ONE
It was eerily silent in the Eighth Years' common room, despite the fact that it was occupied by nearly a dozen students. Waning afternoon light streamed into the room from its tall windows, bathing them in its golden glow. Hermione was perched on an armchair while Ron sat on the floor below her, his head resting between her legs. She marveled at the beauty of the sun's glow on his hair, giving it a burnished glow. He let out an appreciative hum as she combed her fingers through his locks, and leaned further into her touch. Harry was sitting on the floor next to Ron, looking entirely carefree as he absently twirled his wand between his fingers.
Despite the relative ease of her two companions, the others in the room were shifting anxiously in their seats as they awaited McGonagall's arrival. They'd all been on edge since they'd been informed that there would be a critical meeting for the eighth years that afternoon, and that attendance was mandatory. The Headmistress had said it with a somber look on her face, which had succeeded in deeply perturbing all of the eighth years.
At the moment the clock struck four, the double door leading to the common room swung open to admit the headmistress.
"Good afternoon," the Headmistress said, moving to stand before the crackling fire. "I am sure you are all anxious to know why I've called you all here." She looked around the room, taking in the mix of students wearing their various house colors.
Surprisingly, there hadn't been much protesting when they'd arrived in the castle only to be informed that the eighth years were being sequestered away in their own separate dormitory starting the following day. For Hermione, it felt somewhat akin to relief to not be forced to interact with the younger students much when their innocence contrasted so heavily against what the older students had endured just a year prior. For now, they had been granted access to the large, circular common room that was surrounded by sprawling windows and ornate tapestries representing each of the four houses. They were currently seated on the various pieces of plush furniture surrounding the large fireplace. There was grand staircase behind them that lead to the second floor, but it had been warded to keep them out until they were due to move in the following morning.
"You may be wondering why you've been given your own dormitory, separate from the other students and intermingled with other houses. This was not a decision made on my part for your comfort, as I'm certain some of you suspect." Several of the students in the room exchanged curious glances at this, Harry and Ron included.
"It was a move directed by the Ministry," she said. Hermione's heart dropped at the tone of the Headmistress' voice. It did not at all sound promising. "As you are all aware, the War has had many lasting effects upon us all."
The students shifted awkwardly, Hermione included. She swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat, forcing herself to focus on the Headmistress' words and not on the thumping of her heart.
"We have entered into a new state of society, which is in an entirely more uncertain state than we were in prior to the war. To combat these...changes, the Ministry has implemented a series of new programs and incentives. This brings us to why we are gathered here today," the woman sighed, looking around at them sadly. Hermione could see the deep lines that had sprouted on the older woman's face beyond aging, and Hermione's heart went out to her. She likely hadn't had much rest since the War, as she'd spent every waking moment of the past year taking part in rebuilding efforts for the school, preparing urgently for the next round of pupils. Even as they sat quietly in the common room, there were still occasional vibrations as neglected parts of the castle continued to knit themselves back together.
"You must understand," she continued, "That this was not an easy choice to make. However, slow pacing towards getting our society back on track has proven that these measures are necessary." Some of the students were leaning forward, listening to her with rapt interest, while others had shrunk back, dreading what she would be revealing.
"There has been a new class designed to replace your Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons. The Ministry has deemed them...unnecessary for students at your level of expertise." The room was silent as the students took in her words.
"This new class, Post-War Reintegration, will be introduced on Monday morning. It is a class that has been designed to acclimatize you all to the shifting needs of our society. Some of you may be hesitant to participate in some of the assignments the course requires, but I am here to remind you all that this course is a mandatory requirement for graduation, and the Ministry will not allow any of you to sit for your N.E.W.T.S unless it has been completed. Although you are the first students to participate in the course, please do keep in mind that all of its required activities are temporary, and you are expected to set a graceful example for the students that will be participating in next year's course.
