Chap 14: Hate is Easy, Love takes Courage

It was a struggle, but they arrived at St. Mungos ten minutes later. The clan hovered around as Hermione was helped into the bed by three healers dressed in dark green robes, and spells were performed to vanish the blood. It did work, for a few seconds, but it was pointless. Blood seeped through her white dress seconds later, even thicker than it was before. The clean spotless bed sheets streaked and soaked dark red underneath. Her breathing became shallow, but no one said anything. Not even when Hermione rolled her head up on the pillow and looked around them all, her skin a ghostly white. No one mentioned how her dry lips cracked as she smiled, or how the spark in her eyes was slowly dimming, like a candle being swallowed up in the darkness. No one said anything.

She reached out and took his hand. He had done it so many times that it felt strange when she did it. It was a good strangeness though. He glanced down as she gently intertwined their fingers, watching with a thumping heart at how her fingertips touched his tattooed knuckles. Perhaps it sounded cliché, but their hands fitted perfectly together. Maybe it was the delicacy and the softness of her hands against his rough ones -… or maybe because it felt like the last time… whatever it was he blinked hard and trembled with restrained emotions. They were becoming harder to push away, just like the lump in his throat had become harder to swallow back. She was looking at him, with those chocolates he had tried to read and never could… If she could feel him shaking, she didn't mention it. He raised his head to hers, his eyebrows raised. Her hand wasn't meant to be that cold, and as she looked back at him she knew it.

"Merlin, what are you doing to me," he murmured to himself, shaking his head and exhaling heavily.

He ran a hand down his face and bit down hard on his lip, so hard he tasted the iron of his blood; he thought he glimpsed the corner of her lips quirk into a smile. Or maybe he didn't. Maybe it was just a fragment of his imagination, and he was seeing what he wanted to see: her, safe and smiling.

She winced as she swallowed and cleared her throat. "You'll stay-?"

Her voice was a broken whisper and nothing more and he could only stare speechlessly at her and nod. It was ironic in a way. She could barely speak, yet it was the first time she had shut him up.

"Sometimes you can be thick Hermione…" he growled, then quietly, softly, "I'll stay until you are sick to death of me, and even after that."

He grinned crookedly.

There were a few chuckles from Remus and the twins behind him, and he thought he saw her lazily roll her eyes like she did a lot around him. Maybe it was because she already was sick to death of him, and that's why they were all amused. Whatever it was, he couldn't do anything but love her in that moment. It was endearing. A man loved to see a woman get all hot and bothered and exasperated over their silly antics. Hermione was always like that with Sirius, snapping at him, calling him names, throwing things at him… He loved it that about her. In those moments the need to shove her against the wall and kiss her till her last breath escaped was never greater. He wouldn't want their relationship with anyone else.

The bed was wheeled through double white doors and Sirius followed. They were taken into an operating room; everything was shiny and white and sectioned off with curtains. Sirius hovered nervously beside her bed, their hands joined under the white covers. Stanley was leading the procedure. His skilled hands flourished as he went about his work, never speaking, never slipping in concentration. Hermione was silent throughout the proceedings too. They had a silent understanding. He wasn't her boyfriend now-, she was his patient, and he was Head Healer Stanley Helbert, doing what he did best: …saving lives. Maybe it was easier for the both of them to deal with that way.

Stanley straightened up and tapped his wand on his hand, where clean white gloves replaced dirty ones. He cleared his throat importantly. "Miss Granger, you are eight centimetres dilated. We won't start pushing just yet, but I shall inform you when we do."

"You'll inform me?! I'm the one pushing!" she gestured dramatically to her bulging tummy and with much struggle she pushed herself up. "Exactly how dilated do you fucking want me?"

"Ten centimetres Miss Granger. Preferably."

"PREFERABLY?! YOU TRY DILATING YOURSELF TEN CENTIMETRES!"

One of the female healers with the name tag 'Jan' widened her legs and all too soon it had started.

"Okay Miss Granger, I need you to relax for me. Your baby is three weeks premature and you have lost a lot of blood already, so the quicker and the smoother the delivery is the more comfortable it will be for you and the baby. Take deep breaths in and out, in and out, and when you're ready to start pushing we'll tell you. You must relax," she instructed, in a firm but kind voice. Hermione made a repulsed face at her as she bent down.

Seconds later a contraption hit her and she was struggling to remain upright with the sheer immensity of it. She was shaking; her eyes were slammed shut and her mouth open wide for a scream that never sounded. Sirius glanced around in panic, unsure of what to do, what to say, how to go about assuring her that everything was going to be okay. It was as if the hustle and bustle around them was put on mute, and all his senses were zoning in on her; he saw her, he heard her, could smell the peachy moisturiser of her skin and the apple shampoo of her hair. He'd seen a bottle of it on top of the sink at Grimmauld. And-

"PUSH NOW MISS GRANGER!"

"AAAAARRRRRGGGHHHHHHHHH! SIRRRIIIUUUUSSSSSSSS!"

