In spite of Ginny's optimistic prediction that someone would come back
before too long, it was actually closer to four hours before a somewhat
battered Severus Snape Apparated back to the meadow where his oldest enemy
had met a long overdue end. The man who arrived was much different than
the one who'd left; his tailored vest hung open, the buttons long gone
after Sirius Black's rather inept attempts to render first aid. The once
immaculate white shirt was now grayish, with smutches of dirt, blood, and
other substances he was afraid to identify, considering the solicitous
attentions Fang had paid to his unconscious person. The green and black
neck-cloth had disappeared without a trace, and a rude, make-shift bandage
was wrapped around his left forearm beneath a rolled-up sleeve.
Standing once again before the hut where he'd left his wife, Severus cast about anxiously, knowing that Ginny was incapable of Apparating with someone else. The grassy depression was deserted, other than the body of Lucius Malfoy, and his heart clenched with sudden apprehension.
Calling Hermione's name, Severus turned around, searching the rolling pasture for any sign. A short scream from a small distance away went through him like a thunderbolt. "Hermione!" he yelled, fear clutching his heart once more.
"Professor Snape!" called a panicked voice, "Hermione's in labor!"
For one instant, Severus Snape stood completely still, trying to comprehend the words he'd just heard. Then the message sank in and galvanized him into action, tearing over the slight incline to find the object of his search under a short oak tree.
Hermione knelt in the grass, her head down, with Ginny crouched at her side. A ring of trampled vegetation showed that she had been walking about restlessly between contractions. Her dress was rumpled and darkened with sweat, the hem grass-stained and marked with various fluids.
"I didn't dare leave her!" babbled a distraught Ginny, and one look at Hermione's red, sweaty face had him in agreement with her. Hermione's unruly hair hung in damp straggles down her face, and the vitriol in her voice was truly alarming.
"Severus Snape, you bastard! You come near me and I'll break your effing kneecaps!" She groaned long and low as the contraction continued to bow her body for a full minute before releasing her to pant. She slowly eased back on her heels, the placement of her hands on her thighs and Ginny's support at her side the only thing keeping her upright.
Tradition held that childbirth was a woman's battlefield, and Severus could well believe it. Her labor was obviously far too advanced to risk Apparating her anywhere, and the odds of summoning any of the medical personnel from the battlefield he'd just left were slim. Without hesitation, he conjured several blankets and a basin of water, complete with a face cloth.
Brusquely shoving up the one intact sleeve, Severus wrung out the small flannel in the lavender-scented water. The first touch of it on Hermione's face brought a whimper of relief, and her eyes opened as he tenderly brushed back the tendrils of hair plastered to her face.
"Severus," she whispered, her lips dry. "Are you alive?" Brown eyes clung to his face, her relief as clear as glass.
"Real, alive, and very happy to see you," he told her as he conjured a cup of water and held it to her mouth. She drank a few sips before pushing it away. "When did this start?"
"Just after you left," Ginny supplied, nibbling on what was left of a fingernail. All ten were bitten down to the pads, testifying to her anxiety over her friend and the boy she loved. "How did it go?"
"We won," he answered shortly. "Harry's fine, and Pomfrey thinks Dumbledore will recover if he lives through the next few days. How far apart are the contractions?" he demanded while he coaxed his wife to lay back on the soft blankets he'd conjured. Sirius Black's cloak and a set of green dress robes lay nearby, but Ginny had obviously been unable to convince Hermione to stay on the makeshift bedding while she coped with the pain of labor.
"There's almost no break between them," Ginny told him, a fact that he could see for himself as Hermione tensed again, a low groan again coming from deep inside her as she was gripped once again by the inexorable forces that controlled her body. "We knew she wasn't supposed to push until she was fully dilated, but neither one of us knew how to tell that. I guess it's been, what, a half-hour ago? Hermione said she just couldn't take it any more and started pushing."
"It's coming," Hermione announced through gritted teeth. With an oath, Severus moved behind her, trying to hold her against his chest, allowing her to use all her strength to push. She let out a short scream as the contraction eased, and lifted her head to meet his eyes.
"I tried to wait, Severus. I tried not to push, but it hurts!" She was gasping for breath, exhausted, the bewildered pain in her voice tearing at his heart.
"I know you did, love," he murmured to her. "But it's alright now. You're almost done." He kissed her forehead and rubbed a reassuring hand over her swollen abdomen, trying not to take it personally when she batted his hand away. "Just a little bit longer. Has the head crowned yet?" he asked Ginny in an urgent undertone.
"What, that black thing?" Ginny queried, pointing a well-chewed finger towards Hermione's spread knees. She'd long since got over the less than delicate parts of having a baby.
"I'll assume that's a yes. You have your wand?" he asked. Ginny nodded, and Severus conjured several smaller blankets. "Put a light warming charm on this and hold it ready. When the head comes out, the rest will follow quickly."
"You want me to catch it?" Ginny demanded, appalled.
"Unless you think I can both hold my wife and attend to the baby," he replied with a touch of his normal acerbity. Conditioned by six years of unrelenting, scathing sarcasm, Ginny did as she was told. In the meantime Severus found a position that allowed him to support Hermione with his undamaged right arm and still kept his left hand free to minister to his wife.
The next few contractions came relentlessly, and Severus held Hermione up as she bent nearly double, her hands gripping her knees until they were white from the wrists down. Whether she actually heard the encouragements and endearments he whispered to her, he could not tell, but as each contraction released her, she collapsed back against him and turned her face into his chest. Even with bruised-looking smudges of exhaustion under her closed eyes, wildly curly hair matted with sweat, she was the most incredibly beautiful creature he'd every seen. And that she turned to him between her exertions, resting against him in such a trusting gesture, made his chest ache with the emotion he'd long thought would never be his.
