Chapter 7: Twin Hatred

Harry's breath caught in his throat and choked him. A thousand thoughts ran through his head as he heard Hermione cry out in distress. Each and every one of them involved Hermione losing the twins. In a few, Hermione died as well. He couldn't bear it, not any of it. He reached her bedroom and set her down as gently as he could.

By this time he could feel painful sobs threatening to burst forth, so Harry fled the room. He spun on his heels and raced out the door and through the castle. He heard Draco sneering at him some cruel remark, but for once he just let it go; he had someone worth worrying over on his mind. He ran at full tilt past a stunned Professor McGonagall and very nearly ran into Ron, who fell in behind him.

"Harry, what's wrong?" he asked, obviously worried.

Silence.

"Is You-Know-Who back?"

No response.

"Harry, tell me what's bloody going on!" Ron said desperately.

"It's Hermione," Harry said, gasping for breath.

"She's not- she isn't- she hasn't-?"

"No, Ron, but she's gong to if I can't get Pomfrey fast enough.

A few seconds later they burst into the hospital ward, which was strangely empty. Thankfully, Madame Pomfrey was in her office when he and Ron came charging in. She looked up from a stack of papers she was filing when the two boys came flying in and nearly knocked her over. She knew then that something wasn't right.

"What can I do for you, boys?" she asked, trying not to worry. 'Just because they come doesn't mean it's about Ms. Granger…one of their other friends might be hurt…'

"Madame Pomfrey, it's Hermione," Ron said breathlessly.

"She slipped and fell," continued Harry, "and when I left her, she was screaming, and I think-"

Harry was cut off when he realized Pomfrey had just used floo powder and traveled to Hermione's apartment…

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Hermione lay on her bed, tears running down her face from the pain that just wouldn't go away, wouldn't stop. From time to time it would get so bad all she could do was scream. She knew that since she wasn't even six months along, the twins would have almost no chance of surviving. Then again, here she had magic – they might live.

Her face was deathly pale as she lay helpless on her bed, angry at Harry and angry at herself. She was angry at Harry for tucking tail and running when she needed him, but angry at herself for not being more careful about getting out of the tub. She heard a loud snapping sound, but it didn't quite register in her pain-stricken mind that help might be only seconds away.

"Ms. Granger?" a voice, a familiar voice, said, breaking through her panic. "Where are you?"

"I'm in the bedroom," she replied weakly.

Madame Pomfrey came bursting forth from her living room. She was her usual no-nonsense self, telling her after a quick yet thorough exam that she was going to be transported directly to St. Mungos. This scared Hermione, but she kept quiet as she knew Pomfrey would only do what was best for her and the twins she was carrying…or had been, at least, she wasn't sure about anything anymore.

Pomfrey gripped her wrist tightly, so tightly Hermione was sure she would never have feeling in it again. She had the familiar sensation of being pulled through a narrow tube before the pressure released and she found herself standing in St. Mungos in only her conjured, rather tight-fitting swim suit with an old, semi-translucent robe thrown over it. She bit back another cry of pain and doubled over instead to clutch her abdomen. She wished that this could all be over, and not for the first time she wanted to pulverize Eric, maybe run his balls through a blender while still attached to him, even. All she could think of was how much she hated him, how much she couldn't stand him anymore.

A young healer with bright, bubble-gum pink hair who reminded her of Tonks led her away from Madame Pomfrey and into a private room where a specialist took over her care, assisted by the Tonks-like person. She asked Hermione to take off her robe so she could do a more meticulous assessment. Cringing in pain, she did as she was asked, willing to do anything to be liberated of the terror and agony that plagued her. The healer probed her enlarging stomach gently for a couple minutes before she muttered a complicated-sounding spell and began waving her wand over Hermione's abdomen. After a sew more minutes she let her wand and wand hand fall back to her side as she turned to address her patient.

"Ms. Granger, I'm very sorry to say this, but you have to make a choice," she began hesitantly, not quite able to meet her eyes.

"Wha-what do you mean?" she stammered in reply.

