This story is over a year in the writing. I signed up for the Review's Lounge "Birthday" Challenge and began writing. Then I myself became pregnant and my husband had surgery. Between caring for him, morning sickness and my other two children . . . yeah, not much time.

Then the baby was born prematurely and writing about a nice little birth when mine went so bad wasn't high on my list. Now, six months and a move later, it is finally finished.

Side note: There is no "mother and baby" floor At St. Mungo's so I gave Hannah a home birth.

Birth Days: Augusta Longbottom

"MRS. LONGBOTTOM!"

I jerked awake, my bedroom lit with soft, silvery glow. A large mare with a long, flowing mane was prancing around my room, speaking in the voice of Ginny Potter. "Mrs. Longbottom, Hannah's in labor and they want you there. When you're ready, send your reply by return Patronus and I'll Floo over to take you to the Leaky." The mare dissolved.

I snorted and flung my feet over the side of my bed. She'd Floo over indeed! What did they think- that I was some old woman who couldn't handle the Floo by herself?

After sending a curt, "I'll be right over, no need to help," I dressed in my most comfortable, smartest suit and hat (a stuffed robin, for the spring) before grabbing my pocketbook. Striding over to the fireplace, I grabbed the walking stick (it is just for show, I don't really need it but it keeps people from crowding me on the street) and was about to grab the Floo powder when the low fire glowed green. A second later, Ginny Potter steps into my bedroom, dusting ashes and soot onto the clean floor. Bother.

"Young lady," I began sternly but Ginny holds up one hand with a grin.

"Good evening to you too," she says smartly. "I know you don't need my help with the Floo but Harry set up protective wards all along the residential rooms of the Leaky. Reporters have been pestering Neville and Hannah day and night, waiting for the birth. Anyway, no one can Floo in or out unless Neville himself has brought you within the charms. He came and got me after the midwife arrived. I can bring you in because I was allowed inside."

"Hurmp," I say, adjusting the clasp on my bag. "I do not need help, young lady," I added, a small hand touched my arm. "You might, however." My gaze flickers over her rounded stomach and she blushes. "How far along on you now, anyway?"

"Four months."

"Four months? Hurmp. I always heard you show more with the third. Well, stop looking like a guppy and get in here!" Ginny closes her mouth and chuckles, before stepping into the fireplace. Firmly taking my arm in her hand (What is it with these young ones, always trying to help?), she shouts, "The Leaky Caldron!" and tosses the powder.

Two figures scurried up the path in the moonlight. The door to the little cottage banged open and a tall man stepped out. His hair was sticking up and he looked like he needed a good shave.

"Mum. Dad." He stepped forward to embrace each before ushering them inside. With a wave of his wand, the door sealed itself and glowed brightly for a moment before fading back into the dimly lit hall.

"How is she, son?"

"Alright." Frank ran his hands through his hair and cast a worried glance at the stairs. The sound of water running reached their ears. "She's in the shower now. The midwife says it helps with the pain. It's been awhile, though."

"Now, Frank, every husband says that. How long has Alice really been in labor?"

Frank smiled ruefully and ticked off the time on her fingers. "We guess the contractions began around 3 but she said they didn't really hurt until 7, soooo…"

"Three hours?" suggested Augusta, smiling gently.

Frank shook his head. "Three am… so about nineteen hours."

Oh. That really was "awhile."

We arrive in the living room of the Leaky's living quarters, Ginny slightly green around the mouth. I step out smartly, ready to help; she leans against the fireplace. I smile slightly. "Floo trips always made me ill when I was with child. Now, where is my grandson and his wife?"

"When I left, they were headed to the bathroom," Ginny said, pushing herself away from the wall. We walk across the bright, neat living room and into the hall. I have to give Hannah credit; she's a first rate housekeeper and witch. Not a speck of dust anywhere. You would never know we were teetering on the edge of Muggle London; all the windows have been charmed to show a pretty English meadow instead of the dirty streets. All Hannah's doing, mind. Neville's a bright boy (the houseplants are his doing) but charming a window scene is beyond him.

A warm mist floated out from under the bathroom door and I could hear a strange voice say, "Breathe in… relax… there you go. It's almost over. Here, have another sip of tea."

"The midwife," explained Ginny, turning the knob to the door.