Despite Ginny's impatience, Severus gave the news only as Hermione could absorb it - that Dumbledore had been struck down before Harry had reappeared with Severus, Sirius, and Ron behind him. The way the five of them had driven their way through to Voldemort. How the wands between Harry and Voldemort had joined and had at last burst into flames in both their hands, disintegrating to ash in a matter of seconds.
"The feathers will burn..." Ginny murmured. "Oh, I know all about that stupid prophesy," she continued when Severus looked at her in surprise. "You're right, Hermione, divination is such complete tripe."
Hermione laughed breathlessly in response, her eyes closed as she savored the short break between contractions. Several tiny blood vessels in her face had ruptured, giving her cheeks a freckled appearance.
"So Dumbledore the Phoenix fell, but he's not dead. The feathers burning.. the wands, right? They both had phoenix feathers for a core. The sword breaking?"
"Harry did just as he said - he ran Voldemort through with the sword. Whatever spell he and Dumbledore cooked up to trap Voldemort in the blade broke the sword, but it did the trick. Any part of Voldemort that didn't die with his physical body has been welded to the sword blade, and Harry's already sent off to Gringott's to request a specialist on holding cursed items."
"That was my idea," Hermione said in a breathless whisper. "To use Parseltongue in a binding spell. Harry could fight, then?"
"No doubt about that," Severus answered, more than a little impressed at her very clever notion of using Parseltongue to cast a spell. The only way to break such a spell and release Voldemort's essence would require another person speaking Parseltongue. Since Harry was currently the only living person with that ability, it was as near a perfect solution as Severus could imagine.
"Remus thinks the elemental magic Harry touched when he woke you somehow reactivated the protection Lily Potter created when she died," he continued. "Harry's blood spilling on the ground was the blood Voldemort stole from Harry three years ago."
"And darkness falling all over the earth?" pressed Ginny.
Snape held out his left arm, the exposed wrist red and blistered, indicating a much worse burn was concealed under the bandaging. "Voldemort's defeat caused a backlash through the Dark Mark, and every Death Eater who had one was knocked cold. Took Pomfrey nearly twenty minutes to bring me 'round, and the few others who have regained consciousness seem to have lost their minds, as if they've been exposed to the Cruciatus too long. Dumbledore's feedback spell seems to have protected me somewhat from the full effect."
Any further discussion was delayed as Hermione arched up once more with a contraction, her face turning red as she struggled to push the child out of her body. Severus would have done anything to spare her this pain, but could do nothing but support her as she groaned and pushed and suffered. Finally the contraction eased and let her relax into her husband's arms for the small valley of time between.
"I love you, Hermione," he said softly, not caring if Ginny Weasley overheard him or not.
"I love you too, Severus." Her breathing slowly evened out, then she took a deep breath. "Are we nearly done?" she asked, without opening her eyes.
Without a trace of embarrassment, his long arm reached down between her thighs as he felt for the head of his child. A broad smile came across his tired face as his fingers found, quite close to freedom, a tangle of fine curls.
"Very soon, I think," he told her, leading her hand to the same place. Even with an audience, it was an amazingly intimate moment for a man who had accepted a life alone.
"Good," Hermione bit out as she was seized once again in a vise of her body's own making. She managed to snatch a proper deep breath before bearing down with all her might, held securely by her husband's arms. Her thighs shuddered with effort, and a keening moan came from high in her throat as her body strained brutally at its arduous task, until gradually, finally, the baby's head emerged, oh so slowly released from its mother's body.
Another, milder contraction seemed followed with barely a pause, and Ginny belatedly shot forward with a cloth and caught the child as first one arm, then another popped free, and then the rest of its white-smeared, discolored body slid rather quickly from Hermione's womb, followed by a rush of blood and fluid.
Tiny fists jerked and waved in the air, marking counterpoint to the mewling sputters that quickly rose into thin, rapid wails of outrage. The little chest heaved with its first breaths, and the baby's color turned rapidly from purple to bright pink.
Ginny twitched the warmed cloth around the slimy, wet body, careful of the umbilical cord that still connected the new life to Hermione. "Um, should I be doing something with that?" she asked uncertainly.
Severus lowered Hermione to the ground with a quick reassurance and pulled a black ribbon from his pocket, the same black tie that had wrapped the threatening letter from Malfoy. His hands were shaking, he noted distantly as he tied the ribbon around the umbilical, close to the baby's stomach, and severed the slippery wet cord with a flick of his wand. "She's a girl," he observed as he carefully wrapped his newborn daughter in the blanket. "Hermione, love. We've got a baby girl!"
Beyond exhausted, Hermione smiled at the wonder in his voice and opened her eyes to see Severus holding up the red baby, whose squalls were fading into the occasional discontented wail. She held out her hands, and Severus placed the tiny bundle in the crook of her arm.
"Hello there," she murmured to the baby girl, a sob of joy making her hiccup. "I'm your mummy."
Despite the sweat and tears wetting her face, Hermione's smile rivaled any Madonna, and Ginny dashed an unexpected tear of her own away as her once- hated Potions teacher gathered his wife into his arms. Hermione lay against him in boneless, weary contentment, her head tucked under his chin as they both gazed at their daughter. Severus Snape, Ginny noticed, was also whispering to his child, both of them oblivious to their audience.
Eventually, however, the new parents remembered Ginny's presence, and she was allowed to hold the infant while the necessary and, from her point of view, repulsive final business of childbirth was dealt with. "I don't think Sirius is going to want his cloak back," Ginny managed to joke as Severus wrapped the afterbirth up in a swath of fabric from that very garment.
"Probably not," Severus said evenly as he did what he could to make Hermione slightly more comfortable. He had requested Ginny apply a drying charm the rumpled, sweat-soaked gown, as he was jealously reserving his waning strength to Apparate back to Hogwarts. He had no intention of trusting his new family to a Portkey, a notoriously violent mode of transport known for throwing the traveler off balance at the end of the journey.
