Last chapter, Hermione finally told Harry and Ron that she's pregnant. Someone knows! But will she have the courage to tell Draco? Time is passing on the Horcrux Hunt.

addictedtoloveandfanfiction - I'm glad you liked Harry's and Ron's reactions. This is the sort of thing that makes you mature, for sure. And yay for checking obsessively for updates haha

MAGIUSTHEELDER - I'm so glad you felt like the reactions were a breath of fresh air. They are such good friends to her and are trying to grow up.

MotekElm - Draco DOES deserve to know, that's for sure. And it's hard to say whether Draco will reveal his location or not...

mhcalamas - There was a lot shared, wasn't there? Well for sure, only Harry and Ron know as of right now...

Kyonomiko - "If Ron Weasley can handle it, have some faith in Draco!" hahahahaha this had me laughing

ZoeyOlivia - Holy Mother Of Merlin, indeed. That would be quite the bombshell.

magicalalice - You are a champ for reviewing so many chapters! I'm so, so glad you're enjoying the story and are along for this rollercoaster of emotion!

BlackHeart-FallenAngel - We'll have to see if she can be honest...

DragonLady37 - As much as I like writing them apart, writing them together is so much more fun!

5 Guests - I see you and appreciate all your comment

My fantastic beta is, as always, highlyintelligentblonde.

In the weeks following the disastrous visit to see Xenophilius Lovegood, life in the tent passed at a flobberworm's pace. The three friends woke, packed, and Disapparated each morning. They cast protective enchantments and set up camp upon arrival to a new location, only to spend the rest of the day sitting in near-silence, the weight of their journey turning the winter air to molasses. Food was assembled from their limited stock of multiplied goods, though Hermione knew they really needed to get fresh supplies. At night, they each took turns waiting for sleep to find them through the mental fog.

Day in and day out, they repeated this process. Nothing changed. They found no new horcruxes. They had no more revelations about the Hallows. The days simply passed, long, cold, and depressing.

The only sign that time marched on was the growth of Hermione's stomach. Each day found her waking up to a slightly-more-distended belly; though she was sure most mothers-to-be delighted in the growth of their child, it brought Hermione more anxiety than warmth. Not only had she still not told Draco, but she still hadn't figured out what to do with the baby once it was born, and she was angry at herself for not finding solutions to either of those issues.

She was tempted to blame pregnancy brain but knew that was nothing more than a cop out. It's not that she wasn't capable of making these decisions. No, she absolutely could if push came to shove. The problem? She just didn't want to. Gryffindor though she was, Hermione found her courage dangling just out of her grasp these days.

It wasn't for lack of trying on either accounts, certainly.

The former problem, of course, had a simple solution: just tell Draco. Grab a quill, write the words, I'm pregnant in the journal, and walk away. That's all it would take. She had attempted to tell him around Christmas, but her words had been so indirect that they had likely gone over his head. The fact that he hadn't questioned her told her all she needed to know.

Just thinking about the fact that she hadn't told him properly made her face burn with shame and her stomach feel full of bitter guilt. Yet, despite having tried well over twenty times to sit down and do it, each time she tried, her hands shook and her mind raced. It had gotten to the point where just looking at her journal caused her heart to palpitate and bile to rise in her throat. It was as though the leather-bound book had almost become her enemy in recent weeks. She actively avoided it when she could, which brought on even higher levels of shame and guilt.

It was a vicious cycle, and Hermione was beginning to feel the wear and tear of her lie.

Her omission of the truth, really.

When she had insinuated recently that she was feeling a little under the weather – an understatement, to be sure – and Draco had fretted over her in his reply, expressing his wishes to make her soup and hex Harry and Ron if they made her do anything but sleep.

Of course, Ron and Harry were letting her take it easy. But their attitude definitely wasn't due to a cold; instead, she had sharp, jabbing pains in her pelvis. But Draco didn't need to know that. Not yet, anyway. That's what she told herself.

Harry and Ron had only brought up Draco once. To her surprise, they had pushed her to tell him. One dark, damp night as they sat by the fire, Ron had insinuated that if he was about to become a father, he would definitely want to know.

"I mean, I don't want the blonde git to join us. That's definitely not what I'm saying. But what I am saying is that you've got to tell him. He has to know before it's born."

