Chapter 4: Discussion

The ghosts and the portraits, at the very least, definitely knew about her pregnancy. Nearly Headless Nick hovered protectively all the way up to Gryffindor Tower, assuring her that all the ghosts had been warned not to go through her, just in case. The portraits watched her curiously, and the young woman holding a baby on the third floor gave her a little wave and an encouraging nod.

"I feel like I've escaped from a zoo or something," Hermione muttered to Ginny. "Everyone's staring."

Which was true. Evidently rumours were spreading - a lot of students were staring as well, although some of that could be because of the loss of her badge. Hermione had deliberately lagged behind the rest of Gryffindor as they trooped upstairs - Lavender would get a chance to smirk at her soon enough - but that just meant Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw got more staring-time.

"Well, you have to expect that." Ginny was matter-of-fact. "You are a genuine war heroine, remember? Faced Voldemort himself? That alone would get you staring - it's certainly working for Ron," she said, giving her brother a disgusted look as he marched up the stairs with a poorly concealed strut.

Hermione, who hadn't thought of that explanation at all, blushed. "Well, now I feel silly... you're right, that's probably it."

"You've certainly made Gryffindor very proud," Nick said, drifting along on her other side. "Oh, excuse me, I must just have a word with the Grey Lady... she's taken rather an interest, and she'll be glad to hear that you're doing well."

Ginny shook her head, watching Nick head straight through a gaggle of second-years - literally - to greet Ravenclaw's ghost. "I'm surprised he's not raving about wandpoint weddings and threatening to duel the scoundrel who tarnished your honour," she said, with some amusement. "That's how it was done in his day."

"Fred and George already offered," Hermione said, grinning. "It was rather sweet, actually, they got quite angry on my behalf. And offered me a job, if I wanted one, helping them with research and development when I finish my N.E.W.T.s."

"Really?" Ginny looked impressed. "That was unusually nice of them."

"If they had a staff-member with a Potions N.E.W.T., they wouldn't have to jump through so many Ministry hoops on quality control when they make something new," Hermione pointed out dryly. "Although they don't think I know that."

Ginny laughed. "Now that sounds like them... nice, but nice for them as well."

"Very. I'll think about it, though... I'll need to find something quickly, and at least the twins wouldn't mind if I kept the baby with me while I was working." Hermione patted her stomach gently. "It's still a little hard to take in, sometimes."

"You're going to do fine," Ginny said reassuringly. "You've already got your timetable drawn up and plans made, right?"

Hermione blinked at her. "How'd you know?"

"Because I know you. And - oh, hello, Professor." Ginny smiled brightly as Albus Dumbledore drifted through a wall not far from the Fat Lady's portrait. "It's good to have you back."

"And it is good to be back, Miss Weasley, even in my current form," Albus said cheerfully. "If you wouldn't mind, I would like a quick word with Miss Granger before she goes to her well-earned rest."

"Of course." Ginny nodded. "I'll let the boys know you're in safe hands, Hermione. See you in a bit."

Hermione nodded, and Ginny bounced away, her long ponytail swinging. "They've been hovering a bit," she said, as Dumbledore quirked a bushy eyebrow at her. "The boys, I mean. It's quite sweet."

"I'm sure it is." Death and silvery transparence hadn't lessened the intensity of the former Headmaster's gaze. "This is the first time since your first year, Miss Granger, that you haven't seemed enthusiastic about the beginning of the school year."

"I am, really," Hermione said, looking down at her toes. She should really enjoy them while she could still see them. "I'm just... nervous. More nervous than I was about Voldemort, actually, although that probably seems strange."

"Not at all. The former Tom Riddle was a problem on a very large scale... one you were not expected to cope with at all, much less all alone," Dumbledore said, giving her an understanding smile. "Carrying a child to term the same year as you sit your N.E.W.T.s is something that nobody can do for you, and although your friends will help as much as they can, the onus is ultimately on you. It's quite different."

