Chapter 159: If

Music Suggestion: "Wild Horses", The Rolling Stones


Sirius stared down at the pale face below him. Hermione's eyelids had lowered, but not shut. It made her look dead.

As if in a trance, Sirius watched her body go limp. It shot prickles of utter horror through every part of him, his lips tingling weirdly.

He shook himself, sitting up on his heels. Healing. He could Heal!

But thoughts that way became hidden by white noise in Sirius's skull. He couldn't remember!

She'd hit a pole – spinal injury –

Fuck, he'd moved her – twisted her around –

No, not that. Sirius's mind sprinted on. Spinal injury, he reminded himself. What was it about spinal injury?

Not a big deal now, he pointed out to himself. Deal with it later. Unless… unless the injury had occurred high enough up to stop Hermione breathing –

"C3, 4, 5, keeps the diaphragm alive" sung like a lullaby in Sirius's head.

But Hermione was breathing. He could see it.

'Think Sirius!' he shouted aloud into the empty dining room.

Or, not empty. A gasp alerted Sirius to Kreacher's presence, the elf coming to a bug-eyed stop in the doorway.

'Poppy!' Sirius shouted at Kreacher. 'Tell her – tell her,' Sirius stared wildly at Hermione. 'Tell her Hermione's dying! GO NOW!'

No point being cautious about what he said. Hermione was dying. Sirius knew the look of a person headed down the steep slope to death all too well.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck… ran the voice in Sirius's head, barely registering the crack of Kreacher's Apparition.

He should have gotten her out right at the start!

Sirius shook his head. You know this Black, he yelled at himself. What do you know?

It came back to him in a rush. He'd already pulled Hermione out of danger. She wasn't under the effects of a curse. Sirius dismissed those first two steps.

Priority three: arrest life-threatening haemorrhage.

Hermione wasn't lying in a pool of her own blood.

There was blood leaking out of one of Hermione's ears.

Sirius snatched up Hermione's hand. It was cool. Colder than his palms. He felt for a radial pulse. Then felt again, more deliberately, sure he was over her pulse point.

Nothing. Her fingernails had a blue tinge to them.

Swearing loudly, Sirius leant over her, feeling for the pulse in Hermione's neck. There was one there, shallow and rapid.

She was haemorrhaging. Just into where he couldn't see it.

'Where?' Sirius demanded of Hermione's unresponsive body.

Rapid heartbeat. Rapid breathing. And that blood in her ear.

One of her pupils was larger than the other.

Sirius swore again, more violently. Hermione's mind – being squished by a fast bleed –

Finally with a solid direction, the spell blossoming into Sirius's mind, he reclaimed his wand, pointed it at Hermione's head, and began chanting. A bloody useful spell: it would stop the bleeding into her brain and dissolve the trapped blood already in there.

The spell trailed off, coming to an end. Sirius checked Hermione's eye. The pupil had gone straight back to normal. He took stock. She was still breathing. Still rapid and shallow. Same for her heartbeat. Still no radial pulse. Still cold and pale, a light sheen of sweat on Hermione's face. Still unconscious. And what did the blood in her ear mean?

Sirius wasn't sure, but he'd done what he could for her head. What was most necessary now… He scanned her body with his eyes.

He hadn't been looking at Hermione's feet. He'd have noticed it earlier if he'd just bothered to look down.

The toes of Hermione's new trainers were pointed in entirely opposite directions, the outside of her shoes flat on the floorboards. All the way up to her hips, Hermione's legs were splayed outwards.

Sirius scooted himself down, swung a leg over to straddle Hermione's legs, and caught her hips in either hand. He shoved, forcing the sides of her broken pelvis together – grimacing in horrible squeamishness at the feeling, rather than the sight, of her split-open pubic bone meeting where it was supposed to be joined by a tough seam of cartilage.

And there, Sirius's heart thudding in his chest, he'd have to stay, holding Hermione's pelvis together, until someone else came and offered a third hand to fuse the bone back together. She'd bleed out more if he let go.

Organs that were probably bleeding near as hard… People he'd left behind – a baby that was relying on Hermione –

Sirius's teeth grit. Waiting, hopeless to do anything else, he had no ability to worry about anything else.

The shudders in Hermione's body were coming from Sirius's hands. He kept up his pressure, not giving in to the tiring of his arms. As, all the while, Hermione lay there, mouth slightly open, partially-open eyes unseeing. Looking like death. With seconds ticking by, every single one the difference between her holding on and going.

And then he noticed her breathing was slowing. And right now, it shouldn't be doing that.

For all that lost blood was inside her body, it wasn't going back into her bloodstream. Her body was shutting down – giving up –

'Poppy!' Sirius yelled into the room. 'GET HERE NOW!'

As though conjured by his yell, Kreacher's Apparition split the quiet house. Poppy stumbled, finding her bearings, in the same moment the clang and clamour of people started up outside the dining room, the front door banging against the wall.

'Broken pelvis,' Sirius relayed, staring up at the matron. 'Shock – hurry!'

Fumbling as she stooped to collect her fallen medibag, Poppy hustled over. She dropped to her knees next to Sirius. Not bothering to set herself up or speak, Poppy directed her wand and provided the spell Sirius needed to let Hermione's hips go.

It was as Sirius eased back, letting his arms rest, that he noticed a new spreading of blood. Only small patches where it had soaked into her skirt, but there all the same. Vaginal or rectal. Both were possible. Sirius hoped fervently for the latter.

Poppy had already shoved Hermione's top out of the way, was doing something higher up. Correcting organ damage, Sirius hoped. He was telling her about his suspicions – what he thought might be ruptured – even as he ripped the waistband of Hermione's skirt apart; Severed the material of her leggings and panties and yanked them out of the way.

