Chapter 7: Thinking Of You
"Well, you seem perfectly healthy to me," Madam Pomfrey said with satisfaction. "How is the nausea?"
"Gone," Hermione said, with profound relief. Her morning sickness hadn't been at all severe, according to Madam Pomfrey, but it had been very uncomfortable. It was good to eat a proper breakfast again. "I haven't been sick since Tuesday."
"Wonderful." The nurse tapped her wand lightly against Hermione's stomach, muttering another diagnostic spell. "And the tiredness?"
"Less, I think," Hermione said uncertainly. "I haven't fallen asleep sitting up for a couple of days, but I'm still tired."
"Well, give it another week or so. It'll go." Madam Pomfrey beamed at her. "Everything is going perfectly... except for the fact that you're doing too much, as usual. I want you to go to bed early tonight, and no more studying this afternoon." Her thirteen-week check-up was actually her twelve-weeks-and-six-days checkup, since Sunday morning was the best time for both of them, and so far every Sunday since the start of term had involved being told to rest more.
Hermione blushed guiltily. "It won't hurt the baby if I study, surely?" she asked worriedly. She still didn't look pregnant, but she could feel a very slight, firm swell now. It made the pregnancy feel a bit more real than just vomiting a lot had done. "I'll read in bed."
"As long as you let yourself nap when you get drowsy, studying in bed is permissible," Madam Pomfrey said, after giving her a warning look. "But exhausting yourself is not good for the baby, as well you know. Have you been taking your potion?"
"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said obediently. She'd been rather surprised to discover that there was a wizarding equivalent to pre-natal vitamins, and she'd taken both wizard and Muggle supplements conscientiously, once Madam Pomfrey had assured her that the two wouldn't interact badly. "I was wondering…. Where did you get it? The potion, I mean. It can't be something you usually keep on hand."
"Professor Snape brews all the infirmary's potions." Madam Pomfrey smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, his brewings are always of the highest quality."
That made her feel... odd. Guilty, because once again he had to do something for her that he probably didn't want to, but relieved as well. There would be no mistakes in that potion, at least. "Did he mind?" she asked, nibbling her lower lip. Thinking about him... and talking about him... were like picking at a scab. It hurt, but she couldn't help herself. "I mean, I could brew it myself quite easily, it's a very simple one. If he didn't want to waste his time on it."
"Why would he mind? He does all the others." Madam Pomfrey nodded, and nudged Hermione off the bed she'd been sitting on. "Well, that's it. I'll see you next week - and get some sleep!"
She looked brighter this morning than she had in a long time. According to Poppy Pomfrey, the pregnancy was so far proceeding along blissfully normal lines, and the nausea had gone away.
Not that he'd asked. He'd gone up to the infirmary to deliver a new batch of simple burn ointment and had not been allowed to escape without hearing the details of Hermione Granger's approaching motherhood. He couldn't entirely blame Poppy... after years of tending normal school-child bumps and bruises, with the occasional horrible accident or badly-damaged Death Eater Potions master, a pregnancy must be at least an interesting change.
Now that she was eating properly again, he noticed, she was careful to eat well. She'd been ignoring the rich desserts and greasy options at table, unlike most of her fellow teenagers, and contenting herself with moderate portions of simple foods. He had no idea if this was her normal pattern, or if she was making dietary sacrifices for the sake of the child. He had never paid attention to what she ate before. He was angry with himself for paying attention now.
Severus sipped his strong, bitter coffee, and found his eyes straying again to Hermione Granger. As always, she was sitting with the other two members of the Trio... now a Quartet, as Ginny Weasley seemed to have made herself a permanent member. All three of them seemed to have lost interest in fussing over Hermione (the novelty having presumably worn off), but he'd noticed the Weasley girl watching her carefully. If he knew Molly Weasley, young Ginny had been ordered to provide regular bulletins on how much Hermione ate and what, how well she slept, and in general all the details a motherly and extremely nosy woman could want.
