No matter how hard she tried, Hermione couldn't focus on schoolwork. She took a long bath instead, half convinced that the clock on the wall was broken. Minutes felt like hours, hours turning into days as she climbed out of the tub, hunching over the toilet. Bloody morning sickness…
Her anxiety was making it worse. She knew that, though what was she supposed to do? She didn't have it in her to relax and hope for the best… not after everything she'd been through.
"It seems that whoever caused you to become pregnant is intent on keeping you that way."
This was more than just bad luck. Someone was deliberately trying to sabotage her. Who? How? Why? What did they want, and more importantly, what could she do to stop them?
"I don't believe they have the power to interfere with a Muggle procedure. Like most witches and wizards, I doubt they're even aware of such things."
Was Severus right? She hoped so, though she couldn't shake the feeling that something would go wrong. What if it was already too late? What if the clinic couldn't help her, or worse, she never made it to her appointment? Whoever had done this…
They could stop her. Deep down, she knew that, recalling all the things they'd managed to pull off. Tampering with potions. Gaining access to private spaces. That terrible attack in the dormitories, erasing memories so they wouldn't get caught? Those weren't the actions of an ordinary witch or wizard. Someone would have to be exceedingly clever, not to mention highly skilled at magic.
Of course, it wasn't just what they'd done. It was what they knew. Somehow, they'd gained access to her most intimate secrets, from her tumultuous relationship with Ron to the closeness between her and Severus. Not only did they know, but they'd used those things against her, stripping away her power at every opportunity.
"I doubt they're even aware of such things."
Maybe not, but they knew damn well that she didn't want to be pregnant. Now that the potion had failed… surely they knew she'd be looking for other options. If they stopped her from leaving Hogwarts…
Her stomach gave a sickening lurch, thoughts scattering as she retched into the toilet. Finally, she pushed herself to her feet, washing her face before she glanced up at her reflection.
"Bloody hell…"
Hastily, she averted her eyes, wrapping a towel around herself as she exited the bathroom.
The letter arrived at noon, materializing on her desk beside a stack of neglected schoolwork. She skimmed it before she penned her reply, careful to keep things neutral.
Dear Molly,
While I appreciate the invitation, I need to stay at Hogwarts to study for my N.E.W.T.s. Sending my love to you and the family. I hope all of you have a happy Easter.
That should've been the end of it, though of course, it wasn't. She received Molly's response a few hours later, bracing herself as she unfurled the scroll.
Ron will be so disappointed…
It was pretty much what she'd expected, full of guilt trips and not-so-subtle hints that she owed them her presence. Following that, Molly blathered on about preparations, insisting they couldn't wait until summer.
Are you showing yet? If not, you will be soon! We'll need to shop for maternity robes, not to mention…
Maternity robes? The robes she already had were still loose, and besides, she could easily transfigure them to accommodate a growing stomach. She hoped she wouldn't have to, of course, but if the worst should happen…
Time speeds up after your first trimester, and you can never count on your due date. That's especially true for first pregnancies – Bill was born almost a full month early!
A month? Hermione felt queasy, though she forced herself to continue. Finally, she reached the end, scowling as she read the final line.
Anyway, dear, I do hope you'll reconsider. There's no reason you can't do your studying here at the Burrow.
No reason? There were plenty of reasons, starting with a noisy house and a needy ex-boyfriend. Between Ron and Molly, she doubted she'd even have a minute to herself, feeling smothered as she imagined countless shopping trips and uncomfortable conversations.
Her final reply was polite but firm. No, she couldn't come. She had to study, and for that, she'd need access to the Hogwarts library. N.E.W.T.s were just a few weeks away, after all. Once they were done, she'd have plenty of time to focus on other things.
Hermione sealed the letter, watching it disappear before she crawled into bed. If she could just sleep through these last couple hours…
She couldn't. That quickly became clear, nerves thrumming with restless energy despite her exhaustion. She got up and paced the room, organized her things, followed by yet another bout of sickness. How was that even possible? She'd eaten nothing that day, unable to stomach anything other than a few sips of tea.
Reluctantly, she took another look at herself in the bathroom mirror. The circles under her eyes were even darker now, her face pale, cheekbones standing out in sharp relief. Even her ribs were more noticeable, her entire body slimmer with the exception of her breasts and abdomen. Both were a bit more noticeable than the last time she'd checked, an unmistakable sign that she was running out of time.
Speaking of time…
No, the clock wasn't broken. It was speeding up now, inching ever closer to 6 PM. 45 more minutes… 30…
"How will I know what happens in London?"
"I'll devise a signal."
Hermione made an attempt to bring her hair under control, though it was a useless effort. Hands shaking, she pulled on her robes, retrieving her shoes before she headed for the door. Somehow, she made it downstairs, barely breathing as she entered the Great Hall. Severus…
She spotted him immediately, though he didn't seem to notice her presence. His head was lowered, a curtain of black hair shielding his face as he spoke to Professor Flitwick.
"All right, Hermione?"
She nodded, forcing a weak smile as she sat down at the Gryffindor table. So much bloody food…
No. This wasn't the time to get sick. She closed her eyes, willing her stomach to stop churning as the stench of roasted meat invaded her nostrils. The room was unbearably stuffy, hot and thick with noxious odors. Even the light from the floating candles overwhelmed her senses, making it difficult to focus as she returned her attention to Severus.
Look at me. Please.