My granddaughter was floating in a (magically expanded) tub, steaming rising in soft curling waves from the water. Her head was pillowed on a folded towel, one hand holding Neville's, the other curled around her midwife's. Her eyes are closed and she appeared to be asleep; Neville's eyes were wide and he appeares to be shocked. Silly boy. Babies happen everyday.

"Hannah," he says softly. Her eyes fluttered open. "Gran is here."

"Gran," she whispers softly, letting go of her midwife and reaching for me. I walk forward and take the smooth, white hand in my old, wrinkled one. I feel her hand squeeze before she shuts her eyes again. "So glad you made it."

Alice was in the bathroom but not in the shower. She wore only a shirt that went down to her knees and thick socks. She was gripping the edge of the sink, swaying back and forth, breathing deeply. The midwife sat on the edge of the nearby toilet, her wand pointed at Alice's belly, one eye on her watch.

"Perfect," she said when Alice let out a deep sigh and looked up. "This little tyke is taking his… or her… sweet time but is doing just fine."

"Wish I could say the same thing for me," muttered Alice, sliding down to a squat.

"You're doing perfect too!" laughed the midwife. "Some babies just like to take their time, is all. This babe'll be mellow and easy going, just like the labor. You'll see."

"Easy?" snorted Alice. "I- Ooohhhh…." And she rose slowly, breathing deeply and swaying. Frank was at her side, his palm firmly on her lower back, his voice whispering, "One less contraction, that's it. One less contraction until you meet the baby."

When the contraction passed, Alice turned her head to her in-laws. "Wotcher," she said with a cheeky, tired grin. "Ready to be grandparents?"

In all my born days, I've not seen anything like it. The magical, large tub was filled with water, kept at Hannah's preferred temperature with a handy little charm. (The midwife was, apparently, good at charms.) Soft, sweet smelling herbs (ground by my grandson) were mixed in, giving the water a faint purple hue.

"The scent is soothing and the herbs take the edge off the pain," Neville said when he saw me poke it with my cane. Hannah openes one eye to glare at him before closing it again. "Well, the midwife says they do, anyway."

"Well, now. My midwife kept me to my bed when I was birthing your father," I huff, sifting on the hard lid of the loo. A scowl and a wave of my wand (Why hadn't they thought to use a Cushioning Charm before?) made it tolerable. "You're not going to have this baby in the water, are you?"

"I don't know," Hannah murmurs.

"We'll see when the time comes," said the midwife smoothly. "Now you there, budge over." Both Neville and I move. "Oh, not you Mrs. Longbottom. The great-gran's get it sit and relax. Neville, scoot down." He does and Hannah turns to the side, exposing her round belly above the water. Another contraction comes, her tight skin growing even tighter, a small moan escaping her lips. The midwife waved her wand and stared at her watch.

"Perfect, just perfect," she soothed when the contraction had passed. "Heartbeat's right on target and you're moving along fine, Hannah. Won't be long now."

Augusta stood next to Frank, who was rubbing his eyes. "I don't know how she's managed to do this," he said wearily. "I'm beat. It's been 24 hours now and no baby. I honestly don't know how much longer I can keep this up!"

"You need to rest," said Augusta sternly.

Frank looked at her like she had turned into a hippogriff. "My wife is in labor and you suggest I nap? Are you insane, Mother?"

"I'm not suggesting you head to the Leaky like your father did when I was in labor with you," she snorted. "Go throw yourself on the couch for half an hour. Dad's down there now. I'll wake you if anything changes." Frustrated at his incredulous stares, she tapped her foot impatiently. "Frank Longbottom, I gather that having birthed my own child and helped at the births of my friends, I can rub the back of your wife and make sure she sips her water as well as you can. Now get!" Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel and stalked back into the bathroom.

"I sent the father for a nap," she informed the midwife, who laughed.

"Good, then." She took the shower head and aimed in on Alice's belly. Alice smiled wearily and nodded. "Take off your shoes and hop in there with her. She's having some back pain and wants counter pressure."

"Come on Alice," said Augusta, grabbing the sock filled with tennis balls and pressing it against her daughter-in-law's back. "I'll press and you sway. Tell this baby he needs to come out!"

