| There was no use denying it any more. Hermione was very much pregnant. She had been congratulated more times than she could count. The nursery her mother was setting up at home was elaborate. Her mother knew how to outdo herself. She soon found that it was getting harder and harder to do more common things, like putting her knickers and shoes on. She would try for a while and groan, frustrated, and collapse into a heap on her bed.
She was set to leave from school in a couple of weeks and would be out for three months. She was anxious about having the baby, but livid about missing so much work at a job she had just started. She loved her class with the third year Gryffindors. She hadn�t talked to the Weasley girls outside of class, but she made sure to stare at them while they were working. She couldn�t tell which Weasley they belonged to. She knew for sure it wasn�t Ron, but she had to know. She�d told Ginny everything, and had given her permission to tell Ron she was in town for good, alone, and in dire need of talking to him. That had been days ago, and she had heard nothing from anyone. Ginny had cried when she told her about Jonathon, and not just because of what happened in July. She cried for the magical oppression and the freedom she�d been denied. �If my stupid brother had only thought about what he was doing, none of this would have happened to you,� she cried. �You would have been free, loved, and wanted!� �It�s not his fault� He was only doing what he thought was right,� Hermione found herself defending Ron. It gave her an odd sort of satisfaction. �I don�t care. He�s still an ignorant git!� Hermione sighed, staring at the table. �Things didn�t work out that way. They won�t.� �Why not? It�s not like Ron�s got anything,� she said sarcastically. �What?� Hermione�s head shot up. Ginny blew her nose and dabbed at her eyes. She smiled. �He�s Uncle Ron. He�s the only one of the entire Weasley clan with no family of his own. He�s all the kids live for, though. He spoils them rotten. Makes them toys, buys them presents�� �Makes them toys?� Hermione cut off, her mouth now wide open. �What you�re telling me is that he�s not married, has no kids, and is adored by his nieces and nephews?� Ginny nodded. Hermione sat in her seat, completely dumbfounded. Everything she had thought about Ron was wrong� except for the fact that he loved kids. That much was true. She mouthed wordlessly for a while, feeling like a fish as Ginny stared at her, waiting. Hermione then gave permission to Ginny to tell Ron all she needed to know. She just had to share the rest herself. Yet, October had come, and she had been in England for roughly three months. Ron had not made any move to talk to her. Maybe he didn�t love her anymore� maybe that was truly the reason he had broken up with her. She didn�t let that thought even take shape in her brain. It was just unfeasible. She�d seen his eyes. She�d felt his desperate touch on her skin the night he left her. He had still loved her that night. Wiping tears from her eyes, she proceeded to the Great Hall for breakfast, but before she could make it in, a familiar voice sounded behind her. �Professor Granger?� Hermione whipped around and her curly brown hair followed her. She saw Monica Weasley dashing toward her. Other than the color of her hair, Monica looked exactly like Hermione had when she went to the school. Long, curly hair falling over her eyes, several books pressed up against her chest, a book bag slung over her shoulder with (no doubt) more books inside, and an inquisitive look on her face. Perhaps she wanted another? �Well hello, Miss Weasley.� The name sent a harsh ripple down Hermione�s back. Fighting to make her face seen out of the bushels of hair, Monica smiled congenially at Hermione. �I, uh� well actually I�ve been wondering about something for quite some time�� Hermione folded her hands and listened patiently. �It�s not about class,� Monica added quietly. �Oh,� Hermione said, looking around uneasily for a second. �My father�� �Your father?� Hermione cut in. �Oh sorry, dear. Continue.� �Well, my father wanted to know if you were� if you were�� she struggled, looking for words. �I mean, he said he didn�t know you very well, but he knew well enough� or if you�re even her�� �Monica dear, you�re rambling,� she said to the girl, but with a look of adoration on her face. She had obviously picked up that trait from her darling Uncle Ron. �S-Sorry,� she stuttered. �I was just um� wondering if you were Hermione Granger.� Hermione only smiled and asked, �And why would your father want to know that?� �Because of my Uncle Ron.� Hermione�s smile faded instantly. She put a hand to her chest almost immediately. �Your Uncle� Ron?� she gulped, saying his name. Monica nodded, flinging her hair over her shoulders expertly without the use of her hands. As she stared at her professor, a smile played on her lips. �You�re the famous Hermione Granger,� she sighed wistfully. Hermione flushed as another aching ripple went through her back. The pains of love, she thought bitterly. �My Uncle Ron, Uncle Harry, and Aunt Ginny all tell me wild stories about you. Even Uncle Fred and Uncle George.� Hermione�s head whirled. There were far too many uncles in that one sentence. She finally shook the fog off and realized what Monica had told her. �They� talk about me?� �They tell stories about you like it�s a pastime. They obviously miss you,� Monica sighed, looking Hermione in the eyes now, more like a sister than a professor. �You should come back to our family, Hermione,� Monica longingly used her first name, and Hermione�s cheeks turned bright red. �We need you. Uncle Ron needs you.� Hermione�s jaw dropped. She wanted to say something� anything. Her entire body felt numb as she stared at Monica. Before she could say anything, Monica�s ears turned red and she dashed into the Great Hall. He needs me. |
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