Some of you saw that plot twist coming. A lot of you didn't. Hermione's certainly in a complicated situation now, isn't she?
Horses8 - We'll have to see!
mhcalamas - There were so many feels, weren't there? So glad you're intrigued and I hope you continue to enjoy my story!
MAGIUSTHEELDER - That'll happen, sometimes, you know. ;)
addictedtoloveandfanfiction - I'm invested in your investment! Here you go - fresh chapter!
mollsballs - Definitely a lasting consequence. Let's see how Hermione handles it!
MotekElm - I figured when this twist happened, it wouldn't be everyone's cup of tea. Some people just don't like this trope and that's totally fine. So glad you perceive that it works with this story though :)
Kyonomiko - Hermione is a Gryffindor, so she's definitely got some guts. But will it be enough to tell him? We'll see...
niffizzle - Thanks for reviewing EVERY CHAPTER this week. Yes, the drama keeps building. But what's a twist on Deathly Hallows without a little drama, eh?
The Gift of Joy is now beta'd! Thanks to highlyintelligentblonde for being my superhero and looking this over!
Hermione must have cried herself to sleep. When she came to, Harry's soft snores filled the tent and the rain outside continued to pound. She wiped the remnants of her dried tears from her face and sniffed twice as she stood up.
She blinked, taking in the state of the quiet tent. Everything was eerily still, as if the world had suddenly paused inside this little bubble. Outside, the war continued to rage, but here, the air hung, unmoving and stale. Yes, all was quiet. But nothing was right.
Ron was gone.
She and Harry were all alone on this arduous hunt now.
They were all alone and she…
She was pregnant. Pregnant with Draco Malfoy's child.
The thought repeated in her head, growing louder and louder. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. The word began to distort until it was just a bunch of sounds meshed together without context or meaning. The world that had seemed so still now seemed to tilt on its axis. The sense of control she thought she had on her life vanished like smoke, slipping through her fingers. Hermione reached out, trying to grasp at it – at anything, but she stumbled. Her heart began racing, her breath shallow and erratic. Her whole body shook violently as she searched for something solid to hold onto.
Pregnant. She couldn't be. Not in the middle of the war – not when so much was at stake.
Sweat poured from her body, and she fluctuated between heat flashes and chills. Sinking to her knees, she somehow managed to crawl into the bathroom and away from the open air of the living space where Harry was still sleeping. He couldn't see her like this – couldn't know what was going on – how careless she had been to put them in a situation like this.
How Hermione was able to cast a silencing charm in the middle of a panic attack, she wasn't sure. But the moment she knew she wouldn't be overheard, she let out a gut-wrenching sob. She wanted to scream – to curse – to throw things. How could this have happened? One of her greatest sources of anxiety was feeling out of control, and right now nothing was as it should be. Ron had abandoned them. Harry was a brooding mess. They hadn't destroyed any horcruxes.
And she was pregnant.
Harry would be so disappointed. Everyone would be when they found out. And Draco? She had no idea how he would react. Would he be angry that she hadn't used contraception? She was supposed to be infertile!
But never mind just being pregnant. How was she going to bring a baby into this situation? Could she? Even if it was feasible, was that the right thing to do? Hermione curled up, her knees tucked below her chin, and began to rock back and forth on the bathroom floor.
She had to make a decision. Once she made up her mind, perhaps she might regain some sense of control. Hermione took deep, ragged breaths. If there was one thing she prided herself on, it was her logical mind. Her brain was meant to come to the rescue in moments like this. She just had to think about this pregnancy… logically. Concentrating, she tried to move past the anxiety and shock to get at the root of her thoughts.
The thing she was carrying within her was a child conceived in desperation and love, and once she tried to see past that initial hysterical reaction, Hermione wasn't sure how she felt about it. What was she supposed to feel? Was she supposed to feel terrified? Confused? Excited? She had never read any books that told her to feel about an unexpected, potentially dangerous teenage pregnancy.
Hermione continued to search her feelings in an attempt to quash her panic attack. Yes, there was anxiety and fear. But yet, not all of her feelings were negative. There was a twist to her emotions that emerged unexpectedly. It gave her pause. She couldn't quite put a finger on it, but curiosity seemed to be the best-suited word at the moment.
But was curiosity enough to justify bringing a life into the world? Perhaps into danger?
Hermione sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her hand like a child. She was just a child, herself. There was no way she was ready bring up a baby.
What did girls in her situation normally do? Hermione didn't have any particular moral or ethical qualms about any of the options that came to the front of her mind. Certainly, termination seemed the simplest. Find a town. Go to a clinic. Done. She could move on and continue the horcrux hunt with Harry to her fullest extent. There would be no concern about what to do when she got large or when she had to birth a baby or when she had to take care of said baby.
That would be simple. And by many accounts, it sounded appealing.
