Author's Note: Alas. Part 1 of the final chapter! Thank you all so much for reading this and I hope you like it. Thanks as always to the lovely and talented debjunk for her beta work! :)

Chapter 6 Part 1

Pleased to be finally finished with his marking, Severus pushed away from his desk. Rising, he stretched the kinks out of his back and shoulders before he set about putting away his inks and quills. The scrolls sat in the appropriate bins, awaiting dispersion to the sure-to-be-displeased students upon the morrow.

He replaced his desk chair, picked up his teacup, and moved to the sitting room. The flames crackled pleasantly in the hearth, and from the half-open door he could see Hermione as she slumbered peacefully. She was curled around a variety of pillows to keep from rolling over onto her belly. Usually, he slept alongside her, but time was growing short, and he had to do twice as much as he had originally planned.

Or rather, than Hermione had planned. After all, she had had the idea of creating handmade things for their children, and he couldn't fault her. But her skills with the needles were not the best, and with her "baby brain", as she termed it, she was quickly distracted or lost track of things. He didn't begrudge the work, but it had been a long time since he himself had knit anything. Not since he was a child helping his mum turn old sweaters into other, more usable items.

Still, muscle memory had not failed him in the end, and he had finished the first blanket and begun the second. It was tedious—as he was not terribly quick—but not unpleasant, and certainly easier than darning socks. In fact, Severus thought he might rather keep it up after the twins were born as he found it a calming exercise, something he would sorely need as the father of two.

Father of two.

Merlin's beard, it still didn't seem real. It had been barely a month since that particular little discovery, and Hermione had set about writing Molly Weasley, and they had both plunged into the available literature on the matter to ensure the health of their children...and still, he was more than a little daunted.

He spared a glance at the little black and white photo on the mantle; it was no small wonder that Hermione preferred her Muggle physician over a Healer if she was able to not only hear the heartbeats of their twins—twins!—as well as see them well before they were due. The rhythmic click of his needles soothed him as he pondered, for the millionth time, the logistics of rearranging their quarters. He had submitted the form for the addition of a room and had gone ahead and made a few pleas to the castle itself; it couldn't hurt, after all.

Severus fretted over the expense of children as well. It wasn't that they lacked income, but poverty had been the foundation of his life, and he had never been able to shake it when it came to big things. Even dwelling on the thought of selling Spinner's End and buying a proper home—one without awful memories and large enough for their family, and was something he really should speak to Hermione about before the twins were born—was enough to send him into mild panic attacks.

At least there was the shower to look forward to, and they could pillage through Hermione's old baby things. Or they could make things: Molly had kindly sent along a few books on household charms, including several for babies. 'Transfigurations for Nearly Every Occasion' was going to be worth its weight in Galleons alone. He knew it was foolish of him to stress over the monetary part of having children, but he was nearly certain that his Healer would tell him that he was avoiding thinking about having two children to raise instead.

And he was also nearly certain that that was true.

Not that he would admit it aloud.

Hermione sighed as her last class left for the day and dropped her face to her hands. She was exhausted. It had been her constant state for months now, and she honestly worried about her ability to do her job until she reached the week's end, let alone finish the school year.

It was getting harder to lug herself around the castle as her back was in constant pain. And with her belly heavy, she often felt like she couldn't catch her breath, and she found herself needing to drink more water than ever which meant more trips to the bathrooms—also too bloody far away—and of course, the need for several small meals... It all kept her feeling rather like all she did was pee, eat, and teach.

Everything just seemed to blur together these days.

And, of course, she was worried and trying not to be. Severus and Poppy had looked into the risks, and he was giving her a watered-down teaspoon of Calming Draught at each official mealtime so as to reduce her stress, but she was worried about everything. Days when she didn't feel the twins move, she worried that she'd lost them. Days when she did feel the twins move, she worried that she'd done something wrong. She worried about parenting, about childbirth, about working, about childcare, about how much work Severus had taken upon himself because she couldn't, about losing her train of thought mid-lecture nearly every day, and of course the thrice-damned hormones and being told she was big for someone only however-many weeks along it was that particular day. She was losing both her mind and her patience.