Hannah was out of the tub, breathing fast and swaying back and forth. The air in the apartment had changed- it was crackling and electric, filled with the waiting promise of new life. The midwife and I exchanged a look- no, not long now.

"Neville." Ginny's gentle voice broke through Hannah's deep breathing. Neville jumped and Augusta recognized the look on his face. He looked like he had lost Trevor the toad- again. "Neville, I think now would be a good time to brew those teas I brought."

"Yes. Right. Tea." He made no move to move.

"Neville…"

"Oh, for goodness sake, child!" I snap, clomping the walking stick on the ground. Neville came out of his revere. "Ginny and the midwife will take care of her. This baby won't come without you here. Let's go make that tea." He nodded dumbly, following me out of the room.

"My boy, you single handily dueled Voldemort's followers in the Ministry, ran the DA by yourself under the Carrows noses and killed that snake. Now why are you looking like Trevor was hit by the Hogwart's Express?" He shrugged, shivering slightly in the coolness of the hall. "Young man, you may about to become a father but don't give me that! What is wrong with you, boy?"

"M-my father," he whispered.

"Still in St. Mungo's, last I checked. What about him?" Neville shuffled his feet, his hands deep in his pockets, mumbling. "Speak up, child. What about your father?"

"I never had a father, alright? So, how am I supposed to be a father if I never had one?"

Oh. So that is the problem. Silly boy. "You are a Gryffindor, young man. It doesn't take knowledge to be a good father. It takes guts and bravery and the ability to think on your feet in a crisis. Neville Longbottom, if you can kill a snake with the Sorting Hat on your head and fire around your body, you can be a father." Turning on my heel, I stalk into the kitchen. "Let's get this tea ready for when that baby comes. I doubt it will wait much longer, what with all the racket your wife is making."

The midwife waved her wand over Alice's belly. The haze left by the spell turned white, then green. A grin spread across her face. "I think we're ready to go," she said.

"About time," Alice grunted.

"I'll get Frank," said Augusta, turning on her heel and walking sharply down the stairs.

Frank was asleep on the couch, his arm flung across his eyes, mouth open. Augusta poked him with her finger. "Frank!"

"What!" He sat straight up, instantly awake.

"Time for that child of yours to make an entrance."

"Really?"

"Yes, really!" Augusta snapped, but with a smile on her face. "Budge up and go upstairs. We'll wait." With a sleepy crazed smile on his face, Frank bounded up the stairs without looking back. Tired, Augusta sank into the couch, smiling at her husband. "Are you ready to be a Granddad?"

"It's time," said the midwife smoothly, observing Hannah from a distance as she moaned into Ginny's shoulder. "Where would you like to push, Hannah?"

"I don't care!" she snapped, moaning again. "I just want to be done!" The midwife laughed softly.

"And you will be, love, you will. Soon you will have your own sweet baby in your arms and this will all be behind you, forgotten."

"I doubt it," she moaned, and Ginny chuckled.

"You will," she promised, pushing back Hannah's hair and looping one arm around her waist. "One look at the little face and this will all be worth it."

Echoes were coming from upstairs, the cries of the midwife to "stop pushing!" and Frank's counting.

"I'm not pushing!" they heard Alice finally yell. "It's just happening on it's own!"

"This kid is sure ready to come now!" Frank said over her voice, laughing.

"Ginny, you hold one leg," the midwife said briskly. "Gran, you take the over."

"Excuse me?" I said.

"Take the other leg and hold it to help push," she said in a voice that left no room for argument.

"Another one's coming," Hannah breathed, grasping Neville's hand. He winced.

"When you feel the contraction, bear down . . . "

"One, two, three . . ."

Alice swore. "Shut UP and stop counting!"

"Alright, love."

"And don't call me love!"

Hannah swore. Where the child learned such language. . . . "This hurts!"

"I can see the head!" said Ginny from her spot on the other side of the bed. "I can see it!"

"I . . . don't . . . care!"

"One more push, Alice! The head's right there!"

A grunt, a groan, and then . . .

Then . . . nothing.

"A deep breath, Hannah, and give it one more push!"

"You've been saying that for hours! I'm so tired."

"No, really, love, we can see a lovely little head, full of hair! It's almost over, I promise."

"Neville Frank Longbottom, you are sleeping on the couch . . . oh, damn!"