She had turned away at Ron's words, her eyes red-rimmed as they were so often these days.

Hermione returned to her bunk that night and squeezed her pebble, as she did nearly constantly these days. Each time she felt the smooth rock roll in her fingers, she whispered four small words like a mantra – like a prayer.

"I'm so sorry, Draco."

Somehow – some way – she prayed her words and her emotions would reach him.

Though her thoughts were with him often, her attempts in recent weeks to tell Draco had slowed down. It wasn't because she had decided to keep the baby from him. On the contrary, she wanted nothing more than for Draco to be with her through it all. No, what kept her from trying harder to inform him that he was going to be a father was his own safety. Last time she had even hinted that she needed him, he had dropped everything and flew to her side in an instant.

That lapse in judgement on both their parts had been nothing but a massive muck up. It had put them both at risk unnecessarily. It was also the reason she now had a baby inside her.

But Hermione didn't want to put Draco in a position like that again; she didn't want to force his hand or risk him exposing himself. He was safe at the Burrow, and if nothing else, that was something.

The letters they exchanged now weren't exactly stiff, but they weren't particularly affectionate either. Something seemed a bit off with him, though Hermione couldn't exactly put her finger on it. When she wrote back, she crafted her responses with care. She wanted to be honest with him about how she was feeling and the thoughts floating through her mind, but when her feelings consisted of joint pain and cravings for sour foods and her thoughts were consumed by the baby, it was hard to be genuine.

As to what she was going to do with the baby… it was still the largest conundrum of them all. Most of her sleepless nights could be attributed to a combination of this particular rabbit hole and her continued leg cramps.

Thus far, the only option she had come up with that sounded both viable and appealing was finding a semi-permanent place to stay when the baby was very young. Beyond that, she was still more than a bit lost. There was always the possibility of finding a temporary guardian, but that didn't sit well with her. Just the thought of being separated from the little creature growing inside of her left her feeling as though she had been punched in the stomach.

Of course, that could have also been the baby. It was an active little thing these days.

She had spent many an evening filling rolls of parchment with pro-and-con lists and various names of potential guardians, but everything felt wrong. After Harry pointed out that perhaps she needed to follow her gut on the issue rather than obsess over minutia, she had set the lists down for a bit.

In the moments that she wasn't a ball of stress about her impending motherhood, she tried to enjoy the sensation of having a little being inside her.

According to her calendar, she was nearly twenty-four weeks along. Back in December, only a couple days after she sat down to talk to Ron, she had felt the baby kick for the first time. In a rush of excitement that she hadn't known she could still feel, she practically dove for Harry's and Ron's hands, tugging them to her stomach to try and feel what she had just felt.

Ron pulled away after a moment, an uncomfortable look on his face.

Harry, on the other hand, lingered for several minutes. His expression was poised on the edge of wonder until he felt the tiny bump, himself. When he felt the movement, Hermione saw a flash of joy in his face, his eyes wide and his teeth exposed in a huge grin.

If nothing else, she was grateful to have been able to pull Harry from his brooding, even if just for a moment. Since then, she had taken to finding Harry whenever the baby was particularly active – it always seemed to cheer him up a bit.

"It's really in there, huh?" said Harry on a particularly cold late-January morning, his hand planted gently on the spot where they had seen the tiny movement.

"I suppose it is," she replied, shivering.

They sat in silence for a few moments, eyes fixed on her stomach. Harry's thumb rubbed small circles on a spot a couple inches over from her slightly-distended navel.

"I've been thinking about something," he said after a moment. "My mum was only nineteen when she was pregnant with me. Twenty when I was born. That's not too far off from where you are, Hermione."

"No, I suppose it's not," she mused.

"Even though she was so young, everyone's told me she was a wonderful mother. And I… I think you'll be the same, Hermione."

Hermione looked up from her stomach to see her friend's eyes trained on her stomach with an odd sort of longing.

"Harry?" Her friend's name hung in the air as he seemed to try and form the right words.

"I wonder what it was like for her. She was pregnant in the middle of a war. She must have been so scared. I know you're scared."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something but found her vocal chords unable to make sound.