Last month she had turned to books, gorging herself on information, nearly ignoring her husband because of it. Hermione hoped he hadn't taken it too personally, but since he held her every night and was always there, silent and ready to assist, she rather thought he understood. Merlin knew, she needed him, more than ever. It was impossible to believe that they hadn't even been married a year, and that she loved him so deeply. If only she'd known that what she had felt for him had been love, she could have been with him so much sooner. The thought made her smile as she thought about having had more time with him before they had decided to have children.

What did they know about raising children, she wondered? When Severus had, in his own way, alluded to his lack of knowledge, she had laughed and assured him that no one coming into parenthood truly understood, but that they would muddle through together. It wasn't that she regretted her pregnancy, or their children, no. Never that. It was that she hated being ill-prepared, and so did he. No amount of glib statements that they would figure it out was really very helpful and she was, very slowly, drowning in panic.

The room for the babies wasn't ready yet—only the door had manifested. They had no crib, only a handful of clothes from her youth, some of which were rather pink and frilly, and the last trip to the ultrasound technician hadn't been able to tell them what they were having. She had started a blanket, thinking it couldn't be more difficult than a hat, since it was just a square, but had ended up being horribly wrong when it looked more like a demented trapezoid. The bigger surprise, of course, had been that Severus could knit, and knit well. He had rescued and finished the first blanket, and had begun a second—granted, he'd insisted she cast on the stitches and do the first row so it would be from both of them, which had warmed her heart.

She fretted a great deal as she stared at that door; what if the twins were early? What if they didn't have enough clothes? Sure, Transfiguration and Cleansing Charms were always a valid option, but it… well, it wasn't the same as being prepared with diapers and clothes and blankets and bedding and bottles…

Hermione sighed and dug her fingers into her hair. She was just happy that the American tradition of having a shower had been suggested, rather than the usual wait-until-the-baby-is-born-and-bring-a-gift thing. She vaguely remembered her mum telling her about the panic she'd felt having Hermione, and all of the people coming over, the stress of having a new baby and trying to sort out thank-you notes and find places to store everything she'd been given. Harry really was a dear to suggest it, knowing that Hermione preferred preparation...and that Severus and she likely wouldn't want visitors after the baby's arrival.

"Hermione?"

She looked up and gave Minerva a wan smile. "Yes?"

"Are you having dinner in the hall this evening, or are you taking the night off?"

From the Headmistress, it was a benediction, a veritable 'go take care of yourself'. Hermione smiled more sincerely.

"Well, now I'm thinking of having the night off," she said, sighing. "But the Hall is much closer than the dungeons."

Minerva pursed her lips. "True, but the dungeons are cool and quiet compared to the din and clatter of mealtime."

Hermione nodded and prodded the stack of essays on her desk into a neater pile. "I'll consider it."

The older witch hesitated a moment. "You're looking a little peaked, dear. Do you need me to find Severus for you?"

Her shoulders sagged. "God, yes, please. I'm exhausted."

"As to be expected."

Minerva left the room for a moment and spoke briefly to a portrait before returning and Conjuring herself a comfortable chair across from Hermione's desk.

"I'm certain he'll be here soon, but in the meantime, why don't you hand me a few of those essays, and we'll see what progress we can make, hmm?"

Hermione smiled, and she handed her a quill; the ends only slightly chewed. Only a week and a handful of days left in the term, and she'd have all summer to be fat and waddle around the castle.

"Enough." Severus' voice was firm. He plucked the planner from her hand. "You are going to expire before term's end if you continue this nonsense."

Hermione's eyebrows rose. "Nonsense?" Her voice rose also. "Nonsense? I am trying to ensure that everything is in place for the twins!"

"And it will be. But first you must take care of yourself."

She hadn't heard him so authoritative towards her since the start of their friendship and it set her back long enough for him to push a mug of tea into her hands and a flick of his wand saw a rather wobbly ottoman conjured under her feet.

"The staff have all noticed," he said, far more gently. "I have noticed. And I am tired of watching you run yourself ragged. You cannot study for children, Hermione. Read, yes. Learn, yes.