"Push, Hannah!"

Then . . .

Frank bounded down the stairs, two at a time, the faint cry of a newborn training after him. "It's a boy!" he shouted, throwing himself at his parents. He grabbed his father in an exuberant hug and spun his mother around until she laughed. "A boy! A son! I have a son!"

"It's over?" Augusta asked, dazed.

"Yes, yes, it's over! After all that time, he was born in ten minutes!"

"Name?"

"Nevlle. Neville Frank Longbottom."

"Look!" And suddenly, the air is filled with a lusty cry and the midwife is holding a wiggly, wet, bloody, failing created, who is obviously quite upset at the cold welcome it is receiving. "Neville, Hannah, look at your daughter!"

"Daughter?" Neville says in wonder as the baby is plopped on his wife's stomach. "We have a girl?"

"That is generally what a daughter is, yes," I say smartly, as Ginny begins to cry. I never understand why women cry at these things. Oh, dear, is the roof leaking? Well, the don't call it The Leaky Caldron for nothing, I guess.

"A girl," she coos. "Our sweet, smart, beautiful baby girl. Look how big she is!"

"She is big," agrees the midwife. "I'd say nine pounds. What say you, Gran?"

"Neville was ten," I nod.

"Ten?" he asks in wonder, his eyes never leaving his daughter's face.

"Your poor mother," laughs Hannah, kissing and rubbing the baby with a towel.

"Oh, she's so precious," says Ginny, dabbing at her eyes with the corner of a receiving blanket. "What's her name?"

They exchange a look and then Hannah starts to cry. Neville snakes his arm around her and kisses her, murmuring sweet nothings. I look away.

"Well, Gran, we'd like too . . . I mean, if you don't care . . . ."

"Spit it out, child."

"Alice," he says quickly. "Alice Augusta Longbottom."

Hurmp. Well, he was always a sentimental fool. And why is this roof leaking? I should tell Neville about it. . . . later.

"Look at him!" said Frank proudly, carefully handing the blue-wrapped bundle to his mother. "Careful, now, hold his head." Augusta shot him a dirty look and her husband laughed.

"She knows how to hold babies son!"

"But not MY baby!" he protested, as if his baby was rare and needed careful handling.

"He's MY grandson!" she said indignantly and Alice gave a tired laugh.

"He is that. I think he looks like his granddad," she said cheekily. "Completely bald!" Everyone laughed.

"Listen to them, teasing you," Augusta clucked to the baby. "You aren't bald, you sweet thing. You have little wispy blond hair, yes you do. You are the most handsome baby ever!" Baby Neville yawned and opened an eye. And then . . .

Her husband swore it was gas but she knew it was a smile.

The midwife left and poor Ginny Potter, all keyed up, went to the kitchen to fix us all something to eat. Neville ate but Hannah only picked at her food.

"Hannah, eat some toast. You'll thank me later," Ginny said.

"No, really . . ."

"Do you want me to hold little Alice while you eat?" offered Neville.

"Nooo . . ." Her eyes searched the room before she said, "Gran? Will you take the baby for a moment?"

"Hannah, are you . . .?"

"Oh, knock it off Neville!" she snapped. "I need help using the loo and I am sure your gran is capable of sitting in a chair, holding the baby!"

I can see him thinking but a stern look from his wife and a chuckle from Ginny brought a shrug to his shoulders. In a moment, the little bundle was in my lap and Ginny and Neville were helping Hannah to the loo.

Neville was fat, red and squished baby who looked a lot like that Muggle, Churchill. Baby Alice, in spite of the fact that she was five ounces bigger than her father, is round, pink and smells like fairy dust.

"Look at you," I said, shifting her in my arms. "Do you know who you are named for? Your gran, who gave her health and sanity protecting the wizarding world. Do you know what your parents did? Saved us a second time, that's what. But I don't think you care much about that at all. I think you just care about your milk!" She openes first one blue eye, then the next. "At least you have lots of pretty hair. Your great-gran is going to buy you lovely ribbons for your hair, did you know?"

Then . . . .

"Awe, look at that," said Neville as he appeared near my shoulder. "She has gas."

I looked at him sternly. "That's not gas, young man. She's smiling at her great-gran!"