"You know, it's kind of funny. My mum gave everything to me. She gave me life and then gave her own to protect me. As grateful as I am to be here, there's nothing I wouldn't give to just have even one more piece of her. Or a moment with her. Something. But instead, I have nothing. I don't have proof that she was actually a wonderful mother. Just a couple of photographs and letters and other peoples' words."

Harry shifted his hand, lacing his fingers through hers.

"You're going to be a wonderful mother, Hermione. Just like my mum. But I wonder… can I suggest something?"

"Of course. Anything."

She squeezed Harry's hand, her eyes looking into his sad green ones.

"This is going to sound morbid, but just hear me out, okay? We want to believe that everything is going to turn out – I mean, it has to, right? But… my parents didn't expect to get killed and leave me behind. It's the last thing I want us to think about, but… you should leave lots of proof of how much you love this baby. Photographs. Letters. Something." Harry paused, took a deep breath, and continued.

"We're in a war and I couldn't bear the thought of your baby having no way to know you, should something… happen. Maybe you could write to the baby or something? Tell it how much you love it. Let it hear those words coming directly from you. I would have… I would have really liked something like that. I think I even needed it at one point."

The small amount of joy he normally exuded when he felt her stomach evaporated, leaving an odd hollowness behind. Harry's voice faded and he stood, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I'm going to take a walk, okay?"

Back to brooding, then.

Hermione hummed in response, the weight of Harry's words still sinking in – still absorbing through her skin.

Harry's mum had died in the war, leaving her son behind. Could she be condemning her child to the same fate? Would history be doomed to repeat itself? Of course, the child she was carrying was no child of prophecy as far as she knew, but death did not play favorites. Especially not during a war.

Hermione didn't want to think about it.

She tried to brush off the conversation for a few days, but as she lay in bed, the early February chill creeping in, those thoughts invaded her mind, plaguing her as she teetered on the edge of sleep until she was wide awake. Giving up completely, she sat up and Accioed a blank notebook and a quill from her beaded bag. Hermione sucked on the end of the self-inking quill as she thought. Harry had suggested writing a letter to the baby. Perhaps that was a good idea. If she got her thoughts out there, maybe sleep would be easier to find.

Dear Baby,

Yes. That seemed like a good way to start.

You don't know me yet, but I am your mother. Or do you know me? I wish I had more information about how you're developing so I could know how familiar you are with me by now.

Hermione paused. This wasn't exactly the message she was going for. Harry spoke of wishing he knew his mother's love, and this didn't exactly make the mark. She turned the page and tried anew.

Dear Baby,

This is my first time writing to you. I'm your mum, and my friend Harry suggested that I write letters to you so you can know how much you're loved. It seems a bit late to start these letters given that I've known about you for a long while. But I suppose you're not born yet, so it's definitely not too late.

When I first found out I was having you, I was terrified. I am only eighteen, after all. And you may be too young to know about this for many years, but there is a war going on, and I'm playing a part in it. A big part.

I suppose that before I begin to tell you how much I love you, I have something else to say.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that I don't know more about how you're doing or other things that a mother should know.

I'm sorry that I'm younger than most other mothers.

I'm sorry if I put you in danger. I don't mean to. The world is a dangerous place right now, but I swear to do everything in my power to keep you safe.

I'm also sorry that I haven't been able to find any sour foods to make you happy. I'm sure you're quite grumpy with me right now.

I'm sure I'll have a lot more to be sorry for, baby. I feel like I'm stumbling around in the dark.

But there is one thing that I know, my darling. I love you. I've never really met you, and yet I love you more than I can say with words alone.

I hope that love is enough.

Hermione stopped there, wiping the tear that fell from her eye. That was all she could manage for tonight.

Closing the notebook and tucking it into the beaded bag once more, Hermione snuggled under her covers and drifted off to sleep, the burden on her heart lifted, if only slightly.

Shortly after Hermione began writing letters to the baby, she brought up the idea of another antenatal visit with Harry and Ron. Writing to the baby had made her come face-to-face with the fact that she didn't know hardly anything about the baby. After explaining her tactics from her last visit to the boys, they came up with a plan. They would make their way over to the nearest city – York, by the look of it, and find another hospital. Hermione had expressed an openness to either of her friends posing as the father for the appointment, but Ron made it abundantly clear that he would feel immensely uncomfortable.