He found himself wondering if Albus and Draco were right about the girl... and for that matter, whose interpretation was closer. Albus saw her as a younger Molly, preparing to coddle and spoil a dearly desired baby. Draco's brief discourse on the subject had held her up as a model of maternal nobility, willing to risk her most treasured ambitions in order to bring the child to term. Both had seemed convinced, however, that she wanted and cared for the child.
His child.
Why would a pretty young witch, a genuine heroine with a bright future and doubtless a half-dozen brainless young louts vying for her affections, burden herself with a fatherless baby? Her chances for employment would be substantially limited by the presence of a tiny dependent. And there was the better-than-average chance that the child would resemble him - if there were rumours of promiscuity now, bearing his unacknowledged son or daughter would seal them forever. Even if it didn't look at all like him, having a baby a couple of months before sitting her N.E.W.T.s would disrupt her studies badly. Draco was right, she was risking all her most treasured ambitions for the child's sake. Not sacrificing them, she wasn't such a fool, but risking them certainly.
Could Albus and Draco be right? She genuinely wanted the child? Certainly she had claimed to, when she'd come to his office to confess, but he'd put it down to the usual cloying Gryffindor sentimentality, not any reasoned acceptance of the impact a child would have on her life.
Frowning, he watched her rise from the table, smiling up at Ron Weasley as he clumsily stepped back out of her way. She fell in beside him, following Harry Potter's lead out of the Hall.
Following Harry Potter, as she always had. He scowled, pushing his untouched breakfast away. He was wasting far too much thought on the chit.
"Hey, Hermione."
She couldn't have said what it was about Michael Corner's greeting that raised her hackles. Possibly the use of her first name - he'd gone out with Ginny, but he and Hermione had never known each other well. "Hello, Michael," she said politely, but she didn't make any motion to shift the piles of books and notes all over the table to make room for him. If he wanted to borrow her notes or get her help with his homework, he was going to have to ask. Politely. While standing.
Instead, he moved a stack of books and sat down on the bench beside her. "Listen, uh... I was wondering," he said tentatively. "Do you have a partner yet for that Transfiguration project we're doing next week?"
"Susan and I were planning to do it together." Susan Bones wasn't a genius at Transfiguration, but she was steady and not prone to sloppy wand-work. The transfiguration of a single object by two people simultaneously was difficult at best, and Hermione had secretly been quite glad that Harry and Ron had immediately opted to work together.
"Oh." Corner fiddled aimlessly with one of the coloured strips of paper she used for bookmarks. "Well..." He gave her a hopeful look, clearly hoping she would make some sort of conversation for him. Hermione had had that ploy used on her far too often by Ron and Harry and just raised her eyebrows, waiting. Corner squirmed and looked away. "Are you... er... going with anybody on the next Hogsmeade weekend?" he asked a copy of Asiatic Anti-Venoms.
Hermione blinked. And surreptitiously pinched herself. "Er... no, not really..."
"Good." He fiddled with the bookmark some more. "Would you like to go with me, then?"
"I..." Hermione had never in her life had to turn anyone down. Only two boys had ever asked her out (she'd been the one to ask McLaggen) and she'd been delighted by both Viktor's request and Ron's... at the time, anyway. How on earth did you say 'good God, no' politely? "I'm... flattered, but..."
"It'd be fun," he said earnestly. "We could go to the bookshop, and to Honeydukes, and to the Three Broomsticks and... uh... you know..."
Hermione opened her mouth to say a polite but firm no, and then closed it abruptly. Had he just suggested what his wheedling tone sounded like it was suggesting? "We could go to the Three Broomsticks and...?" she said, doing her best to simulate polite interest.
"Well... you know," he said, blushing a bit and giving her a decidedly hopeful look.
"Spell it out for me." Polite interest was out the window now, and her voice was decidedly chilly.
Corner looked a bit embarrassed, but seemed unaware that he should be on his feet and running. "Well, you can't get any more... you know... than you are, and I thought, well..."