Was it a coincidence, or did she will it to happen? Either way, he chose that moment to lift his head, dark eyes meeting hers. His hand moved upward, fingers tucking a strand of hair behind his ear…
Was it right ear for good news, bad news for left, or was it the opposite? Suddenly, she couldn't remember, panic clawing at her throat as the room grew dark around the edges.
"Hermione? Hermione!"
"Get out of the way!"
That was the last thing she heard, eyes fluttering closed as she slipped into unconsciousness.
"Pregnant?"
"Yes, though I can't say I'm surprised. I've suspected it for weeks now."
"How?"
"See those circles under her eyes? She hasn't been sleeping. She's also lost weight, which is common in the early stages, and she makes frequent trips to the toilet. That's a clear sign of morning sickness, all the more so considering her lack of appetite."
"Her lack of appetite? How do you know…"
"I'm quite observant, Minerva. One has to be in my line of work."
"Yes, well, not all of us are healers."
Hermione opened her eyes, blinking several times as Madam Pomfrey's face came into focus. Professor McGonagall was standing just behind her, steel gray eyes fixed on Hermione's stomach.
"What happened?" she said, cringing as she glanced down at herself. "Where are my robes?"
"You fainted, dear, though I wouldn't worry. It's quite normal in your condition."
"My condition? I'm not…"
She trailed off, unable to deny what was blatantly obvious. She'd never felt more vulnerable, more exposed, jerking her shirt down to cover the little swell.
"You didn't know?" Madam Pomfrey said. "Surely you must've noticed…"
"Of course I did. Do you think I'm stupid?"
"Certainly not," Minerva said, "though you've clearly been trying to hide it."
"So?"
For once, Hermione didn't care if she was being rude. What right did they have to invade her privacy, questioning her about a situation that had nothing to do with them?
"There's no need to feel embarrassed. I realize you're not married yet, but you and Mr. Weasley will have plenty of time for that before the baby comes."
"Married? I'm not…"
This was happening too fast, Minerva's initial shock giving way to excitement as she prattled on about how thrilled Molly must be. She even offered to let Hermione take her N.E. early, giving her more time to plan for the wedding.
"What wedding? Ron and I have been broken up for months."
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. You'll have plenty of reasons to reconcile when you see each other next week."
Hermione shook her head. "I'm not going to the Burrow. I'll be staying here to study for my N.E. ."
"Given the circumstances, don't you think…"
"I think I'd like to focus on my education if that's all right with you. My personal life is my own business… well, unless you're planning to expel me for my behavior."
"Expel you? Of course not! I only meant…"
"I know what you meant," Hermione interrupted, retrieving her robes from the foot of the bed. "Can I go now?"
Professor McGonagall looked like she wanted to argue, though Madam Pomfrey was kind enough to intervene. She handed Hermione a couple of potions, insisting she head straight upstairs and get some rest. This she had no objection to. She was beyond exhausted, so tired she'd nearly forgotten…
"Where's Professor Snape?"
"Why, he's just outside. He's been waiting to escort you to your room."
"Good," Hermione said, forcing herself to roll her eyes. "Wouldn't want to give him an excuse to hand me another detention."
With that, she left the Hospital Wing, closing the door behind her as a familiar, black clad figure slipped out of the shadows. He made a move to reach out before he stopped himself, dark eyes burning with some unknown emotion.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she said. "What happened in…"
He shook his head, glancing up and down the hallway before he pitched his voice a little lower. "You didn't see my signal?"
"I did, but I couldn't remember which…"
Suddenly, she did remember. Left ear. Good news. She looked at him for confirmation, comforted by his slight nod.
"How did you…"
"Shhh," he interrupted. "We'll talk about it later."
"Later"? Hermione spent the next couple days wondering what that meant, the suspense nearly killing her as she awaited more details. Finally, Severus appeared in the Room of Requirement, announcing his presence with a whisper as the door closed softly behind him.
"Invisibility Potion?"
He grunted in agreement, followed by the distinct sound of a cork. She heard him swallow, waiting for the antidote to take effect.
"Severus? Where are you?"
"You can't see me?"
"No, I…" She reached out, fingers brushing the fabric of his robes. "How long does it take to work?"
"It should be immediate. That is, unless…"
"Unless it's been tampered with," she finished for him.
"Precisely."
"But why just the antidote? Why not the Invisibility Potion, too?"
"Because that one was freshly brewed. The antidote is from an older batch, which I foolishly assumed was secure. It's been locked up in my storage room, though clearly, my protections are insufficient."
"Is there anything you can do about that?"
"Oh yes," he said. "I intend to take care of it first thing tomorrow."
"What about tonight? I mean, how long will it take it to wear off without the antidote?"
"Several hours. Until then, you'll have to make do with my disembodied voice."
"Not disembodied," she said, reaching out to touch him again. She felt the warmth of his skin through his robes, pausing as she heard a sharp intake of breath. Before she could pull away, his hand covered hers, pressing it against his growing erection.
"No," he said softly. "I suppose not."
"We can't… can we?"
He didn't answer her directly. Instead, she felt his fingers brushing her neck, warm breath ghosting over her ear. He kissed her slow and deep, eliciting a moan as his tongue delved into her mouth.
"Shall I stop?" he murmured a few minutes later. By then, her nightgown had been discarded, leaving nothing but her underwear as he kissed her in the most unexpected places. The crook of her arm. Behind her knee. She held her breath as she felt him pull away, her body quivering with anticipation.
"Please. Don't stop."
Without warning, he drew a nipple into his mouth, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. He paid similar attention to the other breast, hands urging her to lift her hips as he pulled her underwear down over her legs.