There was a lot more blood than just the few spots on Hermione's skirt. Sirius's hands were slick with it, both leggings and panties saturated, Sirius peeling them wetly from her skin. Horrified, he looked up at Poppy. She was the midwife.

Poppy had already spread the Hysteriagel and was casting the incantation. The Reveal slowly appeared. Sirius's horrified stare fell to the coloured network of life visible on Hermione's abdomen. There was no reassuring sight of blue or even green this time. It was red in every single patch and outline. His little baby was barely twitching.

Just on the cusp of three months old. Little Monkey had no chance on his own.

Sirius stared back at Poppy.

'DO SOMETHING!' he shouted at her.

Poppy did. Her wand swishing and dancing over the patch of blatant red, she worked single-mindedly. Sirius's breath sticking in his throat, he watched on, attention focused on cheering on every little spot that shifted from red to an only marginally less terrifying orange. First in the placenta that was supposed to be working to ensure the pint-sized life of his child wasn't snuffed out before Sirius's eyes. It lifted and jumped under Poppy's wand, settling back more firmly into uterine wall. Then, the orange colour growing from there, along umbilical cord, and, finally, into Sirius's tiny baby's sweet head, down through the even more diminutive body and along miniscule curled limbs.

'W-will he survive?' Sirius breathed as Poppy straightened up, digging in her bag.

The midwife didn't answer immediately. She busied herself leant over Hermione's face, a dropper suspended over Hermione's mouth as Poppy opened her lips. Down Hermione's throat, Poppy dripped only two paltry drops of Blood Replenishing Potion.

'He will,' Poppy said grimly, screwing the dropper back into the bottle, 'if she does.'

Sirius's jaw sunk, suddenly very heavy, pulling his mouth open. He gaped at her. If Hermione lived. All this time he'd let himself believe Hermione would be fine once Poppy got to her. People didn't die of blood loss. Not after the Healers got there.

'Wh-what do you mean? What – if?'

'It's orange because Hermione would be orange were the spell to work on the entirety of her,' Poppy provided, gesturing to where the outline of Hermione's uterus glowed orange too. 'I have given her the maximum dose of Blood Replenishing Potion for a pregnant woman. It's not even a wholly safe dose. Any more and she would face certain hyperbolic reaction and a haemorrhage we'd be fighting a losing battle to stop. Even were she to lose the baby in the next five minutes, her body would take longer to go back to a pre-pregnancy state. I cannot give her more, Sirius.'

It was a cool answer that did nothing to lift the weight crushing Sirius's heart. He knew that – had heard Remus and Dora provide the reminder only a few months ago when warning why Hermione had to be taken off Order duties. It was just… incomprehensible.

Incapable of response, he just watched as Poppy prodded and then magically investigated the area on Hermione's head where blood had darkened her hair.

'I…' Sirius's voice wisped pitifully out of him. 'I stopped the bleeding… Cerebral haematoma. I cleared it up. I think.'

Poppy nodded.

'Good,' she pronounced simply, speaking to Hermione's skull as she leaned close to it. 'Hairline skull fracture,' she diagnosed a moment later, tapping her wand smartly to Hermione's temple.

'She… hit a pole. Then… the ground.'

Poppy nodded again, still focused on diagnostics and further Healing. Another moment of poking and prodding and she straightened up, finally meeting Sirius's helpless gaze with a sympathetic look.

'Help me remove the rest of her clothes,' Poppy requested, checking her watch.

Sirius's hands were red with blood, and trembling. Hermione's breathing had slowed to the point that Sirius was waiting on tenterhooks for every new inhale. But he did as he was asked, glancing up as Poppy pulled out of her bag the spidery contraption that would help and got it ready. The moment Sirius had cut and stripped away Hermione's top and bra, Poppy laid the Decapod on her chest.

The contraption spread its ten spindly legs to equidistant points across Hermione's chest and sunk into her flesh. Gruesome to see, but the deep breath it pulled into Hermione's lungs, her chest wall being lifted upward, was worth it.

Sirius trusted Poppy was doing all she could. Releasing trapped air around one of Hermione's lungs. Fixing something around Hermione's spleen or kidney. And more, things Sirius hadn't enough knowledge to understand – wished he did. Wished he had greater skill. Kicked himself with a shock of self-loathing that this time – for the first time in his life – he'd gone blank.

He could have stopped more of Hermione's blood loss if he'd just worked harder – been smarter – not faltered.

And then she'd be awake already. Had he just done more. Had he not blanked, she'd be fine.

Fighting a rising wave of self-hating yells, Sirius focused on the only thing he was able to do: strip Hermione's cold and lifeless body naked. And then he just sat back, his bloody hands on his knees, as Poppy performed a systematic head to foot check, looking for anything else.

Sirius wanted to cover Hermione's body. She'd started shivering. Though it probably wasn't just from cold, he wanted to warm her up. And to hide from sight the vision of her looking bare and so pathetically sick. Her skin held colour only in bloody patches where Sirius's hands had carelessly redistributed that life-sustaining substance.

Poppy asked him to keep Hermione from choking while she poured a small amount of Neural Regeneration Potion into Hermione's mouth. It worked from brain down, Sirius knew. It'd start doing something to avoid her brain swelling up after its injury. Then Poppy had him hold Hermione rolled onto her side as the matron did what she could for the damage and swelling she'd found at the base of Hermione's spine.

It felt like he was being given tasks for a dimwit dogsbody. Felt like he was exactly that: useless like Sirius knew he wasn't. He just had been, on this occasion. When it was more important than ever that he work fast and effectively. He'd let Hermione down. Massively.

