Chapter Ten | Of Potions and Pregnancies

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Hermione indulged in a bit of a lie-in the following morning. She'd slept well past eight, waking only to retch on her bathroom floor for fifteen minutes, eat some crackers from her dismal pantry, then return to the warm comfort of her bed linens.

Theo, bless him, had sent her some of his healing books on magical pregnancies and childbirth after he'd returned to his own flat the previous evening, so she picked up one of the books from her nightstand and flipped through the pages before settling back down on her cool, fluffy pillow and starting with the forward. It had been thoughtful of Theo to send these—unexpected, but Theo did a lot of unexpected things she supposed.

Yesterday, they'd spent the afternoon together, planning and talking well into the evening—Hermione devising a strategy for the best way to tell Malfoy that he's soon to be a father and Theo worrying himself sick over whether he'd be forgiven for keeping such a life altering secret from his best mate for two weeks.

Hermione couldn't really understand it. Of course, she understood loyalty to one's friends, as she herself was loyal to a fault when it came to Harry, but this felt different, extreme in a way that sort of scared her. It made her wonder whether Theo was afraid simply of Malfoy's notorious and vindictive temper or if Theo had his own intense sense of righteousness and fidelity that she was forcing him to test.

With the realization that she was getting no reading done, Hermione closed the book and placed it back on her overcrowded nightstand. She supposed she should move some of the books that teetered dangerously in high piles along the edge back to one of her bookshelves, but really, she'd just have to go retrieve them again when reading in bed struck her fancy, as it did more often than not. And to be fair, they were piled by genre, so it wasn't as if she was allowing utter chaos to rein over her bedroom by keeping them there.

Hermione shifted on the bed and propped herself against her tufted headboard. Staring at her stomach, she let out a long breath then cast the pregnancy diagnostic charm Theo had shown her the previous evening. When her little star appeared, illuminating the space around it and flickering to the beat of its heart, tears welled in her eyes.

At this point, she ought to have cried herself out, but the rush of emotion at witnessing the new and vulnerable life growing inside of her—it was almost too much to bear.

Part of Hermione was overjoyed by this chance to build a new family that would be all her own, to have a child she could love unconditionally, with every fiber of her being, who'd hopefully love her in return. It's something she'd always wanted, not necessarily so soon or on these terms, but now that it was happening, she couldn't stop the happiness that raced through her veins at the sight of the twinkling ball of bliss above her.

She was just so bloody happy—and so utterly terrified.

With a wave of her wand, her star disappeared, just as her own heart began to race. A feeling of dread washed over her, turning her tears from ones of joy to fear in an instant, and it wasn't only at the thought of explaining this to Draco sodding Malfoy, she assured herself. It was all of it—there was so much to do, to prepare for, and for once in her life she felt clueless.

With a resigned sigh, she picked the book she'd discarded only moments ago back up and forced herself to learn. Normally, new knowledge satisfied her, kept her placated, but all of this information about pregnancy, birth, and what happens after seemed to further fuel her anxiety.

She continued in this way for a full week. In the mornings, she slept poorly, dealt with her sickness, ate what she could, avoided her colleagues, then studied the textbooks from Theo all evening.

By Friday, she'd realized that she needed to speak to someone—preferably someone with an understanding of her particular situation, and Ginny was the obvious choice. Not only was she aware of Hermione's—indiscretion—with Malfoy, she was also an amazing mum, and while Hermione felt sort of strangely guilty for telling more people before Malfoy, she just really needed to sort through these feelings with a friend.

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