As Ginny reluctantly surrendered the baby back to her mother, Severus wrapped the rest of the ruined cloak around Hermione before pulling a small piece of metal from his pocket. He tapped it with his wand and promptly handed it to Ginny, whose overexcited brain took a moment before recognizing the object as the lid of an ink bottle.
"It's a portkey, Miss Weasley. It will take you to the front gate of Hogwarts. The Aurors and other assorted idiots from the Ministry should have overrun the place completely by now, your father not withstanding, so don't expect a friendly welcome until you prove you're a student. Once you've arrived, please inform Madame Pomfrey I'll be Apparating with Hermione and the baby directly to the front door of Hogwarts and I would appreciate her immediate attention. And someone should remind Draco Malfoy of his duty to his father's remains," he added, nodding towards the hollow where Lucius Malfoy's body still lay.
"Yes, sir," Ginny agreed, eager to see Harry again. She gave Hermione a broad grin and shouted "Congratulations!" just as the Portkey activated.
"Alone at last," Hermione quipped in a low voice, and Severus sank to his knees beside her, a tired smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. She brushed a strand of hair off his high cheekbone, concerned by the careworn lines on his face. "Are you sure you're up to this? Apparating, I mean?"
Severus captured the hand and pressed a kiss into the palm. "I can do whatever I need to do, at least for the next little while. If, however, a contingent of giants comes over that hill in the next few minutes wanting to negotiate their rightful place in wizard society, I'm going to tell them to bugger off and come back Tuesday next. I'm all done in, and not sure how much more I can handle today."
He winced inwardly at the subject of giants; he had not told yet about Rubeus Hagrid's valiant death, and the news would wound her deeply. Hagrid was the one member on staff who had never failed to treat Severus with respect, either as a student or a teacher. He, too, would miss the gentle soul of the half-giant.
Severus had left many things out of his tale, but he looked forward to sharing with her the other things that had made an impression on him that day. Such as the way Neville Longbottom had not stuttered once as he explained his role in the battle to the newly appeared Aurors. Some of the wizards and witches appearing from the Ministry had remembered Neville's parents, and truthfully even Severus had seen something reminiscent of the boy's father in his bearing after the battle. The way Cornelius Fudge had appeared, puffed with self-righteous officiousness and quite obviously just this side of panicked as he ordered Sirius Black be arrested, and when he saw the burn on Severus' arm, ordered him arrested as well. Harry had objected, shouting and stubbornly refusing to budge even an inch on the subject. In the end Mad-Eye Moody had stepped in, along with the chief Auror, and agreed that Harry's godfather and Hogwarts' former Potions Master could probably be trusted not to murder anyone in the next few hours while all the mayhem was sorted out.
That decision, however, was the moment the tide turned. Regardless of how many further orders Fudge issued, he was by and large ignored by the Aurors and personnel Apparating in from St. Mungo's, their respect for Fudge running out like water as they went about the business of dealing with the aftermath of the battle. Instead, they turned to Harry Potter and the members of the Order who were already accustomed to Harry's leadership role under Dumbledore. The Boy Who Lived was in charge, and no one on the battlefield had any doubts of that.
All these things, though, could wait until Hermione and the baby were safely back at Hogwarts and they had the leisure for both mourning and celebration. With a grunt of effort, Severus managed to pick up his wife, child and all, and a moment later, Disapparated, leaving the hillside to the sheep and the wind.
*****
Warm, clean, and comfortably nestled into the newly installed larger bed in the Head Girl's room, Hermione did not move as the sound of running water suddenly ceased from the bath. She wasn't dozing, though her mental state was close. In the crook of her arm, her baby daughter had latched onto a nipple and was taking another crack at getting a meal. The primitive act of feeding her baby was not distasteful as she'd feared, but felt amazingly right. It filled some elemental need in her to feel the suction, the warm little mouth with such a strong grip, despite the cramping ache of her belly and the very real impression that she'd never sit properly again.
The baby's solid black curls wisped up against the pale green cap; she'd given up taking uncoordinated swipes at it as she fed. For someone only a few hours old she was already showing signs of temper, and she'd taken quite a dislike to the knitted hat her mother had put on her. That displeasure had been abandoned when her appetite had asserted itself, at which time she had demonstrated a healthy set of lungs.
The bathroom door opened and let out a puff of steamy air, along with a nominally dressed Severus Snape. Tired and eager to join his wife, his only efforts to ready himself for bed had been to shower and comb impatient fingers through his hair. His luggage had not yet found its way to the Head Girl's room, so instead of the black lounging jacket Hermione so detested, he wore his wife's genderless terrycloth robe. Unfortunately it was a cheery butter yellow and did nothing for his color or disposition. The fabric strained slightly across his shoulders and hung open over the pale, lightly defined chest and inevitable black boxer shorts.
Severus found his wand lying next to Hermione's on the Head Girl's study table, along with her long-forgotten dress robes and the enameled necklace his mother had sent, which Hermione had been very happy to see once more. With ease of long practice, he made short work of warding the room and the door. Satisfied with the additional security, he lit the fire with a muttered "Incendio" and joined Hermione in the bed, plumping the pillow to allow him to lean against the headboard and letting out a heavy sigh.
From his spot by Hermione's elbow, Crookshanks opened his eyes and regarded the intruder. The cat had already thoroughly inspected the new little occupant of his bed, and purred his approval, and now Severus was under the same scrutiny. He stared back at the yellow eyes, waiting for a growl or hiss. The two of them had not met the one day Severus had spent in Hermione's room, having disappeared as cats were wont to do, and he'd left before the resident male had returned.
Crookshanks stood up and stretched, then stalked closer to the man invading HIS bed. With a deliberate body slam, he collapsed against Severus' chest, purring. Amused despite himself, Severus gave the ginger-striped ear a scratch, getting more purring for his efforts.
