Deliver Me Chapter 2, a harry potter fanfic

Author's Note: I've decided to do two scenarios: the first where Ron is Hermione's husband and the second where Severus is Hermione's husband. Feel free to skip over what you don't want to read. Both are included here!

Chapter Two: Ron or Scenario One

The sudden rustling of sheets issued forth from the bed, combined with a confused tangle of words, mumbled and unintelligible, but rather than extricating himself from the bed, Ron simply slumped back into the comfortable of pillows and blankets, wishing for nothing more than to return to blissful slumber.

From the bathroom door, Hermione winced again as another contraction came and passed. Clutching her belly, she hobbled down the short hallway toward the bedroom.

"Ron!" she exclaimed. "Now is not the time to be sleeping in! Didn't you hear what I said? I think I'm going into early labor!"

This string of strangled statement startled Ron, giving the effect Hermione desired - no, needed.

"What?" Ron yelped, grabbing frantically at the bedclothes and flinging them haphazardly to the floor. "But- but you aren't due for another-"

"Four weeks, yes, I know, Ronald!" Hermione practically shrieked. "Now, get your lazy arse out of bed, get dressed, and help me! We need a cab or- or something! We need to get to a hospital, now!"

"Yes, yes, got it!" Ron exclaimed, now standing and wildly searching the room for the nearest clothes.

With a long-suffering sigh, Hermione pulled her wand out of her bathrobe and flicked it, turning the lights on. Even in a situation like this, she was expected to be the cool-headed, logical one. She hated to think what would happen if Ron were the one in need of medical assistance and she wasn't around.

In his search for clothes, Ron abruptly stopped and turned to Hermione, asking, "But why take Muggle transport? Can't we just Apparate?"

"In my condition?" Hermione retorted, raising an eyebrow, at least glad she wasn't currently in agonizing pain.

Ron conceded this point and murmured his thanks for the light and grabbed a pair of jeans that he had worn the past two days, pulling them on over his boxers. Amazingly enough, the green shirt he was now yanking over his head was clean. His longish hair was sticking up in places, but he didn't seem to care. Stubble from the past week of travel was starting to form a beard, which Hermione thought might even be attractive if he maintained it properly, but as another contraction came to pass, her patience was waning, and the last thing she was pondering were the little hairs on Ron's chin.

"Are you finally ready?" she huffed.

"Ready? Uh, yeah... ready," Ron replied, catching his breath. He now stood right in front of his wife, nearly a head taller. His freckles were standing out in stark contrast against his pale skin under the ceiling light. "What now?"

"Now we find a hospital."

"A Muggle hospital?"

"What do you expect, Ronald? We're in the middle of Muggle France. What options do we have? Now, seeing as it's daybreak, we ought to be able to get a taxi. Let's go- Ooooohhhh!" Hermione shrieked, grabbing at her stomach, willing the pain to subside, which it did a few seconds later.

"Right, taxi." Ron nodded, taking hold of Hermione's hand, worry creeping into his mind. He didn't know much about pregnancy, but he knew babies were supposed to be delivered near their due date.

Hand-in-hand, the young couple made their way down the corridor and to the lift. Once they reached the front desk, Hermione gave Ron a look.

"Well, ask them for a taxi," she said between clenched teeth.

"Er, I don't know how in French-" Ron started lamely. From his recollection, the people who owned this particular hotel actually didn't speak English and had seemed offended by their assumption of the fact that "surely everyone knows English" the previous evening when checking in.

"Oh, fine!" Hermione hissed, wishing, for once, that she didn't have to feel obligated to do everything!

Stepping up to the desk, Hermione forced a smile, which probably appeared more as a grimace, and ignored the fact that she was also standing there in a bathrobe, and said, "Pardonnez-moi. Nous avons besoin d'un taxi, s'il vous plait." Pardon me. We need a taxi, please.

"Un taxi?" the woman behind the counter repeated, and Hermione wanted to inquire rather furiously if she were a parrot. "Oui, un moment."

She dialed the number on the phone, and Hermione didn't pick up the next several words, as the French was simply trop vite. Too fast.