Suddenly, his touch was gone. She couldn't even hear him anymore, panting softly as she gazed up at empty air. What was he doing? What was he thinking? She felt vulnerable, exposed, pulling her knees together as she moved an arm to cover her breasts.
"Don't," Severus whispered.
"What are you…"
"Trust me."
She nodded, legs parting as her arms fell back against the pillows. She could feel his perusal now, fabric rustling as he muttered something indistinguishable.
And then…
She gasped, shocked by the sensation as she felt his head between her thighs. His tongue slid across her skin, tentative at first and then firmer, exploring her most intimate places. Dear god, he'd only gotten better since the last time he'd done this. She grabbed fistfuls of blanket, back arching as she shuddered from head to toe.
This time, she didn't have to wonder what he'd do next. Her senses were still reeling, body stretching to accommodate him as he buried himself inside her.
She never opened her eyes. There was no need to, her other senses heightened by her inability to see him. The weight of his body pressing her into the mattress. The harsh rasp of his breath against her ear. She'd never been more aware of his presence or how it made her feel, moaning in response to his slow, deep thrusts. She turned her head, blindly seeking, gratified when his lips found hers.
Soon enough, he picked up momentum, muscles straining as he groaned into her mouth. Faster, harder… she dug her nails into his back, surprised to feel pleasure coiling within her for a second time. Almost there… almost…
She cried out, clinging to him like a lifeline as he shifted his hips, increasing the friction. A few more thrusts and she felt him pulsing inside her, his body suddenly heavy as his muscles went limp.
Even then, she was attuned to every sensation. His heartbeat pounded like a drum against her skin, gradually slowing as his breathing returned to normal. By then, she was lying in his arms, resisting the urge to open her eyes.
"Are you asleep?"
"No," she said. "I just don't want to look if I can't see you."
"Try it."
Slowly, she cracked an eye open. His silhouette was faint, practically transparent, but she could see the shimmer of his eyes, the familiar outline of his nose…
"How much longer will it take?"
"An hour, perhaps. I'll need to take another dose before I leave."
She nodded, laying her head back down. "Severus?"
"Yes?"
"What happened in London? You still haven't told me."
"Yes, well, your groping was a bit of a distraction."
"I didn't grope you! I mean, I didn't do it on purpose."
"I know," he said, sounding amused. "Anyway, there isn't much to tell. I visited several clinics, asked a few questions, scheduled an appointment."
"And you're sure they'll do it? Did you tell them how far along I am?"
"According to them, 12 weeks is fairly early. They can perform the procedure at 16 or even 20 weeks, though it's best to do it sooner rather than later."
So this wasn't her only chance. Hermione had never felt more relieved, knowing she still had two months to work with. Of course, she didn't want to wait that long. But if the worst should happen, if anything stopped her from making it to that appointment… well, she was glad to know she'd still have options.
"This would be so much easier if I hadn't fainted," she said. "Now that Minerva knows…"
"Ah, yes. I heard all about it at yesterday's staff meeting."
"She told the whole staff?"
"Yes, though of course, we were encouraged to be discreet."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course you were. What else did she say?"
"'I want all of you to make an effort to be accommodating,'" Severus quoted in a mocking voice. "'Small infractions like tardiness should be overlooked, and of course, no harsh treatment or unnecessary detentions.'"
"I take it that last part was directed at you?"
"Yes, which I found rather encouraging. If she assumes I'd punish you like any other student…"
"So she's not suspicious. That's good, but she's still been watching me like a hawk. How can we leave at the same time without her noticing? Won't she figure out what's happened when she realizes I'm not pregnant anymore?"
"Not if we're careful."
"How…"
"Don't worry," he said quietly. "I have a plan."
In one sense, Severus told Minerva the truth. He claimed he had affairs to attend to at home, and indeed, he spent the weekend at Spinner's End.
This was the first part of his plan. Potions. Lots of potions. He brewed for two days straight, stocking up on essentials like Blood Replenisher and Dreamless Sleep. Common antidotes, antivenin, and curse removals…
Pain relief potion. Yes, that one was particularly important. He created several batches, shrinking the vials so they'd fit into the tiny storage box he'd conjured. He'd reinforced it with several powerful spells, ensuring that no one but him could gain access.
Monday morning. Part two of the plan. He had a cup of coffee followed by a quick shower, trading his customary robes for black trousers and a button up shirt. Heavy woolen coat… yes, that was better. He stashed the box in his pocket, visualizing the meeting spot as he turned in a slow, deliberate circle.
The alley was deserted, though of course, he'd arranged it that way. Just a simple Muggle repellent charm…
He heard a pop, turning around as a familiar figure appeared at the other end of the alley. Hermione wavered on her feet, covering her mouth as he approached.
"Here," he said, withdrawing a vial from his pocket. "Take this."
She shook her head. "Doesn't work anymore."
"Try it."
"I'm just going to toss it back up."
Dubious or not, she accepted the vial, grimacing as she lifted it to her lips. One swallow, another and another… his suspicions were confirmed as her color returned to normal, her eyes widening in surprise.
"It's working."
"Of course it is. I brewed it at home where it couldn't be tampered with."
"Tampered… bloody hell, I should've known."
"We both should have, though I suppose it doesn't matter now. I can assure you that it won't happen again."
She nodded, her eyes sweeping over his coat and trousers. "I've never seen you in Muggle clothes," she said. "You look nice."
"Inconspicuous?"
"Very."
He watched as she removed her school robes, revealing a soft cotton shirt and loosefitting trousers. Unlike him, she hadn't bothered with a coat, though he supposed she didn't need one. The morning was uncharacteristically sunny, hints of springtime in the air.