"It's just… I still need time, Hermione. You understand, right?" Ron shifted in his chair, looking anywhere but at her. "Plus, I don't know anything about muggle healers. I'd bullocks it up somehow. Harry should go."

A short, awkward silence followed. There had been a lot of silences like this between them since their discussion all those weeks ago. Most of the time, Ron seemed to want to focus on horcruxes and ignore the fact that Hermione was pregnant. It was as though he purposely put up blinders, and whenever the baby came up, the gap that had grown between the two of them felt especially tangible. Other than their conversation about telling Draco, he actively avoided the subject. Though she might have previously interpreted this in a negative light, Hermione now was able to see the little things Ron did for her: he reminded her to eat; he relieved her of watch duties early; he even swapped pillows with her because he claimed his was more comfortable.

When she asked him about the pillow swap, he just shrugged his shoulders in response.

No, Ron's refusal to talk about the baby wasn't anger or sadness. Not anymore, anyway. She was certain he was afraid of messing up and saying the wrong thing, as he had done in the past, and Hermione couldn't really blame him for that.

"I'm happy to be fake dad," Harry piped up, inserting himself into the tension. "It'll be nice to put myself in a different mindset for a day, I think."

They all nodded in agreement that this was the best path forward.

Within a couple days, they arrived and set up camp in a muddy field outside of York. As planned, Ron remained behind while Hermione and Harry trekked into civilization under the invisibility cloak. Once they arrived in the city, Hermione cast the glamours she had become so proficient at over them both before they caught a cab. Hermione's leg bounced as the car traveled up the road toward the hospital that they had pre-selected. Somehow, she felt even more nervous than she had last time she went to an antenatal clinic. So much had happened between the last visit in December and now. She had almost died. Twice. Ron had come back.

She wasn't alone. Not anymore.

Harry seemed to feel her nerves, because he covered her hand with his and gave a squeeze.

Hermione offered a half smile back at her friend. While it was lovely to have Harry along with her, he wasn't the person she really wanted to be there with her today.

No, that was the one big thing that hadn't changed from that day to this. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine that it was Draco sitting beside her in the cab. She could almost hear his nervous chatter as they prepared for this appointment – could see in her mind's eye the loving gaze he would give her and her stomach every few minutes. She could also imagine him yelling at the cab driver to slow the hell down – that there was his pregnant girlfriend in the back seat, didn't he know?

Yes, it was all a lovely picture. Unfortunately, she could also picture an expression of utter mortification and dread on his face when she told him.

Draco remained in the dark and she remained a horrible person for keeping it that way.

Opening her eyes when the cab came to a halt, Hermione climbed out of the cab while Harry paid the driver.

"Remember, what's your name?" she whispered as they climbed the hospital steps together.

"I'm David Thompson. Your boyfriend."

"And my name?"

"Claire… Michaels?"

"Michaelson. How long have we been together?"

Harry hesitated again. "Two years?"

"Good. We met at school. I'll cover and answer questions if you feel lost. Got it?"

Harry nodded as he pulled the metal door handle leading to the antenatal clinic, allowing Hermione to walk in before him. Just like the last time, she cast a Confundus charm on the receptionist – a bored-looking young man this time.

The waiting area at this clinic looked shockingly identical to the previous clinic in Manchester; the only noticeable difference was the decorations. Whereas the last clinic had been filled with tinsel and Christmas trees, this clinic boasted numerous sparkly hearts and cupids hanging from the ceiling.

"Must be near to Valentine's Day," Harry commented, finding a seat across from the reception desk.

"So it would seem," she answered, lowering herself beside him. With a little 'oomph' she landed onto the cushion and leaned back, resting a hand on her stomach. Getting up and down without assistance was proving more and more difficult each day.

Hermione watched as Harry's eyes darted around the room, seemingly taking in the bellies of varying sizes. He swallowed and blinked far more often than normal.

"You okay there, Mr. Thompson?" she asked, a smile dancing on her lips. "Are you regretting putting yourself in a different mindset?"

He swallowed gain. "Erm… no. I just… I didn't…erm. Oh bollocks. I didn't think there would be so many… erm…" Harry floundered and Hermione stifled an actual giggle.

"So many what? Pregnant women?"

"Well… yes. Somehow I thought it would be just us or something."

