Regrets
“Hermione, open the door.”
Thirty minutes after his outburst, Michael was trying to get Hermione to come out of the room.
“Hermione… Please, answer me. Look, I’m sorry.” Michael sighed heavily. “The trip to Paris was a complete disaster. I’m all stressed out. I’m sorry I took my frustrations out on you. Now, would you please open the door?”
It was not after another ten minutes of begging and pleading that the knob on Michael and Hermione’s room’s door turned and a very angry Hermione came out.
“I’m sorry,” said Michael relieved. He tried to kiss her but she pushed him away. “What was that for?” he asked.
“I am still very angry, Michael.”
“Then what did you open the stupid door for?”
“I got tired of listening to you. I’m going out for a walk,” she said. “And don’t you dare follow me.”
Hermione went downstairs and grabbed her coat. Then she headed for the High Street.
In that cold morning of January, Fred and George Weasley were working hard on their next “big thing”. Since they were in their workshop they did not hear when the door to their Hogsmeade store opened to let their youngest brother in. After a few minutes, Fred felt someone’s presence and decided to check the front of the store. As he was looking around, he almost had a heart attack when he saw Ron slumped on the floor.
“Merlin, Ron! What are you doing on the floor?” he asked.
Ron did not reply.
“Ron? Are you okay?”
Again, no reply.
“George! Get in here!” Fred yelled.
George came running into the store and was as surprised as his twin brother to see Ron there.
“What the… What’s he doing on the floor?”
“Right, because I would know,” replied Fred. “Help me get him up.”
Once they sat Ron down, Fred got a glass of water.
“Ron?”
No response.
“He looks like an Inferius,” said George.
“Ron!”
That seemed to make him come back.
“What’s going on, mate?” asked Fred.
“She’s… pregnant.”
“What? Who is?” asked George, confused.
“She’s what?” asked Fred in disbelief. “You must be joking.”
“How is it you know what he’s talking about?” asked George.
“Come on, George. Look at the state he’s in. Who could it possibly be?”
“No…” said George in shock, something in his head suddenly falling into place.
"She’s pregnant,” Ron kept saying.
“Come on, Ron, lets get you a strong cup of coffee,” said Fred. “Give me a hand, George.”
Hermione walked the cold streets of Hogsmeade at a fast pace. The morning looked bleak, somehow reflecting her mood. She was heading to The Three Broomsticks, a place where she found herself often, sometimes having a chat about last week’s test with a student over a butterbeer, other times just to get away from Michael after a row.
As she entered the pub, she was surprised to see just a few people sitting around and having a drink, but then she took a glance at her watch and noticed it was only 9:20 a.m.
“Hermione, my dear! How nice to see you!” said Madam Rosmerta warmly.
“Good morning, Rosmerta,” said Hermione quietly.
“Having a good year so far?” asked Rosmerta cautiously. Hermione started wondering whether she looked too bad or if Rosmerta had mastered the art of legilimency.
“It could be better,” Hermione replied.
“Take a seat! What can I offer you? I reckon it is too early for a pint of butterbeer?”
“It is too early indeed,” said Hermione. “But a cup of tea would be nice.”
“I saw you and Michael in last week’s Witch Weekly! You looked beautiful,” said Rosmerta truthfully.
“Oh, thank you. We were at a benefit gala for an organization the Sandfords sponsor.”
Hermione had gotten accustomed to this. Her relationship with “the most eligible bachelor in Britain” (according to Witch Weekly) had been highly publicized by the magazines of the wizarding community. She was practically a socialite now. Almost every week she had some event to attend with Michael. Her closet was worthy of a princess: Michael had bought her the most beautiful gowns and jewellery ever made, which made her top Witch Weekly’s best dressed list (something she had always found quite amusing.)
“Where did you spend New Year’s Eve?” asked Rosmerta.
“At The Burrow, with the Weasleys.”
“Really? How’s Molly?”
“She’s doing gre“”
“Merlin’s beard! Look at that ring of yours! When did Michael propose?”
“Er… Christmas morning,” said Hermione, taken aback.
“Well, congratulations. I’m very happy for you,” said Rosmerta, handing her a cup of tea.
“Thank you,” said Hermione quietly, settling down at a table by the window.
She didn’t know why, but Rosmerta’s tea always appeared to make her think more clearly. She needed it more than ever today.