The last thing Hermione needed in that moment, standing there like a half-crazed, sleep-deprived woman, was for another contraction, but she had no control. Thankfully, Ron was standing right next to her, so she grabbed onto him for support. The woman had just finished her conversation with the taxi service and gazed across the short distance at the young couple in front of her, her eyes large with concern, but probably more of out worry that Hermione would deliver right there in the hotel's lobby than for her condition.

The woman motioned them to wait near the doors for five minutes, and Ron nodded and said, "Merci." His accent was even worst than Hermione's, and had she not been buckled over in pain, Hermione probably would have winced. It wasn't "mercy" that they were receiving right now, anyway!

The next five minutes could have been five hours, but when the car finally pulled up in front of the hotel, Hermione sighed in relief. The sun was now high enough in the sky to shine directly in her face as she managed to slump into the back seat.

"We need a hospital," Ron stated as calmly as possible.

Hermione briefly rethought her previous mind's wandering: Maybe there was a small amount of mercy here, for the taxi driver understood Ron's request and nodded hastily, not wasting another moment.

Sitting in the back of the taxi cab with Ron, Hermione tried to relax. For once, Ron was staying level-headed as he wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders and pulled her to him.

"How are you holding up?" he asked softly.

"I'm... surviving," she said, gazing up at his blue eyes as another contraction passed. "I'm sorry I yelled before."

"Hey, you're the one who's pregnant here," he conceded. "Everything will be fine, just you wait. D'you think you're really going early?"

"I think that's a high possibility, unless they can do something to stop it. The baby is healthy, at least from the last appointment. I just wish, you know..." She trailed off, knowing she couldn't risk voicing anything about magic in front of the Muggle driver. Even if he didn't speak much English, "magic" and "magique" were not very different words.

Ron's eyes shifted from Hermione's face to something outside the window, and he stated, "We're here."

"Oh, thank Merlin, God, and all that's sacred," Hermione breathed as the car pulled up in front of the emergency entrance.

Somewhere along the way, Ron seemed to have woken up and gained enough stability to keep himself calm and collected. He paid the driver and helped Hermione out of the vehicle. Stepping into the hosptial, Hermione was pleased to see that the signage was in both English and French.

The security man was prompt with a wheelchair for Hermione, and as she sat, she closed her eyes as probably the strongest contraction yet passed. She wasn't sure, but she could have sworn they were increasing in frequency and strength, but had she only had one on the drive over? Her normally composed mind was spinning out of control. What had her Healer told her? How far apart were the contractions supposed to be, and how long was each individual contraction supposed to be before coming to the hospital?

Ron was given directions to the maternity ward in good English, so he pushed Hermione through the corridors, following the signs.

"Thank you for not freaking out anymore," Hermione said.

"I, er... I try," Ron managed lamely. "I'm trying to control what I can here. I've been trying to prepare myself for this day for months now, and I thought I'd be ready, but nothing can get you ready for-"

Hermione released a small cry, interrupting Ron's statement, but he didn't let it deter him from getting his wife to their destination. He was an Auror, after all, so focus and concentration were essential to his daily work.

"Okay, we're here," Ron announced.

"May I help you?" a nurse asked from behind the desk.

She must have heard Ron's English, Hermione thought.

"I think my wife is in, uh, labor," Ron replied.

"You are visiting, yes?" the nurse inquired.

"Yeah, we're on holiday. Look, can you please just help us?" Ron asked, feeling on the verge of panic again.

"Of course, of course." The nurse smiled with understanding and came around the desk, wheeling Hermione into an examination room. "I will assist you today. My name is Amelie." Here, she pointed to her nametag. "Can you stand?" she asked Hermione.

"I expect so," Hermione said, using the arms of the chair to steady herself and help raise her awkward body out of the seat. With a groan, she stood and flopped gracelessly onto the exam table.

"You will need to change into these," the nurse instructed, handing Hermione a hospital gown. "The open part in the back, please. I will return in five minutes, yes?"

Hermione nodded weakly. Once they were alone, Ron noted, "You, er, haven't had any contractions since we were coming up to the maternity ward."

"No," Hermione admitted, wondering what was going on. "I hope... I don't know what I hope."

She fumbled out of her robe and into the gown, wondering if she had caused a false alarm.