Hermione gave one more chuckle and patted her friend on the back. "Well, you'll have to get used to seeing things like that." She gestured to a woman sitting across from them who looked like she had stuffed a particularly large beach ball down her shirt. "I'm not going to get any smaller, after all."

Harry's eyes went wide as a nurse poked her head out and called for Claire Michaelson. This time Hermione responded immediately, ready to take the necessary steps to make this appointment go smoothly. The moment she and Harry went back into the patient area, Hermione cast another Confundus on the nurse before slipping the medical file she had stolen from the previous clinic into her hands. When the nurse came to, she only shuddered for a half second before directing Harry the exam room and Hermione to the loo, where she needed to pee in a cup again. After, she offered Hermione a sickly-sweet orange beverage to drink in order to test her blood sugar levels.

It all seemed fairly routine to Hermione. Of course, she had never been pregnant before, so she wasn't entirely sure, but nothing was particularly odd. Instead of the gown she had been given last time, she was allowed to stay in her street clothes. Harry had seemed particularly relieved at this – he let out a small breath, his body visibly relaxing. His reaction was so mild, though, that she doubted the nurse noticed.

A few minutes after all her vitals had been checked, the doctor arrived with a knock: man this time, with a salt and pepper beard and eyes that crinkled as he smiled.

"Hello all. I'm Dr. Landrigan. Pleasure to meet you both. You must be Ms. Michaelson?"

"Yes sir." Hermione grasped his hand as he extended it to shake. "And you are…?" he turned to Harry.

"Erm… David." Harry stood to greet the doctor.

The men shook hands and Dr. Landrigan took a seat in the wheeled stool by the examination table.

"Right. Ms. Michaelson, according to these charts, you should be just over twenty-four weeks. Does that sound right to you?"

"It does."

"Good."

This doctor seemed to be blowing through her appointment a bit faster than Dr. Weiss had, though his jovial nature admittedly left her feeling quite reassured. Hermione answered all his questions thoroughly: questions about food aversions, questions about trouble sleeping, and questions about pelvic pain.

It turned out that the pain she had written about to Draco was called rounding ligament pain, and was considered quite normal.

"One last question, Ms. Michaelson. Have you been having any leaking or vaginal discharge?"

Harry turned the color of a beet. Hermione could see it through her peripheral vision. She honestly wasn't sure whether to laugh or to pity him. Still, this was a doctor's appointment and she needed to make the most of it. Hermione watched out of the corner of her eye as Harry's gaze shifted over to some unknown spot on the ceiling as she began to describe, unflinchingly and in full detail, the brown discharge she had seen the other day.

Surely Harry deserved some sort of award for this.

"I assure you that is perfectly normal. As long as it's not a suspicious amount of fluid or bright red, I wouldn't worry." The doctor set his clipboard down and slapped his knees with open palms. "Well then, everything seems good so far, Ms. Michaelson. Shall we take a look at baby?"

Hermione nodded and leaned back on the table, pulling up her shirt over her belly. She gave a small Umbridge-like cough when Dr. Landrigan turned out the lights. This seemed to shake Harry out of his embarrassed trance.

"Sorry," he muttered scooting closer to the examination table.

"No need to apologize, young man. Lots of fathers-to-be like yourself don't like to hear the nitty gritty of everything that's going on. But I will say, the more you know and the better you listen, the better partner and father you'll be. Even if you don't want to hear it."

Harry grimaced and grunted an affirmative response.

"Right then. Eyes on the screen, everyone."

As before, the small telly screen flickered to life; Dr. Landrigan spread the lubricant over her much-larger stomach and searched around for just a moment before…

"Aha. Found the little thing. There we are, Mummy and Daddy."

She gazed up at the grey figure wriggling about on the screen. She could see the outline of its little nose and lips and… was it…?

"Ah, yes. Looks like you've got a thumb-sucker in there."

Hermione shot a grin at Harry, who was gawking, open-mouthed at the scan. He looked back and forth between her and the screen for several times, seemingly trying to form words. Eventually, he settled on, "Wow." Harry reached for her hand and gasped it tightly in his own. Though Hermione appreciated the gesture, the taste in the back of her mouth grew bitter at his touch.

Harry was lovely and supportive, but he wasn't Draco.