"I hope this is all right."
"Perfectly suitable, I'm sure. What did you tell Minerva?"
"I said I was headed to Diagon Alley to pick up a new hawk feather quill. They don't sell them in Hogsmeade, so…"
"Clever," he said. "How did she respond?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "She said I should stop by the Burrow while I'm down here."
"Good."
"What? How is that good?"
"She's too busy meddling to suspect anything," he pointed out. "That's exactly what we want."
"Yeah, I guess you're right. It's still annoying, though."
"I know."
"What time is it?" she said, her expression suddenly anxious. "It was 8:30 when I got here."
"8:50 now. We still have 10 minutes."
She nodded. "Should we go ahead and go in?"
She was scared. He could see it in her eyes, though he had no idea how to soothe her. What reassurance could he give when he was so far out of his depth, keenly aware of his own ignorance?
"We'll go when you're ready."
"I'm ready now."
Frightened or not, she straightened her shoulders, lifting her chin as she strode toward the building.
"Wait," he said.
"Yeah?"
He took her hand, entwining his fingers through hers. It felt strange to show affection in public, yet there were no prying eyes here, no reason to keep his distance or hide how he felt about her. For once, he could just be himself, a taste of freedom after countless years of secrecy.
"Thanks."
"For what?"
"This," she said, giving his hand a little squeeze. "It helps."
The next thing he knew, they were seated in the waiting room, his nostrils assaulted by harsh, chemical smells. He couldn't help missing the gentle fumes of his own remedies, wishing all over again that the termination potion hadn't failed. Such a simple solution, one he'd understood and knew he could trust. This Muggle procedure…
"Harm… um, Hermione Granger?"
"Right here."
Now that they were inside, she seemed to have lost any sense of nervousness. She walked right up to the counter, returning to her seat with a small stack of papers.
"What are those?"
"Standard forms," she said, uncapping the Muggle pen. "Name, address, that sort of thing."
Technically, she didn't have an address, though that was easily remedied. He gave her the information for Spinner's End, watching her frown as she moved on to the next box.
"Phone number. Hmmm."
"I'm afraid I can't help you there."
"It's okay," she said. "I'll just use my parents' old line."
Soon enough, she'd finished the forms, returning them to the counter. A woman in a starched white uniform accepted them with a smile, taking a minute to check them over.
"Good, very good. You can come on back."
Hermione picked up her bag, glancing at Severus. "How long will it take?"
"20 minutes or so, then you're off to the recovery room. If you like, your friend can join you there."
"He can?"
"Certainly," the woman said. "As long as there aren't any complications."
With that final, menacing word, she ushered Hermione away, leaving Severus to his own devices. He searched for ways to occupy himself, wishing he'd brought a book. The Muggle magazines on the table were far too vapid, and of course, he had no interest in making small talk. Instead, he sat quietly, feigning disinterest as he observed the other patients. Who were they? Why were they there? He forced himself to speculate, desperate for a distraction.
"Good morning, Ms. Miller. Are you ready for your ultrasound?"
Ultrasound? He had no idea what that meant, watching as a heavily pregnant woman left the room. A man (presumably the one responsible for her condition) followed close on her heels, leaving three other patients. Two were young women, neither of whom appeared to be pregnant. The other was an older man who had a dull, vacant look about him.
11 minutes.
Bored with the Muggles, Severus focused on more important matters. The next part of the plan…
"I hope I'll be well enough to travel."
He hoped so, too, particularly since he wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts with her. She'd have to pull this off on her own, convincing both Minerva and Poppy that she'd just had a miscarriage.
"What if they figure out what I've done?"
"That's highly unlikely."
He'd done his research, familiarizing himself with the most common treatments for magical miscarriages. Diagnostic charms. Blood Replenisher. Termination potions were used on occasion, aiding the process when it couldn't be completed in the natural way. None of that was invasive, however, and there was certainly no way to determine whether a miscarriage was self-induced. Well, not without Legilimency or Veritaserum, neither of which would be reasonable (or legal) in this situation.
17 minutes.
"Girl in the pink shirt… she with you?"
Oh, bloody hell.
Severus shrugged noncommittally, hoping that would be the end of it. Just the thought of attempting conversation with this dimwitted fool…
"She's a looker, she is. Can't say I blame you for…"
"Blame me for what?"
"You know…" The man trailed off, flashing him a lecherous grin.
He couldn't use magic. Not here. Still, there was one thing he could do, summoning up his coldest, most merciless stare.
"S-sorry, mate. Just trying to be friendly."
"I prefer silence."
19 minutes… 22… 24…
30 minutes, and he felt like he would scream. He closed his eyes instead, forcing himself to recall the ingredients for several complex potions. That only lasted a minute, maybe two, his mind grappling for another distraction. Something, anything…
"Sir? You can come back now."
He leapt to his feet, close on the woman's heels as she led him through the double doors. Everything was blinding white, suspiciously sterile, his nerves prickling in response to the unnatural silence.
"Is she all right?"
"Perfectly fine, though still a bit groggy. Here, take these."
She handed him a couple items, motioning for him to stop as they reached the end of the hall.
"In here."
The door was partway open, lights comfortably dim as he stepped inside. He spotted her immediately, tension draining from his body as he noticed her serene expression. Eyes closed… was she asleep? He approached with quiet footsteps, examining her more closely as he leaned over the bed.
"Severus… you're here."
"Of course I'm here. How are you feeling?"
