Chapter 18: A Gentle Interruption

Chapter 18: A Gentle Interruption

The month wore on without another sign from Snape. I was so scrambled; I was in love with him and furious with him all at once. At Bill and Fleur’s wedding, I was four months pregnant. None of the Order members, save for Lupin, would have anything to do with me. He understood being ostracized for a physical state beyond personal control, and therefore he kept me company through the weeks when I sat at the dining room table in the Burrow and observed everyone else’s lives pass by me.

On one such afternoon, Ginny, Ron and Harry were playing with a Fanged Frisbee in the garden. It was hot out, and the warm air drifted in the open windows and doors, carrying with it a soft scent that reminded me of summers that had passed without this great, encumbering obstruction on my body.

“So, Hermione,” began Remus quietly, drawing circles with his finger on the rim of his mug of tea, “have you thought about names?”

The question shocked me for a moment. The simple idea that the baby name choosing process remained to be accomplished in a world so bleak was astounding. I smiled and turned to face him.

“No, actually. I have considered the name Juliet for a girl, though,” I replied, gazing wistfully out to the garden.

“Oh, really? I knew a girl back in school named Juliet. She was very quiet, though, and two years younger than me.”

“What house was she in?” I asked, still gazing out at the giggling trio on the lawn.

“Ravenclaw,” he responded, taking a sip of his tea.

“Everything all right?” asked Mrs. Weasley as she came through the kitchen. This was her salutation saved for me. I saw her looking at me worriedly. I knew that she thought that I had set my sights on Remus as my next target. I sighed wearily at the idea. I was everything that symbolized everything I didn’t want to be: a pregnant teenager. This symbolized being too stupid to reject my boyfriend, being promiscuous and dirty, and being pitiable. I didn’t want anyone’s pity, and I didn’t want anyone’s help. I just wanted him back.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Weasley,” I responded, deliberately thrusting every note of irritation away from my sentence.

“That’s good, dear.” She gazed down at me with sad eyes as though I had “TRAGEDY” written across my forehead.

“Mrs. Weasley,” I called firmly to her retreating back, “I’m fine.”

She paused and rested her hand on the counter. She sighed and looked back at me with those sad eyes for a moment before returning to the garden.

“I hate this,” I said to my former professor after she was gone.

“What?” he inquired steadily.

“I hate everyone feeling sorry for me and making it Snape’s fault! I did this because I love him! I could easily have said no, but I DIDN’T! It’s not his fault, and it’s not a problem!” My hoarse voice cut sharply through the nearly Zen silence in the room.

“Still, Hermione, the law once saw it as rape…” he replied carefully.

“Oh, sod the law! I’m pregnant with the child of the man I love. Is that so horrible?” I responded. A dam had been broken; I was going to get this all out.

“Well, no…” he responded.

“I just don’t get it!” I shrieked. “Where does Mrs. Weasley come off assuming that I’m sad? I’m not sad!”

That was when I couldn’t take it. My words welled up within me, and I realized I was going to lose it. I rested my face in my hands and began to sob. Lupin patted me gently on the back.

“There, there,” he said softly.

“I—just—want—him—back,” I coughed out through hitched breaths.

“I know, dear,” he said quietly, changing his pats to gentle circles. I wished that they had changed something. In the moment of silence that his comforting words resounded, the sound of laughter could be heard floating in through the window. I envied all three of my friends who could laugh and play without judgment. I had become an adult, and from the very moment that I had joined as one with Severus Snape, I was treated like one.

I eagerly gulped down some lavender-essence tea that Lupin conjured before me. My great, salty tears ran into the brew, and it made it even harder to force down. My hand rested on my stomach, and that was when I felt it: a soft bump against my hand made me look down in surprise. I looked down and felt a gentle thump.

Thump, thump, thump.

And then it subsided as gently as it had come. I looked up and told Remus through a stuffy nose that the baby was kicking.

“Yes, they do that.” He chuckled at my look of surprise.

“Well, yes, I suppose so,” I responded, my eyes still wide with mild shock. I finished my tea and retired to my room for some time to think.

Author's Note: Here's wishing everyone a wonderful Deathly-Hallows Eve filled with excitement, ships come true, and not very pronounced under-eye circles.

Stay tuned for a new HG/SS fic of mine soon to hit the archives entitled "Finding Rhythm" It takes a look at HG/SS (as well as fan fic) from a fresh perspective and is, if nothing else, very thought provoking.

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