"Ms. Granger, if you don't make this choice, you're going to lose both of your girls. You body's just simply not able to carry both of them…I'm so sorry to tell you this, but you're going to have to let one go or else lose them both and probably yourself as well," finished the healer.

Hermione felt herself go numb. This couldn't be happening, not to her, not to her girls. There had to be another way…

"No, I won't do it. I wouldn't kill them then, and I won't do it now," she said with a lot more conviction than she really felt. "There has to be another way, something else we can do, something else you can do. I can't and I won't murder my own little girl."

"You're going to kill both of them if you don't. Isn't one life lost better than losing two, maybe three? Are you really going to let them both go because you're too selfish to let one go?" the healer said gently, pity as well as sadness flooding her blue eyes.

"No. I won't do it," she repeated, nearly yelling this time. "You can't make me! It isn't right, isn't fair, and YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!" she screamed as she felt those hated tears roll down her cheeks.

The healer with the pink hair stepped in next to her, but Hermione didn't even try to push her away. She didn't shove her hand away, either, as she reached around her tentatively, wrapped an arm around her, and gave her a hug. She didn't resist it, either, when she sat down next to her and pulled her up next to her, letting her cry on her shoulder. Through her tears Hermione saw that her name was Rachael and that she too was crying.

"Honey, I've been there," she said, beginning to rock her.

"You were?" she sobbed, leaning into the strangers embrace, the only comfort she could find in a world that suddenly seemed unbearably cold.

"Yeah…three years ago…my little boy, he was the result of rape, but I loved him and his brother so much…I was only five months along when it happened…no matter what they did, no one could get the bleeding to stop permanently, not the pain, either…"

"Yeah?" Hermione sniffled against her shoulder. She couldn't help but notice the pleasant smell of vanilla and roses that Rachael smelt of.

"Finally they brought me in, my parents, I mean. The healers told me the same thing they told you, that I had to make a choice. Like you, I refused, so they decided to try something totally new. They removed one of the boys, Tomas, and used magic to try to allow him to live, and he did…but he didn't make it to his first birthday; he died of a lung infection just two weeks before his first birthday."

"I'm so sorry!"

"Don't be – you're starting to sound like Denise now. Go with your heart, sweetie, okay? I wasn't much older than you when that all happened…in some ways I regret what I did and wish I had just let him die instead of prolonging his suffering like that, but then I think of the smiles and giggles and I realize that he lived a pretty good, happy life, and I wouldn't exchange those memories for the world."

"Do you think…Do you think that it might work for me?"

"It might, but listen to your heart on this one. You might regret it if you don't."

"Thanks," Hermione said, smiling through her tears. "That's what I'm going to do…she isn't going to die, not today, anyway."

"Well, let's get you prepped for surgery, then," Denise broke in, looking annoyed.

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Several hours later Hermione was beginning to wake up from the special anesthesia that she had been on during the operation. She felt somehow emptier as she came to, as if a piece of her were missing. As she became more and more awake, she remembered that she no longer was carrying one of her girls…

She had already told them her first born was to be named Jennifer Kay Granger before going into surgery. She saw a small, magical incubator next to her bed and peered inside. Lying inside was a baby hardly recognizable as a baby, let alone hers. She was tiny, seemingly too tiny for her own skin which wasn't quite filled out. Her eyes were shut, and instead of placing her bracelet on her wrist, the delivery team had taped it to her incubator. Her breathing was barely perceptible and tubes were crawling all over her tiny body.

As her mother watched, Jennifer slowly moved her head as if the light bothered her even through her clenched eyes. It was all Hermione could do not to cry. How was this tiny being supposed to live? She was too small, too fragile. It made her sick to think of what she was going to put her little girl through and hurt terribly to think of the prone, helpless little creature as her daughter. She turned her head away and ignored the tiny being, her only way of trying to prevent the hurt to herself. She was surprised to feel hatred towards the baby for being born too soon and towards her sister for still being safely inside of her, growing like a normal baby while she had practically shoved her sister out to her death. She knew it wasn't in her heart anymore to love either of them; how could she love a murderer and someone who was only going to hurt her in the end?