It seemed amazing to her how her life had changed so much in so little time. She told herself she shouldn’t worry about her pregnancy anymore. This was going to happen someday; it just happened a little too soon. It was something that she had wanted all her life: a family. And she was finally going to have it. With someone she cared about… a lot.
All the doubts she had been having about Michael and Ron were out the window now. It was as if the decision had already been made for her. She figured it was all for the best; thinking about Ron was pointless anyway. Ron was just another chapter of her life. A closed chapter of her life, right?
It took some time, but Fred and George finally got Ron talking.
“I knew this was going to happen,” said Ron.
“Well, in that case, maybe you have a chance of getting a job as Professor Trelawney’s assistant,” joked George.
“It’s not funny! I lost her, George!” screamed Ron furiously. “To some snobbish, billionaire asshole that doesn’t care about her! I just can’t bear the thought of him… kissing her and… Don’t you get it? We were supposed to be together forever.”
“You lost her two years ago, mate. I thought you had moved on,” said Fred.
“It’s too hard to move on,” said Ron.
“Maybe this is“”
“Ginny has to help me get her back,” said Ron, interrupting George. He stood up, turned around, and just like that, he apparated back to his sister’s house.
“Harry! Ginny! Open the door!”
Ron heard someone running toward the door. The door opened to reveal a panting Harry trying to catch his breath.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I need to talk to Ginny,” said Ron, entering the house quickly. “Where is she?”
“Ron! You almost gave us a heart attack!” said Harry. Ron ignored him and went into the living room, where Ginny looked as worried as Harry. Harry proceeded to sit down next to his wife.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Ginny, you have to help me get her back.”
“Oh, Ron…”
“Listen to me,” Ron insisted. “You told me I broke her heart. Ginny, I don’t know how I broke her heart. I didn’t do anything wrong. She“”
“Okay, Ron. Stop it right there,” said Ginny, sitting up. “First, you have to understand something very important.”
Ron nodded reluctantly.
“Ron, you did break her heart. You did hurt her feelings. The mere fact that you distanced yourself from her and that you put your work ahead of her… It killed her.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt her, Ginny. I just got so involved in work and in my studies“”
“I know you didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” said Ginny. “I’m certain of it. But you made matters worse, Ron. She tried to wake you up. When she tried to make you realize“”
“Not once did she talk to me about this!”
“The night you two went out to dinner in London, Ron! The night you broke up! The night she decided she had had enough! Remember what happened when you got up to take that floo call from the Ministry? She was trying to tell you then!” Ginny knew she had hit a nerve when she saw Ron’s face. He looked as if he had received a punch way below the belt.
“How do you know that?” he asked her, completely surprised.
“Hermione told me, Ron,” said Ginny, looking at her brother sadly.
Ron remained quiet for a couple of minutes.
“She started crying… She stood up and left,” he finally said. He had a hurt expression on his face, but this was something neither Ginny nor Harry had seen before. He looked as if he were about to cry.
“Ron, Hermione felt as if she wasn’t important in your life anymore.”
“Ginny, I don’t understand. How did I make things worse?”
“You didn’t go after her. You simply left. What was left of Hermione after that was just… the shell of a person.”
And then it hit him.
“I screwed it up.”
As Hermione walked towards her house, she wondered what her life would be like from now on. She started thinking about Michael’s parents. She was going to Bedford tomorrow with Michael to break the big news, and Hermione was certain his mother was going to flip.
That is when she remembered something very important: when visiting your future mother-in-law you had to dress impeccably, especially if your mother-in-law was Elizabeth Sandford. Hermione had to hand it to her: the woman had a spectacular wardrobe. Not once had Hermione seen her repeat an outfit. Well, since Mrs. Sandford was a “highly respected” member of the British society (both muggle and wizarding) maybe that was a pre requisite. Elizabeth’s regular shopping schedule included muggle stores like Harrods and Harvey Nichols, the first being her favourite. She had a special ability to spend thousands of pounds just one day in Harrods.
All of this meant that Hermione had to look for something exceptionally classy to wear tomorrow.
Hermione quickly went to her room and what she saw next made her gasp.
There were several vases of white roses around the room. There must have been at least 15.
There was a note on her nightstand. Obviously, it was from Michael.
Hermione, I’m deeply sorry. Please forgive me. I love you with all my heart.
Michael
“I really am sorry,” said Michael, who was now standing behind Hermione.
Hermione sighed, turning around. After a long silence she said, “I know you are.”
“Each rose represents how sorry I am. So, as you can see, I’m 500 times sorry,” he told her. “Well, actually, these were all the roses I could get in such a small period of time. I’m more than a thousand times sorry.”