Then, there was adoption. She could remain pregnant and when the time was right, give the baby to a family that could keep it safe and happy. It seemed altruistic and like the noble thing to do – perhaps the right thing to do for some people.
To Hermione, this seemed the most complicated option. She would have to still go through the pregnancy but wouldn't end up with a baby. No, the idea of allowing someone else to raise the creature she and Draco created didn't seem right. Not for her any way. No, that wasn't a good fit.
Hermione had stopped crying by now. Instead, she stared at the canvas wall, her mind seemingly a million miles away.
She placed her hand on her abdomen and allowed herself, however briefly, to consider the third option.
If she had this baby, how far would she be willing to go to protect it? To keep it safe and raise it? Would she be willing to abandon Harry? Would she be willing to trust another to care for the baby until the end of the war? Or until the war ended her?
Hermione felt a lump rise in her throat.
She couldn't justify bringing a baby into the world when she, herself, was in so much danger.
And yet.
This thing growing inside her was a combination of her and Draco. Surely, it would be a beautiful child. And so smart. Capable of so much. From beneath the layers of terror and panic, that strange curiosity she had felt earlier began to grow. What would this child look like? What would its little personality be like?
Hermione thought back to her journal conversation with Draco two months ago concerning Professor Lupin and Tonks's baby (had it only been two months?). He had specifically written that he wouldn't want to bring a baby into a world at war. Back then, she had countered by saying that babies were a reminder of what's good in the world and of hope. Now, she wasn't so sure. She was groping in the dark for what to do, but her brain was too jumbled and clouded to reach any solid conclusions.
The panic attack had subsided by now, and Hermione stood on shaky legs, opening the bathroom door to return to the main living area. Thankfully, Harry slept on.
Hermione sat down in an armchair and summoned her journal and a self-inking quill. Surely, Draco deserved to know about this development. He would certainly have feelings. Perhaps, his feelings would be more definite than hers. Her mind, so often able to navigate complicated situations, felt bogged down. Whether it was this predicament alone or whether weeks of poor eating and wearing the horcrux had begun to affect her thinking, she didn't know.
She grabbed the quill as it flew toward her and opened the journal to a fresh page, poised to write. Just as the nib was about to make contact with the parchment, she paused. What should she say to Draco? How did you go about telling your boyfriend that you were pregnant? She brought the quill to the parchment once more, waiting for the usual string of words to flow from her brain onto the page.
Nothing.
All right. There was no need to be poetic. She could just write out two words: I'm pregnant. That would certainly get his attention. Her ink-dipped quill was once again poised just above the journal, and with shaking hands, she wrote the letter I. Hermione licked her lips and closed her eyes, hanging her head. She could do this. As she moved to write the rest of the message, her chest began to constrict once more, her hand shaking so badly that ink dripped onto the page.
She couldn't do this.
She wrote "I love you" instead.
Growling with frustration, she slammed the journal shut and began to fuss in the kitchen, trying not to think until Harry woke up. When he did, she avoided his gaze. She didn't need Harry to pick up that something beyond Ron's departure was eating away at her. If he noticed anything different, he didn't say anything. They packed up their campsite in heavy silence, lingering later into the morning than normal. Hermione knew Harry was trying to hang on, hoping Ron would return. Hermione lingered for other reasons. She knew that when they apparated to their new location, everything would be different. It would be the beginning of a newer, more difficult chapter in their journey, and Hermione wasn't sure she was ready for that chapter.
The moment they arrived in their new camping sight, misery washed over her anew. Without speaking a word to Harry, she sat on a boulder, her body numb with disappointment. For what felt like the hundredth time in the past twenty-four hours, tears spilled onto her face and her whole body began to shake with sobs. She knew Harry could see her tears. But she also knew he wasn't nearly observant enough to realize the true reason behind them.
That night, she opened the journal again to see Draco's handwriting on the page. "I love you, too."
The tears kept coming. Over the next several days, she tried to limit her crying to the times when she was alone, but she knew Harry heard her sometimes. He had never dealt with emotional women well. Though she felt guilty about it, it seemed that all her crying had left Harry a bit wary of her, and she had been grateful for the space. When she wasn't feeling overwhelmed, her brain had begun kicking into high gear, running through scenario after scenario for her complicated situation.
Hermione busied her mind by throwing herself into research. She tried interrogating Phineas Nigellus time and time again. Yet in the quiet moments at night and as she sat watch, she couldn't help the trailing of her hands to her stomach. Was there really a burgeoning life growing in there?
The more Hermione dwelled on her pregnancy, the more she wanted to see a medical expert. It had occurred to her one night as her mind swirled around that she didn't even know how far along she was. She and Draco had had sex on two different occasions, roughly a month apart. She suspected they had conceived on the latter date because of when her symptoms started appearing, but she couldn't be sure. Her nausea had gotten worse the two weeks since Ron left, and most of the sparse food they had often turned her stomach. Instead of getting tighter, her jeans seemed to feel looser day by day. If she didn't get a solid meal in her soon, she was afraid that she wouldn't have a decision to make.