"I don't know. I mean, I do know, but I'm not sure how to describe it. It's just…" She trailed off, stifling a yawn.
"Are you in pain?"
"Nope."
He nodded, settling himself in the chair beside the bed as he inspected the items he'd been given. Small plastic bottle… some sort of medication? There was also a single sheet of paper, which contained a list of instructions.
"Aftercare," Hermione said, her voice drowsy. "I'm supposed to… I mean, I'm not supposed to…"
"Avoid strenuous exercise for one week," he quoted. "Plenty of rest, adequate fluids…"
"What about the tablets?"
"Potions are far more effective, and they don't involve chemicals or side effects. Wouldn't you rather…"
He trailed off, realizing she'd fallen asleep. She'd never looked more peaceful, which… well, the medication certainly helped, though he knew it ran deeper than that. All those weeks of frustration and uncertainty, powerless to escape such a miserable situation…
That was behind her now. All of it. No more dwindling options, no need to fear what might happen if she was forced to carry to term. With a single procedure, she'd reclaimed her life, refusing to let anyone dictate her future.
Really, it was a shame that the Weasleys would never know the truth. No, this wasn't an accident. She'd done it on her own terms, rejecting their guilt trips and selfish demands. They deserved to know that, to be told in unequivocal terms that they'd had no right to treat her that way. Interfering with her life, refusing to respect her feelings…
The bloody Howler. That more than anything set Severus's teeth on edge. He'd never forget the way Hermione had looked that morning, her face pale, obviously still in shock over her newly discovered pregnancy. And what had Molly said? What had she done? She'd humiliated Hermione, shrieking in public over a situation that was clearly none of her business.
"Still resting?"
He looked up, startled by the woman's intrusion. She didn't wait for a response, taking a closer look at Hermione before she nodded in satisfaction.
"Shouldn't be much longer. Tell her she's free to go as soon as she feels up to it."
Severus nodded, watching her leave before he returned to his musings. Molly. Ginevra. Ronald Bloody Weasley. If it were up to him…
It wasn't. He knew that, determined to respect Hermione's wishes. No grudges. No revenge. Instead, she wanted to protect their feelings, still hoping to salvage some sort of relationship. Why? He couldn't begin to understand it, especially after everything they'd put her through. But if that was what she wanted…
"How long have I been asleep?"
"Not long," he said. "Maybe 20 minutes."
She glanced at the clock, wincing as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Clearly, the medication was wearing off, her eyes bright and alert.
"Are you all right?"
"Just a bit of cramping," she said. "When can we leave?"
"Now, assuming you're ready."
She nodded. "Let's go."
The journey back to Hogwarts took a toll on Hermione. Her cramping had worsened, not helped by a hard landing outside the gates. It took her a minute to recover, hand pressing her abdomen as she leaned against a tree.
"Bloody hell."
She didn't have to do this. One sip of the potion Severus had given her, and the pain would disappear. She refused to take it, however, knowing that visible signs of suffering would be much more believable.
Slowly, she opened the gates, biting her lip as she trudged across the grounds. When the tears came, she let them flow, knowing she looked like hell when she finally stumbled into the Hospital Wing.
"What is it?" Madam Pomfrey said, her expression full of concern.
"I don't know, but it hurts. I… I think I need to lie down."
"Oh, Severus," Minerva said, intercepting him as he headed toward the dungeons. "Have you heard the news?"
"Probably not, considering that I've been gone for the past five days."
"Of course you have. Forgive me, I…"
"Is it anything serious?"
"Miss Granger…" Minerva trailed off, sighing heavily. "I'm afraid she's lost the baby."
"How? Don't tell me there's been another attack."
"No, nothing like that. These things just happen sometimes."
He nodded. "Did you send her to St. Mungo's?"
"That wasn't necessary. She'll be back on her feet in a day or two."
Hesitating, Severus searched for an appropriate response. He couldn't pretend that this was some tragedy, but… well, Minerva wouldn't expect that from him anyway, would she?
"In that case, perhaps it's for the best."
"How can you say that?"
"Well, she hardly seemed enthusiastic about her situation. Quite the opposite, as far as I could see."
"Did she tell you…"
"No," he interrupted, knowing he was treading on dangerous ground. Still, he couldn't help himself, frustrated by Minerva's refusal to see the truth.
Not just Minerva. Everyone. Had they cared at all, paid the least bit of attention…
"Then how do you know?"
"Because I have eyes, Minerva. That girl has been miserable for months."
"Perhaps, though that doesn't necessarily mean she didn't want…"
"She wants to focus on her education, which she's made abundantly clear to anyone who's ever spoken with her."
"Yes, but she also cares for Mr. Weasley. It's unfair to assume she wouldn't have wanted his child, even if the timing was less than ideal."
Severus rolled his eyes, biting back a sharp retort. Was Minerva blind? All that tension with Ginevra, the bloody Howler, Hermione's insistence on staying at Hogwarts instead of visiting the Burrow for Easter break? She'd made it blatantly obvious that she didn't want to be with Weasley. Why did Minerva still insist on believing otherwise?
"Yes, well, they're both young. I'm sure there will be plenty of other opportunities."
Clearly, that was the correct response. She nodded, filling him in on less important matters before she bid him good night.
"Good night," he said, sighing in relief as she disappeared around the corner.
Two days. It had been two days since he'd seen Hermione. He'd spent part of that time at Spinner's End, obsessing over every little thing that might go wrong. What if they didn't believe her? What if there were complications? What if this unknown assailant decided to take revenge, assaulting her while he was hundreds of miles away?
