Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling et al. Any characters or locations you recognise are the intellectual property of these individuals and corporations. I make no money from the writing of this story.
This story was written for last year's SS/HG Prompt Fest using the following suggestion: Hermione uses a sperm bank to get pregnant. She later (either before or after the birth) discovers that Snape was the donor.
This is a three-part story detailing the lead-up and reaction to the birth of Hermione's baby. I will post each chapter over the next week. As I said, it was written last year, I am just getting around to posting it on this site now. I hope you enjoy it.
-oOo-
DONOR DADDY
Chapter I
April 23rd, 2004
Hermione Granger put everything she had into holding back the tears that threatened to burst forth as the coffin containing her dead husband lowered itself into the ground. She knew she was only still standing upright due to the combined efforts of her brothers-in-law, Harry Potter and George Weasley.
'It's too soon, we had so much planned. How can you be dead? We never got to do even a quarter of the things we wanted to do. We never saw the Eiffel Tower by night. I never got to take that picture of you pretending to hold up the Leaning Tower of Pisa. We never got to throw a coin into the Trevi Fountain. We never had children…'
As if to mock her pain, a plaintive cry from Harry and Ginny's newborn baby echoed over the cemetery grounds. Although he was quickly hushed, Hermione was reminded that this was a sound she would never hear; would never get to soothe. There was no living tribute to the love she had shared with her husband, her best friend and life-long supporter.
Ron was gone.
She was alone.
She would always be alone.
-oOo-
Four Years Later
Prince Manor had once been a stately, well-kept home, brimming with class, teeming with riches and bursting with family. To look at it now one would think it had been abandoned for several decades and they would mostly be right. The Prince family had dwindled over the years and now there was just one descendant left. His magic alone, while powerful, was not enough to sustain all the elves that the family owned. Their magic had been declining over the years and all of them had resigned themselves to not being long for this world. When their Master died, so would they. They hoped he had several decades left in him. There had been that scare at the end of the war. On that fateful day there had been three Prince descendants fighting in the Final Battle and two of them had died early—one succumbing to a giant's foot and the other to a piece of falling rubble in the Hogwarts courtyard. This had left Severus Snape as the sole remaining heir to the Prince family. The elves had felt their magic shift over the course of several hours.
Then there had been that moment when their last master hovered between life and death; swinging first one way then the other until finally the head elf felt strong enough to apparate to his master's side and stabilise him enough for the Healers to be able to work their magic and save him once and for all.
The former Headmaster had not been happy to know the sweet release of death had been denied to him. In his eyes he had nothing to live for so why should he not be allowed to be at peace finally? There followed several weeks of recovery followed by accolades and awards heaped on him by a grateful Wizarding government and public. He was happy to stand back in the shadows with the rest of the Order of the Phoenix while the Golden Trio was paraded in the most prominent position. Apart from Potter, Granger and Weasley, he was the only living member of the Order to receive the Order of Merlin, First Class, for his war efforts. His indiscretions were swept under the carpet under the auspices of being 'necessary to maintain his cover' and the stipend that came along with the award was enough for him to live on and pursue his own interests.
Much to the despair of the elves, he refused to set foot into Prince Manor. If he lived there, his magic would be able to charge the wards and thereby fuel the magic of the elves by association. He merely instructed them to do their best to keep the manor from completely falling into ruin and to keep his own small house clean. Other than that they were left to their own devices. The head elf continued to assign specific tasks to each elf and he personally took charge of the Master's house while keeping one or two of his former family duties as well.
It was one of these long-standing responsibilities that drew on his magic that afternoon. With a small pop, the elf appeared in the old family drawing room. The room had certainly seen better days; it was in a rather more dilapidated state than the rest of the manor. The tapestry that lined the walls however was of an ancient magic that transcended time and masters' wishes. The third Head of the Most Noble House of Prince had established the tapestry, infusing his own magic into it and tasking his own head elf to ensuring that every child born into the Prince family was identified and anointed with the family magic so that the line could live forever.