"This is ridiculous," Hermione muttered, crossing her arms over her belly. "What's going on in there, baby?" she posed, looking at her protruding stomach.

"D'you want the baby to come now?" Ron asked curiously. "Or would you be relieved if it were just a false alarm?"

Fear suddenly siezed Hermione as her mind immediately went to the worst possible scenario. "Ron, what if- what if something happened to the baby?"

Just then, the nurse knocked and entered. "I will hook you up to a fetal monitor. Do not worry - It will not hurt. We are going to check your baby's heartbeat, and I will examine you."

I hope there's still a heartbeat, Hermione thought, feeling tears stinging her eyes. She desperately ran her hands over her belly, willing the baby to move. She realized that while focusing in her pain and contractions, she hadn't actually felt the little one inside her move in quite some time.

Chapter Two: Severus or Scenario Two

The sudden rustling of sheets issued forth from the bed, combined with a confused tangle of words, mumbled and unintelligible, and quickly extricating himself from the bed, Severus sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It was a good thing he wasn't a deep sleeper.

From the bathroom door, Hermione winced again as another contraction came and passed. Clutching her belly, she hobbled down the short hallway toward the bedroom.

"Severus!" she exclaimed, grateful to see him awake. "I think I'm going into early labor!"

This string of strangled statement startled Severus, giving the effect Hermione desired - no, needed.

Severus frowned, but then adernaline took over as he grabbed frantically at the bedclothes and flung them haphazardly to the floor. "But you aren't due for another-"

"Four weeks, yes, I know, Severus!" Hermione practically shrieked. "Now, get your lazy arse out of bed, get dressed, and help me! We need a cab or- or something! We need to get to a hospital, now!"

Severus wouldn't normally have taken well to be spoken to in such a blunt and rude manner, but his wife was in labor, so he didn't argue. Despite being nearly twenty years older than his wife, he had always been quick on his feet, so he stood and went to the suitcase to retrieve some clothes.

With a long-suffering sigh, Hermione made to pull her wand out of her bathrobe, but Severus beat her and was already flicking his wand, turning the lights on.

"Just try to relax, Hermione," Severus stated, ever cool and calm.

His demeanor was irritating Hermione. How can he stay so calm, even and especially now? Then again, he's not the one in labor! Ha! Easy for him to say! She tried not to glare at the back of the dark head.

Severus remained oblivious to Hermione's thoughts and was instead dressing himself in the customary black trousers and white button-down shirt. Even his choice of dress annoyed Hermione in this moment. Why couldn't he choose something different to wear, even on holiday? she wondered, but her mind didn't have to think long, for Severus was efficient and fast in dressing.

His long hair was limp, but he didn't seem to care. Stubble from the night covered his cheeks and chin, which Hermione thought might even be attractive if he maintained it properly, but as another contraction came to pass, her patience was waning, and the last thing she was pondering were the little hairs on Severus's chin.

"Are you finally ready?" she huffed.

"Of course I'm ready, wife," Severus replied, keeping the sardonic lilt out of his velvety voice. He now stood right in front of his wife, a head taller. His dark eyes were shining oddly and standing out in stark contrast against his pale skin under the ceiling light.

"Now we find a hospital," Severus stated.

"Well, of course we do! Didn't I already say that? We're in the middle of Muggle France. What options do we have? Now, seeing as it's daybreak, we ought to be able to get a taxi. Let's go- Ooooohhhh!" Hermione shrieked, grabbing at her stomach, willing the pain to subside, which it did a few seconds later.

Momentarily shaken out of his carefully practiced placid demeanor, Severus grabbed hold of Hermione's elbow and steadied her. "Please, Hermione," he intoned, his voice slightly wavering, "don't cause yourself any unnecessary anxiety right now. We're going to leave, and I'll handle everything from here. You just try to relax."

"Right, relax." Hermione nodded, forcing herself to do just that, and taking hold of Severus's hand, unaware of the worry creeping into his mind. He didn't know much about pregnancy, but he knew babies were supposed to be delivered near their due date.

Hand-in-hand, the couple made their way down the corridor and to the lift. Once they reached the front desk, Severus eased his wife into a chair and approached the counter.

Stepping up to the desk, Severus stared down his nose at the lady sitting there and said, "Pardonnez-moi. Nous avons besoin d'un taxi, s'il vous plait." Pardon me. We need a taxi, please.

