The Best Mistake

Chapter Twelve | Panic at the Prancing Pegasus

When George showed up at her flat, fifteen minutes late with Charlie and Percy in tow, Hermione, not for the first time that evening, regretted her decision to go out that night.  It wasn't Charlie and Percy's presence that gave her pause—rather, what it signified. This wasn't going to be a low-key night out to celebrate their success as George implied earlier. Oh, no, he planned on getting absolutely shitfaced, and he'd very likely invited the entire DA, all the Weasleys—except for Ronald for her sake—and any other random acquaintance he could get in touch with in the last six hours.

Hermione considered sending them off without her.

First of all, she was still exhausted. It was her default state these days, only worsened by the hormones and magic coursing through her body while it literally made a child. Socializing just didn't appeal to her at the moment, not when she could be far happier and relaxed in her bed with her pregnancy books from Theo.

The very same Theo who was supposed to floo call her an hour ago, as she'd asked him to help her research the effects some of the curses she'd been hit with during the war might have on her pregnancy. Very little information seemed to be available on the subject, and she hadn't been able to secure an appointment with a maternal healer at St. Mungo's until next week.

While she'd had no indication that something could be amiss or that the curses would affect her or her child in any way, Hermione was nothing if not thorough, and Theo had been more than happy to look into it for her. He, of course, had more personal experience in the effects of dark magic on the human body than any healer in Britain, given his history, and he'd become something of an expert.

But he hadn't called.

Despite having only known him for a month, Hermione felt  he wasn't the sort to stand a friend up without an explanation, so she was slightly worried about him.

"Sickle for your thoughts, Granger?" George asked, with a knowing smile. "Trying to find some excuse to make us leave without you, then?"

"I'm tired this evening," Hermione replied. Still, she grabbed her cloak off her coat rack and joined them at the floo. "It's been a long week, George."

"Ah, ah, ah" George wiggled a long finger at her. "You can't skive out on us tonight, Granger. Dean's opened his new pub in Godric's Hollow yesterday, and we've all an obligation to support him."

Hermione groaned—she knew this wasn't about the mirrors. "George Weasley, you know full well I can't go anywhere near Dean Thomas tonight."

"Why not?" Charlie asked with a small smile. He'd cut his hair since the last time she'd seen him, and it hung in stringy locks to his shoulders tonight.

"Because wherever Dean is, Seamus won't be far behind, and he'll definitely be at his fiance's pub on its opening weekend." Hermione threw her cloak around her shoulders and fastened it. All three Weasleys gave her matching looks of confusion. "I work with Seamus, and as George is perfectly aware, I took the day off today on very short notice."

"You skipped work? And you're not sick?" Percy's eyes went wide behind his thick glasses, judgment clear in his tone.

"Yes!" Hermione sighed, knowing she'd committed a cardinal sin in his eyes. "Don't look at me like that, Percy. I had some personal matters to take care of."

"Oh, yes, the mysterious personal matter you pulled my employee from her work to discuss in  my flat without me," George pouted.

"Can we just go, please?" Hermione huffed and crossed her arms. "And I'm telling Ginny you referred to her as your employee."

"Given the fact that she is my employee, I doubt she'll mind."

"Would you like to bet on that?" Hermione smiled and reached for her pot of floo powder.