Crisis averted, Severus shifted until he could see his daughter better, suckling slowly now, black eyelashes crimped closely to plump little round cheeks. "Are you sure she'll be all right here in bed with us?" he asked softly.
Hermione glanced up, but seemed just as entranced by the little person in her arms. "No worries. You're a very light sleeper, and I doubt she'll let us go more than an hour or so at a time tonight."
Severus grunted in acknowledgement; although the critical cases has been transferred to St. Mungo's, Pomfrey and several of the personnel from the hospital were caring for a ward full of less grievously injured Aurors and students. The mediwitch and her cohorts had happily volunteered to watch the infant while the exhausted parents got a much-needed rest, but neither he nor Hermione had considered being separated from their daughter for even a moment.
"We'll need to get a bassinet or something in the morning," he commented, watching the little rosebud lips at Hermione's breast. "I'd say conjure something, but I haven't the energy to summon a handkerchief right now."
"We're going to have to come up with a name in the morning," Hermione corrected. "We haven't even thought of what we're going to call her, or who'll be her godparents, or...." she was interrupted by a massive yawn, and gave up the effort of listing all the things left undone.
Severus shifted closer, much to Crookshanks' displeasure. "My family has a tradition," he began.
"Oh, no. We're not naming her Octavia or Agrippa or any other Roman empress."
"All right, then," he agreed, not entirely surprised. "How about Athena, or Diana? I've always been partial to goddesses myself," he murmured, giving her a significant look.
"Umm. I've always liked English queens," Hermione replied, warmed by the appreciation in his eyes that she unfortunately would be unable to do anything about for quite some time. "Lots of those, like Elizabeth or Eleanor, or Victoria. That's a good one, even if she was a stuffy old biddy." She looked down at the infant in her arms. She had drifted off the nipple into sleep, her little mouth still making suckling motions. "How does Victoria sound to you, hmm?"
"Victoria Snape sounds acceptable," her father answered for her. "We can worry about what goes in the middle tomorrow." He leaned down and kissed Victoria gently in benediction. "Born on the day Voldemort was finally defeated. I'd say that sounds perfect."
Victoria did not stir, and Severus stared down at her, remembering the events of the past day before shaking his head. "I wish you could have seen it, Hermione," he told her quietly. "You would have been very proud of Harry today."
"I am proud of him. Aren't you?"
I am. impressed. He has the gift of command."
"Is that a primal magic?" she asked.
"No. Only the magic of his heart. He asked, and I followed a seventeen- year-old boy into a battle we should never have won. But we did." He gave a snort of self-deprecating humor. "I've been wrong, all along. I thought Dumbledore was grooming Harry to be the next Merlin."
"Of course he's not," Hermione murmured sleepily.
"He's the next Arthur," Severus stated.
"King Arthur?" Hermione moved her head slightly to look up at him. "Are you insane?"
"No, unfortunately," he said seriously. "Before tomorrow is over the call for a vote of No Confidence in Fudge will be ringing through the halls in the Ministry. One word from Harry Potter and Arthur Weasley will be Minister of Magic before Fudge's chair is cold. Then, in twenty or thirty years, when Arthur's ready to step down, Harry will be Minister. Not witch or wizard in England will be able to conceive of anyone else."
Hermione blinked at him, bemused, obviously wondering if he'd gone mad. Severus leaned over once more and kissed her forehead. "Don't worry about it now, darling. I trust your judgement, and I'll trust Harry. The Boy Who Lived will become Harry the Conqueror."
She snorted slightly. "That sounds silly."
Severus smiled as well, and with one finger gently caressed the cheek of his newborn daughter. "And our daughter will never need worry about the kind of things you have had to, Hermione. Not with Harry as her godfather."
"Now I know you've gone mad. You want Harry for Victoria's godfather?"
"No," he replied with mock severity, "I want Ginny Weasley as godmother. She's your friend and was there for the whole thing. Harry's just riding in on her coattails, since they're obviously joined at the hip."
Hermione sniggered. "And a few other places. Thank you," she added sincerely, before kissing his mouth softly. With a gentle smile, she handed the sleeping infant to her father while she refastened her nightgown and settled further into the bed. Miffed at the way his humans kept moving about, Crookshanks retreated to the foot of the bed and curled up in an aloof ball.
When Hermione was comfortable, Severus once again laid Victoria in the crook of her arm and extinguished all but one candle with a murmured, "Nox." He found a comfortable position lying on his side, one arm curled under his head as he took in the sight of his wife and child. In the soft light of the single candle, Hermione gazed back at him, her eyes warm with the love for both him and Victoria, the events surrounding her actual conception no longer even a remote concern.
Hermione felt a tiny thread of worry surface as Severus continued to stare at her. His eyes were pure black in the dim light, the lines of his face deepened by his fatigue, his black hair going wavy as it dried.
"Is something wrong?" she whispered.
"Nothing," he replied, shaking his head. "Just looking at what fate has given me."
To his surprise, Hermione bit her lip in what he recognized as a nervous habit. "Severus, if you have any doubts, please tell me. Maybe it is just hormones, or pheromones, or whatever."
Severus leaned over his daughter and silenced Hermione with a quick kiss, followed swiftly by another.
"Hermione," he said patiently. "I love you. You've borne me a child, and we are linked forever, in the most elemental way possible."
She opened her mouth, and he quickly shushed her. "Don't confuse elemental with unreal," he told her softly, his nose brushing against hers as he spoke in gentle, persuasive tones. "This is real."
He kissed her mouth softly, fully, and just as her mouth opened beneath his, the kiss was interrupted when he was hit with a jaw-cracking yawn. She could not help laughing at him and her own phantom anxieties; they were both drunk with fatigue and far beyond rational thought.
"I promise you this," he told her when he could speak again, fumbling for her hand in the covers and holding it tightly in his own. "I love you, and our daughter, and I have no intention of letting you or her out of my sight for at least a decade, if not longer. I'll come up with something more eloquent in the morning, but I'm just too knackered to be poetic right now. All right?"
