I hope our story has a happier ending

how a heart unbreaks

She comes to just a moment later, Harry and Ron having carried her over to the couch where they're now hovering over her.

It feels like coming up for air after too long spent underwater, the way her senses are off and then slowly fade back in.

"I'm okay," she promises the second her eyes open.

Ron moves toward her, and Remus growls—his eyes go wide, clamping a hand over his mouth. It takes him a moment to understand why he's instinctively lashing out at his son's best friend. "Ron, I'm so sorry, but I think it's best if you take a step back; for some reason the wolf feels very protective right now."

Ron nods and moves away, though his expression makes it clear he'd rather be fussing over Hermione; even yards away, she can see him cataloguing her entire body for wellness, knows he's debating going to make tea.

Remus, for his part, takes a step closer, nose twitching as he tries to identify the source of the wolf's concern; when it hits him, he goes entirely still. "Hermione—"

His speech cuts off, but his eyes go to her stomach; knowing what to look for, the tightness of her top where her abdomen rounds is plenty noticeable.

He's tense; even without him saying, she can tell he's already panicking about her health, worrying over everything that could have gone wrong for her or the baby, is desperate to check that they're both okay.

"They don't know yet," she whispers, quiet so only his heightened senses can hear.

"What's going on?" Harry's voice is small, worried, focus locked on his sister.

"I—"

(she could come up with some excuse, but god is she tired of the lies—tired of being alone in this. tired of hiding the biggest thing in her life from the people closest to her heart.)

(and her baby deserves better than to be a secret—deserves all the love in the world.)

"I've been keeping something from you."

Ron snorts. "Yeah, no shit. We've called you out on being off like three times, you heathen."

"Ronald," she scowls, "Let me get through this, okay?" Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she meets their eyes. "I didn't realize till we'd been on the run a month. And then I didn't want—didn't know how to..." she pulls off her hoodie, arm cradling the baby so the pieces click for them. "I'm pregnant. I should be due—around February, from what I can tell."

Harry and Ron's expressions are both comically shocked; Sirius, for his part, looks equally surprised.

Harry takes step closer. "You're having a baby?"

"I'm having a baby," she confirms, tears welling in her eyes.

And she's known for months, now; has felt the kicks, and the movement, and the changes to her body, but it's this—at last saying it out loud, to her best friend in the world—that finally makes it feel real.

Harry holds his hand out in question; Hermione grasps it gently, pressing it to where a foot occasionally flutters.

Her brother drops to his knees, ignoring her completely.

"Hi, little one," he whispers. "I'm your Uncle Harry. I can't wait to meet you—god, your father is going to be insufferable."

Hermione laughs even as she wipes away a tear, catharsis flooding through her with the relief of the most people in her life knowing at last.

(All but one, that is.)

"Don't worry, kid," we won't let your swotty parents make you too much of a nerd," Ron adds from his seat on the arm of the couch.