Checkup ✔️

Chapter 7 - Battle Scars and Pensives

• "Ron!"

Hermione looked to Harry, who had set his jaw angrily, and had fire in his eyes. Whipping around to exit the tent, Hermione ran after the disappearing figure,

"Ron! Come back! Ron!"

No amount of her shouting could get his attention as he pounded through the cold leaves in the forest, passing through the invisible walls around the tent before disapperating. Hermione stopped inside the disillusionment bubble, falling to her knees on the ground as she looked at where the love of her life had just vanished. He had just up and left...he didn't even look at her,
"...Ron..."

It was a croaked phrase as tears flowed down Hermione's cheeks, melting the slight frost which had settled on the leaves below her as she sobbed painfully. It was Harry's fault Ron left. But Hermione couldn't find room in her heart to hate the dark haired boy. She couldn't, now that he was all she had left. Ron was gone, and it was all Voldemort's fault! Clutching her fists angrily Hermione rose up from where she had collapsed, turning to look back at the tent. Harry was standing in the doorway, green eyes flashing now with something which resembled regret or guilt. But he didn't make a move to come closer, why should he? Yet even in the old, dirty tent, surrounded by woods and sorrow, Hermione and her lovers best friend had a wonderful night together. It eased her pain and suffering, and it felt so...right. •

Hermione sat up quickly in bed, eyes wide in abject horror as that night ran through her mind like a movie reel. A hand came to unconsciously hold her stomach, while the other came to run down her face, wiping away the sheen of sweat which had appeared on her brow. She couldn't see straight, everything was spinning as choked sobs escaped her throat,

"Nightmare?"

Hermione glanced up, seeing Rowena illuminated by the gentle glow of the dying fire. Her face was twisted into an expression of great concern, though remained gentle and fair,

"I...I don't know," Hermione croaked, running a hand through her sweaty locks as she pulled her knees to her chest, "everything is just so confusing now,"

"Helga Hufflepuff was a wise woman, Hermione. She always told the truth to her friends. I think you should too,"

Hermione chuckled lightly at that, leaning back against the headboard as she observed the portrait above the fireplace with tired eyes,

"You know, that's just what Professor McGonagall said?"

"Mm, she's a smart woman. Smart enough to be in my house. I'd take her advice,"

"Perhaps. Winky?"

There was a crack as the little house elf appeared by the bedside, bug eyes wide as she smiled brilliantly,

"Yes, missus?"

"Do you know any calming draughts that can go into bath water? Maybe even one to help get through...pregnancy?"

"Yes missus, I used one when Mrs. Crouch was having her child. Would you like one?"

"Yes please, Winky. Not too hot, though,"

The house elf nodded before disappearing into the adjoining bathroom, the sound of running water soothing to Hermione's headache as she slowly peeled back the sheets and stood. Poking the fire to raise the flames up again, Hermione sighed heavily and began to strip down. Tossing the clothes into a basket nearby, she held herself as she shivered in the darkness.
'It's the middle of summer," Hermione thought, making her way towards the bathroom where billowing steam tempted her in, 'why is this house always so cold?'