Hermione sat on the couch, not bothering to turn the lights on, leaving the flat in darkness.  How in the world was she supposed to deal with the news?  This wasn’t planned.  This wasn’t supposed to happen yet.  It wasn’t mapped into their lives for another three years.

Eventually, she got tired of sitting in darkness and went to the kitchen, flipping the light switch as she entered.  Their kitchen was a mix of Muggle and wizard.  Ron had yet to figure out how to cook the Muggle way, so his father had charmed all the appliances for them.  She searched through the pantry and refrigerator before returning to the living room with food.

About an hour later, when Ron arrived home from the office nearly the same time Harry arrived home from Quidditch practice, they found Hermione sitting on the couch with a vat of ice cream half-melted between her knees, crying at the television.

Harry dropped his Firebolt on the floor and knelt at Hermione’s side, taking one of her hands in his.  “Are you okay?”

She sniffed and pulled her hand free.  Smiling, she turned teary eyes to him.  “It’s just sad.”

Harry looked back over his shoulder at Ron, who just shrugged then went into their bedroom to get cleaned up before dinner.  Hermione hadn’t been herself lately and this was just one more incident to add to that list.

Harry faced Hermione again.  With an occasional sniffle, she methodically demolished the remainder of the ice cream as he knelt in front of her.

When the movie was over and ice cream gone, she sniffled again, then turned to Harry with a horrified look on her face.  “Oh, go shower!” she cried, shooing him away with a motion of her hands.  “You smell awful!”

Shaking his head, he went down the hall to join Ron in the shower.

Once both boys had showered and changed, they sat at the table in their small dining room. Harry and Ron ate like they had tapeworms, devouring whatever was on the table.  About halfway through, Ron noticed Hermione was only picking at her potatoes and not eating anything else.

“Are you okay?” he asked her.  She looked up.  They were both so concerned with her today.  As well they should be, she thought, a combination resentment and malicious glee cascading through her.

“I-I-I’ve got something to tell you,” she stuttered, blushing.

Ron nudged Harry hard with his elbow.  Harry jumped slightly, startled, dropped his fork, then focused on Hermione.

She sighed.  This had to be one of the most difficult tasks facing a woman.  She looked at Ron and Harry.  Her loves.  Her lovers.

Nausea rolled in her stomach threateningly.  She’d been fighting it all day – well, actually, all week.  Pressing one hand to her midriff, she took a deep breath.  The only way to say it would be to just do it.

“I’m pregnant.”  There, she’d gotten it out.  Then she jumped from her chair and dove for the kitchen sink, vomiting up the ice cream.  The boys made no sound behind her.  She rinsed her mouth with a glass of water, then turned, leaning back against the counter.

They looked dumbfounded, both blinking stupidly.  “Were you both hit by Bludgers?  Say something, damn it.”

Harry regained his voice first, even though it was shaky with surprise.  “Pregnant?”  She nodded.

“When?” Ron asked.

“You mean whose is it?” Ron nodded in response, then looked at Harry.  Harry seemed to have been struck dumb.

Maybe he was hit by a Bludger...me.  Hermione smiled.  “I think it was the week Harry was sidelined recovering from that failed Wonky Faint.”

Ron laughed at her deliberate misstatement.  She knew very well that it was a Wronski Feint, but enjoyed tormenting the professional Quidditch players.  Slapping Harry on the back, he said, “Congratulations, mate!”

Hermione, grinning widely, returned to the table and took Harry’s hands.  They were ice cold.  “Harry?” she whispered.

He finally looked up at her.  There were tears in his eyes.  “My baby?”

Hermione nodded.  “I think so, but we won’t know for sure for a couple weeks.  That’s when they can perform a paternity charm.”

“And the doctor didn’t ask why one was needed?” Ron asked wryly.

“No,” she replied, still keeping her eyes locked with Harry’s.  “We’re notorious.”

Ron just laughed as he leapt up and hugged Harry tightly, then Hermione.  Before Ron could let go, however, Harry snaked his arms around both of them, making it a tight three-way hug.

A whispered, “I love you,” was heard.  And it didn’t matter who said it.