Hermione's eyebrows were attempting to climb into her hair. "Let me see if I understand you," she said frostily. "You would like to go with me to the Three Broomsticks, where presumably we would hire a room and go at it like rabid Kneazles. Right. What exactly made you think that suggesting that was a good idea?"
Had either Ron or Harry heard her direct that tone at them, they would already have been begging forgiveness on bended knee. Any sensible person would, at the least, have run for it. Corner, apparently, was the sort to counter embarrassment with bluster. "Well, there's no harm in asking," he said defensively, looking pointedly at her stomach. "It's not like everyone doesn't know that you don't mind a bit of - "
Hermione slapped him so hard he was knocked off the bench and onto the floor. "You have until I count to three," she said grimly, reaching for her wand. "Then I'll make sure you're never able to make that kind of offer again. One... two..."
Corner scrambled to his feet and bolted, swearing.
Hermione stared after him, her face hot and her fist clenched around her wand. Everyone knew she didn't mind a bit of, did they? Talking about her behind her back, implying that she was a... She bit her lip, her eyes stinging. How dared they!
She heard a quiet chuckle behind her, and swung around, wand raised - to find Draco Malfoy leaning against a bookshelf and looking decidedly amused. "If he hadn't been such a lout, I'd have felt sorry for him," he said, rubbing his own jaw absently. "Your slaps have a fair bit of force behind them, if I remember right."
She deflated slightly. Draco had been making an effort to be civil, at least, since they'd returned to the school, and they'd managed to become... not friends, precisely, but tentatively friendly. "He deserved it."
"Oh, undoubtedly." Draco grinned lopsidedly at her. "I'm sure it will be good for him."
"He can have another, if the first one doesn't do the job." She made herself put the wand down - her fingernails had dug painfully into her palm. "So was he right?"
A pale eyebrow rose. "About your enthusiasm for a bit of unspecified? I wouldn't know."
She snorted. "About 'everyone knowing' that I like a bit of unspecified."
"There are rumours," he admitted, after a moment's thought. "Common in Slytherin, of course... you're decidedly unpopular there, under the circumstances. I don't have much civil contact with members of the other Houses, but from what I hear, the rumours are there but not accepted as fact, at least not by everyone." He shrugged. "A lad desperate for a shag is capable of believing almost anything, as Corner has kindly demonstrated."
"That's true." And made her feel a little better. She knew perfectly well how stupid teenaged boys could be when it came to the prospect of sex. That didn't mean anyone else thought... that... about her. "Thanks," she said, a little stiffly. It still felt odd, having a conversation with Draco Malfoy.
"You're welcome." Draco shrugged again. "What are the rumours about me?"
She'd walked into that. She had to tell him, now that he'd done the same service for her. "That you're either a turncoat or simply a coward. People are still suspicious of Professor Snape, but being part of the Order means that they're wary of condemning him outright. The general consensus about you is that he used bribery and blackmail to keep you out of Azkaban because he's your godfather."
Draco made an amused noise. "That's fairly close to the truth. What do you think?"
Hermione lifted her chin, meeting his eyes squarely. "I think it takes a lot of courage to admit that you've been that badly wrong," she said firmly. "And even more to actually sever your own arm and... make use of it."
Cool grey eyes held hers for a moment, and then he smiled a small but genuine smile. "Actually, the arm was the easier part. But thank you."
"You're welcome." She returned his smile. "Thank you for what you did. It would have taken months or years longer to defeat... him... without you."
"I know. I wouldn't have bothered to help, otherwise." Draco inclined his head, his expression wry. "I am still a Slytherin, though a reformed one. If you'd been able to do all the work, I would have let you."
Hermione laughed at that, knowing it was probably as honest as Draco had ever been. "I wouldn't have expected otherwise. But thank you anyway."
He nodded. "I... have to thank you, as well," he said quietly. "For saving my godfather."
Hermione blushed. "It wasn't a big deal," she mumbled, picking her wand up again to fiddle with it. "I just... know Harry."