"Un taxi?" the woman behind the counter repeated, and Severus wanted to inquire rather furiously if she were a parrot. "Oui, un moment."

She dialed the number on the phone, and Severus didn't pick up the next several words, as the French was simply trop vite. Too fast.

The last thing Hermione needed in that moment, sitting there like a half-crazed, sleep-deprived woman, was for another contraction, but she had no control. Thankfully, Severus was handling things, but she wished he were closer so she could grab onto him for support. The woman had just finished her conversation with the taxi service and gazed across the short distance at the couple in front of her, her eyes large with concern, but probably more of out worry that Hermione would deliver right there in the hotel's lobby than for her condition.

The lady motioned them to wait near the doors for five minutes, and Severus nodded and said, "Merci."

"We need a hospital," Severus stated as calmly as possible.

Maybe there was a small amount of mercy here, for the taxi driver understood Severus's request and nodded hastily, not wasting another moment.

Sitting in the back of the taxi cab with Severus, Hermione tried to relax. Once again, Severus was staying level-headed as he wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders and pulled her to him.

"How are you holding up?" he asked softly.

"I'm... surviving," she said, gazing up at his black eyes as another contraction passed. "I'm sorry I yelled before."

"You're pregnant," he conceded, and Hermione was amazed anew at how understanding and gentle Severus could be at times, for all his seemingly detached and cold exterior to the rest of the world. "Everything will be fine. Do you think you're going to go early?"

Severus's eyes shifted from Hermione's face to something outside the window, and he stated, "We're here."

"Oh, thank Merlin, God, and all that's sacred," Hermione breathed as the car pulled up in front of the emergency entrance.

Most of the way, Severus seemed to remain ever-stable to keep himself calm and collected. Hermione was more grateful for this characteristic than ever. She never imagined five years ago that he would one day be her husband, but the man who everyone had thought a traitor, a Death Eater, and even dead at one point, had managed to survive Nagini's supposedly fatal bite and had been exonerated because of Harry Potter's testimony.

He paid the driver and helped Hermione out of the vehicle. Stepping into the hosptial, Hermione was pleased to see that the signage was in both English and French.

Severus was given directions to the maternity ward in good English, so he pushed Hermione through the corridors, following the signs.

"Thank you for staying so calm and for understanding," Hermione said.

"Someone has to," Severus commented dryly. "I'm trying to control what I can here. I've been trying to prepare myself for this day for months now, and I thought I'd be ready, but nothing can prepare you for-"

Hermione released a small cry, interrupting Severus's statement, but he didn't let it deter him from getting his wife to their destination. He was a Potions master, after all, so focus and concentration were essential to his daily work.

"We're here," Severus announced.

"May I help you?" a nurse asked from behind the desk.

She must have heard Severus's English, Hermione thought.

"I believe my wife is in labor," Severus replied.

"You are visiting, yes?" the nurse inquired.

"Yes, we're on holiday. Now, can you kindly help us?" Severus asked, impatience creeping into his voice.

"I expect so," Hermione said, using the arms of the chair to steady herself and help raise her awkward body out of the seat. With a groan, she stood and flopped gracelessly onto the exam table.

"You will need to change into these," the nurse instructed, handing Hermione a hospital gown. "The open part in the back, please. I will return in five minutes, yes?"

Hermione nodded weakly. Once they were alone, Severus noted, "You haven't had any contractions since we were coming up to the maternity ward."

"No," Hermione admitted, wondering what was going on. "I hope... I don't know what I hope."

She fumbled out of her robe and into the gown, wondering if she had caused a false alarm.

"This is ridiculous," Hermione muttered, crossing her arms over her belly. "What's going on in there, baby?" she posed, looking at her protruding stomach.

"Do you want the baby to come now?" Severus asked curiously. "Or would you be relieved if it were just a false alarm?"

Fear suddenly siezed Hermione as her mind immediately went to the worst possible scenario. "Severus, what if- what if something happened to the baby?"

Just then, the nurse knocked and entered. "I will hook you up to a fetal monitor. Do not worry - It will not hurt. We are going to check your baby's heartbeat, and I will examine you."