"You will spend the night with your respective Houses, but by morning your things will be moved into your new rooms. You have each been assigned a partner that you will be sharing your quarters with, and this person will also be your partner for each class, most especially including Post-War Reintegration." There was some derisive murmuring at this.
Dean raised a hand into the air, and McGonagall nodded at him to speak. "But...why?" he asked, his expression mirroring that of many of the students in the room.
McGonagall sighed. "You will be told the details of the class tomorrow, Mr. Thomas."
The room erupted into a chorus of protests.
"Honestly, Headmistress," Seamus exclaimed. "You can't just let them spring this on us without so much as a warning!"
Padma Patil nodded enthusiastically. "We deserve to know," she agreed.
"I think we've earned the right," Ron piped in.
"What's the harm in saying something?" Pansy Parkinson added.
The Headmistress pursed her lips thoughtfully for a moment. "I…"
"Headmistress, please," Seamus said. "Just a hint?"
"This will not go over well with you all," she said somberly. "Perhaps it is better for you to enjoy your weekend, and have a few more carefree days."
"That's pure b-" Dean cut himself off at as McGonagall shot him a stern look.
"That's all the more reason for us to know now!" Parvati urged. "We could use the time to prepare."
Ron nodded. "All we're gonna do now is stress and speculate until we're told, anyhow," he said. Many heads nodded in agreement.
"We deserve to know, Headmistress," Harry spoke up softly, but the room quieted at his words. "Please tell us."
McGonagall let out a long sigh once again, then spoke. "Very well," she said. "As you are all aware, the Second Wizarding War decimated our population. Although more than a year has passed since we were able to officially declare peace, the aftereffects of the war have proven to be as devastating as the war itself. Our population is dwindling rapidly, and we are facing serious consequences in the future. The Ministry has decided to implement a program to incentivize repopulation efforts."
Hermione's jaw dropped open. Repopulation efforts?
"They're going to breed us?!" someone screeched. Hermione couldn't identify the voice over the pounding of her heart that was slowly drowning out the panicked voices in the room.
"Heavens no!" the Headmistress exclaimed. "No, Miss Abbott, not at all," she added calmly.
"Then how are we to help with repopulation?" Ron asked, saying the last word as if it were a curse.
"They simply wish to incentivize you through simulation, in hopes that you will be more inclined to start families in the future," McGonagall explained.
Although the woman said her explanation in a tone that was clearly meant to calm them, it had the opposite effect. The students erupted in protests, shouting over one another as they panicked.
"They are going to breed us!" Parvati cried, burying her face in Padma's shoulder.
"They must be barking mad!" Ron shouted. "They can't make us-"
"Silence!" McGonagall shouted over the chaos. "There will be no breeding of any sort. They intend to have you simulate pregnancy and child rearing, but nothing will be permanent."
This time, the silence was deafening. Everyone in the room was speechless, staring wide-eyed at their Headmistress as if she'd just begun leaking bubotuber pus out of her ears.
"You can't be serious," Hermione finally found her voice. "Headmistress, this is- insanity, it's-"
"Required by law, Miss Granger," she said. "The children will be magically implanted within you, and nothing untoward will occur."
"But-"
"But nothing, Mr. Weasley. Unfortunately, my protests against this decision have fallen on deaf ears. Instead, take this time to look at it from a positive perspective - this will be a most excellent opportunity to promote inter-house unity. I will give you the weekend to adjust, and you can move into your new quarters after Monday's class." Before any more protests could erupt, she turned and exited the room.
By the following morning, everyone's nerves were nothing short of frazzled. They had all filed into the classroom as though each step was echoed with the sound of a death knell, and they were all now seated quietly at their desks, near silent in the foreboding air that stifled the room.
Ron sat next to Hermione, gripping her hand tightly as he watched the door nervously, waiting for their Ministry-appointed instructor to enter.
"Maybe we'll get each other," he said hopefully, lifting her hand to give it a quick kiss.
"Maybe," she answered quietly, unwilling to get her hopes up.