She'd worked out well before Harry had that the notes with hints to the locations of the Horcruxes weren't really from Dumbledore, no matter what the handwriting looked like. She'd had suspicions then, and when Professor Snape had reappeared, carrying the last of them, she'd been sure.
Harry, being Harry, had cast a particularly vicious hex almost the moment he saw Snape - Sectumsempra, the slashing hex that Snape himself had invented. Against someone who had appeared with both his hands clearly visible, and no wand in either. She'd leaped in front of her Professor without thinking, casting and recasting Protego until Harry had been restrained, and his wand taken away from him. He'd been furious with her, of course, but Ron had convinced him that it had merely been a symptom of excessive tender-heartedness, not treachery.
"So do I. He would have killed Professor Snape if you hadn't intervened - and he probably would have hexed his way straight through anyone else who tried to stop him. So thank you." Draco shrugged and looked away, clearly uncomfortable with the emotional honesty of the moment, and Hermione stifled a sudden urge to laugh. Harry and Draco would both be outraged by the comparison, but they reacted to moments of emotion in exactly the same way.
"There's no need to thank me. I didn't even think, I just threw myself in front of him." She smiled ruefully. "Incurable Gryffindor that I am, I suppose."
"A True Gryffindor would have struck him down where he stood as just punishment for his crimes," Draco said, surprising her with a sudden, intent look. "Justice is the Gryffindor tradition, not mercy. I don't suppose the Hat considered putting you in Hufflepuff?"
"Not for an instant. It was Gryffindor or Ravenclaw." Hermione shook her head. "It's... I suppose it was one of those funny Muggle superstitions that you wizards don't hold with." She met his eyes again. "Under Muggle law, everyone is entitled to a fair and honest trial. No matter what they've done... or seem to have done."
He seemed surprised by that. "What... everyone? Even murderers and the like?"
"Of course. After all, they might not have done it. We have this quaint little custom of demanding evidence when a crime has been committed."
"What, you mean actually prove that someone's done something before locking them up for it?" He shook his head, laughing softly. "Very quaint. Not the way we do things, of course, but... maybe even Muggles can stumble on a good idea or two, given long enough. Probably by accident, of course."
"Oh, undoubtedly," she agreed, returning his smirk. "I'd suggest that they must have gotten the idea from some wizard or other in disguise... except that it's a concept that you people don't seem to have grasped yet."
"Touche." Draco inclined his head politely. "I retreat in confusion." He suited action to word, turning on his heel and slipping away between the shelves.
Hermione sat down at the table again, feeling a bit as if she'd just run a marathon. She wasn't used to the Slytherin conventions of guarded conversation, and she wasn't at all sure she hadn't just made a fool of herself somehow. It seemed quite possible, though, on the balance of the evidence, that she'd just scored some kind of point.
Feeling oddly pleased, she went back to her research.
Draco had been invited to spend as much of his spare time as he wished in his godfather's rooms at the end of the first week of term, when he'd shown up in the hospital wing covered in seeping sores after what he described as a slight hexing incident. The majority of Slytherin House - those who remained, at least - were inclined to still accept him as one of their own, but there were at least a few who saw both him and his godfather as traitors.
Severus tried not to think about that, but was forcibly reminded each time he returned to once-private rooms to find another person reading his books and drinking his tea. He hated having his privacy invaded, even by the boy who had come to stand in for the son he thought he would never have.
Of course he might, now, but only in the technical sense. Draco was unlikely to face any competition for his attention, even after the child was born.
When he entered his study on this particular evening, Draco was sitting in front of the fire, gazing into it with an amused expression. "There's tea," he said, looking up from the fire and grinning. "Do you ever find that you've underestimated someone?"
"Rarely." Severus poured himself a cup of tea, sniffing the steam. This was one benefit of Draco's presence - he loved tea, could mix dozens of different blends even one-handed, and insisted on sharing them. Severus had found himself appreciating the subtle variations, even though he'd rarely ever bothered with anything but strong black tea himself. "Have you?"