"But," he continued, "the truth is that we will not be prepared no matter how much we try. You need to take care of yourself. Final exams begin soon. You will have plenty to do and grade."

Hermione sighed and took a sip of her tea. Not a trace of Calming Draught, just chamomile. "Perhaps I have been overdoing it a bit..."

He snorted and sat on his own desk chair. The neat stack of graded essays moved slightly as his elbow hit the top of the polished wood. "A bit? You've been talking in your sleep for the past fortnight."

She winced and laughed. "I have?"

"Yes." He frowned, but she could see the playful edge to it. "As a result I have managed to memorise a ridiculous amount of baby schedules."

Hermione laughed again. "I like to be prepared."

"I know." He reached over to caress her hand gently. "But perhaps you can prepare at a slower pace."

She nodded, smiling at him over her mug of tea.

"Good." He straightened, looking austere. "I am going to work on the blanket. Join me when you have finished your grading."

Hermione nodded, looking at the pile on her desk. Perhaps she had gotten a tad distracted by her planning...

Severus exhaled quietly as he picked up his knitting with shaking hands. That had been terrifying to do, but necessary. Telling his pregnant wife what to do was far riskier than telling the Dark Lord or Albus anything they hadn't wanted to hear.

"I hate this," Hermione said, feeling near tears. She prodded another seam with her wand.

Severus, bless him, didn't even roll his eyes, and his voice was measured as he caught her gaze in the mirror. "You look fine. You look as a pregnant woman should look."

"That's not helping!" she snapped viciously, then turned to face him directly, eyes watering. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell, I just feel—"

"I know," he said tiredly, waving a hand as if to brush off the mood swings, which were once again growing more erratic. "It's fine, Hermione."

"It's not, though." She poked her dress a few more times. "I hate being like this. I hate being heavy and out of breath and fat and angry and sad and hungry and being unable to sleep."

Wisely, she didn't tell him how she hated how he answered sometimes. It was like listening to him talk to Dumbledore again. Guarded and formal.

"Believe me, I know," he replied dryly. "I assure you, I am tired of hearing it. But you are growing our children—not one, but two. I cannot imagine any scenario in which it would be a comfortable or pleasant experience."

He watched her as she gave herself a final look-over.

"We do not have to go to the Potter's. They will understand."

Oh, that was tempting. So tempting.

The babies—one or both, she couldn't tell—kicked her, and she smiled. She would never get used to that sensation.

"I can even go alone if you would prefer to stay here." The disdain was almost hidden, but she caught it and tears spilled. Hermione crossed the room to her dour husband and hugged him as tightly as her awkward belly would allow.

"I love you, but no."

Her voice was muffled by the wool of his coat, but he heard her, holding her against him. He felt the reassuring thump of someone kicking.

"I want to go."

Severus studied the top of her head. Well, he had tried. "Then we will attend their dinner."

The walk from the dungeons to the entrance of the school nearly made her rethink her decision. Hermione stood at the doors, holding onto the doorframe for support, breathing heavily despite the fact that Severus had shortened his stride to hers and they had stopped in several alcoves for her to rest. Why the hell hadn't someone made Floo travel safe for pregnancy yet?

"Hermione."

She looked at him. Oh hell, he looked nervous. That wasn't good.

"Do you trust me?"

Oh dear.

"Of course I do."

He snorted. "Liar, but I appreciate the attempt. The walk to the Apparition point is a ways away. I can fly us there, if you will permit it."

"I hate flying," she said reflexively, then considered it as she realised he didn't have a broom. "If I panic, will you set us down?"

He nodded, his black eyes serious. "In fact, I will remain close to the ground if it will help."

Hermione looked down the path, then nodded, gathering her courage. "Right, then." She huffed out a breath. "Okay. Let's try."

Severus reached for her hand and pulled her outside gently, standing behind her. His arms wrapped around her and she felt the familiar tingle of his magic sweep over her.

"A weightlessness charm, perfectly safe," he reassured her. "You can close your eyes or leave them open, it matters not. Simply say 'down' and we will land."