"All right," Hermione murmured, yawning a bit herself as she closed her eyes. "We have tomorrow."
"And all the days after," he rumbled, feeling just a bit poetic anyway, even as he gave up the battle and drifted into sleep.
~The End~
Standing once again before the hut where he'd left his wife, Severus cast about anxiously, knowing that Ginny was incapable of Apparating with someone else. The grassy depression was deserted, other than the body of Lucius Malfoy, and his heart clenched with sudden apprehension.
Calling Hermione's name, Severus turned around, searching the rolling pasture for any sign. A short scream from a small distance away went through him like a thunderbolt. "Hermione!" he yelled, fear clutching his heart once more.
"Professor Snape!" called a panicked voice, "Hermione's in labor!"
For one instant, Severus Snape stood completely still, trying to comprehend the words he'd just heard. Then the message sank in and galvanized him into action, tearing over the slight incline to find the object of his search under a short oak tree.
Hermione knelt in the grass, her head down, with Ginny crouched at her side. A ring of trampled vegetation showed that she had been walking about restlessly between contractions. Her dress was rumpled and darkened with sweat, the hem grass-stained and marked with various fluids.
"I didn't dare leave her!" babbled a distraught Ginny, and one look at Hermione's red, sweaty face had him in agreement with her. Hermione's unruly hair hung in damp straggles down her face, and the vitriol in her voice was truly alarming.
"Severus Snape, you bastard! You come near me and I'll break your effing kneecaps!" She groaned long and low as the contraction continued to bow her body for a full minute before releasing her to pant. She slowly eased back on her heels, the placement of her hands on her thighs and Ginny's support at her side the only thing keeping her upright.
Tradition held that childbirth was a woman's battlefield, and Severus could well believe it. Her labor was obviously far too advanced to risk Apparating her anywhere, and the odds of summoning any of the medical personnel from the battlefield he'd just left were slim. Without hesitation, he conjured several blankets and a basin of water, complete with a face cloth.
Brusquely shoving up the one intact sleeve, Severus wrung out the small flannel in the lavender-scented water. The first touch of it on Hermione's face brought a whimper of relief, and her eyes opened as he tenderly brushed back the tendrils of hair plastered to her face.
"Severus," she whispered, her lips dry. "Are you alive?" Brown eyes clung to his face, her relief as clear as glass.
"Real, alive, and very happy to see you," he told her as he conjured a cup of water and held it to her mouth. She drank a few sips before pushing it away. "When did this start?"
"Just after you left," Ginny supplied, nibbling on what was left of a fingernail. All ten were bitten down to the pads, testifying to her anxiety over her friend and the boy she loved. "How did it go?"
"We won," he answered shortly. "Harry's fine, and Pomfrey thinks Dumbledore will recover if he lives through the next few days. How far apart are the contractions?" he demanded while he coaxed his wife to lay back on the soft blankets he'd conjured. Sirius Black's cloak and a set of green dress robes lay nearby, but Ginny had obviously been unable to convince Hermione to stay on the makeshift bedding while she coped with the pain of labor.
"There's almost no break between them," Ginny told him, a fact that he could see for himself as Hermione tensed again, a low groan again coming from deep inside her as she was gripped once again by the inexorable forces that controlled her body. "We knew she wasn't supposed to push until she was fully dilated, but neither one of us knew how to tell that. I guess it's been, what, a half-hour ago? Hermione said she just couldn't take it any more and started pushing."
"It's coming," Hermione announced through gritted teeth. With an oath, Severus moved behind her, trying to hold her against his chest, allowing her to use all her strength to push. She let out a short scream as the contraction eased, and lifted her head to meet his eyes.
"I tried to wait, Severus. I tried not to push, but it hurts!" She was gasping for breath, exhausted, the bewildered pain in her voice tearing at his heart.
"I know you did, love," he murmured to her. "But it's alright now. You're almost done." He kissed her forehead and rubbed a reassuring hand over her swollen abdomen, trying not to take it personally when she batted his hand away. "Just a little bit longer. Has the head crowned yet?" he asked Ginny in an urgent undertone.
"What, that black thing?" Ginny queried, pointing a well-chewed finger towards Hermione's spread knees. She'd long since got over the less than delicate parts of having a baby.
"I'll assume that's a yes. You have your wand?" he asked. Ginny nodded, and Severus conjured several smaller blankets. "Put a light warming charm on this and hold it ready. When the head comes out, the rest will follow quickly."
"You want me to catch it?" Ginny demanded, appalled.
"Unless you think I can both hold my wife and attend to the baby," he replied with a touch of his normal acerbity. Conditioned by six years of unrelenting, scathing sarcasm, Ginny did as she was told. In the meantime Severus found a position that allowed him to support Hermione with his undamaged right arm and still kept his left hand free to minister to his wife.
The next few contractions came relentlessly, and Severus held Hermione up as she bent nearly double, her hands gripping her knees until they were white from the wrists down. Whether she actually heard the encouragements and endearments he whispered to her, he could not tell, but as each contraction released her, she collapsed back against him and turned her face into his chest. Even with bruised-looking smudges of exhaustion under her closed eyes, wildly curly hair matted with sweat, she was the most incredibly beautiful creature he'd every seen. And that she turned to him between her exertions, resting against him in such a trusting gesture, made his chest ache with the emotion he'd long thought would never be his.
Despite Ginny's impatience, Severus gave the news only as Hermione could absorb it - that Dumbledore had been struck down before Harry had reappeared with Severus, Sirius, and Ron behind him. The way the five of them had driven their way through to Voldemort. How the wands between Harry and Voldemort had joined and had at last burst into flames in both their hands, disintegrating to ash in a matter of seconds.