Marriages were not recorded on the tapestry; only births and the lineage he or she came from. As soon as the elf appeared in the room he knew why he would have been called there. He excitedly made his way directly to where his master's name sat at the end of the genealogy. A faint line had already embroidered itself from the name Severus and black thread was already forming the new moniker. The elf watched intently as a name appeared on the ancient relic, that which the new mother had officially proclaimed. What confused the elf was that he had had no prior warning that this event was likely to occur. He knew his master was definitely not married and he was fairly sure he was not involved romantically with any witch either. The elf squared his shoulders. There was no doubting the magic. He had to see his master.
A new heir to the House of Prince had been born.
-oOo-
One Year Earlier
"Healer Granger! Multiple traumas coming in! The Knight Bus crashed into the new Willis Building on Lime Street!"
Hermione jumped to her feet and wandlessly banished her half-finished cup of tea to the sink in the break room. "How did it crash into a building?" she asked.
"The exterior cladding they just started putting up blocks the previous arrival point in London. No bright spark in the Ministry checked it when the Muggles began constructing the building. The Obliviators are going to have a tough time sorting that one out!" the Medi-wizard speculated.
"That's not our concern," Hermione dismissed. "What injuries do we have?"
"One dead on impact; one with severe internal injuries—Healer MacMillan is already working on her in one; one severe head trauma, again already being worked on in three; a possible punctured lung along with multiple broken bones waiting in two; two serious concussions and an assortment of minor injuries. Everyone got sent here as a precaution," the Medi-wizard listed.
"Who is working on the head trauma?" Hermione asked.
"Healer Fitzgibbon," was the prompt reply. Hermione nodded; he was the specialist in that area as was Ernie MacMillan with the internal injuries.
"I'll take the punctured lung; continue with triage and get as many Healers down here as you can," Hermione said as they burst through the doors to the A&E section of the hospital.
"Yes, Healer Granger," the Medi-wizard acknowledged her instructions as they parted. Hermione hurried into room two noting immediately that her patient was not only suffering severe injuries, but was also pregnant. She made a mental note to discuss the omission of that piece of vital information with the Medi-wizard later as she called for one of the Trainees to page an Obstetrics Healer from upstairs.
After placing a containment spell around the womb of the mother-to-be, Hermione immediately set about determining the severity of her injuries. A Bubble-Head charm had already been applied to help the patient breathe. She checked the charm and praised the initial team for thinking to saturate the oxygen levels within it. With her wand, she began running scans, identifying specific injuries and listing various potions and spells that should be applied to the patient. She was just performing the tricky spell to remove the rib causing the puncture when the door to the room burst open to admit the Obstetrics Healer she had summoned.
Used to the fast pace and loud noises of the A&E, Hermione did not even flinch as another authoritative voice started barking instructions to the team and began attending to the baby still encased in its mother's womb. For anyone watching who was not familiar with how a trauma situation worked it would almost seem as though a power struggle were about to erupt but Hermione and the new Healer instructed the team together in such a way that each got the help they required at precisely the right time to help both their patients survive.
Three hours later, the two weary Healers entered the break room. Hermione flopped straight down onto a chair, exhausted from the number of Charms and spells she had used to first stabilise, then heal her patient. The other Healer, not having had to do quite as much work as Hermione, simply continuing to monitor the baby as its mother had various procedures performed on her, took it upon himself to make her a cup of hot, sweet tea and get a chocolate bar for her from the vending machine.
"Thank you, Malfoy," she said gratefully as she bit into the chocolate. She could feel the properties in the confectionery begin to work their magic on her.
"You did good work in there, Granger," he complimented her.
"Thank you again. So did you," she returned his praise.
"Any day we can save the patient is a good day."
"You said it."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, just sipping their tea and trying to overcome the tiredness. As colleagues they had long overcome their childhood animosity and their division caused by the war. They were not friends, exactly, but they were friendly whenever work threw them together as it had today. One of the newly appointed Healers dragged herself into the room and went to her locker. She had been on the team assigned to the lesser injuries due to her inexperience. Hermione and Malfoy were surprised that she seemed so tired given the relatively easier time she had had.
"I was supposed to be home an hour ago!" she complained. "My daughter is going to be grumpy all evening because dinner is late."
"Wouldn't she be fed by your husband, or whoever is looking after her?" Malfoy asked.
"No, Healer Malfoy, she would not. I feed her dinner, no one else," the Healer said irritably.