Dr. Landrigan moved the wand around a bit more, pointing out all kinds of anatomical features, before settling on a view from below the legs.

"Well, well," the doctor chuckled, giving them a wry smile. "Seems like I've just found out the sex of your baby. Would you like to know?"

Hermione felt goose pimples ripple across her whole body. They could know right then and there. One more mystery solved. One less thing to fret about. She looked to Harry for reassurance, but he merely shrugged.

What would Draco want? Would he want to know? Surely, he would want an heir – a male. The thought of a little boy with Draco's hair brought a small smile to her face. But what if she, as a muggleborn, wasn't good enough to produce a true heir? Would he be satisfied with a girl, then? Visions of a curly-haired daughter floated past her brain, and she the smile returned.

But then again, what if he just didn't want the baby in the first place?

The bitterness on her tongue came back at this thought, but she pushed past it. Draco wasn't here. She was. Hermione had to focus on what was real and what was in the present. She had to make the decisions here. The baby was, after all, growing inside her.

"Yes, all right then. I'd like to know."

Harry squeezed her hand, and when the doctor gave her the answer, she beamed.

Dear Baby,

What a day it's been. Uncle Harry and I have been out and about so much today that I feel as though I've been hit by one of those thestral-drawn carriages at Hogwarts. With all the sitting I've been doing recently, walking all day really took it out of me. You better be growing well in there, little one, because your mum hasn't been feeling too well lately.

But all this pain is worth it for you, darling. I'd walk into town and back under an invisibility cloak a thousand times for you. I know that might not sound like much, but with the way my hips are feeling, trust me. I love you. Besides, the walk was all worth it. I got to see you again.

The doctor told me you are fit as a fiddle, even if you're still a little small. My stomach is measuring at 22 centimetres, and I'm just over 24 weeks. Keep growing, little one! We stocked up on lots of food to keep you happy. I know how much you've been wanting sour fruits, and we managed to get a whole bag of oranges as well as some yummy-looking granny smith apples. I've never been fond of the latter until now. You can bet that's entirely your father's doing. He loves apples.

You'll be delighted to know that I am now in possession of no less than twelve books on pregnancy and infancy. I intend to start on the first volume tonight and take lots of notes. You may have a younger mummy than most, but I promise to be one of the most knowledgeable mummies out there. That won't be so bad, will it?

I also picked up a book of names. The cover boasted over 60,000 options. How on earth am I supposed to pick just one? How does anyone name another person? This is the sort of thing I want to consult your dad on.

I still haven't told him about you. You must think I'm a coward, baby. Perhaps I should have been in Ravenclaw rather than Gryffindor. I just don't want to disappoint him or put him in danger. Is that selfish? I'm not sure what 'selfish' is any longer.

On the way back to camp, Uncle Harry surprised me with one last stop. He brought me to a shop filled with baby supplies. Cots, clothes, nappies, prams – the whole lot. It was so overwhelming, just looking at it all. I nearly had a panic attack in the nappy aisle, but Uncle Harry rubbed my back and a lovely saleswoman brought me some water.

Your birth is still over three months off and our life is so unpredictable that I couldn't justify getting something like a cot, yet. But your uncle did talk me into a couple of purchases: newborn nappies, a soft yellow blanket, and several little cardboard books.

Your uncle, of course, purchased your first item of clothing. He was just too excited when he saw it, and I hadn't seen your uncle with that big a smile in months. I just couldn't say no when he saw these little pyjamas, soft pink and covered in tiny hearts and flowers. I'm not sure what it was about that particular pair, but you should have seen the way his eyes lit up when he spotted them in the girls' section.

I picked out your second outfit. Little pink pyjamas covered in owls that come with a rather large owl stitched on the bum. I just couldn't resist for my darling baby witch.

I never quite pictured my daughter to wear pink and lots of hearts, but then again, even having a daughter is a rather new concept to me.

I can't wait to meet you, little girl.

This is quite a long letter, isn't it? I've been sitting on my bunk writing for so long, I think my lower half's gone numb. I should probably take a walk. That would make you happy, wouldn't it, little love?

Stay snug and warm in there, my beautiful girl.

Love,

Mummy

In the weeks following their excursion into York, Hermione made one particular observation: she could not move nearly as quickly as she used to with a large belly. Granted, she was grateful that her daughter was growing as she should, but given their situation, she couldn't exactly picture herself waddling away from death eaters.

