The Silent Terror Silent. The room was silent. She stared at the wall. Silent. How could it be so quiet when there was so much turmoil inside of her? She leaned on the window sill and stared out through the frosted pane to the scene outside. Snow fluttered down, crystal cold snow, perfection. She pressed her forehead to the glass and shut her eyes against that perfect snow, mocking her. Her hands clenched into fists. How could one little mistake ruin her life? Make her the embodiment of sin? She pressed her hand to her abdomen. Could there really be life inside of her? A tiny spark, just beginning its journey to sentience. She opened her eyes and stared at her hand resting there. She turned and looked in the mirror. Her reflection stared back. She turned swiftly away, she could not bear to look at it. It couldn't be and yet... she turned and looked once more at that tiny bit of plastic. A Muggle home-pregnancy test. And there it was, the little window flooded a positive scarlet. She looked back at the window outside again. White still swirling down outside, the utter opposite of that other window. The window that condemned her. How could it be? She asked herself. Why, why me? And then the tears came, fast and hard. She collapsed to the floor as though unable to bear the weight of them. Her body shook with the force of them and she wondered if her baby could feel the pain. The pain that she felt, the pain of knowing the failure to uphold your beliefs. She had given in, let it consume her, and now she was paying the price. There were ways of course, magical ways to abort. But she wanted this. She wanted to carry this all the way through. She needed this to wash away her guilt. And so she wiped her eyes, and stood straight. She silently crossed the room, as silent as the falling snow, and as pale. She came down the stairs slowly, carefully measuring each step, looking like some kind of mystical deity and scanned her common room. Her eyes found his and locked. He got up from his chair and crossed the room. She stood a step above him and stared into his eyes. Would her baby have his eyes?  "What is it?" he asked, knowing something was wrong. She nearly broke down again. But she held it back, carefully moderating her words. "Harry," said Ginny, "I'm pregnant."