"What if we had taken longer? Healer MacMillan is still going on his patient; you could have been making your daughter wait for hours!" Hermione said in confusion.
"You don't understand, Healer Granger, you have no children, or a husband for that matter. It is important to spend quality time as a family each night. It is hard enough with this job let alone when something like tonight interrupts the routine."
Hermione and Draco shared an incredulous look. "If it's routine you're looking for then this is not the place for you," Hermione declared. "I've lost count of the number of times an eight-hour shift stretches to twelve or more. It's a very regular occurrence."
The Healer looked worried. "Once a month?" she asked.
Malfoy laughed. "More like twice or three times a week! Your family better get used to not seeing you very often."
"In that case I would suggest those of us without families to go home to ought to pick up the slack," the Healer said airily. She grabbed her bag and cloak from her locker and slammed it shut. "Goodnight." She left the room, not unaware that she had just made a rather snide dig at Hermione and her situation.
A tear rolled down Hermione's cheek and she gently brushed it away.
"Hey, don't listen to her, Granger," Malfoy said softly. "She doesn't know what she's talking about."
"Yes she does," Hermione said sadly. "She's right; even you will go home to your wife tonight, kiss her and then probably kiss that cute little bump that's started to show. I'll go home, feed my cat and curl up on the sofa with a book and a pint of ice cream because I'm a pathetic widow with no family."
"Stop that!" Malfoy said forcefully. "You are not pathetic! Pathetic would be if you stayed home all day wallowing and feeling sorry for yourself! Pathetic would require at least three more cats." He surprised a laugh out of her with the last comment. "You do good work here, Granger. The rest of us are really good at one thing, maybe two. You can flit across departments and situations as though you have specialised in every field there is. Unless I had been working with Bradbury this evening, I would have spent the whole time in that room shitting bricks that whatever the treating Healer was doing to the mother would have endangered the baby. With you in the room I just had to monitor the foetus in case something unexpected occurred. Besides, Astoria's gone to some health spa with her sister. I am going home to an empty house tonight as well."
"Well, let's keep each other company then. We have to stay around anyway for the next couple of hours in case of complications," Hermione proposed. With the delicate work that had been done to save their patient, it was much better in the immediate aftermath if the same witch or wizard performed any extra healing required. For the patients with more minor injuries they were already out of danger. For Hermione and Malfoy's patient, she was still in a serious, if stable, condition. They had to be available if needed. "I heard you applied for some grant money for a study," she opened a conversation.
Malfoy got up to refresh their cups. "Yes, it's a fertility study combined with an extensive genealogy project. I'm trying to isolate the gene that causes magic."
"Interesting," Hermione said, nodding her head. "Controversial… who's likely to fund it?"
"That's why I applied for the Ministry grant. I don't want anyone's money being tied to this. The purpose is to simply isolate the gene and determine the transmission of magic. What made your parents produce a witch? Do they have magical ancestors? Is it both of them or only one of them? What detriments have been caused through families intermarrying to keep the bloodlines pure? Is this why we have squibs? I am aware of the controversy surrounding the topic but I really think if we actually have scientific understanding of it then maybe some of the rhetoric that lingers can finally be put to rest."
"A noble aspiration," Hermione said. "I would like to contribute if you need me."
"I just said I need purely public money," he reminded her.
"Not money, you prat!" Hermione said, swatting him playfully. "Time. I can offer my time, my knowledge. I have extensive genealogies of both my mother and father's families if you wish to study them. If you need some of my blood or ova, I will donate them. God only knows they are not going to be used for anything else."
"Thank you, I will take you up on it if I'm approved. And you could still have plenty of use for your ova. You're what, twenty seven, twenty eight? That's the average age for producing children these days."
"You're forgetting one of the key ingredients to conceiving, Malfoy—a husband! Or, more specifically, a male willing to procreate," Hermione said.
"You could always use artificial insemination," Malfoy suggested. "You're a pretty practical woman, if you wanted a baby I'm sure you'd be able to cope without a husband. Goodness knows there are enough Weasleys and Potters around to lend you a hand if you need one." There was no rancour in his tone, it was teasing if anything.
Just as Hermione was trying to formulate an answer, a Medi-witch rushed into the room. "Healer Malfoy, Mrs Parker has just gone into active labour," she said breathlessly.
