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By the time Ginny Weasley noticed, it was already too late.
Hermione Granger was sitting too close to Draco Malfoy.
Not close in the obvious way. There was no touching, no hands entwined, no whispered secrets. It was subtler than that. The angle of Hermione’s shoulder was wrong. The way Draco had turned his body toward her without realizing it was wrong. The silence between them was not empty. It was occupied.
Ginny felt it like a shift in the air.
Blaise Zabini noticed too. He always did. He was watching Hermione with the quiet curiosity of someone who had catalogued her for years and was now realizing the file no longer fit.
Pansy Parkinson noticed because she had been noticing for weeks.
They were sitting at a small round table in the corner of the Leaky Cauldron, late afternoon light spilling through the windows and turning the dust to gold. It was supposed to be easy. A drink, some talk, the illusion of normalcy that everyone was still desperately clinging to.
Ginny leaned back in her chair, fingers wrapped around her glass.
“So,” she said lightly. “Are we all going to pretend this is normal, or do I get to ask.”
Hermione froze.
Draco stiffened in a way that was almost imperceptible. Almost.
Pansy felt the moment stretch thin, like glass pulled too far.
Hermione’s eyes flicked to Draco. Draco did not look at her. He was staring at the table, jaw tight, pale hair falling forward as if it could shield him.
Ginny’s gaze sharpened. “Because,” she continued, “I have seen the two of you ignore each other for eight years with far more enthusiasm than this.”
Blaise hummed softly. “She has a point.”
Hermione inhaled, breath caught halfway in. Pansy recognized the signs. Hermione was about to do something brave and stupid and honest all at once.
Pansy did not give her the chance.
“Well,” she said calmly, placing her hand flat against her stomach, “someone’s pregnant.”
The silence was immediate and total.
Hermione made a small, broken sound that might have been her name.
Draco turned slowly. “What.”
Ginny blinked once. Then again. “I am sorry,” she said. “What.”
Blaise’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh.”
Pansy nodded, expression composed, voice steady. “Yes. It has been a day.”
Hermione stared at her, eyes wide with disbelief and something dangerously close to tears.
Draco looked like he had been dropped into an alternate universe with no warning.
Ginny leaned forward. “Pansy,” she said carefully, “are you telling me you are pregnant.”
“I am,” Pansy replied. “Tragically so.”
Blaise tilted his head, studying her. “And this is the first we are hearing of it because.”
Pansy shrugged. “Privacy. Dignity. Shock.”
Hermione finally found her voice. “Pansy.”
Pansy did not look at her.
Ginny exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “Merlin. Are you all right.”
“Perfectly,” Pansy said. “Radiant, even.”
Draco rubbed his temple. Hermione shifted closer to him without noticing she was doing it, seeking something solid, something familiar.
Blaise watched the movement, eyes narrowing just slightly.
“And the father,” he said.
Pansy smiled without warmth. “Unimportant.”
Ginny snorted. “That is never unimportant.”
Pansy’s gaze flicked to Hermione then, just for a heartbeat. Hermione’s face was pale, lips pressed together, eyes full of apology.
Pansy looked away again.
“What matters,” she said smoothly, “is that Hermione has been under quite a bit of stress lately. And Draco is merely being polite.”
Ginny turned slowly to Draco. “Polite.”
Draco lifted his chin. “I am nothing if not polite.”
Ginny stared at him, unimpressed. Then she laughed, a short, sharp sound. “Fine. If you want to lie to me, do it properly next time.”
She stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “But if you are actually pregnant,” she added, looking at Pansy, “you tell me. I do not care whose mess this is.”
“I will,” Pansy said.
Ginny hesitated, eyes flicking back to Hermione. “And you,” she said softly. “If you are doing something stupid, at least be happy about it.”
Then she left.
The door closed behind her with a soft chime.
Hermione sagged immediately.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Oh my God.”
Draco let out a breath that sounded like it had been trapped for years.
Blaise laughed quietly, standing. “You know,” he said, “I have always admired your commitment to chaos, Pansy.”
“You owe me,” she replied.
He smiled. “Dearly.”
He left them alone.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Hermione turned to Pansy, eyes shining. “You did not have to do that.”
“Yes,” Pansy said gently, “I did.”
Hermione reached out, taking her hand. Pansy squeezed back once, sharp and grounding.
Draco watched them, something unreadable in his expression.
“I am sorry,” Hermione said. “We tried to be careful.”
“I know,” Pansy replied. “You are terrible at it.”
Hermione huffed a weak laugh.
Draco finally spoke. “How long,” he asked, “have you known.”
Pansy considered him. “Long enough to be irritated.”
He nodded, accepting that.
Hermione leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. “She is going to figure it out.”
“Yes,” Pansy said. “Eventually.”
Draco’s mouth twitched. “Then we should be prepared.”
Pansy smiled, sharp and knowing. “Oh, we are.”
Hermione opened one eye. “What does that mean.”
Pansy leaned back, crossing her arms. “It means that if Ginny Weasley decides to investigate, we will lean into it.”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Lean into it how.”
Pansy’s smile widened. “By doing what people always do when they are lying. Overcommitting.”
Hermione frowned. “I do not like the sound of that.”
“You will,” Pansy said. “Eventually.”
Two days later, Ginny returned with suspicion written into every line of her body.
They were at the Burrow this time, sitting at the kitchen table while Molly bustled around, humming happily and pretending not to eavesdrop.
Ginny’s eyes flicked immediately to Hermione and Draco, who were once again sitting too close.
Pansy caught Blaise’s eye across the table.
Blaise smirked.
Ginny cleared her throat. “So,” she said. “How is the pregnancy.”
Pansy did not hesitate. “Thrilling.”
Ginny narrowed her eyes. “You are glowing less.”
“I am tired,” Pansy replied. “Life changing news does that.”
Ginny’s gaze flicked to Hermione. “And you,” she said. “You look suspiciously calm for someone whose friend just dropped a bombshell.”
Hermione smiled tightly. “I am very supportive.”
Draco reached for his tea, fingers brushing Hermione’s. Neither of them moved away.
Ginny watched.
Something clicked into place.
Her lips parted.
“Oh,” she said softly.
Pansy’s heart skipped.
Ginny leaned back, eyes dancing now, something like delight creeping in. She looked at Blaise, then Pansy, then Hermione and Draco.
“They do not know that we know they know.”
Hermione froze.
Draco went perfectly still.
Blaise laughed, delighted.
Pansy closed her eyes briefly. Of course Ginny would quote it. Of course this was how it would unravel.
Ginny grinned. “Relax,” she said. “Your secret is safe. For now.”
Hermione let out a breath that sounded dangerously close to a sob.
Draco reached for her hand fully this time, no pretense left.
Pansy watched them, chest tight, oddly warm.
It had not been her secret to keep.
But she would keep it anyway.