"The feathers will burn..." Ginny murmured. "Oh, I know all about that stupid prophesy," she continued when Severus looked at her in surprise. "You're right, Hermione, divination is such complete tripe."
Hermione laughed breathlessly in response, her eyes closed as she savored the short break between contractions. Several tiny blood vessels in her face had ruptured, giving her cheeks a freckled appearance.
"So Dumbledore the Phoenix fell, but he's not dead. The feathers burning.. the wands, right? They both had phoenix feathers for a core. The sword breaking?"
"Harry did just as he said - he ran Voldemort through with the sword. Whatever spell he and Dumbledore cooked up to trap Voldemort in the blade broke the sword, but it did the trick. Any part of Voldemort that didn't die with his physical body has been welded to the sword blade, and Harry's already sent off to Gringott's to request a specialist on holding cursed items."
"That was my idea," Hermione said in a breathless whisper. "To use Parseltongue in a binding spell. Harry could fight, then?"
"No doubt about that," Severus answered, more than a little impressed at her very clever notion of using Parseltongue to cast a spell. The only way to break such a spell and release Voldemort's essence would require another person speaking Parseltongue. Since Harry was currently the only living person with that ability, it was as near a perfect solution as Severus could imagine.
"Remus thinks the elemental magic Harry touched when he woke you somehow reactivated the protection Lily Potter created when she died," he continued. "Harry's blood spilling on the ground was the blood Voldemort stole from Harry three years ago."
"And darkness falling all over the earth?" pressed Ginny.
Snape held out his left arm, the exposed wrist red and blistered, indicating a much worse burn was concealed under the bandaging. "Voldemort's defeat caused a backlash through the Dark Mark, and every Death Eater who had one was knocked cold. Took Pomfrey nearly twenty minutes to bring me 'round, and the few others who have regained consciousness seem to have lost their minds, as if they've been exposed to the Cruciatus too long. Dumbledore's feedback spell seems to have protected me somewhat from the full effect."
Any further discussion was delayed as Hermione arched up once more with a contraction, her face turning red as she struggled to push the child out of her body. Severus would have done anything to spare her this pain, but could do nothing but support her as she groaned and pushed and suffered. Finally the contraction eased and let her relax into her husband's arms for the small valley of time between.
"I love you, Hermione," he said softly, not caring if Ginny Weasley overheard him or not.
"I love you too, Severus." Her breathing slowly evened out, then she took a deep breath. "Are we nearly done?" she asked, without opening her eyes.
Without a trace of embarrassment, his long arm reached down between her thighs as he felt for the head of his child. A broad smile came across his tired face as his fingers found, quite close to freedom, a tangle of fine curls.
"Very soon, I think," he told her, leading her hand to the same place. Even with an audience, it was an amazingly intimate moment for a man who had accepted a life alone.
"Good," Hermione bit out as she was seized once again in a vise of her body's own making. She managed to snatch a proper deep breath before bearing down with all her might, held securely by her husband's arms. Her thighs shuddered with effort, and a keening moan came from high in her throat as her body strained brutally at its arduous task, until gradually, finally, the baby's head emerged, oh so slowly released from its mother's body.
Another, milder contraction seemed followed with barely a pause, and Ginny belatedly shot forward with a cloth and caught the child as first one arm, then another popped free, and then the rest of its white-smeared, discolored body slid rather quickly from Hermione's womb, followed by a rush of blood and fluid.
Tiny fists jerked and waved in the air, marking counterpoint to the mewling sputters that quickly rose into thin, rapid wails of outrage. The little chest heaved with its first breaths, and the baby's color turned rapidly from purple to bright pink.
Ginny twitched the warmed cloth around the slimy, wet body, careful of the umbilical cord that still connected the new life to Hermione. "Um, should I be doing something with that?" she asked uncertainly.
Severus lowered Hermione to the ground with a quick reassurance and pulled a black ribbon from his pocket, the same black tie that had wrapped the threatening letter from Malfoy. His hands were shaking, he noted distantly as he tied the ribbon around the umbilical, close to the baby's stomach, and severed the slippery wet cord with a flick of his wand. "She's a girl," he observed as he carefully wrapped his newborn daughter in the blanket. "Hermione, love. We've got a baby girl!"
Beyond exhausted, Hermione smiled at the wonder in his voice and opened her eyes to see Severus holding up the red baby, whose squalls were fading into the occasional discontented wail. She held out her hands, and Severus placed the tiny bundle in the crook of her arm.
"Hello there," she murmured to the baby girl, a sob of joy making her hiccup. "I'm your mummy."
Despite the sweat and tears wetting her face, Hermione's smile rivaled any Madonna, and Ginny dashed an unexpected tear of her own away as her once- hated Potions teacher gathered his wife into his arms. Hermione lay against him in boneless, weary contentment, her head tucked under his chin as they both gazed at their daughter. Severus Snape, Ginny noticed, was also whispering to his child, both of them oblivious to their audience.
Eventually, however, the new parents remembered Ginny's presence, and she was allowed to hold the infant while the necessary and, from her point of view, repulsive final business of childbirth was dealt with. "I don't think Sirius is going to want his cloak back," Ginny managed to joke as Severus wrapped the afterbirth up in a swath of fabric from that very garment.
"Probably not," Severus said evenly as he did what he could to make Hermione slightly more comfortable. He had requested Ginny apply a drying charm the rumpled, sweat-soaked gown, as he was jealously reserving his waning strength to Apparate back to Hogwarts. He had no intention of trusting his new family to a Portkey, a notoriously violent mode of transport known for throwing the traveler off balance at the end of the journey.
As Ginny reluctantly surrendered the baby back to her mother, Severus wrapped the rest of the ruined cloak around Hermione before pulling a small piece of metal from his pocket. He tapped it with his wand and promptly handed it to Ginny, whose overexcited brain took a moment before recognizing the object as the lid of an ink bottle.