There were so many questions that she couldn't answer, and it nearly drove her mad. Hermione wasn't used to being in a perpetual state of not-knowing, and she was terrified that her ignorance would have a negative impact on whatever decision she ended up making. She wanted so desperately to see a doctor, but their journey had taken them deeper and deeper into rural Scotland recently. Hermione spent the better part of several afternoons trying to come up with an excuse that would take them to a town big enough to have a good women's clinic. She wanted to find one that would support her regardless of which of the two diametrically opposed options she chose.
But no matter how many times she opened her mouth to convince Harry, nothing except a nervous stutter came out.
On a cold morning in mid-November, about a month after Ron's abrupt departure, Hermione awoke to find their tent half-covered in snow. Harry slept on as she stretched, swinging her legs over the bunk. For the first time in several days, she had actually had a good night's sleep. Her body felt limber and her mind relaxed. She hoped Harry was also sleeping well; they had agreed for their own sanity to take a day off from the horcrux once a week. Those days were the only times when it was possible for either of them to crack a smile. Last night, the two of them had found themselves in a rare good mood. Combining that with the warmth that had been radiating from her pebble, Hermione had fallen asleep with a smile on her face, her heavy heart lightened just a little.
Now, a full seven hours later, Hermione stood and rolled her shoulders back, sliding her hands down her abdomen to rest them on her hips. As her hands passed over her stomach, she paused. Rather than the usual, slightly-concave shape it had become in recent weeks, she felt a tiny swelling.
Her hands flew away from her body; the vestiges of sleep evaporating from her brain as her heart pounded to life. Hermione looked down to see that she had begun to show. No longer would she be able to hide her dilemma so easily. Thank goodness it's winter she thought, grabbing the thick cardigan she had tossed on a nearby armchair.
As she put her arms through the sleeves, she glanced down at her stomach once more. Her hands trembling, she grazed her fingertips over the tiny bump. Closing her eyes, her mind drifted to her conversation with Madam Pomfrey nearly eighteen months previously.
"I am so sorry, my dear," Poppy Pomfrey cooed, her hand rubbing circles in Hermione's back as tears slid down her face. The two women sat on the edge of a bed in the hospital wing just days after the ordeal at the Department of Mysteries. "I wish I could give you a more positive prognosis, but the scarring caused by this curse is severe. If I knew more about the curse, I might be able to treat it, but this particular one… I've never seen anything like it."
Hermione moved her hands to her heavily-bandaged abdomen.
"Are you certain of the odds?" she whispered, her breath hitching.
Madam Pomfrey sighed. "While I can't be certain, uterine scarring tends to lead to fertility issues to some degree. At this magnitude, the likelihood that you could conceive and carry a child to term in the future is quite low."
The gears in Hermione's brain turned as she listened to the matron speak. At sixteen, she wasn't supposed to be mourning over a role she did not hope to play for many years. She wasn't supposed to picture the sweet faces of the red-headed children she hoped… had hoped to have one day.
She wasn't ready to have the future she had imagined swept from under her feet in one go.
It seemed, though, that life hadn't ever waited until she was ready to present her with a challenge.
"So there's no hope?" she asked, her face hardening.
"I wouldn't say that, dear," Madam Pomfrey continued with her backrub. "But the odds are stacked against you. I won't lie. If, when the time comes, you find yourself pregnant, count it as a near-miracle and be extra cautious. Your pregnancy will likely be far more delicate for you than it is for most, and the likelihood of you conceiving again might be low." Hermione nodded along. "Not that you'll need such advice for a while. A smart, driven girl like you won't be likely to settle down just out of Hogwarts, I imagine."
Hermione almost laughed at the memory. At the time, she had nodded along and agreed that she wouldn't need to confront this issue head on for some time. How wrong they had been. She had gone and gotten herself pregnant at eighteen. What would the matron say to her now? She stroked her slightly-globed stomach as she pondered.
She would call your pregnancy a miracle Hermione thought.
A miracle.
Hermione's hand lingered on her stomach, her fingers stretching to cover more area.
She had managed to get pregnant, despite the condition of her uterus. After her meeting with Madam Pomfrey at the end of fifth year, a visit to a muggle nurse at a local clinic near her parents' home had confirmed the diagnosis of severe uterine and fallopian scarring. Statistics said that she shouldn't even be able to get pregnant, let alone carry a child to term. Reason said that in the middle of this war, the stress of pregnancy and a child was the last thing she needed.
And yet.
She held the slight swell of her stomach and felt an immediate sense of calm wash over her. It was not dissimilar to the peace she had felt in Draco's presence this summer.
All at once, the path before her seemed much clearer.