Malfoy threw his arms into the air and waved them jubilantly. "Finally! We've only been monitoring her for three days!" Hermione laughed. "Sorry to cut this short, Granger, but duty calls. Lucky my wife's not home," he said sarcastically.
"Very lucky," Hermione agreed drily. "I think our patient will be fine but I'll call you if there's any change. Thanks for the chat."
"You're welcome, goodnight."
"Goodnight."
Malfoy left the room with the Medi-witch, leaving Hermione alone. She refreshed her cup of tea for the third time, finally beginning to feel normal again as she sipped it.
Despite Malfoy's kind words—words she would never have expected from him—she did feel a bit pathetic that it was preferable for her to hang around the hospital rather than go home. She knew she was welcome in the Potter household at any time along with all the Weasley domiciles but it was not the same as going home to her own house, to her husband with his lopsided grin and his hair falling into his eyes. She could not muster the same enthusiasm for Harry's stories of the Auror Department, or George's tales of the shop that she had been able to for Ron. Even when she used to get home really late, he would sit and eat a meal with her, despite already having been fed at his mother's or sister's table, stating that food was good any time of the day or night. He would listen to her stories of the day she had had and the patients she had treated. He would offer her advice on how to deal with some of the more stringent purebloods she encountered and would always, always, threaten dire retribution on anyone who upset her.
Even now she could almost hear him counsel her on the fact that the new Healer who sniped at her was just jealous because she could never hope to achieve the accolades and glories that Hermione did and so she had to latch onto the only things she could perceive as being different to lord over Hermione. And if she wanted, he would lurk in the alley by the hospital and cast the slug-spewing curse on the Healer as she walked by.
Hermione sighed. She did want someone to go home to. The only problem was she wanted that someone to be Ron.
-oOo-
Two months later, Hermione was lounging in the sitting room of 12 Grimmauld Place after dinner. She could hear Harry and Ginny upstairs, singing a bedtime song to their three-year old son. She smirked wickedly as the lyrics of 'Life is a Highway' floated down from the upper storey. She had bought the movie Cars to amuse James when she was babysitting him one weekend and it had sparked an obsession in the toddler. She would often find him being sent through the floo to watch it, or even come home on occasion to find Harry fast asleep on her sofa while James sat there enthralled.
Her smirk turned into a small, sad smile as she remembered again that the ritual being undertaken upstairs was one she would never get to experience with her and Ron's own child. A few people had been dropping hints at her lately that she should 'get back out there' and start dating again. She had no interest in doing so. Dating meant getting dressed up, making stilted conversation, worrying that the worst she saw in herself was coming out to the person across the table and, ultimately, the awkward encounter where it would be revealed that she had not had sex in over three years and had only ever experienced her husband.
Not that their sex life had not been satisfying; far from it. In the six years they had been together, Hermione had not had a single complaint about their love life. It had been varied, oh-so-satisfying and very, very frequent. But she only knew what turned on and excited Ron. She had no clue if every man enjoyed a woman taking control in the bedroom. She did not know if they all liked having their balls sucked. She was unaware if Ron's almost-obsession with eating her out was due to the fact that the man truly enjoyed eating anything or if all men were like that. From what she could garner from conversations around her the answer to that was an emphatic no.
She wanted Ron.
"Sorry about that, Hermione," Harry said as he came back into the room. He topped off her glass of wine before he sat down. "You know how it is with him, you pick your battles." James had decided that evening that Mummy and Daddy had to tuck him in and sing him a song, and no, Aunty My-knee could not come and help. In order to keep the peace and prevent the inevitable toddler meltdown, Hermione had simply kissed him goodnight and waited patiently while Harry and Ginny attended to their parental duties.
"You wouldn't have it any other way, would you?" Hermione asked.
"Nope," Harry replied with a grin. "It's the best!" As soon as he said it, he seemed to remember how insensitive his words were. "I'm sorry, Hermione, I—"
Hermione cut him off with a wave of her hand. "No, Harry, I will take apologies and awkwardness from everyone else, but I never want you to censor your words or try to apologise to me for anything. This is my life. I had six brilliant years with a man I loved and who loved me and I wouldn't trade them for anything. And if the next words out of your mouth are I should start dating again then I am going to throw this glass at you!" she threatened.