And Hermione's skin was so cold. The feeling of so much chill, on his hands and propped against his thighs, sunk that chill into Sirius's own insides. Hermione felt like dead, floppy flesh. By the time he eased her body back down onto the cushions Poppy had Conjured, Sirius was fighting a furious need to sink over her and sob into that cold, lifeless body.

Conjuring a blanket, Poppy draped it over Hermione, smartly tucking the ends in under the cushions with a wave of her wand.

Poppy spared a small nod towards the doorway. Sirius looked, spotting the silent figure of Dora leant just a short way into the room. He hadn't noticed her before. He hadn't been paying attention to any of the noises from outside the room.

'Is every–' Sirius began, his voice coming out rough and weak, but Dora shushed him.

'We'll all be okay,' she told him. 'We do need Poppy, though. If you can be spared?'

'I'll be there in a minute,' Poppy answered. She reached out to touch Sirius's hand as Dora nodded, gave a tiny, sympathetic smile, and moved away.

Sirius met Poppy's gaze. It was easier than going back to watching Hermione's chest rise and fall with artificially enhanced breaths.

'I have done all I can for now,' Poppy told him. 'If everything goes well, we can give her Neural Regeneration Potions in small doses to rectify whatever damage is left. The extra air will help keep her oxygen levels up and I've done my best to ensure her heart is still working as hard as it can. I cannot do anything more to help there.

'A body has many miraculous ways of increasing its own ability to survive,' Poppy went on, her light brown eyes trying to be comforting. 'I will come and help get some water into her in about ten minutes. To give her it now would stress the large dose of Blood Replenishing Potion she has taken. As to the baby… I cannot pretend he is not an added drain on Hermione. The detachment of the placenta was not complete, and I doubt too much harm has so far befallen him. All the same, any Neural Regeneration Potions we can give Hermione will help with the oxygen deprivation he too has suffered.

'As I said,' Poppy patted Sirius's hand, 'if she pulls through, he will as well.'

She gave Sirius a little nod that was far from reassurance.

'All we can do now,' she finished, 'is hope. I will be back again soon. If anything changes, call me. I shall be just outside.'

All they could do was hope.

Sirius sat with his hands limp in his lap as Poppy rose to leave. As she collected her medibag, he looked up at her.

'Will she wake?' he asked. 'Even if… if she doesn't improve. Will she wake… before…?'

Poppy paused. Her look was undeniably pitying.

'I do not know,' she answered. 'The head trauma caused her unconsciousness, but the blood loss would have gotten there in the end. Her body is conserving blood for vital functions. Even so,' Poppy gave a miniscule, sympathetic smile, 'sometimes a brain is just too tired from trying to keep a body alive to wish to work harder.'

And if anything failed further, Sirius added silently, watching Poppy leave him alone with his family lying cold and near death before him, Hermione would have even less oxygenated blood going to her brain. Even less of a chance of waking.

Waking… so he could…

Sirius shoved the thought out of his brain.

But, even though he did… The experience of Sirius's reality dawning on him was almost a visual one. Rising up before him was an enormous wave, towering high above his head. Sirius's eyes closed as he felt the wave crash over him, spinning his body into a lost, disorientated whirl that couldn't find air. He shut his mouth tightly over what oxygen reserves he possessed, not ready to breathe out and let the drowning take him.

It was then that Sirius realised Poppy, always set on not using sex designations when she couldn't tell for sure, had called Monkey "him". He did have a boy. A tiny little boy. Who, were Hermione to miscarry now, Sirius could close inside the palm of his hand.

Sirius conjured another blanket and worked to pull it flat over Hermione's body. With that added layer of warmth, he removed Hermione's arm from under its coverings and cupped her hand in both of his, trying to give her the heat of his own body through it.

As numb as the feet he was sitting on, Sirius just sat. His eyes finally landed on the deathly mask of Hermione's beautiful face. Her lips were tinged a bluish purple. Her mouth was parted slightly, air rushing in and out of it. But Poppy seemed to have closed Hermione's eyes.

It was a cruel imitation of every time Sirius had seen her sleep. He'd seen her pale before. Seen it recently. But never this pale. And he'd never watched her sleep when there was dried blood staining her cheek in two separate fingerprints identical to the ones on Sirius's fingers.

Sirius rested Hermione's hand gently down on top of the blankets. He sat up on his knees, wiped his hand on his jeans, and then thumbed out the fingerprints on Hermione's cheek. Erasing them. Her hair had long dishevelled loose from her plait. It spread around Hermione's head. Sirius's fingers slipped into the almost curly, messy tendrils. Between thumb and forefinger, he felt the softness of the hair he'd, only a few days ago, worked hard to comb out of a tangled mess. Right then, it seemed a great tragedy for her hair to be clumped on one side by her drying blood.

Sirius lifted his wand and began cleaning the blood out. Gently and carefully, taking his time, he sapped the blood magically away, then rested the clean tresses down to lie like those on the other side of Hermione's head. His hand smoothed back over her pallid cheek, almost flinching from the chilly, unwelcome feel of it. Then Sirius sat back, lifted Hermione's hand gently back into his own, and waited, watching her closely for any change whatsoever.

She did now have a pulse in her wrist. A very weak, faint one. But Sirius took it as a sign of hope.

He was barely aware of time wearing on. Poppy came back and directed honeyed and salted water down Hermione's throat, as Sirius kept his wand to her neck and ensured she drank it. Poppy gave Hermione another check over, settled the covers back up over her shoulders, and shook her head at Sirius.

No change.