This child she was carrying could be her only shot at motherhood. It didn't make any sense. Her head screamed for her to make another choice. Hermione always followed her head – that was her thing. Books. Cleverness. Making the right choices. Being the voice of reason.
She rubbed her hand over the bump. Perhaps, just this once, she could follow her heart. It was so, so selfish – she knew that – but she wanted this baby. The realization hit her like one of the Whomping Willow's branches.
She wanted to see what it would look like, what its personality would be, and whether it would take after Draco. She wanted to fill the world with a little more life and hope.
Lost in her musings, she didn't notice Harry yawn and stretch, rolling out of his bunk.
"Morning," he mumbled, his eyes half open. Hermione squeaked and quickly drew her cardigan closed. Harry didn't seem to notice anything as he shuffled over to the kitchen. The two munched on stale toast, not saying a word. The horcrux sat at the edge of the table in a menacing sort of way, and neither Harry or Hermione seemed inclined to put it on.
As Hermione chewed on her toast, her thoughts drifted back to her belly. She would have to get more food in her if she was going to have this baby – she would also have to start taking those prenatal vitamins seriously. She had taken them on occasion just in case, but now that she had made up her mind, it was time to commit.
"Harry," she piped up after she swallowed the last of her toast, "I've been thinking."
Harry quirked a half-smile. "What about this time, Hermione?"
"I think we should stock up on food supplies sometime soon. We can make our way to a larger town. If we are able to go to a city with a larger supermarket, I can probably take larger quantities of food without them noticing."
Harry actually laughed.
"Hermione, are you actually telling me you want to pull a food heist?"
"And what if I am? We can't exist like this forever."
Harry sighed. "Yeah, all right. Let's make our way South."
"That's a good idea," Hermione said, standing. "Did you see how much it snowed? I'd much prefer rain over this." She opened the door of the tent to make her point. A small pile of snow blew in.
Harry laughed. "I see your point. Let's head somewhere more populated and less depressingly cold. At least for a bit."
After due consideration, they decided to move away from Scotland and into warmer territory. Over the course of the next two weeks, they traveled bit by bit toward civilization, all the while planning the great grocery heist. Thanks to a great deal of insistence on Hermione's part, it was decided that Harry would remain behind at the tent with the locket while Hermione would go into town to gather the supplies. She had argued that it was she who was the most proficient at the undetectable extension charm and at glamours.
In actuality, Harry could have simply borrowed Hermione's beaded bag for the groceries, but she had insisted rather strongly that she be the one to go. Harry wasn't the one who needed to go to a clinic, after all.
As they moved South, Hermione became more confident with her decision, though she kept it to herself. Multiple times, she tried to take out her journal and find a way to tell Draco, but every time she picked up her quill, her heart began palpitating and bile rose in her stomach. If she were to let Draco know now, he would, at the very least, insist that she leave Harry. And that was the one thing she couldn't do. She couldn't abandon her best friend. Especially not after Ron had.
They settled on the outskirts of Manchester as their destination. Harry had nicked an address book from a nearby telephone box for efficiency's sake, and Hermione pored over the various supermarkets, looking for one nearest to a women's clinic. The more days that passed, the more anxious she grew to visit a doctor. Her belly had really popped in the past couple of days, though she hadn't yet felt any movement from the baby. Wasn't it supposed to kick? Was it still too little to kick? She had no idea and was dying to get her hands on any information.
On the morning of the scheme, Hermione bade Harry goodbye while under a glamour charm, promising to return with food for a filling dinner. She left their wooded hideout and traveled under the invisibility cloak until she reached an empty alleyway on the outskirts of the city. The closer she got to her destination, the shallower her breathing seemed to get. She could feel sweat slicking her skin, though she wasn't sure if it was due to nerves or all the layers she was wearing. Tucking the invisibility cloak away and smoothing her now-black hair, Hermione hailed a taxi and told the driver – a portly man who reminded her a bit of Professor Slughorn – to take her to St. Mary's Hospital nearby. As the taxicab drove through the bustling streets of Manchester, Hermione felt her heart pound in her chest. She gripped her seatbelt in her left hand, the fingers of her right hand wrapped around her wand. She hadn't been around so many people in ages. Not since their escape from the Ministry of Magic all those months ago. After spending so much time isolated with only Harry for company, seeing crowds felt a bit overwhelming.
It wasn't until she noticed shop fronts covered in fairy lights that her adrenaline slowed down. Was it Christmas season already?
When the taxicab let her off in front of the hospital, she paid the driver accordingly and headed inside through a blustery gust of winter wind, wrapping her coat tighter around her expanding middle. The directory inside guided her toward the antenatal clinic. As she made her way to the third floor, she began to shed her various layers of jumpers. Being inside a heated building really made all the difference, and Hermione felt the tips of her fingers and toes begin to truly feel warm for the first time in a long while.
