Hermione paused in the doorway, on her way back from getting a glass of water. The Burrow was filled with laughter as Ginny told a story about one of their new Quidditch team recruits, who had panicked and flown inadvertently into the Forbidden Forest whilst being chased by a bludger, screaming all the while. They'd found him eventually. Hermione felt the corner of her lips tug up into a smile at the sight of everyone laughing and teasing and sharing a normalcy that felt almost like… home. The strange sensation of a weight settling in her chest made her realise it was time to go. Suddenly, she didn't feel like being surrounded with people anymore.

She said her goodbyes, gave and received hugs, and was sent away with a casserole of Molly's new-and-improved recipe vegetarian lasagne; enjoying that some things would never change. When she arrived back to her apartment overlooking the tail end of Diagon Alley, she kicked off her shoes and flopped back onto her bed, trying to figure out how to ease the weight that felt as though it was restricting her breathing.

An owl arrived, bumping into the window twice until Hermione was pretty much forced to get up and open the window to prevent it happening a third time, and recognising Errol as she took the letter from his foot. She set the letter down on her desk by the window, pet his head and gave him a few treats before he settled down onto one of her bedposts.

Untying the string holding the parchment rolled up, she scanned Ginny's lilting scrawl and sighed. As much as she was grateful to have friends who checked in to ask her if everything was okay – she had left a bit abruptly – she also just wanted to vanish from the world for a while. Composing a quick reply that she was fine, just sleep-deprived, but she would definitely be at Teddy's birthday tomorrow, she gave Errol a few more treats then tied the letter to his leg and sent him off again, wincing as he almost crashed into a lamp post; poor little clumsy thing.

She knew really, what it was that was bothering her, but thought she had started to make her peace with it; she had begun to resign herself to that fact that if there were a memory charm or a reversal charm or just something that could restore her parents' memories, she would have found it by now - or at least an indication that it existed in the realm of known magic. If comprehensive research throughout the Hogwarts library wasn't enough, she had become ever more of a regular at Flourish & Blotts, hoping someone somewhere in one of their books would be able to give her an inkling of what to do next, something new or different that she could try. Even Obscurus' had been keeping her updated as to any new books they were approached to publish. She was almost flush out of ideas. Almost.

Trying to invoke a new determination within herself, it didn't feel right to give up just yet, Hermione decided it was time to go to the less savoury parts of town. Even if it was some kind of darker magic, in her desperation she could convince herself that the ends would justify the means, if there was no other way. Or that maybe it would inspire something new – as if anything good or pure had ever had its origins in that particular brand of magic.

Hermione paused, wondering why she suddenly felt nauseous. Holding her hand to her stomach, she ran through a quick check, making sure nothing else felt off. Other than a slight headache at the edges of her mind, everything else appeared fine. Wrongfully dismissing it as attributable to a combination of stress and being run-down, or something equally innocuous, she decided to turn in early and at least attempt to reduce the intensity of her current level of sleep-deprivation.

Hermione awoke with a start when it was still dark enough to be only a few hours past midnight; another nightmare wonderful. Relinquishing any further hopes of having a peaceful rest, she rose to make a cup of coffee – there was no way she was going to be able to keep her eyes open any other way. Hermione was half-way through pouring the boiled water into the mug before she zoned out from the task completely, hyper-focused on the persistent nausea still making its presence known in her tummy. She was semi-debating sending a quick note to Molly, she would know of some home remedy or simple little spell that would relieve the sick-type feeling in her stomach, but she knew how that conversation would go. Molly would tell her to take it easier and then start teasing her about- Hermione almost dropped the kettle into the mug full of scalding hot water. She set it down on the table with a force that produced a noisy 'thunk', and tugged her calendar down from the wall. Today was the 27th. She was two weeks late. She pulled back pages, looking through the month before, and then the month before that. Merlin, she was a month and two weeks late. And she'd been too caught up in restoring her parents' memories to notice. Fuck.

She sat down hard on one of the kitchen chairs, remembering George and Angelina's wedding a few months ago. Too much elf-wine and …fuck.

Not for the first time, Hermione wished she could've asked for her mother and father's advice, or at least sought them out for the comfort she knew they would have provided without judgement, question or hesitation. No longer feeling like drinking the coffee she'd just made, Hermione poured it down the sink, returned the kettle to its rightful place and went to lie down. Fate had a funny way of giving her the chance at the family she didn't want, in place of the one she did. `

She was ever gladder to be laying on a soft surface when she realised she should probably tell Ron, even if she wasn't going to keep it, she reasoned that she would want to know if she were in his position. At least, she supposed, he would be there tomorrow if she decided it was the right time to tell him. That was going to be probably more awkward than their break-up two weeks after the wedding. He'd been shockingly utterly surprised that time too, as though a happy couple were supposed to not really talk all that much, or spend time together. She pulled the pillow out from under her head and put it over her face, letting her arms rest atop it. She'd made it through that, she could make it through this. But still, it was going to be a long day.