Nor did she exactly fancy the idea of anyone finding out she was pregnant. They had had a couple close shaves with snatchers and had come face-to-face with danger enough in the past months that she wasn't comfortable with a mere shield charm protecting her stomach. Shield charms could be broken with enough force.

No, she would have to be far cleverer than that.

When Hermione wasn't reading her new books on pregnancy and infant care, she had taken to sifting through her spellbooks for inspiration as to how to protect her daughter and keep her hidden while she still resided in her stomach.

After several experiments on rocks and enlarged chicken eggs, Hermione settled on the combination of four methods: the familiar shield charm, a weightlessness charm, a disillusionment charm, and a notice-me-not charm. On their own and without modification, none of the spells would do the trick, but used together, they were a near-perfect solution for their dangerous situation. The shield charm obviously stopped most spells or physical blows that might come at her stomach. The modified weightlessness charm allowed her to shift her center of gravity back to its usual position; this helped her gait return to normal and allowed her the freedom to run if needed.

The disillusionment charm had been particularly tricky, as she didn't need a full-body disillusionment. Rather, only a partial one. After several not-so-spectacular results of testing on a half-willing Ron, she was finally able to make just the lower half of his arm disappear. On another go, just his abdomen. Watching Ron walk around for twenty minutes looking as though he'd been cut clean in two had been rather disturbing at first, but she hadn't been able to hold back a laugh when Ron and Harry began to imagine what sort of jokes Fred and George would be cracking if they had been present to witness such an imaginative use of charms.

The last charm, of course, would cause any onlookers who stared a little too long at her stomach to suddenly notice something just beyond her shoulder or on the ground.

In her letters to Draco, she bragged about her impressive new skills – in vague terms, of course – he responded with words of praise a couple days later. Though she felt her heart swell at the praise, she couldn't help feel that something was off with Draco. He hadn't mentioned cooking with Molly in weeks, and that was his favorite go-to conversation piece, it seemed. Though he never wrote about anything being wrong, somehow, she could sense that something wasn't right. It was almost as though there was a great deal he wasn't saying that was written between the lines.

Almost like her letters to him.

Did they both have secrets they were keeping from each other?

All in all, Ron declared her spell work nothing short of genius. Ever since she and Harry had returned from her doctor's appointment, his attitude had shifted. Hermione wasn't sure if Harry had talked to him or if he had reached this conclusion on his own, but it seemed he had come to accept her pregnancy as reality, as well as his lot to remain her friend. The tense air that used to surround them at all times – even back at Hogwarts – had dissipated and was replaced with something far more relaxed and comfortable.

Somehow, it felt even better than when she had felt attracted to him.

Ron seemed to feel better as well. He had really stepped up recently, and not just by offering her pillows or more rest time. Though Harry had participated willingly in the doctor's visit, he hardly seemed to come out of his brooding these days. With his mind still clearly fixated on Hallows, it fell to Ron to take the lead on the horcrux hunt. At least, that's how he seemed to perceive it.

Often, when he walked through the tent flaps on any given afternoon, he'd coax Harry away from his thoughts and her away from her books to help him brainstorm.

"Three Horcruxes left," he kept saying. "We need a plan of action, come on! Where haven't we looked? Let's go through it again. The orphanage…"

She and Ron brainstormed for hours on end, trying to think of new locations they had yet to consider. Sometimes they got Harry to join in; other times, they weren't so successful.

Regardless, Hermione often took breaks to excuse herself to the loo during these long thinking sessions. She found that the baby rather enjoyed kicking her bladder as of late, and her trips to the bathroom had become more and more frequent. The baby was, in fact, impeding on a great deal more of her daily activities these days. Though she could make her belly essentially disappear, the effort to keep all those charms up was more than it was worth to keep up all the time. Hermione found removing all four charms akin to kicking off high heel shoes after wearing them all day.

As the days continued to pass by, Spring crept into the trees and the air. The hard ground they had been camping on for the past several months was turning into soft, squelching mud, and everywhere they seemed to Apparate, they landed right in it. Hermione had practically given up the idea of having mud-free shoes. Though the arrival of Spring brought several frustrations like this, Hermione relished in the fading of winter. Nothing about this winter had been good, and she was grateful to move on. Each time she stepped out of the tent, now, she could smell the very Earth beneath her feet coming to life.