Harry was sitting at the table next to them, his entire body stiff with tension. Beside him, Lavender looked positively distraught, and she was twisting one of her ringlets around and around her finger anxiously.
The rest of their classmates were in a similar state, and nearly no one moved until the door flew open and a tall, waif-like woman with flowing dark curls drifted through it. Her long, glittering grey robes trailed behind her, giving her an ethereal look that matched her delicate features.
"Welcome," she smiled a beatific smile, her grey-blue eyes contrasting sharply against her caramel-colored skin.
No one responded, and they all simply blinked at the woman in front of them, unmoving.
"My name is Professor Jameson, and I will be guiding you all along on the lovely journey of parenthood throughout this school year." At her words, many in the room paled, while others' faces twisted into expressions of complete anger.
She paid them no mind, and instead waved her wand at a cupboard next to her desk, sending textbooks flying to their desks. All The Segments of Being Pregnant, Hermione's read. It pictured a laughing witch who rubbed her hand over her stomach that bulged through her robes, winking occasionally at Hermione. She peeked at Ron's, which was titled Flying into Fatherhood, that featured a wizard whizzing around on his broom with a child on a small training broom trailing behind him. It felt ridiculous and perverse, and her stomach flipped in disgust at the idea of it all.
"Now, let's get you all settled into your pairs, shall we?" Professor Jameson smiled beatifically before she materialized a list and began reading from it.
"Dean Thomas and Hannah Abbott…"
Hermione closed her eyes and breathed deeply, resigning herself to her new fate.
"Harry Potter…" The professor paused to clear her throat. Hermione looked over to Harry, who had begun looking around the room, casually examining his potential partners. "...and Pansy Parkinson."
Hermione sucked in a breath as Harry froze. Hermione recalled the moment not-so-long ago where Pansy had demanded Harry be handed over to the Voldemort, cringing. Pansy's hand shot in the air as she turned to look at Harry, scrunching her face up in disgust.
"Yes, Miss Parkinson?" The professor paused her reading.
"I'd like to request a change of partners."
"There will be no changes," Professor Jameson said, smiling all the while. "Remember, this is also a wonderful opportunity to promote inter-house unity."
"And I would like to 'unite' with another house, please." Pansy insisted. Harry fumed quietly beside Hermione.
"No exceptions," Professor Lovegood said, and continued to read off the list, leaving an outraged Pansy and irritated looking Harry to their own devices.
"Padma Patil and Ronald Weasley…"
"Maybe it won't be so bad," Hermione whispered over to Harry. He shot her incredulous look in return.
"Neville Longbottom and Millicent Bulstrode." Neville looked positively petrified as he looked across the room at the bulkier girl. She stared back at him blankly, which seemed to scare him all the more.
Hermione stifled a giggle at the odd pairing. Maybe this will be entertaining after all, she wondered.
"Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy."
Or maybe not, she thought, burying her face in her hands in defeat.
Hermione returned from a late study session to find her fellow eighth years gathered around the fireplace, some seated on the plush couches whilst others stood. It was deep into the evening, and the sky outside the sprawling windows was littered with an array of stars. The Forbidden Forest loomed in the distance, the soft moonlight only hinting at its shadows. The peace of the school's grounds contrasted sharply against the tension permeated the room full of students, half of whom had been magically implanted with a classmates child only hours prior.
"This is just too much," Hannah Abbott was pacing in front of the fireplace. Her dressing gown floated out behind her as she moved. "Too much, too much," she continued to mutter as others spoke.
"Why would the Ministry insist on such a horrid idea?" Pansy Parkinson was sprawled inelegantly across one of the couches, an emerald green sleep mask covering her eyes. Her skin looked unusually pale, and her voice was noticeably weaker than usual.
Harry and Ron sat on the sofa nearest Hermione, and Harry's face was frozen in a look of disbelief. Hermione slid into the small space between them, poking Harry in the shoulder. "What's wrong?" she asked.
