The Hollow Beneath Hogwarts

77. Who's That Guy?

Pansy hadn't spoken for several minutes.

The confession seemed to have drained something out of her. She sat curled into the corner of the sofa, staring up at the ceiling as though the answer to all of her problems might suddenly appear between the wooden beams overhead.

Nobody interrupted her. Nobody pushed. Nobody rushed to fill the silence.

The room had grown quiet enough that the crackling fire in the grate sounded deafening.

Outside, rain continued tapping softly against the windows.

Sloane had used the time wisely.

She had quietly made fresh tea for everyone, tidied away the empty cups, and even sent a quick message to Luna explaining that their session would need to be pushed back. Luna's reply had arrived less than a minute later.

Take all the time you need. Nargles don't usually work on schedules anyway.

The note was now tucked into Sloane's desk drawer. She smiled every time she thought about it.

Now she sat back in her armchair with a fresh cup of coffee warming her hands, patiently waiting.

Daphne sat opposite her, nibbling on yet another ginger biscuit. Her morning sickness wasn't as bad as it had been a few weeks ago, but every now and then her complexion would turn slightly green and she'd immediately reach for the biscuits.

She was doing it now. One hand rested protectively over her stomach while the other held a biscuit she was absent-mindedly nibbling.

Every few moments she glanced toward Pansy. Then toward Sloane. Then back to Pansy.

Clearly desperate to say something. Clearly having no idea what that something should be.

The silence stretched. Five minutes. Seven. Ten.

Finally Pansy groaned dramatically. "Why are you both staring at me?"

The question shattered the tension instantly.

Daphne jumped.

Sloane looked up from her coffee.

Pansy narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You've both been looking at me for ages."

Sloane pressed her lips together. "We were giving you space."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "And?"

"And," Sloane continued carefully, "we're waiting for you to tell us why you're in trouble."

She deliberately kept her tone neutral. Not too cheerful. Not too serious. Not overly sympathetic.

Pansy looked like the sort of person who might throw a cushion at someone if they acted too cheerful right now. "Well, I think the fact I'm pregnant is a pretty significant factor in my troubles."

She folded her arms. "I thought that was fairly obvious."

"It is."

"Then why ask?" Pansy rolled her eyes. 

"Because that's not the whole story."

Pansy's expression flickered.

Sloane noticed immediately.

Got you.

Pregnancy wasn't the root of the problem. It was only part of it. "Let's start somewhere easier."

Pansy groaned.

Sloane ignored her. "How have you been feeling?"

Pansy blinked. "What?"