To his surprise and hers, she made it to the gates, her fingers clutching the fabric of his frock coat, her eyes squeezed shut, and her lips a thin white line. Overall, it wasn't too horrible, but she would never be over her fear of flying. Oh, with adrenaline and desperation running high or enough warning she could do it—dragon, thestral, broom...but with very little time to prepare and no life-or-death situation demanding it, she thought she had done rather well. She lingered in his arms a little longer than necessary, and to his credit Severus didn't say anything snarky.

When she pulled away, however, she did feel the catch of her hair on his jaw's stubble as he kissed the top of her head.

Dinner had been pleasant, Hermione mused, sitting on the sofa next to Ginny. They had chatted over the Marriage Law and classes and whatnot over the meal, which meant that the rest of the evening they were free to just...be.

Ginny rubbed a hand over her own round belly. "I can't believe the baby will be here soon."

"I'm not due til mid-September," Hermione said. "I have to be pregnant all summer! I already feel huge and awful."

Ginny made a face. "True. That is pretty awful…Still, once you meet your baby you'll forget all about how rough it was. I wondered with James how Mum could do it so many times, then I did it again with Al...and promptly did it again for whoever this little one will be!"

Hermione smiled, glancing at Severus. He nodded imperceptibly. "We don't know who they'll be, either, but when the babies come—"

"Babies?" Ginny looked at her in shock. "Plural? You're sure?"

Hermione grinned and Severus shook his head ruefully. "Oh, yes, the ultrasound was quite certain. It couldn't tell what we're expecting, though," he added. "Apparently, it's a bit cramped in there and neither one was cooperating."

"What's an ultrasound?" Ginny demanded.

"Er...it's a Muggle procedure," Hermione replied, a bit bewildered. She could have sworn she'd written about it. Clearly not. "It uses sound waves to see inside your body. One second, I've actually got the photo here..."

She took her purse from Severus, who had anticipated the offer. A quick dig brought out her planner, and pinned to the September page was a very clear photo labeled Baby 1 and Baby 2.

Ginny stared at it hungrily. "Muggles can do this? I could have seen my babies? Even found out what we're having?"

"But where's the fun in that?" Harry asked.

When Ginny's head swiveled towards him, he held up his hands to stave off her potential ire. "I didn't know about ultrasounds either, Gin. My aunt wasn't having any more children, and I really didn't spend much time in the Muggle world, now did I?"

"I agree with Harry," Severus added quietly. "Not that I find the wait amusing, but I see no need to know in advance. Either way, they are still our children."

Clearly, Ginny disagreed.

"Is now a bad time to mention they can also hear the heartbeats?" Hermione asked in a small voice, but Severus heard the little thrill of her vicious joy.

Ginny dissolved into a blubbering mess of tears.

They both survived the visit with the Potters in the end, once they had gotten past Ginny's emotional turmoil.

It had been very kind of Ginny and Harry to show them the basics of diapering and whatnot, and Severus had proven to be quickly adept at handling small persons. His face had been a blank mask, so she wasn't sure how he'd felt dealing with Al. She wasn't about to ask, either. He'd tell her when and if he was ready to discuss it.

Hermione had loved seeing the boys again. They had grown so quickly! It made her heart twinge—just a little—in anticipation and trepidation—at having their own finally with them. She had been warned by almost everyone to "cherish" the baby stage, as it ended too soon. She didn't know if she would want the baby stage to linger, or if she would be eager for their babies to become a little more self-sufficient.

Severus had flown them back from the Apparition point; knowing what to expect, it had gone much smoother for her, not that she would ever enjoy it. But she could tolerate it.

Next to her, her wizard was snoring lightly, one pale arm flung up over his eyes. She wasn't certain how he'd managed that without hitting himself in the nose, but she supposed he had years of practice behind it. At least he'd changed to her toothpaste instead of his potion. The mint versus spearmint debacle had not done anything for her stomach.

She really did love him… he'd changed his life. His routine. His everything. For her. For them.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

She drummed her fingers on her belly impatiently.

Closed her eyes again.

Rolled over.

Hermione shifted anxiously about in bed. On her bedside table, an empty glass sat, the last dregs of pumpkin juice at the bottom.