"Noted," Harry said. "What are you going to do though? I know you don't want to date now, but surely in the future…"
"Maybe," Hermione conceded. "Right now, I'm thinking more about having a child."
Harry frowned in confusion. "Um, I think you need to do the whole dating thing first don't you?" he asked.
Ginny entered the room in time to hear Harry's question. "Oh! Yes! Hermione, are you going to do it? I know so many guys who would just die to go out on a date with you!" she said excitedly.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Hermione put the brakes on Stagecoach Ginny. "No! I am not looking for anyone to date."
"She wants a baby," Harry chimed in.
Ginny mirrored her husband's confusion. "You need a man before you can have a baby," she said. "Hmmm, this changes things. Okay, we need to cross about ten guys off my list; they are definitely shaggable but not father material." She began to tap her finger against her lips in thought.
"Ginny! I am not going to date anyone! I don't need a man to have a baby," she argued.
Harry and Ginny looked at each other quizzically before Harry shrugged with a resigned expression. "You're a Healer; I really didn't think I would ever have to explain this to you. When a Mummy and a Daddy love each other very much—" A throw pillow hit Harry squarely in the face.
"Shut up, you prat! I know how it works! I don't need a whole, physical man to have a baby, just one vital part," Hermione said.
"Eeww, Hermione, what are you going to do? Conjure a dick and have your way with it?" Ginny asked.
Hermione just stared at her before bursting out laughing. She was quite red in the face when she finally regained control. "No, I just need the sperm; artificial insemination. If I wanted a dick I'd go out and buy a dildo."
"Too much information!" Harry declared, putting his hands over his ears and closing his eyes.
"Where would you get the sperm from?" Ginny asked interestedly.
"I'd get it from the sperm bank at the hospital. They have been doing a lot of IVF in the last few years to help couples have second and third babies." It was not understood why but a lot of magical families only ever seemed to produce one child. Hermione had suggested Muggle-style in-vitro fertilisation when she first started her Healing training. It had taken off and was proving quite successful.
"A baby is a lot of work, Hermione; are you sure you'll be able to cope on your own?" Harry asked.
Ginny swatted him on the arm. "Don't be stupid, she wouldn't be on her own—she has us!"
"Well, yes of course she does, but at two in the morning… with a screaming baby?" Harry argued.
Hermione's eyebrows rose reproachfully. "Really, Harry?" With just that one look, Harry was reminded of the number of times he floo-called Hermione in the middle of the night begging for help after insisting that Ginny take a sleeping potion in order to try and combat her exhaustion. James had been quite a colicky baby, impervious to the potion designed to combat the condition, and people often had to pace the floor with him at night in shifts, just so the baby would sleep. Harry was quite shameless, even cajoling Hermione to help as a way of combatting her ongoing grief. If it had been anyone else, he probably would have been hexed. Luckily they were having a dream run with their second baby, Albus, and no one had been called upon in the middle of the night as yet from the sleep-deprived parents.
"Well I think it's a good idea and definitely warrants some more thought," Ginny said supportively.
"I don't think I need to apply any more thought to it," Hermione said. "I've been thinking for two months. I want to do this."
"Wow," Ginny said softly. "Two months?"
"Yep, filled three notebooks with pros and cons, lists of everything I would need and how much it would cost me. I've researched child care options and schooling. I've basically decided to go ahead. Now it's just a case of picking out the daddy."
Ginny was a bit flabbergasted. She completely understood Hermione's reasoning for doing this. She did not know how Hermione had managed to cope these last three years completely on her own—she was sure she would be unable to herself. When Ron had been killed, Ginny had thought to herself then that if something happened to Harry then at least she had James as a reminder of him. Hermione had nothing save her memories and a large payout from Gringotts Bank, considering it had been the incompetence of one of their guards who had stuck his blade into Ron's back by mistake when he was trying to get out of the path of a fleeing thief. Gringotts had tried to blame Ron at first, then deflect attention onto the Golden Trio's daring robbery of and escape from the bank near the end of the war, but Hermione and Harry, combined with heavy public pressure, had forced them to admit their mistake and pay Hermione compensation for her husband's death.