Other people came in then, taking seats around Sirius and Hermione. Out of the corner of Sirius's eye he could see Ginny leant back against a wall, gnawing her lip. Molly was there, but she wouldn't sit down. She kept trying to coax Sirius into a cup of tea. All Sirius could do was shake his head. He didn't want to scream at Molly – didn't want to tell her to fuck off. Tonks was sitting not far to Sirius's left, near Hermione's head. She'd reached out a couple times to touch Hermione.

Remus joined her after a time, and he did tell Molly to sit down. He moved over, a wile later, to be sat right next to Sirius, his knee pressed into Sirius's thigh. Ron and Leonora came and went a few times with Poppy, then Ron took a place right across from Sirius. On one occasion, he'd tried to find Hermione's hand to hold it through the blankets. Crookshanks had appeared. He'd spent a time on his human's lap, then, unseated by Poppy, he curled up right behind Sirius, looking tense and not sleeping. Kreacher was sat against another wall, just staring at Hermione.

And, through it all, Harry sat on Sirius's other side, his hand on Sirius's back.

It took Sirius a long time to realise his eyes had grown painfully dry. When he did realise it, he ignored it and forgot about it. What he felt more was the wearing away of his heart. With every check and shake of Poppy's head, more of his heart weathered down. By the time Sirius realised the legs he was sitting on ached, and decided to ignore it, a good few hours of ten-minutely checks had gone by.

He'd grown strangely conscious of his own breathing. How it sucked in and out, all of its own accord. It was how Sirius had described Azkaban: to still be breathing, when every other part of you felt like it was drowning.

His fault. He could have done so much more to prevent it. He just hadn't.

Sirius watched Hermione, rather than the matron, on Poppy's next check. Poppy held up the blanket on one side of Hermione longer than last time. Long enough for Sirius to notice and pull his eyes away from his wife's expressionless face.

Slowly, Poppy lowered the blankets. She looked to Sirius.

'Her… heart is slowing,' Poppy provided reluctantly. 'It… is not responding as well to my attempts to speed it up.'

Sirius blinked at her, his eyes stinging.

'… So?' he asked, his voice raspy.

'So…' Poppy pursed her lips. 'I… can give her more fluids, and continue trying. That… is all.'

'Do it,' Sirius told her.

Harry cleared his throat.

'A… blood transfusion?' he suggested, though the words were hollow.

Remus shook his head, ready to provide the answer he had previously.

'Will not work on magical blood,' he said.

Poppy hadn't even been listening to the useless suggestion. She did what she could for Hermione. Another ten minutes went by. Sirius watched Poppy's examination this time.

'I'm afraid –'

'Keep trying.'

Poppy swallowed, and nodded.

The lamps had needed to be lit by the time Poppy smoothed Hermione's covers back down again. Now, she met Sirius's eyes with a pleading look.

'It… is possible,' she said, 'that… terminating the pregnancy will help. Free up some of the demands on Hermione's body…'

Sirius's eyes slipped shut. His head sunk forwards.

'You… are next of kin,' Poppy went on gently. 'It is your decision.'

'Just –' Sirius's throat clenched tightly. 'L-let me think…'

Kill his own son, choose it, on the faint possibility it might save his wife. If there was a harder decision out there, Sirius hadn't had it put to him.

For most of his life, he'd had a set direction – decisions made easily by that belligerent core in his head. Or made by his heart. Or, more recently, directed by Hermione.

This was killing his heart as sure as it was Hermione's. It wasn't able to lead him anymore. Never would again, if Hermione died. So that left the belligerent core. It didn't want to give up. No surprise, that. It never wanted to give up.

But if he said yes… and Hermione did live… She was terrified of having the child, yes. But she cared. She very much cared about Monkey.

'Sirius…' Ginny pleaded. 'If it has a chance –'

'How can I make that decision?' Sirius demanded of her. 'How? Hermione makes these decisions!' he railed at the room – at the situation. 'Not me! I j-just support her! THIS IS MY FAMILY!' he yelled, gesturing furiously at the lifeless body. 'How am I s-supposed to choose to kill it!'

Ginny's mouth pinched, her eyes filling with tears. She shook her head.

'You wouldn't have only suggested it now,' Sirius said, finding an ounce of logic, turning his stare on Poppy, 'if you actually thought it would work.'

Poppy held his gaze. Her own eyes were wet. She just swallowed.

Sirius couldn't make himself think any further on it through all the long moments to Poppy's next examination.

'Sirius…' Poppy spoke kindly. Gently, as if to a grieving widower. 'You… you need to make a decision.'

Harry's hand had gripped firmly onto Sirius's shoulder. Sirius dug his fingers into wet eyes. He sniffed, not wanting to get snot on Hermione's hand as he lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss that hid a sob to her knuckles.

She'd accused him of wiping snot on her lap. That night where he'd rested his head on her, talked to her, after she'd woken irritated about pregnancy symptoms and needed to cool off on the balcony.

More thoughts beckoned. Memories. Smiles, laughter, Hermione's flash temper, even. Sirius forced every single one away. It was torment for his mind to produce those now. Twelve years in Azkaban, incapable of a single happy thought. And now here they were, taunting him.

He'd rather face Azkaban.

Sirius had pressed Hermione's knuckles to his forehead.

'Do it,' he whispered. He shook his head, hating hearing himself saying the words. 'If there's even the slightest chance: terminate him.'

Sirius's face screwed up, battling a furious need to cry. It felt he was saying goodbye to his future.

He couldn't look. He didn't look. As long seconds – or minutes – passed by. The room had gotten darker. No one had bothered to light the overhead lamps. The gas lamps on the wall flickered low and insubstantial.

Sirius didn't check his watch. The watch Hermione had found and decided to fix for him. His hands shook on hers. But no one told him anything. He heard the rustle of bedclothes and, hoping it was over, looked up.