Harry did not respond, and she turned to Ron. "Ron, what is going on?" she asked. He looked defeated, and raised a finger to point up and across the room. She looked up beyond the grand staircase, remembering that the second floor was now open for them to find their new living quarters. There was a long hallway at the top of the stairs, lined with large portraits. She turned away from the chaos momentarily, making her way up the plushly carpeted stairs and halting abruptly in front of the first of the portraits and staring, horrified, at the glittering golden words etched exquisitely in into the wall above it.
Harry Potter and Pansy Parkinson, it read.
No, she thought as the realization dawned on her. The portrait next to Harry and Pansy's was also embossed in large gold letters atop it - Blaise Zabini and Lavender Brown, it read. Hermione's eyes scanned the rest of the row, and, surely enough, the final portrait on the far right read Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger.
She was frozen in the hall, and barely registered the portrait hole she had stopped in front of opening before Daphne Greengrass nearly smacked into her as she exited.
"Sorry," Daphne muttered before clamping her hand over her mouth, looking as if she was about to retch. She disappeared back through the portrait hole as quickly as she had come out before Hermione could say anything.
Hermione stood there, completely bewildered for a few moments before making her way towards her own portrait hole, staring at the image of a centaur in a field of blooming flowers, looking menacing even as it delicately combed its shining locks.
"Password?" It asked gruffly, flicking its eyes over her form.
"Bezoar," she said quietly, stepping begrudgingly through the threshold when it swung open.
She stepped into a small hall. Unlike the cold dread the situation filled her with, the atmosphere in the small flat was surprisingly warm. The floors were a dark wood and the walls were painted in a warm brown and had several sconces lined up along it that the elves had undoubtedly light for them, making the room glow. She moved to the end of the hall, pointedly ignoring the two doors along the wall she passed that likely lead to the bedrooms. where there was a small sitting room with a miniature fire burning in the hearth. Although much smaller than the main common room, she found the area immediately comforting.
She lingered in the sitting room for a while longer before turning back to the hallway and quickly finding the door that said Hermione. She opened it to find a decently sized room with a four poster in the middle. It was simply furnished with a wardrobe and a small desk. Her trunk lay at the foot of her bed. There were also two doors on the opposite wall of the room. The first door opened into a large bathroom. The door to Malfoy's room on the opposite side of the bathroom was firmly closed.
She left the bathroom and opened the next door to discover a small nursery that, to her surprise, held an extremely agitated looking Draco Malfoy. He was wearing a green jumper with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows and trousers, and was barefoot. He had been glaring hard at the crib when she first opened the door, but now his glare was directed at her.
"Morning," she said quietly, taking in the bare white nursery. He ignored her, aiming his disdain at the crib once more.
The nursery was all white with cream walls. A crib was against the wall on one side of the room, and the other side held a changing table and a rocking chair. A small bed was against the wall furthest from her. She supposed it was for one of the parents to sleep in when they felt the need. Hermione felt her vision blurring as panic set in. The Ministry was making her bear a child. Malfoy's child. She realized that she was clutching her stomach in fear, but could not find the strength to pull her hand away. Here they stood together, expected to endure this impossible task together despite the fact that their relationship could be described as frigid at best.
She opened her mouth to say something to him, anything, but instead found herself closing it again.
"Out with it, Granger." Malfoy's voice pierced the silence, making her start.
He was no longer glaring at her, but he wasn't smiling either.
"I-" she started again, but he cut her off.
"Do not delude yourself into thinking that this… assignment will make us companions or anything of the sort."
"I wasn't-"
He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow once more, making Hermione flush again. Perhaps she had been intending to create some sort of a truce between them, although she could see that her attempts would have been futile.
The silence stretched between them for a moment.
"We do, though," she started again.
"Do what?" He asked dryly.
"...have to come to some sort of a truce?"
"Really, now?" He said with a hint of derision in his tone.
"Yes, really," she crossed her arms as well, glaring at him.
"On what grounds?" He asked.