She lay still again, her fingers splayed out over her stomach. Waiting. Counting. Trying not to panic.

Nothing.

Her eyes flew open, her throat tight.

She tried not to speak, but couldn't help herself. "Severus?"

Her voice was a petrified squeak, a mere thread of sound.

He grunted mid-snore.

"Severus?" There, her voice was stronger, albeit she sounded more alarmed than she'd intended.

This time he flew awake, rolling over just as he grabbed his wand, a silent Lumos lighting their canopied bed.

"Are you in pain?"

She shook her head. "I can't feel them. They're not..." She took a gulp of air. "They're not moving! I've drank an entire cup of juice, I've counted, I've waited...they've never been still this long—"

"Calm down," he said, his voice soothing. He flicked his wand at the sconces, then extinguished the tip. The day's stubble was dark on his face in the shadows. "When did you last feel them move?"

"On the sofa, next to Ginny." Hermione's eyes were filled with fear.

He rested his hand next to hers, waiting. She was still and silent.

"Unusual." Severus lifted his wand, hesitating. "Hermione, may I try something experimental?"

"Is it going to help?" she asked, peeved at his needless question.

He gave her a dark look.

"Then yes, of course, you daft man!"

Severus muttered something under his breath that she didn't quite follow, aiming his wand at her belly. For a moment, absolutely nothing happened, and then a faint ghostly image flickered over her belly. His shoulders sagged in relief, and he moved the tip of his wand slightly, seeking their babes.

"You...you made an ultrasound spell." She was amazed.

Her husband was fucking incredible.

"It appears so. I hadn't had a chance to test it properly yet." He frowned. "Here's one."

A little fist wriggled.

Hermione exhaled, then nodded vehemently. "Find the other!"

"I will," he groused. "Give me a bloody moment, Hermione…"

The image on her skin changed as he slowly moved his wand, finding the foot of the same babe before finding another set of feet that immediately tried to scrunch up out of view.

"Oh no you don't," he said sourly. "Get back here and reassure your mother."

The feet reappeared with seeming reluctance. Hermione relaxed, the tension draining out of her, tears gathering in her eyes.

"They're all right."

"Yes." Severus moved his wand a few more times, finding faces. "I had hoped that version would give the heartbeat, I wonder if I changed to Greek if it wou—"

Hermione yanked on his arm to pull him down and peppered his face with chaste kisses through her tears. His wand clattered to the floor as he tried to stop himself from falling across her stomach. "You are—so sweet—so talented—so clever—I love you so much, Severus, thank you—thank you—thank you!"

He allowed the assault on his person with a small measure of good humour. He was used to her emotional outbursts, and in this case he thought it was particularly well-deserved.

"You are welcome," he drawled when she had finished. She kissed him again before letting him free.

Severus silently Summoned his wand and slid it beneath its proper place under his pillow. He adjusted the cuff of his faded grey nightshirt.

"Are your fears adequately assuaged?"

Hermione rolled to face him, laughing. "Yes. I'm sorry to wake you."

"Don't be," he said sternly. "I would rather awaken for nothing than sleep through something."

"That's sweet."

He scowled. "Get that soppy look off your face."

She laughed at him again. "I can't help it. I love you."

Severus rolled over and would deny the huff that escaped him. "I'm going back to sleep, you insane witch."

"Thank you," she said again to his back.

"Go to sleep," he replied sourly.

Hermione smiled and snuggled into her pillow. Yes, her brilliant wizard loved her. And, yes, her brilliant wizard was sweet. He'd just rather not admit it.

His needles worked patiently and rhythmically, the green yarn spooling out of his robe's extended pocket and joining the existing stitches. Hermione had chosen the yarn to his pleasure. It wasn't a true emerald green, but a dark, rich hunter green.

He rather liked it.

"So, let's go back to what you said about her mood swings," she said calmly, watching him.

Severus shrugged, pulling some extra yarn from the ball to adjust the tension. "There is nothing more to say."

Healer Coles tapped her quill against her parchment quietly. "You're shutting down. Do you do this when she has a mood swing?"