Wrinkles he'd never noticed on Poppy's face stood starkly visible. She met his eyes, and her face pinched.

'I didn't do it,' she said quietly. 'It's too late, Sirius.'

Sirius's chest shook with cries he couldn't face.

'No,' he breathed.

Poppy shook her head. Tonks, by Hermione's head, covered her mouth with both hands.

Sirius's teeth grit, but Poppy wasn't backing down. She had her fingers on the pulse in Hermione's elbow, holding Hermione's other hand. The matron, who'd saved every other bloody person, squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head again.

'I'm sorry,' she breathed. 'But I think… Oh –' Poppy broke off, turning away. Blinking, she looked back. 'I think it's time to say your goodbyes.'

Molly started sobbing loudly. Sirius's eyes blurred. There were sniffles and low moans around the room. But it was Sirius's place to say goodbye first. He knew it. He just couldn't.

'It… it won't be long… now,' Poppy added thickly.

A rushing and roaring was rising in Sirius's ears, drowning out the sounds of grief around him. To never see Hermione look at him again… Smile, postulate a theory, plough herself in to correct another's misconception… Hold him in the night and turn to press a forceful kiss to the tattoo that called Sirius a traitor. Cling so tightly to him Sirius actually felt whole… Able to stand and bear the weight of both of them –

They'd had too short a life together. Far too short. Full of too many promises that had yet to come true. All to be taken from the world in one fell swoop.

This was Sirius's worst fear. And it was right here, on top of him.

And Hermione had said it wouldn't happen. That they would be fine.

'Not going to,' Sirius said, repeating her words. He shook her hand in his. It was fury at himself, but right then it felt like fury at her. 'You said it – you said it wouldn't happen!'

Sirius had taken the rushing and roaring in his head to be the acknowledgement of the great wave winning out. Drowning him. But it wasn't goodbyes that issued from his lips.

'I only just got you back… Only a f-few days ago –'

Sirius's hands clenched around Hermione's.

'I was supposed to go first!' he shouted, furious, at Hermione, his eyes darting up to accuse her to her face. 'Me! I'm older – done more – you had your entire life ahead of you!'

Sirius choked and swallowed, his throat dry.

'We've been through so much,' he croaked on, his eyes welling up. 'How could you give up now? Everything we've fought for – all you've done! You've overcome everything! And now –'

Sirius couldn't finish the sentence. He sniffed and swallowed. His skin didn't feel like his any longer. It felt alive, like it was another being entirely, lifting from his flesh.

'You promised,' he rasped. 'I p-promised…' Sirius's lip had started wobbling. His anger abated without warning. 'I sh-should have p-protected you – w-why didn't I g-get you out w-when I had the ch-chance? W-why – I – I'm so s-sorry Hermione…'

Shifting up, unsteady, onto numb and aching knees, Harry's hand slipping from Sirius's back, he leant over Hermione, resting his forehead down on her cold one, her hand gripped to his belly. Over his wrenching, icy guts.

It was love letting Sirius down. All over again. He couldn't fathom it. How could something so pure and so strong not do more? The most powerful and mysterious magical force human kind could ever know, and it did nothing.

'I love you. So much, Sweets.' He whispered to her, not caring he was wetting her face with his tears. Hermione wouldn't mind. 'I c-can't do it without you… How c-can I go on? You p-put me b-back together and n-now… you're b-breaking me to p-pieces! W-why must I be the one to g-go on? Y-you're st-stronger than me! I'm w-weak – always h-have been! You c-can b-break me w-with a w-word…'

Sirius clutched Hermione's hand tighter. His body was chilled. Its skin writhing. He shuddered. Holding Hermione's hand in one of his, gripping it to him, he slid his fingers into her hair, stroking it.

'We – we were going to have C-Christmas next year with y-your parents and th-those electric lights you l-like on the t-tree. D-don't you remember? L-little Monkey in a Christmas j-jumper of h-his own. We… we were g-going to make the fairies jealous. And the… the bathrooms… We were going to sm-smash them to bits. Y-you're going to m-miss that. And see… see whether H-Harry and Ginny's ch-children will have r-red hair, so y-you can speculate about their d-dominant and r-recessive h-hair genes. Or… s-something like th-that…'

The light beyond Sirius's eyes, blurred by tears, was wavering sickeningly from dark to bright. He swallowed hard, then tilted his head to push a firm kiss to Hermione's skin.

'The n-nursery,' he went on in a whisper, turning to press his cheek to Hermione's forehead. 'You w-wanted to cover the w-walls in p-pretty stickers once y-you w-were sure I w-wouldn't change my mind. I h-haven't. I w-won't. And… y-you w-wanted to k-know whether Monkey's a g-girl or a b-boy… He's –'

Sirius swallowed again against the cracked, dry lump in his throat.

'He's a b-boy, Mione, love. A little boy whose p-parents were g-going to m-make sure he went to a nice sch-school where h-he m-made great f-friends. G-going to g-give him a n-nice b-big back garden to p-play in in. Y-you want to g-get to l-laugh at me the f-first time I demonstrate I c-can be wheedled into p-playing fetch w-with hairy green balls. A-and you never did g-get to s-see my weird stick-chewing h-habit…'

Sirius drifted off, the speaking having grown far too painful. And exhausting. Sirius's eyes slipped shut, his head resting, pillowed on Hermione's. He was more than ready to give up and drift away right there with her. There was no way he could go on. How could he? The future was more than a black pit. It was less than nothing.

'S-Sirius…' Poppy said uncertainly. 'Sirius, I think you should keep talking to her.'