As Hermione opened the heavy wooden door to the antenatal clinic, she slipped her right hand over her wand. She didn't have an appointment and certainly couldn't allow hospital staff to properly process her visit. Everything done today would have to be under the radar, so to speak. A confundus charm would take care of that. She whispered the spell, pointing her wand at the perky-looking receptionist. The woman shuddered before Hermione gave her a false name for check in.
"Yes," the receptionist mumbled, a glazed look in her eyes. "Ms. Michaelson. Our ten o'clock. Please have a seat and we will call you in just a moment."
Hermione smiled and made her way to the waiting area, which was decorated for the holiday season. Several women were already there, each with bellies of various sizes. Some were accompanied by men, others by small children, and others were there, like her, quite by themselves. Situating herself in a chair, she felt a pang of envy in her chest as she looked at the women who had someone to be with them for their clinic visit. She wanted so badly to have Draco sitting by her side. In another life, perhaps they would be here together, both giddy and trembling with anticipation at the thought of becoming parents. If not Draco, she would want her mum there to rub her back and tell her it would be all right.
A lump in her throat began to grow at the thought of her mum. She stared at her shoes, willing it to disappear.
"Claire Michaelson?" a nurse called from across the room. It took Hermione a moment to respond, but when the nurse called her name a second time, she snapped up.
"Sorry," she murmured, following the nurse into the back hallway leading to the exam rooms.
"Not to worry, dear. You're not the first woman with pregnancy brain to walk through these doors." The nurse chuckled, opening a door to the right. "In here for a urine sample and then go across the hall to exam room six."
"Pregnancy brain?" Hermione asked.
"Yes. Hormonal imbalances may cause you to feel forgetful sometimes. They affect your brain circuits temporarily. But not to worry. It's completely normal."
Hermione balked at this. She vowed to add mental exercises to her daily checklist. The last thing she needed on the horcrux hunt was a dull mind. After fulfilling her duty to pee in a cup, Hermione walked over to exam room six and hopped onto the examination table. The nurse was waiting for her and took down some vitals and personal information. Hermione was able to take a peek at her clipboard to notice the date: December the seventeenth.
"Now, then, I see this is your first visit with us. By the looks of it, you're more than a few weeks along. Have you been to an antenatal clinic previously or spoken with a midwife?"
Hermione cleared her throat. "Erm, no. Certain… circumstances have prevented me from having a proper visit before today."
The nurse frowned momentarily but didn't comment. "Very well. Any ideas of the date of conception?"
"Erm, either August the first or September the second. I'm honestly not sure which one." Hermione grimaced, gripping the edge of the examination table.
"I see. Well, based on your size, I'm going to guess the latter, but an ultrasound will let us know. I'm going to send the doctor in shortly and she will do some tests and answer your questions."
Sure enough, within minutes, a friendly-looking woman with greying hair and a kind smile entered. "Good morning, Ms. Michaelson. I'm Dr. Weiss. I hear this is your first antenatal visit. How are you feeling?"
"Fine, I guess." Hermione shrugged.
"Ms. Michaelson, you should know that whatever you say at this appointment remains in strict confidence. If I may be frank, you are eighteen years-old and this is your first pregnancy, correct?" Dr. Weiss spoke firmly, but with a motherly tone that conveyed care in each word.
"Yes," she bit her lip, her eyes darting about the sterile room.
"Then clearly you're experiencing a number of new things both physically and emotionally." The doctor reached out and patted her knee. "I don't know what's going on in your life to make your first antenatal visit so late, but this is the time and place to tell me any concerns and ask all your questions. Don't be shy, dear. I've been working with pregnant women for over twenty-five years and there's hardly anything I haven't seen."
Hermione let out a breath, her whole body relaxing at Dr. Weiss's words. She needed to have the courage to actually talk to the doctor and get as much information as possible today. When there would be another opportunity to attend an antenatal clinic, she had no idea. If she was going to take responsibility for this child, she needed to lose any lingering shame or shyness. Hermione sat up straighter and she looked directly at Dr. Weiss.
"Actually, I've been feeling rather overwhelmed."
The doctor nodded. "Understandably. Well, hopefully we can help you feel less overwhelmed from today. It says in Nurse Beale's notes that you are unsure of the date of conception – either August first or September second. Is that correct?"
"Yes. I only – we only…" Hermione's voice came out breathy as she tried to justify herself.
"Those are the only two possible dates of conception, I gather?"
Hermione nodded.
"I must ask, does he know? Is there any chance he can be involved?"
Hermione shook her head and whipped up an excuse. "He… he's deployed with the military at the moment and he's not allowed post."
"I see. Well, we can't change circumstances, can we?" Dr. Weiss set her clipboard down and clapped her hands together. "Let's run some tests, shall we? We have an in-house laboratory that should be able to get your results back to you in an hour or so if we get them sent in. Will you be able to stick around?"