"Frequently. But I only had one of them pointed out to me today." Draco sipped his own tea. "It was quite entertaining, actually... Michael Corner approached Hermione Granger with an invitation to go to Hogsmeade with him at Hallowe'en... and followed up with the suggestion that they go to the Three Broomsticks for a bit of 'you know'." Draco snickered. "He was stupid enough to believe the more salacious rumours about her, apparently."
Severus frowned. Whatever the circumstances, he disliked the idea that he had had some part in tarnishing Hermione Granger's reputation. She was a shrill, unimaginative, idiotically loyal shrew, certainly. Her single drunken escapade aside, however, she was a modest shrew who did not plaster her face with makeup, dress like a Knockturn Alley prostitute, or carry on with any willing male at the drop of a hat; and as unfashionable as those qualities were now, he admired them. "I doubt his reception was as warm as he'd hoped," he said dryly, adding a little honey to his tea.
"She slapped him right off the bench and onto the floor," Draco said happily. "She slapped me, once, in third year... I told you, didn't I?"
"You had a bruise, as I recall." Severus didn't resist the urge to chuckle. "I imagine Corner took himself off in quite a hurry."
"Oh, that he did." Draco smirked. "She hit him even harder than she hit me. It upset her, of course, but mostly it made her angry." His expression softened, then. "She thanked me," he said quietly. "For what we did. Helping them." He touched his left sleeve in a gesture that had become habitual when he remembered those months. "She said that she believed it must have taken a great deal of courage."
Severus looked into the fire as well. Another of his assumptions about the girl shattered. He'd always believed she shared Potter's deep and biased dislike of Draco Malfoy. "As it did. The recognition is no more than your due."
"Oh, I know... I just didn't expect to get it from her." Draco smiled a little. "She told me why she saved you, incidentally. I imagine you've wondered."
Every day. "At times. Why?"
"I wondered, too." Draco grinned. "Don't worry, it's not because she's nursing some sort of secret passion for you... at least, I don't think so. She said it was because of a Muggle belief... that everyone, no matter who they are or what they've done, deserves a fair and honest trial. With evidence and all. Which you hadn't had, so she shielded you." He swirled his tea absently in his mug. "I did underestimate her. I thought she was just... a Mudblood. A nothing. But I was wrong..."
Severus gritted his teeth, running through the mental exercises that he had used to maintain a false calm in Voldemort's presence. It wasn't enough that the girl had seduced him while he was incapacitated, and then insisted on carrying his child to term. It wasn't enough that she persisted in shattering his assumptions about her.
Now Draco was damned well attracted to her.
Damn it.
"Harry, you are not allowed to kill him." Hermione laughed, watching Harry pace, clutching at his hair and messing it up more than ever in his fury. "I'm the one whose virtue he questioned, and I handled it."
"You didn't even hex him!" Harry gestured wildly with his wand, pink and gold sparks puffing out of the end. "Something horrible and permanent! Is there an impotence hex?"
"Harry!" Ron gave his friend a horrified look. "That's terrible!"
"I know, but he deserves it!" Harry said, waving his wand again. "Treating Hermione like some kind of... of cheap floozy!"
"Actually, I'm fairly sure he expected to get it for free," Hermione said, straight-faced. Ginny choked, Ron went purple, and Harry made the exact same outraged noise Trevor produced when picked up by the hind legs.
"Are you sure we're not allowed to kill him?" Ron asked pleadingly. "Or we could just duff him up a bit, you know, just so he knows to be polite."
"I hit him so hard he fell off the bench, Ron, I think he knows." Hermione smiled. "But it's sweet of you to offer. If you hear anyone saying anything nasty about me when I'm not around, then you can fight for my virtue, all right?"
"Oh, all right."
"Can I slap him?" Ginny asked, taking steps to calm Harry down by wrapping her arms around his waist and snuggling against his back. "Michael, I mean. It's in such bad taste to make a pass at one of my friends, after I dumped him."
"All right, I suppose you can slap him," Hermione said, since Ginny was certainly entitled to do so. "But only once. Or twice. Don't get excessive about it." It felt so good to know that her friends loved her and would defend her, even against something as minor as a slur on her honour.