There was something eager in Poppy's voice. Eager enough for Sirius to swallow repeatedly against the lump in his throat, sniff hard, and lift his head just enough to blink his eyes open and look at the midwife.

Still sat with her fingers on Hermione's pulse, Poppy stared almost wondrously back at him. Sirius blinked again. Harder. Behind Poppy, though her eyes were red and tear tracks were glinting wetly on her cheeks, Ginny had crawled forward a short way. She was staring, too, at Sirius.

'What?' he asked, his throat thick and tight.

Poppy waved him impatiently down.

'Keep talking to her Sirius,' Remus's reassuring voice instructed him. 'Hold her.'

Whatever it was, it gave Sirius a new hold on hope. Filled with renewed energy, Sirius rested his cheek back on Hermione's forehead. He shifted his hold on her hand, interlocking his fingers with hers, the tips of his fingers tingling with the growing lightening of his heart – that hopeful energy being pumped through Sirius's arteries.

'And you wanted a wedding – a proper one,' he picked back up. He paused to sniff hard before carrying on, 'So long as I don't have to plan too much of it, I'll be happy to be there. And I'll wear dress robes. I promise. Though, I need you to deliver my son first, otherwise I'll never be able to pick a best man. And I do want him in a top hat. And… no matter what you think, I'm sure you'll be the most beautiful woman there, post-natal body or no. Is there a chance, by me saying that now, it'll lodge in your subconscious and I won't have to convince you of it then?'

Sirius moved to kiss Hermione's cheek. His lips lingered on her skin, then kissed her other cheek, this time to reassure himself he wasn't imagining the increased warmth in it.

He pushed up, switched the hand that was holding Hermione's, and sent his right hand under the covers, wrapping it over her chest; not minding the metal of the breathing contraption for the blissful warmth of Hermione's skin. Shuffling closer to her, Sirius leaned over and returned his forehead to Hermione's.

'See?' he murmured eagerly to her, rubbing his tingly thumb into the skin over her ribcage. 'You're strong. Very strong. You can do it, Mione. Come back to me. You're breathing more on your own now. I can feel it. And,' he slid his hand down a bit, resting it flat over her heart, 'I can feel your heartbeat. It's much stronger. You're doing brilliantly, Mione. O-worthy. As ever.

'You have to come back,' Sirius went on, knowing he was prattling and happy about it. It felt normal. Fabulously normal to be back skipping along a path that had a bright future ahead of it. 'There are books to read, things to scoff at, half the world's problems to be fixed, weird cheese and beef-stuff things to eat, psychology-phising to do, and big bad baddies to Transfigure into rhinoceroses. Or is it rhinoceri? See? How am I ever going to learn the plural of "rhinoceros" if you're not here to tell me? We need you. And there's a room here full of people crying their eyes out over you. You can't leave us like that. Just one scoff or correction from you and we'd all feel much be–'

Sirius cut himself off. He'd felt Hermione move. He shot up to sit high on his knees, staring down at her. A small groan made it out of Hermione's throat and suddenly many heads were in Sirius's vision, all leant over Hermione to see. Remus pushed Dora back a little and the rest followed, easing just a short way off.

Sirius's breath had caught. Barely daring to hope. But he saw Hermione's throat lift in a swallow and felt her hand twitch in his. He clutched it tight to his chest, one hand still under the blankets, feeling her warm skin. He stroked her side.

'Come on, Mione,' he pleaded. 'Come on…'

Her head twisted a short way to the side, then she sighed, her eyes fluttering slowly open. She blinked a few more times, squinting, then met Sirius's eyes. Hers were bloodshot, but strikingly beautiful for all that. A gorgeous warm brown.

Sirius's face split into the widest smile it had ever achieved.

'Sir-Sirius...?'

Hermione's voice was a bare wisp of sound. It broke Sirius. Heartache, utter exhaustion, and delirious relief sending him over the edge into wild sobbing.

He pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed it again and again, barely registering the whoops, sighs, and bursts into tears around him.

'Merlin's pants – I l-love you!' he blubbered at her. 'An-and I'm so-so s-sorry! Why-why I d-didn't just port-portkey you out of the food sh-shop – i-it's no-not like th-they g-gave a to-oss abou-out the St-Statute of Sec-re-recy!' Sirius shook his head heartily, before pausing to wipe his nose on his jacket sleeve. 'S-so stu-stupid!'

Hermione was blinking perplexedly up at him. She swallowed tightly, then coughed a bit.

'Sirius,' she said quietly – hoarse – but with more strength than last time. 'The – the fight, Sirius? Is… is…' She frowned. 'Is Leonora… okay?'

'I'm fiiine!' Leonora wailed from off to the side.

'She's fine!' Sirius reiterated, beaming. 'We're all f-fine! You-you're f-fine! It's all f-fine!'

'And –' Hermione's hand tightened on Sirius's. 'Monkey?' she asked frantically, suddenly terrified. 'Sirius – is he okay?'

Hermione squirmed, trying to get an elbow under her and sit up. Poppy was there, waving her down immediately, the handkerchief she was gripping fluttering into Hermione's face.

'You won't be up for that yet,' Poppy scolded half-heartedly, sounding more happy and congested than stern. 'You've been on d-death's door for the p-past several hours, my dear.'

'But –' Hermione tugged insistently on Sirius's hand, staring wide-eyed from him to Poppy. 'Is he okay?'

'We'll take a look!' declared Poppy. She caught up the side of Hermione's blankets and pushed the section over Hermione's middle carelessly out of the way. For the sake of Hermione's dignity, thankfully only her belly was exposed.

Sirius sniffled and gulped.

'Do you want to see?' he asked Hermione.

'I –' she stared at him. 'Yes,' she decided, trying to squirm up again.