"It's a portkey, Miss Weasley. It will take you to the front gate of Hogwarts. The Aurors and other assorted idiots from the Ministry should have overrun the place completely by now, your father not withstanding, so don't expect a friendly welcome until you prove you're a student. Once you've arrived, please inform Madame Pomfrey I'll be Apparating with Hermione and the baby directly to the front door of Hogwarts and I would appreciate her immediate attention. And someone should remind Draco Malfoy of his duty to his father's remains," he added, nodding towards the hollow where Lucius Malfoy's body still lay.
"Yes, sir," Ginny agreed, eager to see Harry again. She gave Hermione a broad grin and shouted "Congratulations!" just as the Portkey activated.
"Alone at last," Hermione quipped in a low voice, and Severus sank to his knees beside her, a tired smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. She brushed a strand of hair off his high cheekbone, concerned by the careworn lines on his face. "Are you sure you're up to this? Apparating, I mean?"
Severus captured the hand and pressed a kiss into the palm. "I can do whatever I need to do, at least for the next little while. If, however, a contingent of giants comes over that hill in the next few minutes wanting to negotiate their rightful place in wizard society, I'm going to tell them to bugger off and come back Tuesday next. I'm all done in, and not sure how much more I can handle today."
He winced inwardly at the subject of giants; he had not told yet about Rubeus Hagrid's valiant death, and the news would wound her deeply. Hagrid was the one member on staff who had never failed to treat Severus with respect, either as a student or a teacher. He, too, would miss the gentle soul of the half-giant.
Severus had left many things out of his tale, but he looked forward to sharing with her the other things that had made an impression on him that day. Such as the way Neville Longbottom had not stuttered once as he explained his role in the battle to the newly appeared Aurors. Some of the wizards and witches appearing from the Ministry had remembered Neville's parents, and truthfully even Severus had seen something reminiscent of the boy's father in his bearing after the battle. The way Cornelius Fudge had appeared, puffed with self-righteous officiousness and quite obviously just this side of panicked as he ordered Sirius Black be arrested, and when he saw the burn on Severus' arm, ordered him arrested as well. Harry had objected, shouting and stubbornly refusing to budge even an inch on the subject. In the end Mad-Eye Moody had stepped in, along with the chief Auror, and agreed that Harry's godfather and Hogwarts' former Potions Master could probably be trusted not to murder anyone in the next few hours while all the mayhem was sorted out.
That decision, however, was the moment the tide turned. Regardless of how many further orders Fudge issued, he was by and large ignored by the Aurors and personnel Apparating in from St. Mungo's, their respect for Fudge running out like water as they went about the business of dealing with the aftermath of the battle. Instead, they turned to Harry Potter and the members of the Order who were already accustomed to Harry's leadership role under Dumbledore. The Boy Who Lived was in charge, and no one on the battlefield had any doubts of that.
All these things, though, could wait until Hermione and the baby were safely back at Hogwarts and they had the leisure for both mourning and celebration. With a grunt of effort, Severus managed to pick up his wife, child and all, and a moment later, Disapparated, leaving the hillside to the sheep and the wind.
*****
Warm, clean, and comfortably nestled into the newly installed larger bed in the Head Girl's room, Hermione did not move as the sound of running water suddenly ceased from the bath. She wasn't dozing, though her mental state was close. In the crook of her arm, her baby daughter had latched onto a nipple and was taking another crack at getting a meal. The primitive act of feeding her baby was not distasteful as she'd feared, but felt amazingly right. It filled some elemental need in her to feel the suction, the warm little mouth with such a strong grip, despite the cramping ache of her belly and the very real impression that she'd never sit properly again.
The baby's solid black curls wisped up against the pale green cap; she'd given up taking uncoordinated swipes at it as she fed. For someone only a few hours old she was already showing signs of temper, and she'd taken quite a dislike to the knitted hat her mother had put on her. That displeasure had been abandoned when her appetite had asserted itself, at which time she had demonstrated a healthy set of lungs.
The bathroom door opened and let out a puff of steamy air, along with a nominally dressed Severus Snape. Tired and eager to join his wife, his only efforts to ready himself for bed had been to shower and comb impatient fingers through his hair. His luggage had not yet found its way to the Head Girl's room, so instead of the black lounging jacket Hermione so detested, he wore his wife's genderless terrycloth robe. Unfortunately it was a cheery butter yellow and did nothing for his color or disposition. The fabric strained slightly across his shoulders and hung open over the pale, lightly defined chest and inevitable black boxer shorts.
Severus found his wand lying next to Hermione's on the Head Girl's study table, along with her long-forgotten dress robes and the enameled necklace his mother had sent, which Hermione had been very happy to see once more. With ease of long practice, he made short work of warding the room and the door. Satisfied with the additional security, he lit the fire with a muttered "Incendio" and joined Hermione in the bed, plumping the pillow to allow him to lean against the headboard and letting out a heavy sigh.
From his spot by Hermione's elbow, Crookshanks opened his eyes and regarded the intruder. The cat had already thoroughly inspected the new little occupant of his bed, and purred his approval, and now Severus was under the same scrutiny. He stared back at the yellow eyes, waiting for a growl or hiss. The two of them had not met the one day Severus had spent in Hermione's room, having disappeared as cats were wont to do, and he'd left before the resident male had returned.
Crookshanks stood up and stretched, then stalked closer to the man invading HIS bed. With a deliberate body slam, he collapsed against Severus' chest, purring. Amused despite himself, Severus gave the ginger-striped ear a scratch, getting more purring for his efforts.
Crisis averted, Severus shifted until he could see his daughter better, suckling slowly now, black eyelashes crimped closely to plump little round cheeks. "Are you sure she'll be all right here in bed with us?" he asked softly.
Hermione glanced up, but seemed just as entranced by the little person in her arms. "No worries. You're a very light sleeper, and I doubt she'll let us go more than an hour or so at a time tonight."