He stammered. "Er -…deep breaths love. Deep breaths."

He rested his elbows on her pillow and leant close, stroking her hair back from face and wincing as she squeezed his hand numb. The contraction ended and she slumped against the steel headboard, gasping for air and trying to blow a strand of hair out of her mouth at the same time. Sirius brushed it away and cupped her cheek.

"You're doing great."

She shook her head, her chest rising and falling as sobs raked her body. "I'm n-not-"

"You are."

She watched with watery eyes as he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. Her cheek was flat against the pillow, her head turned his way. Her skin was whiter than before, and her eyes that little bit more unreachable. "…It hurts Si-Sirius… everything h-hurts… I feel-" she shook her head. "W-weak. It sounds pathetic but I- I don't know if I'll be a-able to pull th-through…"

"Hey, hey! Don't say that! Don't you dare!" he hissed. "It'll be over soon, it'll all be over. The pain will wash away and you'll go to sleep and dream of blue skies, singing birds and the sun setting and when you wake I'll be right here, waiting for you like I always am."

She blinked, venerably. "Promise?"

"I promise."

He was whispering into her hair in a soft sort of urgency and she made a small sound of contentment, and touched his cheek. "I love you when you're like this. You're only nice to me when I'm in a hospital bed."

He drew back from her subtle caresses and frowned. "Do you really think that?"

He was searching her eyes for an answer, and she closed her eyes in exhaustion for a brief second before opening them to him again. "I don't know what to think anymore."

He leant down and slowly pressed his lips to her temple. She smiled weakly, her eyelids fluttering closed at the touch. He went to wipe away an escaped tear from the corner of her eye when he stopped, his hand still in mid-air. When she opened her eyes he was looking at her, and her breath hitched at the tenderness she found there. It was a look of many words; warmth, gentleness and a thousand others that described something that Sirius normally wasn't, yet in that second, that glance, all of them were true.

"I'll do anything to protect you," he whispered, "anything."

Another powerful contraction struck her and her chocolate eyes tore away from his grey's as she lurched backwards, her head snapping to the ceiling. She writhed desperately under the covers and the scream that left her mouth was so excruciatingly loud that the glass chandelier hanging across the room threatened to shatter and fall.

"The head, I can see the head," someone was saying, their voice rising with excitement. "The shoulders now!"

"Did you hear that Hermione?! Did you-…?" he was almost howling with delight, almost unleashing his famous barking laughter and she rolled her head to the side to catch his eyes, leaking with his own tears. It was funny, because she had always wondered what it must feel like to be in labour. Her mother had told her many times over the last nine months over cup of tea and shortbread biscuits that it was the most painful experience in her life; 'Once was more than enough,' she would say. Now Hermione understood exactly why her mother said that.

"Oh my… oh my…" she whimpered, repeatedly shaking her head as the force of the contraction had her arching her back and screaming to the heavens. Her face and forehead was damp with sweat and yet Sirius still kissed her like there was no tomorrow, his voice fierce with passion as he spoke words of encouragement in her ears. Crying his name she lurched backwards up the bed once more.

"One last push! Come on!" Stanley urged her.

"OH IT'S EASY FOR YOU TO SAY!" she suddenly shrieked.

Stanley and Sirius shared a tight lipped, brief exchange. It didn't stop her screaming. None of it did. A muscle was twitching in his neck as he battled with his emotions; she was paler than he had ever seen her. Her cheek, cold and clammy, as if all blood had drained from her face, a far cry from the sun kissed, glowing woman that had set out to find him in the Black library. Now she was grasping onto consciousness by a thread. How could someone change so quickly in less than an hour? How did that happen?

"That's it Hermione! That's it!" Stanley shouted. "Keep going!"

She threw her head back and screamed again, high and ear splitting. It was the type of scream that you dreaded to hear… the type that echoed through shadowy rooms of an abandoned house… the type of scream that haunted your nightmares.

And then it stopped- and there was a slippery thud, a moment's pause and the definite cry of a new born baby taking their first breaths on planet Earth. The sound may become irritating in months to come, but then it wasn't. It really wasn't. It was beauty and new life. Hermione fell against the headboard. A young male healer, Thomas, lifted up her eyelids, shining the lit end of his wand into them and opened her mouth and did the same thing, whilst one of the female healers scooped up the crying baby and carried it off to the corner of the room, where she laid it on a table and started muttering spells.

"You did it love, you did it!" he hooted, squeezing her hand and showering her forehead with loud, enthusiastic kisses. She hummed in amusement and let him. "You did absolutely amazing. I knew you could do it. I told you didn't I? Tell me I'm always right."

She grinned. She could barely keep her eyes open. "Th-thanks, and shush."

He barked with laughter and kissed her again, murmuring to her how proud he was of her. Stanley was watching him with a clenched jaw, but there was no malice in it. "We're just performing the required spells to ensure the baby is healthy and happy. She should be with you in a minute."

Sirius snapped his head to him and swallowed hard. "She?"

He nodded, a hint of a smile on his face. "You have a little girl."