Sirius caught her round the shoulders, shuffling in to prop her up. It took far more effort than Sirius had expected to raise her. The muscles in his arms shivered as he tried. Remus reaching over to help, Hermione hanging onto her blankets and Sirius's arm, they got her wedged up against his knees.

Poppy finished casting the Hysteriagel incantations as they watched. Sirius went straight back to beaming at the sight. Hermione gasped and gripped Sirius's arm more tightly.

'It's yellow!' Hermione squeaked.

'It's yellow!' Sirius proclaimed happily.

Hermione gawped at her belly, then, bewildered, up at Sirius.

'Wh-what?'

'It was red before,' Sirius informed her brightly. 'It's yellow,' he added wisely, 'because you'd be yellow. So you're going to rest, and relax, and bloody-well get better!'

Poppy concurred wholeheartedly. They settled Hermione to lie back down under her blankets. Hermione hadn't let go of Sirius's arm. Nor had she stopped staring, aghast, at him.

'It was red?' she fretted. 'How – why?'

'You were dying Mione,' Sirius said, needing her to understand. 'Really – truly – dying. We – we we-were told to s-say our good-goodbyes…'

The tears Sirius had thought were over welled right back up. He brushed them off hurriedly on his sleeve.

'You – what?' Hermione breathed. 'Oh – oh no…' She clutched his arm. 'Oh, Sirius, I'm… so sorry…'

Sirius shook his head hard. He laughed in a hoarse, wobbly sort of way.

'It does-doesn't m-matter,' he blubbered. 'I d-don't mind n-now.' He patted Hermione's hand, ducking his face brusquely back into his sleeve. The wet leather did little to remove the outpouring from his face. 'N-now you h-have to st-stick to you-your promise and n-never b-break my-my bloody he-eart again.'

Hermione's lips had sunk into one of her sad, unintentional pouts. She was staring concernedly up at him, her deep brown eyes shifting between Sirius's. He chuckled again, very wetly. He'd never been more grateful for a pitying look.

'I l-love you…' he moaned, bowing down and collecting as much of Hermione into his arms as he could. He buried his face against her and sobbed hard into her blankets. Sobbed harder at the feeling of Hermione moving, her arms weak and unsteady, but wrapping around him to hold him to her. She had one set of warm fingers curled around the back of his neck. The other was slipping familiarly into his hair. Scratching his scalp in that way she knew reassured him.

Sirius pushed up over her and caught her lips in a demanding kiss. Hermione didn't mind his bawling. She combed his hair back away from his face like she always did. She played her thumb over the side of his cheek and forehead. She wiped his tears away. She kissed him back. Even while Sirius took gasped stuttery breaths.

Then he sat up, Hermione's hand clasped in his and her fingers laced with his, and dragged his sleeve across his face, snivelling.

He hadn't cried like this since… As far as Sirius knew, he'd never cried like this.

But he was hardly the only one. Ginny was tumbling down to cry desperately into Hermione's shoulder, her fingers clutching at the bedclothes; Leonora swooping in to smack kisses to both of Hermione's cheeks, four whole sets of them; Ron pumping Hermione's hand, grinning like a lunatic, his face polarised into areas of bloodshot red and pallor so great his freckles were lurid on his skin. Then a moaning and mumbling Dora was trying to hug poor, dumbfounded Hermione, Molly adding more kisses to her startled face, Crookshanks shouting and pushing himself in to stand on Hermione's chest; and, slower, Harry picking up Hermione's hand when Ron released it, smiling blearily at her and digging fingers under his glasses between providing pats to her hand; Remus rubbing her shoulder fitfully, murmuring quietly that he was glad she'd be okay.

Kreacher was last, his spindly limbs folding to plop him down next to Hermione. He watched her for a moment with enormous wet eyes. Then he crawled forwards and plonked his head, big bat ears aquiver, into her ribcage – Sirius only just managing to grab Crookshanks out of the way in time. It made Hermione squeak and wince, but she rubbed his back kindly. She was weeping too by now. Sirius figured it'd be hard not to, beset by wailing waterworks from all sides.

'Erm Poppy?' Hermione said timidly, looking over Kreacher's back at the matron. 'I… I can't move my… my legs.'

'That's all right dearie,' Poppy said tinnily, patting Hermione's knee. She blew her nose on her handkerchief. 'I'll give you another dose of Neural Regeneration Potion in a bit,' she went on, sounding a little less like she had a head cold. 'It won't be lasting, but we'll have to fix it in small doses so we don't overwhelm your son. How do you feel otherwise?'

'Erm… sore,' Hermione answered, still rather bewildered. 'All over. And my head. But it's not bad…'

'Good good.' Poppy patted Hermione's knee again. 'Then I think we all need some hot chocolate. And a wee dram, if I can trouble you for one Kreacher?'

'Poppy –' Hermione's eyes had widened. She stared at Poppy as Kreacher pulled himself up. 'Is he a… he?'

Poppy smiled at her, then up at Sirius.

'I do hope so,' she said with wild joviality, 'or your daughter might find herself quite troubled by her extra little appendage!'

Even Hermione smiled. She smiled more when she looked up at Sirius's beaming grin. Quirking an eyebrow at her, he murmured, 'As if any son of mine's going to be little.'

'Oh – Sirius!' Hermione admonished, but she very much looked amused.

'Big head, have you?' Remus jibed, in an undertone.

'Yep!' Sirius said. 'And the width is great too!'

Remus ducked his head to hide an indulgent chuckle.

Braced for the pain, Sirius shifted off his knees as Poppy followed Kreacher out, so much of the elf's towel bunched up to be dabbed at his eyes he was very nearly indecently exposed. Sirius groaned, only slowly completing the stretching out of his legs. They felt like their range of motion had been capped at ninety degrees, stretching them beyond that firing aches into his muscles.