Severus grunted in acknowledgement; although the critical cases has been transferred to St. Mungo's, Pomfrey and several of the personnel from the hospital were caring for a ward full of less grievously injured Aurors and students. The mediwitch and her cohorts had happily volunteered to watch the infant while the exhausted parents got a much-needed rest, but neither he nor Hermione had considered being separated from their daughter for even a moment.
"We'll need to get a bassinet or something in the morning," he commented, watching the little rosebud lips at Hermione's breast. "I'd say conjure something, but I haven't the energy to summon a handkerchief right now."
"We're going to have to come up with a name in the morning," Hermione corrected. "We haven't even thought of what we're going to call her, or who'll be her godparents, or...." she was interrupted by a massive yawn, and gave up the effort of listing all the things left undone.
Severus shifted closer, much to Crookshanks' displeasure. "My family has a tradition," he began.
"Oh, no. We're not naming her Octavia or Agrippa or any other Roman empress."
"All right, then," he agreed, not entirely surprised. "How about Athena, or Diana? I've always been partial to goddesses myself," he murmured, giving her a significant look.
"Umm. I've always liked English queens," Hermione replied, warmed by the appreciation in his eyes that she unfortunately would be unable to do anything about for quite some time. "Lots of those, like Elizabeth or Eleanor, or Victoria. That's a good one, even if she was a stuffy old biddy." She looked down at the infant in her arms. She had drifted off the nipple into sleep, her little mouth still making suckling motions. "How does Victoria sound to you, hmm?"
"Victoria Snape sounds acceptable," her father answered for her. "We can worry about what goes in the middle tomorrow." He leaned down and kissed Victoria gently in benediction. "Born on the day Voldemort was finally defeated. I'd say that sounds perfect."
Victoria did not stir, and Severus stared down at her, remembering the events of the past day before shaking his head. "I wish you could have seen it, Hermione," he told her quietly. "You would have been very proud of Harry today."
"I am proud of him. Aren't you?"
I am. impressed. He has the gift of command."
"Is that a primal magic?" she asked.
"No. Only the magic of his heart. He asked, and I followed a seventeen- year-old boy into a battle we should never have won. But we did." He gave a snort of self-deprecating humor. "I've been wrong, all along. I thought Dumbledore was grooming Harry to be the next Merlin."
"Of course he's not," Hermione murmured sleepily.
"He's the next Arthur," Severus stated.
"King Arthur?" Hermione moved her head slightly to look up at him. "Are you insane?"
"No, unfortunately," he said seriously. "Before tomorrow is over the call for a vote of No Confidence in Fudge will be ringing through the halls in the Ministry. One word from Harry Potter and Arthur Weasley will be Minister of Magic before Fudge's chair is cold. Then, in twenty or thirty years, when Arthur's ready to step down, Harry will be Minister. Not witch or wizard in England will be able to conceive of anyone else."
Hermione blinked at him, bemused, obviously wondering if he'd gone mad. Severus leaned over once more and kissed her forehead. "Don't worry about it now, darling. I trust your judgement, and I'll trust Harry. The Boy Who Lived will become Harry the Conqueror."
She snorted slightly. "That sounds silly."
Severus smiled as well, and with one finger gently caressed the cheek of his newborn daughter. "And our daughter will never need worry about the kind of things you have had to, Hermione. Not with Harry as her godfather."
"Now I know you've gone mad. You want Harry for Victoria's godfather?"
"No," he replied with mock severity, "I want Ginny Weasley as godmother. She's your friend and was there for the whole thing. Harry's just riding in on her coattails, since they're obviously joined at the hip."
Hermione sniggered. "And a few other places. Thank you," she added sincerely, before kissing his mouth softly. With a gentle smile, she handed the sleeping infant to her father while she refastened her nightgown and settled further into the bed. Miffed at the way his humans kept moving about, Crookshanks retreated to the foot of the bed and curled up in an aloof ball.
When Hermione was comfortable, Severus once again laid Victoria in the crook of her arm and extinguished all but one candle with a murmured, "Nox." He found a comfortable position lying on his side, one arm curled under his head as he took in the sight of his wife and child. In the soft light of the single candle, Hermione gazed back at him, her eyes warm with the love for both him and Victoria, the events surrounding her actual conception no longer even a remote concern.
Hermione felt a tiny thread of worry surface as Severus continued to stare at her. His eyes were pure black in the dim light, the lines of his face deepened by his fatigue, his black hair going wavy as it dried.
"Is something wrong?" she whispered.
"Nothing," he replied, shaking his head. "Just looking at what fate has given me."
To his surprise, Hermione bit her lip in what he recognized as a nervous habit. "Severus, if you have any doubts, please tell me. Maybe it is just hormones, or pheromones, or whatever."
Severus leaned over his daughter and silenced Hermione with a quick kiss, followed swiftly by another.
"Hermione," he said patiently. "I love you. You've borne me a child, and we are linked forever, in the most elemental way possible."
She opened her mouth, and he quickly shushed her. "Don't confuse elemental with unreal," he told her softly, his nose brushing against hers as he spoke in gentle, persuasive tones. "This is real."
He kissed her mouth softly, fully, and just as her mouth opened beneath his, the kiss was interrupted when he was hit with a jaw-cracking yawn. She could not help laughing at him and her own phantom anxieties; they were both drunk with fatigue and far beyond rational thought.
"I promise you this," he told her when he could speak again, fumbling for her hand in the covers and holding it tightly in his own. "I love you, and our daughter, and I have no intention of letting you or her out of my sight for at least a decade, if not longer. I'll come up with something more eloquent in the morning, but I'm just too knackered to be poetic right now. All right?"
"All right," Hermione murmured, yawning a bit herself as she closed her eyes. "We have tomorrow."
"And all the days after," he rumbled, feeling just a bit poetic anyway, even as he gave up the battle and drifted into sleep.
~The End~