’m going to tell my parents about us.”

Harry took Ron’s hand in his and squeezed it. “Hermione and I don’t have anyone but you and your family now,” he said. “I don’t want to lose that.”

“You won’t,” Ron assured him. “I’m going to take care of both of you.”