Sirius almost choked on his own breath. "A girl? It's a girl!? I – it's a - MERLIN Hermione it's a GIRL!"

He was faintly aware that his voice was higher than a seven year old girl on helium.

One of the female healers, Jan, approached him carrying a bundle in her arms. "Congratulations to you both," she said, smiling warmly. She shifted the baby from her arms into Sirius's. "There you go." She raised her hand, moved back the blanket and tucked it gently underneath the baby's head. "She's gorgeous."

Sirius was suddenly nervous and he didn't know why. She wasn't heavy, but fragile and so, so small, about the size of a loaf of bread. Exhaling, he glanced down and looked at his baby daughter for the very first time. A dark brown tuft of hair, a button nose, ears with wet lobes, soft pinky cheeks from crying. Her eyes were closed at first, but then her tiny hand curled round his finger and she yawned, and he caught a tongue - a tiny one, and then round eyes were blinking up at him, a light honey brown. The colour of Hermione's eyes in the sunshine. He froze. He hadn't felt anything like it. He hadn't held something in his arms before that was a part of him. Made from a part of him.

"Hello little one," he breathed. "it's your daddy."

He gently lifted her to kiss her forehead, and he could feel her fingers squeeze tighter around his finger. This one wasn't going to let go. His heart flooded with warmth and he was on his motorbike soaring as high as anybody had ever soared before. He was on top of the fucking world. He had a little girl. He was a dad.

"Hermione, we're parents! She's beautiful, look-!"

Several healers were gathered around the bed. He could tell, from the moment he looked, that something was wrong. Thomas, the male trainee healer, scuttled to the other side, leant over Hermione and desperately flicked his wand. She was still, silent, unmoving.

"What the hell's going on?"

The healers had their backs to him. He rushed to stand beside her and was pushed back by Stanley, though he caught the faintest of glimpses. Hermione was under the light. He'd seen some awful things in his time, but never had he seen so much blood as he did then – on, over and around her body.

"Hermione!"

One of the healers turned to Stanley. "It's too late to perform the spell sir. She's lost too much blood."

"WHY IS SHE BLEEDING ANYWAY?!" Sirius roared. He was helpless and hurting. Her pain hurt him.

Stanley sighed heavily. "In the last few weeks Tonks said she'd been complaining of shooting pains. These must have caused her to go into premature labour. Magic can only stop blood so far."

The slow, periodic beep of the machine stopped. The constant note sounded.

Sirius shook his head, over and over. "No, NO PLEASE, NO! SHE'S NOT DEAD! SHE'S NOT DEAD, SHE CAN'T BE DEAD!" he pulled Stanley by his white robes and flung him to the side, and there she was. Her drooping eyes had fallen shut, and a ghost of a smile was on her lips, probably laughing at Sirius's reaction to their new born. "HERMIONE! Hermione!"

His body broke out in sharp sobs, and the baby cried with him, like somehow she had known that her birth meant her mother's death. Her hand was hanging, draped off the bed, where she was holding his hand. He reached for it, and intertwined their fingers. They should always have been joined. He knew that now.

"You need to do something!" he begged, "Make her wake up! Please! Wake her up, bring - bring her back to me..." he could speak no longer.

"Mr Black, I'm sorry," one of them said, "There's nothing we can do-"

"Then get out!" he suddenly yelled. "GET OUT! I WANT TO BE ALONE WITH HER-…" he shook his head and covered his hand over his eyes. "GET FUCKING OUT!"

They left hurriedly, Stanley last, wiping his tears on the sleeve of his robes. He stopped before the door and bowed his head. "I tried everything… but there was nothing we could do. I'm sorry… I know you loved her. The way you looked at her when you thought no one is looking. I knew all along."

He looked up for a second and then was gone with a sweep of his cloak. The door swung shut.

He looked from Hermione, to their baby, to Hermione again. She was so young. She was so bright, funny, thoughtful and caring. And she slipped away. 'There was nothing they could do'. If ever a sentence could carry heartbreak, it was that, because you won't forget those words; you'll take them to your grave. If you've ever heard those words said to you, you would know, and you would hate the powers of fate, hate that 'everything happens for a reason', because no fate or reason would have been good enough to take that person from you. And yet whoever's up there in the sky can. And they will. And they do.

"Baby Black's arrived love."

They were meant to be celebrating. He sank to the chair, his salty tears running down his cheeks as he gazed into his daughter's eyes, which were so… so like her mother's. He could see the faint dimples on her cheeks, feel her soft skin. She would grow to be just like her. He knew it. Someone was squeezing his broken heart in their hand and laughing at him. A noise sounded, and he glanced up. Squinting, he could see the machine lights beside her bed had turned on. There was another noise, and he sprang up, his breathing hard and fast.

It was a beep.

Won't say much apart from this was one of the hardest chapters I've ever written. And I did shed a few tears writing it! I hope you enjoyed it, and it spurred some kind of emotion in you. I like heavy chapters sometimes. Some fics are too happy! Hit the review button and tell me what you're thinking!