Nine months of pregnancy seemed to fly by for the Grangers. Helen's pregnancy progressed utterly normally: three months or so of all-day "morning" sickness led to a too-short, glowy second trimester and extremely uncomfortable third trimester that summer. Every moment seemed beautiful in a way only pregnancy can, though, and Helen reminded herself that the aches and pains would be worth it.
One morning in mid-September found the Grangers enjoying a quiet morning at home. They had decided to take a few weeks off from their dental practice to finish preparations for their little bundle of joy's arrival and enjoy the newborn stage together before Richard went back to work. Helen planned on taking at least a couple months of maternity leave.
Helen stood at the sink, washing the breakfast dishes, while Richard took care of a few bills at the kitchen table. They worked quietly, leaving the other to his or her work, until Helen realised the shuffling of papers behind her had stopped. She turned to look over her shoulder, flipping her obnoxious curls out of her face as she did so.
Richard was staring at her with a look of pure adoration. When she raised her eyebrows in question, he stood from the table and slowly made his way over, coming to stand behind her and wrapping his arms around to rest on Helen's belly. She relaxed into his embrace, enjoying his touch and the stubborn kicks their baby was unleashing against her father's palms.
"Have I told you lately how absolutely beautiful you are, love?" Richard asked.
Helen smiled and turned her head again to kiss his cheek. "I don't think I could ever get tired of hearing it, in case you want to say it again."
He chuckled softly, nuzzling his nose into the riotous curls at the nape of her neck. He planted a gentle kiss there before resting his chin on her shoulder once more.
"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Growing our baby agrees with you," he added, rubbing one hand softly against her pronounced bump.
"Even with cankles and insane cravings at three in the morning?" Helen clarified.
Richard burst out laughing, unable to hold back his surprise at her comments. "Absolutely. There's something kind of magical about it all. And I'll happily continue to scour London in the wee hours of the morning for whatever your heart desires. You're the one doing the hard work here." His smile turned to a look of disgust, and he continued, "Just don't make me watch you eat next time you want chips dipped in ice cream."
Instead of laughing or saying anything in response, Helen stood very still.
Richard instantly grew concerned.
"Everything all right?"
"I think my water just broke," she whispered, staring down at her soaked pyjama bottoms before glancing nervously back at Richard. "Are you ready to have a baby?"
Richard couldn't help it. He whooped as he leapt from the room, grabbing the hospital bag, keys, and a few other necessities.
He popped his head back into the kitchen a minute later, a stupid grin on his face.
"Am I ever."
XxxX
Hermione Jean Granger was the most beautiful baby Richard had ever seen. Of course, as an only child married to another only child, he hadn't been around a lot of babies. But still... She was born with dark eyes and just a smattering of sandy hair. It tried to curl at the back of her head, and Helen bemoaned the fact that her daughter would very likely be stuck with a head full of messy curls, just like her mother. Richard rather liked his wife's wild hair, so he just smiled and humoured her.
If they thought time went fast when Helen was pregnant, it seemed to go even faster after Hermione's birth. Her wide, brown eyes eagerly took in the world around her. She would fuss on occasion, but a lullaby from her mum or reading books with her dad almost always helped her calm down. Developmental milestones seemed to exist just to be brilliantly surpassed by the bright-eyed babe. She seemed to do everything just a bit before (and better) than her tiny peers at the Mommy and Me class Helen and Hermione attended each week.
All in all, life was pretty much perfect.
It was so good, in fact, that Helen occasionally wished she could think the tall, book smart stranger with sandy brown hair and green eyes for the gift of their daughter. She wasn't really sure how to go about it, though, and kept on putting off the nagging feeling to write a thank you card or something.
Helen found plenty of other things to distract her with a brilliant, busy baby in the house. One thing that took up a lot of her brain's rather large worrying space was the growing number of strange things that happened around Hermione. When she started to sit up on her own - and got stuck upright - she would throw her toys and books onto the floor next to her cot. That, in and of itself, seemed normal. But when her parents came into the room after hearing her toys hit the floor, only to see that every single one was still in the cot with Hermione...things seemed less normal.
It became a bit of an obsession with her parents to figure out what their daughter was up to during her nap and bedtime escapades. Late one night during the summer of 1980, Richard woke up to use the loo. On his way back to bed, he heard the usual sounds of throwing coming from Hermione's room. He quietly crept down the hall, careful keeping to one side to avoid the creaky board that sounded off if you walked down the middle of the hallway.
The sound of toys hitting the floor continued as Richard inched the door open. His jaw dropped at the sight that met him.
Hermione was sitting up in her cot, quietly jabbering to herself and throwing books and toys through the wooden slats onto the floor. As soon as each object hit the floor, however, it zoomed into the air, over the cot railing, and into Hermione's outstretched hands. She looked extremely pleased with herself when each toy returned to her with ease.
Richard contemplated the possibility that he was hallucinating, dreaming, or imagining what was happening before his very eyes, but it seemed quite real. Just in case, he tiptoed back down the hall to quietly wake Helen.
"Rich?" she muttered groggily. "What's wrong?"
"Come on. I think you should see this," he said.
Blinking sleepily, she shuffled into her slippers, fastening her robe as she followed her husband back to the doorway of their daughter's room.
"It's like…" Helen trailed off, unsure what to say next.
"Magic," Richard finished the thought decisively.
Helen's eyes shot to Richard's profile, and she noticed the same surprise, awe, and disbelief in his features that she was feeling herself. Yet, as she turned back towards their daughter, she couldn't argue. Something strange was going on with their daughter, but it didn't seem to be anything sinister.
"Magic," she whispered back.
A/N: Big thanks to my beta, Synoir. You are wonderful, and this story is so much better with your help!
Also, thank you all for your reviews, favorites, and follows! This little story reached 100 followers over the weekend, and it just made my day to see that so many of you are enjoying this fun little fic of mine. :) The next chapter is already halfway finished, so I hope to have it up by the end of the week! :)