Unlike a Sister (Harmione)

Chapter 17: Anamnesis

When Harry and Ginny returned home, it was past midnight. Mrs. Weasley bombarded them with questions and he was grateful that Ginny answered for the both of them, recounting the costumes, the scenery, and the rich Muggle couple with a child at Hogwarts.

As Ginny checked on Lily-who had been put to bed hours ago-Harry undressed in their bedroom.

He felt strange, like he was running a fever. His mind was a tumult of thoughts and emotions, again, as though the past two months had been a temporary respite in a storm.

He could see Hermione's hand in Ron's, Ron kissing her hair. He could feel Hermione's eyes on him as he told the Puckles he would visit their daughter. He felt the strange pulse of heat that bloomed between their fingers. He remembered her tears, the delicate rivulet that met its terminus in the hollow of her throat.

Why did she cry? Why'd she reach for me?

Amid the tumult, one thought rose to the surface with stinging clarity. He was jealous of Ron. How odd that all Harry had needed was an actor to perform the emotion he felt, to show him the truth. His stomach roiled with a strange mixture of bitterness and guilt.

The door opened and Ginny slipped inside, still wearing her gown. On instinct, Harry looked away and studied the buttons of his dress shirt. He would not meet her eyes, certain she'd read the conflict there.

"Lily asleep?"

"Out cold," she answered.

Harry pulled his well-worn Auror Training Centre tee over his torso. He sat on the bed to remove his trousers. Ginny lowered herself next to him. Yards of silk spread over the duvet, like dye in water.

"Harry," she said carefully, "I wanted to ask you...did Hermione seem strange tonight?"

His heart stuttered. "Strange? How?"

"I don't know..."

Afraid to meet her eyes-afraid he'd communicate more than he meant to-he offered, "She cried during that song. During the intermission."

"She cried?"

"Yeah," he mumbled. "It was a nice song."

Ginny bit her lip. "You don't think...?"

"What?" This time he was able to look at her.

"Well," she paused, "is it possible Hermione's pregnant?"

Harry looked away. "Why would you say that?"

She seemed seized with the theory. "Pregnant women cry easily. And she didn't drink tonight, did she?"

A dull hum seemed to vibrate in the back of his skull. She only drank soda water. He'd taken her order.

"She and Ron seem to be getting on lately too," Ginny mused. "Ron's told me as much."

The dull hum rose in pitch. He thought of Oxford. What had she said by the river?

Maybe we should've had more children.

"I'll get the truth out of them," Ginny said, a journalistic spark in her grey eyes. "They're probably trying to keep it secret until she's further along, or after the trial. Wouldn't it be wonderful to have another baby in the family?"

Harry felt himself nod. She kissed his cheek before disappearing into their labyrinthine closet.

With this spare moment of privacy, Harry felt his face crack open. He hid it in his hands.

Again, he stood in awe of his own idiocy.

In those indefinable minutes when they held hands, he had thought...he felt certain she felt what he felt. That he was not alone in his feelings.