Dr. Weiss ordered several blood tests, and Hermione winced as she was stuck with a needle. She had always hated needles. The phlebotomist joked that she "had better get used to them if she was going to be a mother."
Hermione's eyes went wide at these words. It was the first time someone referred to her as a mother. Being called that word made her body turn ice cold and her heart radiate warmth at the same time.
Dr. Weiss returned and ordered Hermione to undress, offering her a two-piece paper gown to wear for the rest of the examination before disappearing back into the hallway. Hermione obeyed, removing her layers of clothing, folding them and laying them neatly stacked on a chair. She made sure to retrieve her pebble from her pocket. It was warm, and she held it in her hand, rolling it around her fingers. When she had a firm grip on it, she climbed back onto the table to wait.
As promised, the doctor returned within a couple minutes. She performed a pelvic exam; as a barely-experienced eighteen-year-old, Hermione had never had one before. She suspected, though, that Dr. Weiss might have guessed this after she had gone wide-eyed at the sight of the speculum.
"Now, Ms. Michaelson," the woman began, leaning against the counter on her stool, "before we measure you and conduct your ultrasound, I can answer some of your questions and you can answer some of mine. Sound good?"
Hermione nodded.
"Right," the doctor began, "First, let's begin with how you've been feeling physically. Are you having any nausea or fatigue?"
Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, thinking. "Actually, I've been feeling all right in recent weeks. The smell of mushrooms really made me sick for a while, but I've been able to hold everything down well for a while. And fatigue?" Hermione's mind wandered to the tent where Harry was waiting for her.
Harry and the damn horcrux.
"I was more fatigued earlier than I am now. But I'm still pretty tired every day. However, I should let you know that I've always tended to run tired. I have a tendency to overwork myself."
Dr. Weiss wrote some notes and commented without looking up, "That will have to change. Feel free to work, but overworking isn't good during pregnancy. You're going to have to trust your body. It will tell you when to rest and when to go for it."
"May I ask to borrow paper and a pen?" Hermione interjected. "I feel like I should be taking notes."
Dr. Weiss chuckled, handing over a small pad and pen from a drawer in the counter. Hermione clicked the utensil to life and jotted down the phrase 'don't overwork.' She looked up to see Dr. Weiss looking fondly at her, a twinkle in her eye.
"Ready to continue?"
"Yes, let's."
"Excellent. How's your physical activity level? Are you getting any exercise?"
Hermione thought back to the hours she had spent with Harry foraging for edible plants and hiking along steep hillsides. "Yes, plenty. That shouldn't be a problem. I really enjoy… hiking."
"Good! Now, have you had any vaginal spotting or bleeding?"
Hermione shook her head, continuing to roll the pebble in her hand. Its warmth had dissipated slightly.
"Have you felt the baby move yet?"
"I don't think so. Should I have?"
"Not necessarily. A lot of first-time mums don't feel movement until around twenty weeks. If you conceived in August, you're just past that date. That being said, my money is still on the September date purely based on your size. If that's the case, you're closer to seventeen weeks right now."
Hermione jotted down more info as the doctor continued to ask her questions about her pregnancy so far. The more she discussed her experience, the more she wished her mum or Draco were there to support her. When the doctor's checklist had been completed, she motioned for Hermione to lean back on the examination table.
"Right, we're going to measure your stomach and have a look at baby. Sound good?"
Hermione gulped, but managed to get her neck muscles to move up and down. She settled onto the reclined surface, her legs extended straight in front of her. The paper gown began to itch as she shifted, trying to find a comfortable spot to settle. Dr. Weiss pulled out a measuring tape and placed it right over top of her stomach, stretching it from her pubic bone to her ribs. Hermione watched as she leaned forward, placing the tape between her thumb and forefinger.
"I am quite sure that I was correct, and that September is the magic date for you. You're measuring fifteen centimeters. A little small, but still within normal range if you're currently seventeen weeks." When Hermione looked puzzled, Dr. Weiss continued. "The number of weeks you are into a pregnancy should just about match the size of your abdomen in centimeters. A difference of two centimeters in either direction is considered normal."
"What does that imply, exactly?" Hermione pressed, lifting her head off the table.
"It means that your baby is a good size. A little small, but not enough to be concerning."
Hermione perked up. "I was a small baby. I was just over five pounds at birth even though I wasn't born early." She recalled her parents regaling her with the story of her birth every year on her birthday; this was a detail she hadn't forgotten.
Dr. Weiss smiled, patting her knee. "That could certainly be a factor. I'll take note. Now, shall we get a good picture of baby?"
Hermione took deep, steadying breaths as Dr. Weiss wheeled a machine to her bedside. The thing was large and clunky, having lots of knobs and dials and a large monitor on top. Pushing buttons and adjusting the machine with practiced ease, the doctor grabbed a small wand-like device that was attached to the cart.