“You are out of your mind. How did you get so many flowers?”
“Well, darling, a magician never reveals his secrets.”
As Hermione turned to see the clock in her nightstand, she realized it was almost 11 a.m.
“Michael! Wake up! Look at the time! We have to be in Bedford in an hour!”
“Oh, fuck,” mumbled Michael sleepily. “Well, you tend to keep me up well into the night, what can I say?” he told her, smirking.
“Watch the language, Michael,” said Hermione, smirking as well. “And get up! We’re already late!” She ran into her closet to pick out the outfit she was going to wear today.
Fifteen minutes later, Michael came out of his closet (which was on the opposite side of the room; across from Hermione’s closet), ready to go. He was dressed in jeans, a brown, silk jacket, and a pin-tucked tuxedo shirt. When he went into Hermione’s closet, he couldn’t help but laugh.
Hermione was standing in front of two sets of clothes and was considering each one intently. She was still dressed in her bathrobe and her hair was wrapped in a towel.
“You’re not dressed yet?” he asked.
“Michael! Don’t laugh! It’s very difficult, you know!” she said, her face turning a light shade of pink.
“Well? What do you think?” she asked.
“You will look great in either one,” said Michael.
“Michael! That doesn’t help much you know!”
“That Valentino coat looks nice,” he offered. “And I think that white trench coat looks too formal.”
“Okay, the Valentino coat it is.”
Ten minutes later Hermione went downstairs dressed in a tan skirt and a white jumper, and of course, her red, tweed Valentino coat.
“Okay, I’m set,” she said. “Where’s the Floo Powder?”
“Um, I was thinking… Maybe we could take the Jag?”
Michael was referring, of course, to his £50,040 S-Type R Jaguar, which he had bought a year ago, the minute the Ministry for Magic had started regulating cars as means of magical transportation, at the insistence of wizards like Arthur Weasley. It was his most valued possession; his “baby”. His father had a matching one.
“Are you insane? We’ll never get to Bedford on time!”
“We can send an owl to tell them we’re going to take a while longer,” Michael pleaded. “Come on, the day is beautiful!”
“Why don’t we Apparate? I hate flooing,” said Hermione, ignoring Michael’s pleas.
“You can’t Apparate,” said Michael.
“And why is that?”
“Well, darling, you’re pregnant.”
“Michael, that doesn’t matter yet. I don’t even know how far along I am.”
“Please,” begged Michael. “Let’s take the Jag out for a spin.”
He looked like a little kid. Hermione couldn’t resist.
“Okay, let’s go,” she said reluctantly.
Two painfully long hours later, Michael pulled into his parents’ driveway.
Hermione loved the Sandford Estate. It was beautiful, especially in the spring. The Sandfords had a stable, a Quidditch pitch, and even a “small” field they used to play polo with their muggle friends. They didn’t have a pool, but they did have a lake. The sight of the Sandford Manor was breathtaking: a beautiful ivy-clad “house” that had been the site of many of the parties Elizabeth Sandford regularly hosted.
The household staff Mrs. Sandford had was impressive. It was her little army (Hermione had always thought this was perfect for her, since she always liked to control the world around her.) Three maids (not counting the housekeeper), four gardeners, and two veterinarians that visited the horses regularly made up the basic staff.
When they got out of the car, Mary, the housekeeper, was waiting for them at the door.
“Good afternoon, Mary,” said Michael politely.
“Good afternoon, sir,” she replied. “Hello, miss.”
“Hello, Mary,” said Hermione.
“How was your trip?”
“Oh, it was wonderful, thank you for asking,” said Michael.
“Your mother is expecting you in the north sitting room,” said Mary.
“Okay. Thanks.”
As they walked the halls of the manor, Hermione started to feel nervous. She did not know what to expect once Michael’s parents found out their firstborn was about to give them another grandchild. Well, she would find out soon enough.
“Michael! You’re finally here!” exclaimed his mother the minute they walked into the room.
“Hello, Mother.”
“Hermione! You’re practically glowing! And let me tell you, that ensemble looks amazing on you,” said Mrs. Sandford, giving Hermione a kiss on each cheek.
“Thank you,” replied Hermione timidly.
“Peter! They’re here!” yelled Mrs. Sandford.
Mr. Sandford came into the room soon after, looking as proper as always.
“Hello!” he said cheerfully, giving both Hermione and Michael a kiss. Michael always said his father was too affectionate.