"On the grounds that we're about to become parents and-"
"Whatever she put inside you does not qualify as my child." He jerked his finger toward her stomach, making her clutch it instinctively.
"Well it does for this assignment and it would be best if we at least tried to get on!"
"Just because we work together does not mean that we have to get on."
"So you prefer us like this all the time?"
"Better than pretending to like you," he insisted.
"You're making it very hard to be civil," Hermione said through gritted teeth.
"I never wanted to be civil."
"There is no need to make things this difficult, Malfoy,"
They had moved closer as they bickered and now stood mere inches apart. Hermione's head was tilted far back as he towered over her.
"You can't make me like you, Granger," he said. "And you don't have to pretend not to hate me either."
"I never said I hated you, Malfoy!" She said angrily.
She turned her head away from his suddenly too piercing look and instead found herself looking at his forearm where traces of the Dark Mark were still visible. It was a series of curving dark lines, faded so much that one could only tell what it really was if they were squinting hard.
"Don't you?" He asked after a moment of silence.
"No," she whispered to his forearm. When she looked up again, he was staring at her with an intensity that she couldn't quite mark as anger.
He looked at her for a few more seconds before brushing past her through the door leading to his room.
"You should," his voice was hard and cold as he slammed his bedroom door behind him. At that, she let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding.
When Hermione reentered the common room, the rest of the Eighth years were still protesting heatedly.
"Why?" Pansy moaned from where she was still sprawled across the sofa. She had turned from grey to green in the time that Hermione had been upstairs.
"They're trying to punish us," Seamus announced. "As if we haven't been through quite enough already!"
Harry had his face buried in his hands, his glasses askew. She approached him quietly. "Harry?"
He peered up at her through his fingers.
"Are you… alright?" She asked hesitantly.
He buried his face in his hands again and groaned. She sat beside him, rubbing his back affectionately. "It'll be alright, Harry," she said unconvincingly.
"Don't lie to me, Hermione," his voice was muffled.
"I…" she closed her mouth uncertainty. She opted to continue rubbing his back instead, wondering if things would ever really be ok.
"Maybe schooling isn't as necessary as Gran says it is," Neville started. "If I quit now, then maybe-"
"Don't be ridiculous, Neville," Hermione cut in. She looked around the room at the rest of the miserable-looking eighth years. "Look, maybe it really isn't so bad."
"Stop saying that, Hermione," Parvati snapped, glaring at her.
Hannah Abbott nodded enthusiastically in agreement.
"What could possibly be good about becoming forcibly pregnant by someone whom you dislike?" Padma Patil added.
"Inter-house unity?" Hermione offered, knowing she didn't even believe it herself.
Pansy and Padma scoffed in unison.
"Riiight," Daphne Greengrass' voice sounded from behind her. She looked as sick as Pansy did.
"You barely believe it yourself, Granger," Blaise pointed out.
Malfoy chose that moment to appear at the top of the stairs. He sauntered down, hands shoved lazily in the pockets of his trousers. She noticed that his sleeves were now pulled down to his wrists, hiding the faded Mark. She looked around at the other Slytherin boys, wondering if they were hiding their scars too.
"So what are we going to do?" Hannah asked. The attention of those in the room had shifted to the Head Boy and Girl, looking at them as if they expected some outright show of rebellion.
Instead, Malfoy shrugged noncommittally.
"Draco," Pansy said accusingly. "Aren't you going to do something?"
"No," he said simply. Hermione especially surprised, remembering his outburst at McGonagall just the previous day. Now, he appeared completely disinterested and collected, giving off no hint of his fury.
"You have nothing to say at all?" Parvati's mouth hung slightly open, as did the mouths of several others in the room.
"Draco," Pansy started. "You can't possibly be oka-" Malfoy cut her off with a glare.
"Might as well just drop it for now," Dean said, still glowering in the corner. "We'd have to deal with the Ministry anyway, and we all know how impossibly strict they've been in recent months."