Rita Skeeter had waged a one-day campaign to try and sway public opinion against Hermione for coming out so strongly against Gringotts when, in the reporter's eyes, she should have been at home, struck immobile with grief and despair. The public were overwhelmingly in support of Hermione though, and held her up as a shining example of grace and dignity; Rita wisely backed off immediately. Ginny knew that Hermione would give all the money back in a heartbeat if it meant Ron would still be with them. As a matter of fact, she could almost see the cute little baby they probably would have had by now had Ron lived.
"You should do it," Ginny said. "We will help you."
"What?" Harry asked at the same time that Hermione's face broke out into a grateful smile.
"Harry, as much as you are going to hate what I am about to say, you won't understand. It's a woman thing."
"You do get it," Hermione said. She got up and squeezed onto the chair with Ginny, putting her arms around her sister-in-law and hugging her tightly. "It's not about trying to fill a hole in my life, it's about nurturing and creating and having a purpose; someone to love wholeheartedly."
Ginny sniffed and returned Hermione's hug. "Yes, and you'll be a great mum. It was always in you."
"Hang on, how did we go from thinking about this to doing it?" Harry asked. The two witches just looked at him. "Okay, okay," he said, putting his hands up in supplication. "I'll do what I normally do, just go with the decisions the two of you make."
"Wise choice, Harry," Hermione said.
If she could not have a baby with Ron, she felt that having one in his memory was the next best thing. Now she just had to choose the donor.
-oOo-
She hated things that were out of order. She could not abide schedules being disrupted. It particularly irked her when perfectly satisfying solutions to potential problems were staring everyone in the face and no one would act upon them. Take, for example, her idea that staff without husbands and children could be rostered for all the graveyard shifts, leaving the easy, eight to five shifts for those with responsibilities other than work. A simple solution that saw her laughed out of the office of her supervisor. She was informed that back in his day the graveyard shifts were all that a newly-qualified trainee would be given; the senior staff had paid their dues after all in the same way. The current team of Healers were just lucky that he believed in sharing the load.
It took only a month of fifteen-hour days, last-minute weekend shifts and several one-sided arguments with her irritable daughter before she asked to step down from being a Healer to being a Medi-witch in the fertility research and storage labs. Even though the pay was less, the hours were regular and she was home at an hour more conducive to family bonding. The atmosphere was more to her liking as well—structured, ordered, stable and sterile.
Most of the time.
She was assisting in the collecting of male sperm samples for Healer Malfoy's research project. He had been granted partial funding from the Ministry and the rest from a special grant administered by St Mungo's itself. In order for his research to be most effective he needed at least two hundred samples of each of the three 'types' in the wizarding world—pureblood, halfblood and Muggleborn. He currently had two hundred and twenty two pureblood samples, two hundred and twenty three halfblood samples and two hundred and twenty one Muggleborn samples. It was not even; his results would be skewed.
She randomly plucked six vials from the corresponding cooling chambers in order to bring the numbers in each to an even two hundred and twenty. Carefully checking the identification numbers on each vial, she extracted the information sheets which listed any known family medical history and transferred the vials into the cooling chamber that housed the sperm donations for the hospitals IVF programme. In doing so, she had brought the number of donations in that chamber up to an even one hundred. Perfect order in all facets of her duties. She filed the identification sheets amongst the others relating to the IVF donors and congratulated herself on a job well done.
Structured. Ordered. Stable. Good.
-oOo-
"Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!"
"God, yes! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Hermione?" Harry yelled as soon as he stepped through the floo into Hermione's sitting room.
"Yes, Harry?" Hermione asked in amusement over James' continual chanting of 'Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!'
"Please tell me you bought 'Toy Story'! You didn't just rent it?" Harry asked with a slightly manic expression on his face.
"Oh, Harry, I wish I could tell you…" Hermione began with a downcast air. She burst out laughing at the panicked expression on her best friend's face. "Of course I bought it! Don't you think I learned that lesson after the 'Finding Nemo' incident?"
"Don't say that!" Harry hissed. It was too late. James immediately switched his chanting to 'Nemo! Nemo! Nemo! Nemo!'
"Just keep swimming, just keep swimming," Hermione chanted as she stood up. "What do you want to watch, Sweetums: 'Finding Nemo' or 'Toy Story'?"
"BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!" James yelled.
"Okay, okay, come on," Hermione took the worked-up child from his father's arms and deposited him on the sofa. As quickly as she could she retrieved the DVD and set the movie playing. As soon as the Disney theme came on it was as though a flick had been switched. James immediately became riveted. Hermione dropped a kiss on the toddler's head and left him sitting in front of the television. She joined Harry at the table in the adjoining dining room.
"Thank you," Harry said gratefully.
"Are you any closer to being able to get electricity hooked up to Grimmauld Place?" Hermione asked.
"No, I'm pretty sure that ship has completely sailed. Ginny and I are talking about getting a new, bigger place anyway. Maybe somewhere out in the country where James and Albus can easily play outdoors," he said.
"That sounds great," Hermione said with a smile. "I'll buy you a TV and DVD player for a housewarming present," she joked.
"I will hold you to that," Harry said. "What are you working on?" he asked, eyeing the multiple sheets of parchment littering Hermione's dining room table. He picked one up and began to read it. "ID 301-HB. Eyes: green; hair: brown; height: six foot one; race: Caucasian; family medical history… Am I allowed to read these?"
"They're the donor information sheets," Hermione told him.
"For the sperm guy?" he asked.
"Yes, Harry, for the sperm guy," she mocked.
"I was surprised that everyone was so accepting of your plan," Harry said. After the weekly dinner on Sunday at the Burrow, talk had turned to babies and families as usual and Ginny encouraged Hermione to tell the family about what she was considering. There was some cautious optimism and a few pointed questions but overall the family was supportive of Hermione and her wish to have a baby of her own.
"So was I, to be honest," Hermione said. "I thought for sure that Molly would pour cold water over the whole idea but she told me privately that although it was hard for her to understand why I would do this in this way, she also understood why I wanted to do it, to have a baby. I know that didn't make much sense but she is behind me."
"I guess it's one of those women things," Harry said drily.
"You know we have a club," Hermione joked.
"Yes, yes," Harry said in a long-suffering tone. "So what do we do with these?" he asked, picking up another sheet and reading it.
"We?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, we," Harry stressed. "You're not in this alone, Hermione, you know we're here for you."
"Thank you, Harry," Hermione smiled. "I'm—we're—going through these to select the lucky sperm." She paused to scribble some information into one of her notebooks and quickly run an Arithmantic calculation.
"What's that?" Harry asked, looking over at her work.
"Calculations to determine the best match of my genetic material with the ones here," Hermione informed him.
Harry immediately burst into laughter. "What?" he asked.
"What?" Hermione returned. "I want to ensure I give my baby the best chance."
"And this will ensure that?" Harry asked, still laughing.
"I know nothing about these men save that they were willing to donate a part of themselves in order to help people create a family," Hermione defended.
"Have you considered asking someone you know then?" he asked.
Hermione nodded. "Briefly, but I decided against it."
"Why?" Harry asked curiously.
"I thought it would be a bit awkward to ask in the first place and then to expect whoever it was to happily watch as the child he knew he had a part in creating grew up with no input as to how. Most of the men I know are in committed relationships anyway and our circle is really quite small. What if the father's looks are extremely prevalent in the child? You know what I mean?" Hermione paused.
"Yeah, like how everyone knows straight away that I'm James Potter's son because I look exactly like him," Harry said.
"Yes, so, let's pretend I asked, say Neville, and the child looked exactly like him. He is married and he and Hannah are trying for a baby of their own. How would my child feel knowing his father has another family and essentially only provided the biological material to create him, never having the intention of supporting him and loving him… I couldn't sentence either father or child to that. I think it would be too cruel," Hermione explained.
"I get it," Harry said understandingly. "Anonymous would be the way to go then. So, back to the calculations then… what are you doing?"
"I told you, I'm trying to determine the best biological match."
Harry looked at her dubiously. "Really? And eye colour, hair colour, height and medical history are going to determine that?"
"Yes, of course it will."
"Hermione, did you run these calculations before you married Ron?"
"What?! Don't be absurd! Of course not, I loved him!" Hermione said defensively.
"And you won't love this child if it's not perfect?" Harry asked.
"Are you mental? I will love this child with everything I have! What's wrong with wanting to be certain that he has the best chance in life?"
