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Summary
The pregnancy test stared Hermione in the face. Negative, for what felt like the millionth time and tried not to cry. She leaned against the sink in the company floor bathroom, and promised she wouldn't curse the place down around herself. Hermione Granger was an entity unto herself. She was a noun. She was a complete fucking sentence for Merlins sake. She didn't need marriage or undying proclamations of love.
What she needed was a baby.
Consequences after be damned.