"Perhaps."

His lips thinned as he saw her roll her eyes. He knew he wasn't exactly being forthcoming and since he had, after all, agreed to continue these appointments…

"Her erratic behaviour brings to mind a certain megalomaniac."

"So you retreat?"

She watched him knit a few more stitches.

"Perhaps."

He was quiet, they both were. Finally, he put down his needles and sighed.

"It is far simpler to say little that can be misconstrued."

"How does Hermione react to that?"

"She doesn't seem particularly pleased," he admitted after a moment. "I don't find it easy to overcome this."

"Have you talked to her about it?"

He snorted and picked up his knitting again, quickly finding his rhythm. "Of course not. I cannot rely on her to..."

"Not have hurt feelings?" Healer Cole suggested.

Severus glowered up at her under his brows.

"Is it possible that part of her moodiness may be that she's also picked up on this difference in you, and she's already hurt?"

She let him knit several more rows.

"Severus?"

"That idea has...merit."

"Before our next meeting, Severus, I'd like you to try to either discuss this with Hermione, or to open up a little more. It can't do her any good to think that she's the sole cause of your withdrawal."

He was quiet, finishing the hat, the needles moving quickly between his long, dexterous fingers. "I will attempt it."

Hogwarts had finally managed to manifest the room beyond the door. It wasn't a terribly large room, but would suffice as a nursery. They would definitely need to find real estate at some point; a home better suited for a family than the hovel that was Spinner's End. He hadn't started to look at properties yet as Hermione hadn't brought it up, and he had not yet been able to muster the courage.

That was something he should probably try to bring up at therapy.

Hermione smiled at him, assembling one crib with the series of spells required. His own crib project had been completed and was awaiting her direction. He cared little where things went—Hermione was as practical as him, so no matter where she placed things, they would be able to maneuver the room with ease—but she had a very clear plan of where she wanted things to go.

She called it 'nesting.'

He enjoyed the time together, setting up a place for their children to call home during the school year.

Hermione finished her crib with a flourish and a flick of her wand. The final pieces snapped into place and she glowed with pride.

"The dresser is also completed," Severus said quietly.

She rose, holding her belly, and kissed his cheek gently. She was far more demonstrative of late with her affections. He found it almost reassuring, especially since he had not yet been able to stop himself from 'shutting down', as Healer Coles had put it.

"It's beautiful," Hermione said. She studied the small room again, nodded to herself, and began levitating everything into place. Two cribs, one on either side, and the dresser in the center. It was a low piece, functioning quite well as a place to change the infants.

Another swish and the bags they'd filled in London soared in. He had enjoyed browsing the shops with her, selecting linens and whatnot. He had agreed whole-heartedly that Muggle things were, well, cuter than their Wizarding counterparts.

Severus set about using a set of scissors to remove tags from clothing, setting each denuded article in the 'to be washed' pile, as directed. He was leery of using severing charms with such tiny items. As he did so, Hermione set items on shelves, folded blankets and set them in a drawer, and set the sheets to engulf each mattress.

She gave a sigh of satisfaction. The room was minimalistic, but she didn't think that was a problem. The babies would likely sleep here and spend the rest of their time in their main sitting room with Severus and her. They had made space in their room for the double-bassinet Hagrid had made and had cleared books away from the lower shelves out of the reach of questing, damp hands. They planned on filling those shelves with books suited to their offspring, while warding the upper shelves.

Hermione chewed on her lower lip for a long moment, trying to decide if now was a good time to bring up the topics of where to live next summer and childcare. Healer Indigo had encouraged her to bring it up soon, too, instead of worrying over his reaction. Or lack thereof.

Severus looked up from where he was de-tagging clothes. He had a habit, usually during the school year, of scanning the surface thoughts of those around him. He didn't actually use Legilimency, but it was a habit—it kept the explosions down, it gave him a general idea of when to sit far away from Minerva, and so on. He hadn't even realised he was doing it, but Hermione was practically broadcasting. He was getting an impression of a home, or house—rapid images.

He frowned and went back to his task, hoping she wouldn't bring it up.

He was almost disappointed when she didn't.