"I'm going to put some lubricant on your stomach to make the ultrasound easier. Are you ready?"
Hermione nodded and Dr. Weiss rolled up the top portion of her paper gown to reveal her globed stomach. The sight was still a bit foreign; she had to take a minute to get over the cognitive dissonance of seeing her own pregnant belly.
"I'm going to start now, Ms. Michaelson."
Dr. Weiss placed the wand on her stomach and pressed down lightly at various angles. Her eyes were not looking at Hermione's stomach; rather, they were focused on the monitor, which now came to life with a grainy, black and white image dancing on the screen. Hermione squinted. She knew she was supposed to see something here, but the only thing she spotted most closely resembled the image on the telly when there was no signal.
And then she saw it.
There was no mistaking the greyscale figure on the screen. Head, arms, legs, and tummy all swam in and out of view as Dr. Weiss moved the wand around. Hermione found herself staring, her eyes wide and her mouth bone dry.
"There's your baby, Ms. Michaelson." Dr. Weiss beamed as she looked between the screen and her patient's face. Hermione felt her eyes watering as she stared at this beautiful thing growing inside her. "Let's get a better look, shall we?"
Dr. Weiss moved the wand to a different area of her belly. "There. The angle from over here should be much better and should get you that silhouette shot everyone always wants. I'll turn on the heartbeat, shall I?"
A small tear dripped down Hermione's face as she stared at the outline of her child, the rapid fluttering of its heart filling her ears. This little creature on the screen was really inside her. There really was an actual baby in there. That thought ran through her head over and over again as she gaped at the screen. This baby was a mix of her and Draco; it was a perfect blend of the two of them. Her heart clenched and a rush of love such as she had never felt enveloped her completely.
She knew in that moment that she would do anything to make a safer world for the child growing inside her.
She didn't care what it took. She would wear the horcrux every day and go to the ends of the earth to destroy the others, and she certainly wouldn't stop until Voldemort was good and dead. This child deserved to grow up in a world where it felt safe and wanted. Hermione squeezed the pebble with her left hand, trying to imagine that future with Draco and this child.
"May I offer you a tissue?" Dr. Weiss said after a moment.
"Yes, please," Hermione sniffled, accepting one from the box in the doctor's outstretched hand.
"How are you feeling? Would you like me to take a picture with the machine for you to take home?"
"I'm…" Hermione searched for the right word, but nothing seemed to fit the bill for all the layers of emotion building inside her. "…I'm wonderful." It wasn't the complete truth. All the layers of danger and anxiety still piled on like lead weights, but for this single moment, looking at the new life growing within her, she felt as though she could fly. The impulse to panic grew in her stomach, but she pushed it down. She could panic later. Now was a happy moment. "And yes, please. To the picture."
The doctor pointed out various anatomical features and took measurements of the foetus. When Dr. Weiss pointed out that the baby's legs weren't being cooperative and that she hadn't been able to determine the baby's sex, Hermione merely shrugged it off.
"As long as the baby is healthy, that's all I care about," she said, continuing to watch the screen flicker. Hermione wanted to memorize this moment – to etch it inside her brain in order to have something to treasure and take out on the cold, dark days she knew were to come.
"Well, Ms. Michaelson, we should get your test results back shortly, but just based off the scan, I'd say your baby looks to be in tip-top condition. My guess was right – September seems to have been the date we wanted. That means right now you're seventeen weeks. You should be looking at a May twenty-sixth due date."
Hermione smiled, a layer of her anxiety falling away.
Just then, there was a knock on the exam room door. "Come in!" Dr. Weiss called. A man who appeared to be in his twenties walked in, dressed in scrubs, paper in hand. He shot her a friendly smile. Just then, Hermione became acutely aware of her state of undress. The top of the two-piece paper gown she had been wearing had ridden up, revealing the underside of her breasts. Her legs were already covered, but she felt completely exposed.
As if sensing her discomfort, the man turned away. "Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable." He spoke while facing the cabinets. "I'm a nurse here at the clinic. I brought back your lab results. Everything looked good except your iron levels. I'll leave you to look it over, doc." The man waved, his back still turned, and exited the room.
Dr. Weiss pushed a button and images from the scan began to print toward the bottom of the cart. She spoke as she cleaned the wand. "As much as you dislike it, you'll have to get used to your body being on display a bit. When you're pregnant, sometimes you're going to need to be looked at in what feels like an intimate way."
She handed Hermione a towel to wipe off her stomach. "Of course, if you ever feel anyone is being inappropriate, that is certainly one thing, but unless you feel strongly compelled to believe so, you should know that I trust everyone on staff implicitly. Now, go ahead and get re-dressed while I look over your results. I'll be back in two shakes."