"Nothing, my point is that you're shooting fish in a barrel with this method. Yes, you might have the calculation that determines the best outcome but who's to say that three generations back, donor number 301-HB here didn't have a humpbacked, knock-kneed, drooling imbecile for an ancestor whose genes are just sitting dormant in this perfect specimen waiting to come out?"
Hermione's eyes widened. She looked down at her calculations in dismay. "Oh my God, Harry! How could you say something like that? Now I'm going to panic!"
Harry chuckled at his best friend's dismay. "I'm just pointing out that no calculation you perform is going to tell you anything of how your baby is going to turn out. Look over there at James." The pair of them turned to see James still sitting on the sofa in exactly the same position Hermione had left him in, staring intently at the screen. "I love him to death. I love him beyond death. I love both my boys beyond anything I ever thought possible. It didn't stop me from wanting to throttle the shit out of that one today. And you know you are the only person I can admit that to. Even my wife has no clue how close I come I come to toddlercide on certain days. He was chanting Buzz, Buzz, Buzz for nearly an hour while I got him and me ready to come over here. No calculation on earth could have predicted that. Your kid will do the same thing one day. There will be some movie that is the next best thing and he'll be chanting it over and over until you cave and bring him to my new house with the giant, flat-screen TV and top-of-the-line DVD player and recorder you're going to buy me so he can watch it."
"You know I was only going to go to Betta and buy you some cheapies," Hermione said. "I'm about to embark upon the journey of single-motherhood. I have to start pinching the pennies. Well, all this work is down the drain, isn't it?" She closed her notebook and gathered the parchments.
"It's all part of the journey, Hermione. Here, give me those." Harry held out his and took the sheaf of papers Hermione gave him. He rapidly flipped through them, removing six and holding them up, the blank sides facing Hermione. "All of these are purely anonymous donors," he said. "The only thing on these sheets is the identifying number and known family medical history. Nothing here looks concerning to me. No traits, no personality, nothing. Pick one."
Hermione took a deep breath. "I don't know; it's too random."
"That's the point. Ron was random; you didn't choose to fall in love with him specifically, you just did. No matter which of these guys provides the biological matter you need, it's all random. You could go out tonight, get blind drunk and sleep with some random guy who gets you pregnant. Apart from the sex and the hangover, this is the same thing."
She knew he was right. "Okay, this one," Hermione said, plucking a sheet from the middle of the fanned out pages Harry was holding. She read the identification number in the top right-hand corner of the parchment. "Number 394-HB. 'HB', do you think that's his initials?" Hermione asked. She immediately began to rifle through her memories, trying to think of someone with the initials HB but came up blank.
"No," Harry said. He was still holding the pages Hermione had not selected. "Look at these, this one says MB, these two both say PB and these two are also HB. I bet they stand for pureblood, halfblood and Muggleborn."
The Healer in Hermione nodded, even as the activist within her was crying out in indignation. "That makes sense." She picked up one of the sheets marked with PB and held it up. "Maybe I should pollute the bloodline," she joked.
Harry laughed. "No, the ancestors rolling in the graves might have a detrimental effect on the rotation of the earth," he said. "I really am glad you're doing this, you know."
"Really? Because at first you didn't seem so sure," Hermione said.
"I think it just came out of the blue a bit. But now that I've thought about it, and seen you some more, I think you're doing the right thing." Hermione was still looking at him quizzically. "I just mean, okay, back when George and Angelina announced they were having a baby you got all teary and you kind of retreated into yourself. It was like you had just lost Ron again. It wasn't quite as bad when Bill and Fleur announced that Louis was on the way but you still got quite upset. When we announced Albus you were nothing but happy for us. You'd turned a corner.
"A lot of people are going to think that you are doing this so you can have something that you missed out on with Ron but you're not. I know it's just the next step for you, the next part of your life adventure. And you're going to be great at it and we will all be here for you, every step of the way."
Hermione clasped her hands together over her heart. "Oh, Harry, that has to be one of the sweetest things you've ever said to me!"
"Well, just don't expect it all the time," he said with a grin. Usually he was pretty good at putting his foot firmly in his mouth around Hermione and Ginny. Once in a while he was bound to get it right.
-oOo-