“We’ll have lunch as soon as Beth gets here with John and the kids,” said Mrs. Sandford. “Have a seat. Mary! The tea!”
Hermione and Michael sat down in the oversized sofa nervously as Mary served tea.
“Um, Mum, Dad, we have to tell you something,” said Michael. Hermione felt as if she were going to faint.
“I’m all ears, darling,” said Mrs. Sandford distractedly.
“Well, you see, Hermione and I want you to know… that…”
“Out with it!” said Mrs. Sandford impatiently.
“Hermione is pregnant.”
The tea cup that fell to the floor (Mrs. Sandford’s) broke the silence.
"What?" she shrieked, standing up. “Michael! What is everybody going to say? My friends! A child out of wedlock! For Merlin’s sake! I won’t be able to show my face in public ever again!”
Hermione’s eyes filled with tears. Not because she felt bad, but because of the rage she felt towards Elizabeth Sandford. How dare she say all of those things! How could she not think of anyone but herself!
“Elizabeth! Sit down! Now!” shouted Mr. Sandford, his voice echoing across the room. “I swear, if I hear your bloody mouth again…” Then he turned to face Michael and Hermione.
“Michael, Hermione, those are great news; one of the most thrilling news one can hear. I could not be happier, or prouder,” he said, with a sincere, broad smile. He stood up and gave Michael and Hermione hug.
Mrs. Sandford sighed dramatically.
“Oh well, I guess I overreacted. I… apologize,” she said. “And I wish to say that I’m proud and happy as well,” she said. “But I’m sure you’ll agree with me in the fact that we ought to have this wedding within the next month if we want Hermione to fit in a dress at all.”
“February?” asked Hermione, taken aback.
“Yes! We could make some sort of winter-themed wedding! Swarovski crystal, ice sculptures, the whole works!” said Mrs. Sandford, getting carried away.
“But I was thinking maybe April or May…”
“Well, darling, it’s different now. You’re pregnant,” said Mrs. Sandford.
“I think she’s right,” said Michael.
“But it’s too soon. I can’t plan a wedding in a month!” said Hermione desperately.
“Well, Hermione, you obviously don’t know Lizzie,” said Mr. Sandford. “This woman can plan a wedding in a week!”
Hermione was left speechless.
“But what about Harry and Ginny?” she asked.
“What about them?” asked Michael.
“Well, Ginny was going to be my maid of honour, and if the wedding is next month she can’t go. She’s supposed to stay in bed until the babies are born.”
“Oh, that’s a shame!” said Mrs. Sandford, feigning disappointment.
“Hermione, I’m sorry but it’s true what Mum says. We should get married soon. The sooner the better.”
“I know, but can’t it wait until late March, at least?”
“Another thing,” said Mrs. Sandford, interrupting them. “Peter and I were thinking about throwing an engagement party for you, but now I don’t know if we should do it. It would be to close to the actual wedding.”
“Well, it’s simple,” said Mr. Sandford. “We can have the engagement party two weeks from now and have the wedding three weeks from then,” he said, checking his agenda. “I don’t see a problem with that. Why don’t we have the wedding on February 12? It’s a Sunday. It could work.”
“What do you say, Hermione?” asked Michael.
“Al… right,” she said, not believing what was coming out of her own mouth. “February 12 it is.”
“What’s happening on February 12?” asked a woman from behind.
Hermione turned around and saw a beaming Beth with Charlotte in her arms. John was pushing a triple pushchair with a sleeping Andrew and Spencer inside and he was carrying Marcus with his free arm.
She was surprised to see Beth in such fine shape. She looked gorgeous. She was wearing an aqua shirt, ivory pleated skirt, and the most perfect sling back heels Hermione had ever seen. Her aqua and golden brocade coat finished the flawless look, accented with rabbit fur. If Hermione hadn’t known any better she would have thought Beth was a model coming from a fashion show, not the hospital.
“Beth!” said Mrs. Sandford. “You’re here! You’re finally here!”
“Hello, everyone,” said Beth. “No one has answered my question yet. What’s happening on Feb“” She stopped abruptly when she noticed something about Hermione.
“Oh my God! You’re pregnant!” It was a statement, not a question.
“How do you know?” asked Hermione completely surprised.
“You are! I’m going to be an aunt!” she said, handing Charlotte to her mother and going over to where Hermione was standing to give her a hug and a kiss.
For the first time in days Hermione was beaming.
She was going to be a mum.