Hermione put her clothes on layer by layer until her stomach was nearly hidden once more. The pictures of her baby laid on the counter, and she stared at them until Dr. Weiss made her reappearance.
"Nurse Hazen was right – your iron levels are a little low. I'd like to get you on an iron-rich diet. Dark green leafy vegetables, red meat, eggs, and nuts are good sources of that. I would also recommend taking folic acid and iron vitamins. If we don't get this level up, you're at risk of developing anaemia."
She scribbled something in Hermione's file and closed it with a snap, tucking it under her arm.
"Do you have any more questions, Ms. Michaelson?"
"Erm, yes, actually." Hermione shifted. "I was diagnosed with uterine and fallopian scarring at sixteen and was told that getting pregnant would actually be quite difficult, if not impossible. That's another reason why… why I'm coming in so late. It took a long time to process."
"I see." Dr. Weiss nodded. "Well, clearly impossible was too strong a word. If that's the case, then we will need to watch for problems with your placenta. It doesn't appear to be attached in a problematic place, but the scar tissue could create less blood flow to the foetus. That might actually explain the smaller size. We'll have to continue to monitor that each time you visit." She jotted down a few notes onto a sheet "Thank you for bringing that to my attention, Ms. Michaelson. Anything else?"
Hermione shook her head. She knew what she would have to do soon and wasn't looking forward to it. Her stomach twinged as she reached into her bag and wrapped her fingers around her wand.
"Very well. Here are your scan pictures as well as a handful of pamphlets for you to read over," Dr. Weiss handed her a strip of black and white, muggle photos and several colorful brochures. "Go ahead and schedule your next appointment with the receptionist. I'd like to see you back here in four weeks."
"Of course," Hermione mumbled, drawing her wand.
The doctor barely had time to open her mouth when Hermione whispered the words she had come to dread.
"Obliviate."
Dr. Weiss went slack-jawed for a moment, her eyes glazing over. Hermione grabbed her file and exited the room without a backwards glance. As she made her way back to the waiting area, she shot a moderate confundus charm at the male nurse to make sure he wouldn't bring up an encounter Dr. Weiss wouldn't recall. Another confundus at the exit receptionist and she was able to leave the clinic without a fuss.
Hermione walked to the supermarket in a daze, the memory of the way her unborn child wiggled within her – was still wiggling – at the forefront of her mind. Before entering the store, she stepped into an alley, pulling the invisibility cloak over herself.
Over the next thirty minutes, she filled her bag with vegetables, fruits, meats, tins of various kinds, and all sort of other foods. The doctor had insisted that she improve her diet, and Hermione Granger did nothing by halves. Before putting each item within her beaded bag, she placed stasis charms on them to keep them cool and fresh. Though she couldn't make food appear from nothing, she could multiply the items and continue the stasis charm for a while. It was a much better solution than having to constantly choose between lurking on the outskirts of towns or scrounging for scraps in the middle of nowhere.
Hermione grabbed the vitamins recommended by the doctor and tossed them in her bag before heading to the exit. She waited until someone else left through the automatic doors and ran through beside them, still covered in the invisibility cloak. The subsequent taxi ride and trek back to the campsite passed in a blur; her eyes stared ahead without really seeing, her mind off in space.
Harry practically bounced out to see her as she made her way through the wards. He wasn't dressed in nearly as many layers as her, and he shivered in the December wind.
"Get anything good?" he implored, craning his neck as though he would be able to see the contents of her beaded bag.
"Yeah, I've got some food that I can multiply. Honestly, I don't know why we didn't think of that sooner." She looked over to see Harry's slack jaw turn to a laugh. Hermione joined him, and a good mood settled over the tent as they unpacked the groceries. The specially-purchased vitamins had been tucked away so Harry wouldn't find them, though admittedly, she knew she ought to tell her friend sooner rather than later. She was a part of this horcrux hunt until the end whether he liked it or not; her decision would likely have a huge impact on him and on their mission, but her doctor's visit had left her feeling determined and more optimistic than she had felt in a long while. Overwhelmed still, but optimistic.
After a dinner of spaghetti bolognese and tinned pears, Harry broached a subject that made that new façade crack a bit: Godric's Hollow. Hermione felt sharper than she had in weeks and had spent some after-dinner time poring over The Tales of Beedle the Bard for what felt like the thousandth time. This time, however, insight from Harry led to a blunt realization. Perhaps the one place they had actively been trying to avoid was the one place they needed to go. Godric's Hollow and Bathilda Bagshot seemed to be the logical choice for Dumbledore to choose as a step on their journey.
Still, even with plans set for the next week, an uneasy feeling settled into Hermione's ever-growing stomach as she blew out the lantern for the night.
It seems they're off to Godric's Hollow.
This was quite the emotional roller coaster, but at least I got a little fluff in there, right?
When is she going to tell Draco? Is she going to tell Draco?
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