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He stared at her with wide eyes, as if he had never been this awake before. He put his glass to his lips and drank the last of his whiskey, before putting it on the counter. He turned back to her, and stood up letting her hand fall. Moving around the seat, he reached out for her hand, and before she even realized what she was doing, she placed her hand on his and let him lead her away.
An image of Ron below her, his blue eyes staring up at her with such burning passion in them, it made her shiver. She had leaned forward planting her lips on his, and felt the sweat trickle down her brow. She had needed to be closer to him; she couldn’t have it any other way.
She stared angrily at the dark stairs below her, but didn’t move. She heard him move across the landing, he was almost right against her. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, causing a shiver to go down her spine. Her senses heightened, and she moved her head slightly to reveal her neck. His soft kisses trailed down her neck and collarbone, and her lip quivered longing to touch his lips. He took her waist, and she moved her head to meet his lips. She stared at him, and matched his intense gaze. He lowered his head, and met her lips in an electrifying kiss.
Holding his head in his hands, he looked through his open fingers out the window and at the door of the Leaky Cauldron. He sucked in air out of surprise as there she stood, Hermione. Her soft brown hair down, blowing lightly in the light breeze. The sun seemed to break through the cloud cover for one momment lighting up her flawless skin. She walked out to the street, looking both ways before quickly walking. Her hair bounced away, and as she drew closer he saw that she wore no make-up. Just the way he liked it. She entered the coffee house, her brown eyes searching for his blue.
Numbly, Hermione walked through the home she had shared for the last four years with Viktor. She could hear him walking around in the den, and after placing the parcels she had bought quickly from Diagon Alley before coming home by the door, she walked in.
One last pang of nausea hit Hermione, and she rushed to the lavatory, crashing on to her knees, and bending low over the loo. In relief, she lay down on the cool bathroom floor; the side of her face cooling as she breathed slowly, sweat trickling down her brow.
Hermione took another deep breath, and managed a smile. If she was going to go through with this, than she might as well make him believe she was happy. “I went to the hospital while you were away, and they told me something.” She paused, and Viktor started looking nervous, but did not interrupt her. Swallowing hard, trying to show no fear she finally managed to say it: “Viktor, I’m pregnant.”
As Ron walked, his thoughts wandered. He still could not believe that he was in Paris, France, with a great job and living inhabited home. Unlike his parent’s house, Ron felt that it was a lot more relaxed, quiet, probably due to the fact that they did not get anywhere near as many visitors as the Burrow did, but Ron found that Harry’s house was more freeing. Less memories inhabited this home, fewer memories that had been haunting Ron ever since he was seventeen years old.
Hermione stood still on the porch watching as Viktor helped the taxi driver as she tried to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of her mind at Viktor’s words. Wife-to-be. It didn’t seem right to Hermione; half the time she didn’t even believe it was true. But then she would glance down at her left hand and see that it was true, a sparkling diamond proving this fact.
For the last hour he had been awake, a sinking feeling in his stomach as he saw the same image play over and over again in his mind. He was oblivious to everything around him, and could not hear the excited cheers from the kitchen. He didn’t know that Hermione Granger was now a lot closer to him then he could have ever dreamed.
Once she entered, she moved into the corner and watched as Ron gripped the sides of his wardrobe, and held his head down fighting what ever he held inside. After a few minutes of silence, Hermione couldn’t hold back anymore. Shaking a little she went behind Ron, and slowly placed her small hand on his shoulder.
The lamps flickered on as he pushed the swinging door open, and he absently walked over to the cupboard, not noticing the surprised figure that sat at the round table. He saw a note on the counter from Harry saying he had gone out to dinner with Annie and her parents, and Ron grunted to himself. He took a mug out of the cupboard, and pulled out his wand to make some coffee.
The water was steaming hot, and seemed to scold Hermione’s back, but she took no notice of it. Sweat dripped down her brow as the steam filled the loo around her, but she did not care. She had slept horribly and when she woke up the next morning she had found a quickly written note from Viktor about how he had gone for a morning jog. She was a little relieved at not having to worry about putting a brave face on as soon as she woke up, so she took her time getting out of bed and getting into the shower.
The back door led straight into the quaint kitchen, and Hermione walked over to the fresh blueberry pie that sat on the counter. Pulling out her wand, she magically moved it on to the table, and then cut it into seven. Putting her wand back into her pocket, Hermione went over to the cupboard and pulled out three plates, and sat them on the table. As she turned around to fetch a scoop to put the pie on the plates, Ron came into the kitchen carrying a hysterical Rose over his shoulder.
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