'Ow-h,' Sirius huffed, finally sitting with his legs flat to the floor.

'Did you get injured?' Hermione asked him, worried.

'No… I just sat on my knees for about five hours straight.' Sirius grimaced at her, then glanced at his watch. 'Actually, longer than that… Yeow –' he uttered, flinching as a nerve rediscovered a blood supply and gave him a vicious stab. 'Not a smart move,' he informed her.

'Erm…' Hermione glanced briefly at the others in the room. She was still clutching at her blankets. 'I'm not wearing anything,' she whispered to Sirius.

'Yeah…' Trying to ignore the army of nerves springing to help the first teach Sirius a lesson, he gave her an apologetic grimace. 'I cut your clothes off. Your bra might be salvaged.' He spared a glance at the pile of bloodied and torn clothes in a pile to the side. 'And your skirt. But the rest of it are rags, I'm afraid. Oh…' Sirius patted at the sides of his jacket, then stuck a hand in each pocket. 'Good thing you bought new ones!' he said brightly, feeling his pockets full of clothing bags. 'And I'm hot!' he declared, realising it.

Paying no heed to renewed snorts and sniggers of the giddy group, Sirius unzipped and yanked off his jacket. He dropped it aside and leant back on his hands in the warm room.

'And… ah…' Hermione looked more disquieted. 'There's… something in my chest,' she finished uneasily.

'It's a Ventilation Decapod,' Sirius explained. 'You can pull it off now.'

Hermione's hand slipped under the blankets. Sirius could see it fingering around the legs of the apparatus.

'How?'

'Grab it at the centre,' Remus provided, 'where all the legs meet. It will come out and roll into a ball.'

Hermione followed his instructions and rolled the ball from her, shuddering disconcertedly.

'So…' Hermione looked around at all of them. 'What… happened?'

Ginny rubbed her wrist over her nose. She sniffled.

'What's the last you remember?' she asked.

Hermione thought about it, a frown creasing her brows.

'Carrow…' she said slowly. She recoiled a little from the memory. 'Ooh he's… frightening. Then… thinking I should have done something with my wand – where's my wand?'

She craned up from the cushions, looking to Sirius.

'Er…' Sirius pulled a face. He didn't know.

'I have it,' said Harry. He slipped it from his pocket and handed it to Hermione. 'I found it on the pavement near where you fell. I grabbed it before we Apparated out.'

They explained the rest to Hermione. About how Carrow had sent her flying, how he'd started kicking her when she was broken on the ground… Sirius's teeth grit at that one. He'd watched it before he'd been able to get up.

'Harry punched the daylights out of him,' Ron provided. 'How's your hand, Harry?'

Harry flexed it.

'S'all right,' he said. 'Worth it,' he added darkly.

'They were determined to kill as many of us as they could,' Ginny said. 'Leonora got knocked out again, and Ron was hit with a Slashing Curse…' She shook her head.

Ron still had the bloody hole in his trousers to prove it. Remus had copped the same. But Ginny had been the worst. A Hitter had landed an Eyeball-Expelling Curse on her. That Ginny's eyeballs were safely back in her head was reassuring.

'Terrifying,' Ginny said earnestly, shuddering. 'Couldn't see anything, but I could feel they were hanging halfway down my face…' She shuddered again, it ricocheting up into her head and down into her hands. 'Took Poppy potion after potion to get them to go back in again.'

'And then police car after police car turned up,' Harry said as Molly blew her nose, hard, into a handkerchief. 'There were loads of them, cops jumping out all over the place – full tactical outfit, with… assault rifles, I think. Sniper rifles?' he shook his head and shrugged. 'They were armed,' he went with. 'Body armour from head to toe. And ambulances. I swear the military trucks weren't far behind – helicopters everywhere.'

'It surprised the lot of them,' said Ron. 'We didn't stick around. We Apparated out of there quick as we could. Donno what Yaxley and his mates did.'

'It's zair fault,' Leonora said contemptuously. 'I 'ope they got shot.'

So did Sirius. He nodded an absentminded agreement.

'Doubt any of it will read that way in The Prophet,' Dora said ruefully. 'It'll be: "Once-respected heroes decimate peaceful seaside town, killing hundreds". Or, even better, if they want you gone, Sirius: "Black proves he was guilty of street-side massacre all along".'

'Yay,' Sirius muttered.

'Do you think many were killed?' Hermione asked worriedly.

No one offered an opinion. Remus sighed.

'Unless they decided the best way to deal with the Muggle police was to murder them,' he said, 'I doubt many were killed outright. There would be many injuries, however.'

'So we're outlaws again?' Ginny said, rather dejectedly. 'Aren't we?'

Very likely.

Their predictions, right at the beginning of this mess, were spot on: if one of them was killed, they'd all lose the plot. Remus had sent people to cover the after-school watches those in the room had neglected, but for all of them there, the afternoon had just been given up on. That the Ministry would be out to get them even more now had seemed a secondary concern – or even less than that.

For a second, Sirius had a flash of vision of what the evening would have been had Hermione died. Not all of them crying with joy and guzzling the hot chocolates Poppy and Kreacher brought up, but broken while fighting – Yaxley having become Secret Keeper for their primary safe house – to save their skins against an invading force.

Taking out Hermione was, Sirius couldn't deny, a tactical move. How much the other side knew that, he still wasn't sure. But if they did, and Hermione had died, this fight would have been over that evening. Being caught by a force of Ministry Hit Wizards as they sobbed around Hermione's deathbed… they very likely all would have died.