Daphne moaned loudly, closing her eyes and lolling her head against the sofa. "We now have other things to attend to, unfortunately."
Theo Nott spoke up. "I 'spose he's right. There's nothing we really can do."
Blaise stood, and shrugged as well. "They're right," he threw over his shoulder as he made his way up the stairs. Malfoy followed him, and the two whispered in hushed tones as they made their way back upstairs.
It hit Hermione then that for now, it really wasn't their problem. The females would be the only ones enduring these pregnancies, leaving the men free for the semester.
She felt anger flash through her hot and quick before she let her rationality take over. She had to show some sort of optimism, even when she felt none.
"It's only temporary," she halfheartedly reminded the rest of the glowering women, whose scowls only deepened at her words.
When she woke the following morning, Hermione understood all too well the ashen looks she had seen on the faces of some of her fellow eighth years the previous day. The wave of nausea that had jerked her awake was so sudden that she was soon heaving noisily into the toilet. Even after she felt that the contents of her stomach had long since been emptied, nausea continued to overwhelm her, forcing her to remain planted over the toilet bowl. Eventually, she simply lay there moaning quietly.
She was in the same position when Malfoy threw open his door. She could sense his anger by the way the door flew hard into the wall, although she could not be bothered to lift her head and scowl at him.
"What?" she croaked, her voice lacking the sharpness she had intended.
"I do not care to be awoken at dawn by the sounds of you being sick all-"
She had mustered the strength to lift her head and glare at him, which stopped him short.
"You... you look like hell, Granger."
She slowly stood up and made her way to the sink, where she discovered that she did indeed look quite frightening. Her curls were plastered all over her sweaty face. Her eyes were bleary, with large, dark bags underneath them. She splashed cold water onto her face and rinsed her mouth generously before turning back to glare at him once more.
He was now leaning in the doorframe, arms crossed over his bare chest. His mouth was half turned down in a way that somehow propelled her rage even further.
"What?" The word now held as much venom as she had originally intended.
"Happy it isn't me, is all," he said, he smirked slightly before re-entering his room. Her slipper thudded hard against his door as he closed it swiftly behind him.
Her head reeled after the simple motion, forcing her to brace herself against the sink until her head she found herself rushing to crouch over the toilet bowl once more.
Even changing proved itself a difficult task that morning. Each simple movement made her sensitive stomach lurch, forcing her to dress in slow intervals. By the time she slung her bookbag over her shoulder and made her way to the door, she felt fully prepared to return to the comfort of her four poster bed.
Nevertheless, her mood brightened somewhat when she saw Ron waiting outside her room for her, smiling sheepishly as he held out a small steaming mug to her.
"From Winky," he said, smiling wider as she squeezed his other hand affectionately before lacing her fingers through his. "Said you would need it straightaway."
She had already taken a mouthful of the steaming liquid, grateful that it didn't scald her. She immediately felt it calming her churning insides.
The door adjacent to Hermione's flew open and Pansy blew past them in a huff, her face twisted into a scowl. Harry followed soon after, his expression identical to his partner's.
"Morning," he muttered.
"It'll get better, Harry," Hermione said, basking in the feel of her quickly waning nausea. She patted him on the shoulder in a way that she hoped communicated reassurance.
"Stop lying to yourself, Hermione," he said, his voice hard. "You're pregnant!"
Hermione cringed at the reminder, looking down at her stomach, then back up at Harry. As much as she had tried to avoid thinking too deeply about the implications of this class, she felt the panic hovering on the edges of her mind, threatening to consume her if she did not fill her mind with other things, and quickly.
"The situation isn't permanent, Harry," she said, squeezing his shoulder, despite his unresponsive stiffness. Ron materialized beside Harry, poking his head out of Harry's door to stare derisively at Pansy's quickly disappearing back.
Ron shrugged. "It'll be over soon enough, mate," he clapped Harry on the shoulder.
Harry grumbled indistinctly before stomping off, presumably to meet Ginny.
Ron shrugged again. "He'll come around."