At that last thought, he'd reached for his traveling cloak, arriving at the gates in a matter of minutes. He'd swallowed an invisibility potion, his presence undetected as he'd snuck into the castle.
"How is she?"
"Doing just fine. Better than I would've expected, to tell you the truth."
That small bit of eavesdropping had put his fears to rest, though he'd chosen to remain at Hogwarts. He preferred the close proximity, staying in the Room of Requirement until he knew it was safe to emerge. Another potion, a well-timed flight out of the window… he'd strode back into the castle on Wednesday evening, the last part of his plan intact.
He'd succeeded. They both had, though the need for caution was still paramount. He couldn't risk visiting her in the Hospital Wing, sighing in resignation as he headed down to his office.
Hermione's first night in the Hospital Wing was a blur. She vaguely remembered Madam Pomfrey casting a couple of charms, followed by a whispered conversation.
"Don't tell her. Not yet."
"Should we inform…"
"I'll write to Molly," Professor McGonagall said. "We can spare her that, at least."
Madam Pomfrey had given her some sort of potion, her cramps fading as drowsiness settled in.
"All right, dear. Try to get some rest now."
The next time she opened her eyes, Minerva was gone. Late afternoon had given way to early morning sunlight, dull cramps underscored by a sensation that felt strange, yet oddly familiar. Was that… hunger?
Oh, yes. She recognized it now. She wasn't just hungry, but ravenous, her appetite surging back now that the nausea was gone.
"Ah, you're awake," Madam Pomfrey said. "How are you feeling?"
Bloody elated? Relieved beyond belief? Hermione searched for a proper response, careful to hide her real feelings.
"I… I'm not sure."
"Any pain?"
"A bit, though it isn't too bad. I'm mostly just…"
"Just what, dear?"
"Hungry."
"Hungry?" Madam Pomfrey looked surprised. "Well, that's a good sign. Let's get you some breakfast."
For the next couple days, Hermione did nothing but eat and sleep, as famished as she was exhausted. Weeks of stress, sickness, and insomnia had taken a toll, her body gradually recuperating now that the source of that stress was gone.
All the while, Madam Pomfrey never mentioned the miscarriage. Hermione didn't ask questions either, content to avoid the topic. She began to think she wouldn't have to talk about it at all, though that hope was dashed when Minerva made another appearance.
"Have you told her?"
Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "Not yet."
Did they honestly think she didn't know? Hermione resisted the urge to laugh, summoning up the most neutral expression she could manage.
"You don't have to tell me," she said. "I already know what happened."
"So you know you had a…"
"Miscarriage? Of course."
Minerva frowned, clearly taken aback by the casual response. Hermione knew she should act more distressed, perhaps even shed a few tears, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it.
"I'm sure you're still in shock, which is perfectly understandable."
Shock? Molly had used that word, too, insisting that Hermione just needed time to adjust. Then she'd be happy about her pregnancy, eager to get married, ready to start a family when the time came. In that version of reality… well yes, she supposed she would be devastated by a miscarriage.
So what should she do? Act like she was heartbroken, say a bunch of stuff she didn't mean? If she did that, she'd only be reinforcing their assumptions. They'd go on believing she was someone she wasn't, convinced that she'd suffered a tragic accident.
And what then? What would they expect as she recovered? She couldn't be sure, though one thing was clear. Lying would only deepen their misconceptions. If she wanted to avoid that, she'd have to tell the truth.
"This isn't shock," she said. "It's relief."
For an endless moment, Minerva said nothing. Finally, she turned to Madam Pomfrey, murmuring something under her breath.
"You know, my Dittany supply is running low. I think I'll pop out to the greenhouse if the two of you don't mind."
"Of course. Thank you, Poppy."
Minerva waited for her to leave, her expression inscrutable as she turned back to Hermione.
"Relief? I thought you wanted…"
"Why would you think that? I'm 19 years old!"
"Well, yes, but you and Ronald…"
"Ron and I broke up," Hermione said. "Didn't I tell you that?"
"Yes, though Molly said…"
"Oh, bloody hell. What did Molly say?"
There was no need to ask that question. She already knew the answer, wondering how two versions of reality could be so different as Minerva started to speak. According to Molly, Hermione and Ron were deeply in love. True, their separation had led to misunderstandings, but that was only to be expected. Molly was sure they'd be able to work out their differences when they were reunited.
"So that's where that came from," Hermione said. "You told me the same thing last week."
"Yes, I suppose I did."
Hermione nodded. "What else has she been saying?"
"Well naturally, she told me about the wedding."
That wasn't a recent development. Molly had been talking about it for months, long before Hermione had discovered she was pregnant. Really, she wasn't surprised that Minerva had reacted the way she had. Molly's version made it seem like Hermione was a willing participant, ready to get married and start a family the minute she left school.
"Why would she do that? I don't understand."
"Do what?" Minerva said.
"Lie to you."
"Molly would never…"
"Well, she's lying to herself then. Everything you just said… it isn't true."
"No?"
"I didn't even want to be Ron's girlfriend," Hermione said. "Why would I want to be his wife?"
"I'm sure the separation hasn't been easy…"
Hermione shook her head. "It's even worse when we're together."
She went on to explain what really happened, starting with the problems she'd had with Ron last summer. Her decision to come back to Hogwarts… she'd done that to get away from him, at least in part, hoping that time and distance would give her some perspective. It had, of course, though not in the way she'd planned.
"I spent months feeling guilty," she said. "No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't make myself feel what I was supposed to feel."