"I'll be a perfect lady." Ginny produced a patently false look of innocence. "I'll walk up to him, utter a few choice but profanity-free words, slap him in the accepted forehand-to-the-cheek fashion, and stalk away."
Harry beamed. "Isn't she wonderful?"
"I like her." Hermione smiled fondly at them both. The two of them seemed set to last, thank whatever powers might watch over such things. Harry needed someone steady and practical.
Ginny smiled, and leaned over to give Hermione a quick, tight hug. "I like you too," she said affectionately. "I don't blame you for ditching the walking hormone, but I am kind of sorry I won't get you for a sister-in-law."
"Hey!" Ron said indignantly.
Hermione ignored him, returning the hug. "Well, you have more brothers," she said teasingly. "There's only two actually out of the running so far, including the hormone."
"Harry, make them stop that."
Harry snickered. "Say that to someone who doesn't know you sneaked up to bed at three in the morning last week."
They all looked at him, and Ron blushed furiously. "Shut up," he mumbled.
Hermione laughed with the others. She loved Ron dearly, and always would, but a brief romantic relationship had been enough to prove once and for all that simmering chemistry did not a romance make. It'd been fun while it lasted, though.
"I will not shut up, you - " Ginny broke off and straightened up hurriedly. "Neville! What happened to you?"
Neville had just entered the common room, his nose swollen and dribbling blood. "I'b fide," he said, looking embarrassed. "Herbiode, could you do thad charb for be, please?"
"Episkey." Hermione touched the tip of her wand to his nose, which promptly deflated. "Neville, what happened?"
He shuffled his feet. "I was in a fight," he said sheepishly. "I lost."
"Why were you fighting?" Ginny pulled out her own wand to clean up the blood. "Tergeo."
Neville frowned. "I heard Michael Corner call Hermione a... a rude name," he mumbled. "So I punched him in the face."
"Oh, Neville!" Hermione hugged him and kissed his cheek, making him turn even redder with happy embarrassment. "That's so sweet!"
"Oh, it's sweet when he does it, but you won't let us!" Ron grumbled, but he joined Harry in patting Neville on the back as Ginny hugged him tightly. "Good for you, mate, he was begging for it."
Later, curled on her side in her bed, Hermione rested a hand over the slight swell in her abdomen. "You're going to be very lucky, you know," she whispered. "You're going to have lots of aunties and uncles who'll love you like mad. And your Nana and Grandpa can't wait to see you, and I'm going to love you more than all of them put together."
Even if your father doesn't want you.
She never said the words aloud, was determined never to say them in the presence of her child before or after birth. She couldn't blame him for not wanting to be reminded of a meaningless encounter he couldn't even remember. She couldn't blame him for not wanting to forgive her for what she'd done.
She just wished she could forget him as easily as he'd forgotten her. That she could stop wishing for the impossible.
Later still, Severus stared up at darkness too thick for him to see through and tried not to think about her.
Draco was drawn to her. She'd never have him, of course. But if she did... why not? He would treat her well - even Lucius, for all his faults, had doted on his sentimental wife. At least that tradition of chivalry had survived his family's madness.
He would even treat the child well. Draco liked children.
Or perhaps she would rekindle her relationship with Ronald Weasley. The Weasleys would welcome both child and mother with open arms. And if Ron wasn't up to scratch, there were at least three or four male Weasleys who were not yet committed... she might choose one of them.
Or she might find some wizard as yet unknown to her... young and strong and handsome, who would sweep her off her feet and probably stay faithful to her for at least a year or two before his eye started to stray.
Severus rolled onto his side, thumping his pillow. If only she'd found that young, strong, handsome wizard in July. Then he wouldn't have been in this invidious situation. Then he could have gone on thinking of her as Potter's annoying, bushy-haired sycophant, never looking below the surface.
He wished he hadn't forgotten what had happened between them. Maybe if he could remember, it would be easier to remain angry at her. Or at least easier not to think about her.