Something about that change of seasons also seemed to wake dormant parts of her courage. With her due date inching closer, Hermione wanted to attend an antenatal clinic at least once more. After talking to the boys about it, they had agreed to her plan. Ron had even agreed to stand in as the father this time.

They had also agreed to a special caveat: Hermione make a temporary stop off at the Burrow.

It was time to tell Draco.

Hermione had spent months trying to tell Draco with their journal and had failed. She knew if she put if off any longer, the baby would be in her arms and crying before she had the chance to tell him, and that wasn't exactly fair.

Of course, she still planned to continue the horcrux hunt until the last moment possible, but she knew Draco would put up a fight. Understandably, of course. But if they could even just find one more horcrux before her daughter was born, that would put her mind at ease.

The three of them set a date for their next excursion to the far south of Britain, making plans to stop off in potential horcrux locations along the way. Each day that drew them a bit closer to Draco, Hermione grew more and more anxious. Sometimes, her heart beat so fast and her palms grew so sweaty that she felt as though she had been thrown back to the day she discovered she was pregnant. She was actually going to do it. She was going to tell Draco. He would know that he was going to be a father.

The thought made her heart soar and her stomach lurch simultaneously.

Just a week before their planned trip found the three of them in their usual spots for the evening: Harry sat just outside the tent, brooding; Ron tapped his wand on the wireless, muttering odd phrases; Hermione curled in her usual armchair perusing the baby name book she had purchased. Surely, Draco would have opinions, but she wanted to give her baby girl a name with sentiment… not just something traditional or cute.

She had just flipped past the E's when a sharp pain in her lower abdomen made her cry out. Both boys immediately looked up from their preoccupations and turned to her.

"All right there, 'Mione?" Ron called from over by the wireless.

"Y-yes. I think so. I had a pain. But I think they might just be practice contractions. I read about them in the books."

Ron shot her a wary glance. "If you say so. I don't quite fancy heading into hospital with you tonight."

Hermione rolled her eyes and returned to her book. Not even five minutes later, Ron spoke again, his voice triumphant.

"I've got it, I've got it! Password was 'Albus'! Get in here, Harry."

Hermione stared open-mouthed as Lee Jordan's familiar voice boomed through the wireless. She couldn't help the grin that broke out on her face as Professor Lupin's voice joined in. Surely, his baby would be due any day now… that child and hers might grow up to be classmates at Hogwarts. The thought only deepened her smile.

Just hearing Lee, Professor Lupin, and Kingsley after all this time felt like a triumph. Hermione listened with rapt attention through the entire broadcast. Baby girl seemed to like the voices as well, because she kept doing somersaults through the whole thing.

Ron looked years younger as he listened to his brothers speak, and Harry seemed to be ultra-focused, his eyes glossy and the ghost of a smile threatening to break through.

When Lee ended the broadcast, the three of them were left to silence once more. But this silence was different. It wasn't heavy or thick with difficult words unspoken. This was jubilant. It was medicinal. It was filled with a sense of hope and purpose long dormant under the winter snow.

"Good, eh?" said Ron, beaming.

"Brilliant," Harry responded.

"It's so brave of them," Hermione sighed, leaning back in her chair to ease the discomfort in her lower back. "If they were found…"

"Well then keep on the move, don't they? Like us."

"But did you hear what Fred said?" Harry piped up. He's abroad! He's still looking for the Wand! I knew it!"

"Harry-" Hermione nagged. When was he going to let this go?

"Come on, Hermione, why are you so determined to admit it? Vol-"

"HARRY, NO!"

"-demort's after the Elder Wand!"

"The name's Taboo!" Ron screamed as she heard a crack just beyond the tent flap.

Hermione jumped to her feet, summoning her beaded bag, her other hand clutched protectively against her stomach, ready to cast protective enchantments over it. Her heart thudded so loudly, she could have sworn the snatchers outside would hear it.

"Come out of there with your hands up!" a voice called from outside. "We know you're in there! You've got half a dozen wands pointing at you and we don't care who we curse!"

Well, shit.

Sorry everybody.

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