"Supposed to?" Minerva said.
"I was supposed to end up with Ron. That's what everyone expected, isn't it? Ron, Harry, Ginny and Molly, even you."
"Well, it did seem like you were headed in that direction."
"Why?" Hermione said. "Because we fought all the time? Because he said mean things that made me cry, or was it the way he mocked the things I cared about?"
"I saw little of that," Minerva said. "What I saw was how much you two cared for one another."
"Not two. Three. Harry is what brought us together. He's also the reason we were able to set aside our differences. What the three of us were able to do, the closeness between us…"
"Remarkable."
"I agree," Hermione said. "But what I feel for Ron… it's always been friendship. Deep friendship, the same as I feel for Harry. It was never going to be more than that, no matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise."
Minerva didn't argue. Instead, she looked sympathetic, which was reassuring. She nodded, motioning for Hermione to continue.
"Anyway, that's how it happened. I did what he wanted, thinking it might change my feelings. When it didn't, I knew it was never going to work."
"And so you ended the relationship," Minerva said, "only to find out you were pregnant?"
Hermione nodded. "It was horrible."
She went on to explain how the Weasleys had reacted, ignoring her feelings as they'd smothered her with enthusiasm. The Howler, those arguments with Ginny, Molly's insistence that she just needed time to get used to the idea? To her embarrassment, she started to cry, remembering the weight of that pressure. Not just the pressure, but the loneliness, the frustration, the awful realization that what she wanted didn't matter at all.
"You should've come to me," Minerva said quietly. "I would've found a way to help you."
Was that true? Hermione wasn't sure, though it didn't matter now. She'd found her own escape, helped by the one person she'd known without a doubt she could trust. if it hadn't been for Severus… well, she didn't even want to think about how much worse the past couple months would've been.
"I just don't understand. Why would they treat me like that?"
"I can't say for sure," Minerva said, "but I do have a theory."
"Go on."
"You know how the Weasleys are. To them, family is everything. That's true even in the best of times, though I'd imagine it's much more intense now that they've lost one of their own. All this talk about weddings and babies… I think that was Molly's way of…"
"Trying to fill a hole," Hermione said. "The hole Fred left behind."
Minerva nodded. "That's why she couldn't accept what you were telling her. She'd already convinced herself that the pregnancy was a blessing, the one thing that would help her family heal."
It wasn't just Molly. Ginny had done it, too. Hermione had seen it the night she'd used Legilimens, remembering flashes of Ginny crying over Fred's body. That conversation with Harry… what had she said?
"It's perfect, don't you think? After everything…"
The way they'd treated her wasn't rational. It wasn't fair either, though Hermione was beginning to understand. Everything they'd put her through… it wasn't about her. Even Ron…
Deep down, she knew why he'd fought so hard for their relationship. It wasn't about love or compatibility so much as him not wanting to suffer another loss. That was clear in the way he'd reacted, struggling to hold on even when it was painfully obvious that the relationship wasn't working.
"I couldn't have fixed it," she said, "even if I'd given them everything they wanted."
Minerva nodded. "I'm sure they'll understand that once they've come to their senses."
"Yeah? I wonder how long that will take."
"Not too much longer, I suspect. Now that they know about the miscarriage…"
"You told them? How did they react?"
Minerva shook her head, sighing heavily.
"That bad, huh?"
"Give them time."
"I will," Hermione said. "I just hope they can forgive me."
"Forgive you? For what?"
"Getting their hopes up. I know they were wrong for expecting so much, but still… I never wanted to hurt them."
"A miscarriage is hardly your fault."
"What if it was? What if I did it on purpose?"
Hermione didn't know where the question had come from, holding her breath as a heavy, oppressive silence filled the room.
"Did you?" Minerva finally said. "I know there are potions…"
"I didn't use a potion."
"I see. Well, even if you had, that wouldn't change my opinion."
Hermione searched for something else to say, relieved when Minerva switched topics. The next Quidditch game, upcoming N.E. … finally, she rose from her chair, greeting Madam Pomfrey as she entered the room.
"Oh, I didn't realize… do you need more time?"
"Not at all," Minerva said. "I should really be getting back to my office."
Madam Pomfrey waited for her to leave, casting a couple charms before she nodded in satisfaction. "Everything looks good," she said. "Are you feeling any pain?"
Hermione shook her head. "How much longer do I have to stay?"
"You can leave now if you wish, though do let me know if anything changes."
"I will. Thanks, Madam Pomfrey!"
Hermione was released from the Hospital Wing on Thursday, though Severus didn't see her on Friday or Saturday. By Sunday, he couldn't take it anymore, suffering through Easter dinner before he slipped upstairs. He'd already reached the sixth floor when he noticed his mistake, cursing under his breath as he patted his empty pockets.
Potions. He'd forgotten the bloody potions.
Disillusionment Charm? Yes, that would have to do. He wasn't going to trudge all the way back to the dungeons… not with Hermione just a few steps away.
The room was silent as he entered, dimly lit by a pair of sconces on the wall. Hermione was fast asleep, quill still clutched in one hand.
He shook his head, lips twitching as he moved a little closer. One by one, he moved her books, rolling up dozens of scrolls and setting them aside. He was almost finished when she stirred, eyes opening as she shifted onto her back.
"Severus?"
"I'm sorry to intrude. I just wanted to make sure you were all right."
"I'm fine," she said. "Just sleeping a lot, catching up on my studies…"
"Recuperating."
She nodded, stifling a yawn.
"Well then, I'll let you get back to it."
"You're not staying?"
He hadn't planned on it, assuming she'd shut herself away because she wanted to be alone. Now that he was here, though… well, no, he didn't particularly feel like leaving.
"Do you want me to stay?"
"Of course," she said. "Why wouldn't I?"
The feeling of being wanted. Would he ever get used to it? He hoped not, a thrill shooting through him as he shed his outer robes. He took off his boots before he laid down beside her, his body relaxing as she rested her head on his shoulder.
"Have you told the Weasleys?"
"No, but Minerva did. They didn't take it very well."
He shrugged. "They'll get over it."
"I know, though I do feel bad for them."
"For them? Why?"
She told him about the conversation she'd had with Minerva, her voice full of sympathy as she talked about the Weasleys' grief. Something about filling a void…
"That doesn't excuse it."
"Maybe not," she said, "though it does make it understandable."
Loath as he was to admit it, she had a point. Grief could be powerful, all-consuming, an emotion that had dictated his behavior for nearly two decades. It had certainly distorted his perception of those around him, so much that he'd found it impossible to take their feelings into account.
Hermione herself had paid a price for that. How many times had he lashed out at her, blinded by the connection she'd had with Potter?
"Understandable or not," he said, "it shouldn't be tolerated."
She left it at that, shifting to a different topic. This one was arguably more important, considering that they still had no idea who'd tried to hurt her or what they might be planning next. Ruined potions, menacing notes, attacks on her dormitory…
"Has anything else happened?"
He shook his head. "Not since the students left for Easter break."
"It's probably one of them."
"Probably."
What else could he say? They'd already discussed every theory they could think of, hours of speculation leading them nowhere. Now there was no choice but to wait, hoping that the next incident would provide some additional clues.
For now, he put it from his mind, closing his eyes as he stroked Hermione's hair. She felt exquisite in his arms, soft and sweet, her warm vanilla fragrance soothing his senses. Perfection, though of course, it couldn't last. Easter break was at an end, the students returning in a matter of hours. After that, he'd have to be much more cautious, keenly aware that he was being watched. Whoever this was…
"I still haven't thanked you," Hermione said, her voice quiet.
"Thanked me? For what?"
"London, the potion, all of it. I can't imagine how I would've gotten through this if you hadn't…"
"You would've found a way."
"Maybe, but it would've been a lot harder."
He couldn't argue with that, recalling how everyone else had treated her. All her so-called friends… they'd abandoned her in every way that mattered, prioritizing their own expectations over her needs and feelings.
Then again, it had always been that way, hadn't it? Her job was to take care of other people and solve their problems, a role she'd played to perfection for as long as he'd known her. Potter, Weasley… she'd held their hands through every difficulty they'd ever faced, which should've earned her a lifetime of gratitude.
Instead, they'd taken her for granted… or at least, Weasley had. He'd expected her to cater to his every whim, reacting like a spoiled child the minute she'd tried to have a life of her own. That level of entitlement, the sheer audacity…
Annoying though it was, Severus couldn't be too angry. Weasley had lost, after all, his attempts to control her proving to be a miserable failure.
"Yes, it could've been harder," he said. "Let's just be glad that it wasn't."
She nodded. "Can I tell you something else?"
"Of course."
"Before the war, I always thought you were…"
"A cold, unfeeling bastard?" he suggested. "An absolute git?"
She smiled. "I wouldn't go that far."
"No? Then how would you describe my behavior?"
"I wouldn't," she said. "That isn't the point. Who you are now… I would've never guessed you'd turn out to be so…"
"So what?"
"Amazing."
Severus had been called many things, though "amazing" had never been on that list. He didn't know how to react, caught off guard by a strange fluttering in the pit of his stomach. It took him a minute to recognize it for what it was, his eyes widening as hers drifted closed.
He was in love.
Of course, he shouldn't have been surprised. He'd been teetering on the edge for weeks now, perhaps even months, convinced that it was only a matter of time. But knowing for certain… well, that was another story.
"Hermione?"
No response, though in truth, he was glad she'd dozed off. It gave him time to get used to the idea, holding her close as he contemplated what it meant. Could she possibly feel it, too? If not, would that happen in time? What did it mean for their future?
There were too many questions, most of which he didn't know how to answer quite yet. He let them drift away, contentment spreading through his bones as he focused on her deep, even breathing, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat…
"Fuck."
Severus hadn't meant to fall asleep, cursing under his breath as he reached for his boots. He paused to check the clock, relieved to see that it was still early.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he whispered. "Go back to sleep."
Robes. Disillusionment Charm. He stepped out into the hall, only to freeze as he heard the distinct sound of footsteps. It was too late to hide. The counterspell was unmistakable, leaving him fully exposed as the charm faded away.
"Severus? What are you doing up here?"
FUCK.
Slowly, he turned on his heel, finding himself face to face with Minerva.
"Checking on Miss Granger," he said, pretending nonchalance. "In light of her recent illness…"
"It's five in the morning."
He shrugged. "I couldn't sleep."
"No? Well then, I'd be interested to know what you've been doing all night. I know you weren't in the dungeons."
She knew. He could see it in her eyes, steely gray like frozen iron.
"I can explain."
"My office," she said stiffly. "Now."
She strode away without waiting for a response, leaving him no choice but to follow.
Author's Note: I apologize for the long hiatus, though I hope such a long, eventful chapter will make up for it. I've certainly enjoyed working on it… it feels great to be back in writing mode. :)
As always, I deeply appreciate your support. Thanks so much for sticking with this story!