"That's exactly it," Hermione said, smiling at him. "This is... not something Ron and Harry can help me with, or something I can hand over to a teacher if it gets too much. And... there's going to be gossip and rumours; and I know Harry's used to that sort of thing, but I'm not, not really. I keep telling myself that it doesn't matter and that I don't care what people think of me, but sometimes I don't believe me."

Dumbledore laughed softly, and gave her a warm smile. "Miss Granger, in your young life, you have faced battles which most grown wizards would flee in terror; you have faced Voldemort himself; you have earned ten 'Outstanding' Owls, one of only four students to do so in the last twenty years; you have organised a secret society which you managed to conceal even from me, at least for a time... and, assuredly not the least of your achievements, you have managed to force both Mr Potter and Mr Weasley to keep up with their schoolwork. I have no doubt that you will perform as excellently as a mother as you have as a student." He patted her hand with icy, insubstantial fingers. "You have achieved a great deal in a very short period of time, and you should be proud. And if the gossip does bother you, recall that Harry was rumoured to be a delusional attention-seeker and I to be a senile old dingbat - rumours no more truthful than what may be said about you."

Hermione blushed happily, looking at her toes again. "Thank you, sir," she said softly. "That helps, it really does."

"Good." The faintly echoing ghost-voice still managed to sound concerned. "Forgive me for prying, Miss Granger, but - "

"Who is the baby's father?" she asked, meeting his eyes. He inclined his head in agreement, and she smiled wryly. "That's the question everyone asks. But it's not going to be answered, Professor, not even to you."

"That is, of course, your decision," the former Headmaster said, smiling at her. "But please remember that I will be willing to listen at any time, should you need a confidential ear."

"I'll remember, sir. Thank you." He nodded and drifted away, and she headed for the Fat Lady. "Water-lily," she said to the portrait, smiling up at her. The Fat Lady sniffed disdainfully and swung open, not deigning to look Hermione in the eye.

She'd expected that, she reminded herself, although perhaps not from Gryffindor's own portrait. Some of them were very old - they'd think being an unmarried mother was shameful. One couldn't expect too much in the way of modern thinking from a painting. She climbed through the portrait-hole and into the blissfully crowded, noisy common room.

"Hermione!" Solomon Pinsworthy scampered over to her. "Is it true that you're not a Prefect anymore?"

"Afraid so," Hermione said sympathetically. Solomon was in second year, and he'd had several bad bouts of homesickness last year. For a while he'd been following her around like a lost puppy, but he'd gotten used to school eventually. "But you're going to be quite all right this year, so it won't really matter. And you can still talk to me if you need to."

"I suppose. You were good, though," Solomon said wistfully, before being absorbed back into a cluster of his classmates.

That vote of confidence gave her a definite boost, and she headed towards Harry and the others, who had laid claim to a table in the corner. She made it nearly halfway across the room when the inevitable happened. "Hey, Granger!" It was Jack Sloper... she vaguely recalled him being on the Quidditch team at some point. "Is it true you're up the duff?"

The common room went silent as abruptly as if he had flicked a switch, and every eye was suddenly fixed on her.

Hermione saw Harry's head come up, and Ron's fists clench. They would defend her, if she wanted them to, and that was nice to know, but she forced herself to turn, giving Sloper a calmly disdainful look. "Yes," she said simply. "Although I'm not sure, precisely, what makes that any of your business." A scraping sound probably indicated that Harry or Ron - most likely Ron - had stood up and was trying to look menacing.

The silence dissolved into an excited babble of high-speed gossip, but Hermione ignored it, glaring at the cause of the trouble. Sloper, not being a complete idiot, clamped his mouth shut and tried to look small and harmless. "Jus' wondered," he mumbled, trying to sidle behind one of his friends, who didn't look at all keen to protect him.

"Well, now you know," Hermione said coolly. She turned on her heel and smiled brightly at Ron and Harry, who were both on their feet. "I'm going to get an early night," she said, not bothering to try to sound casual or convincing. "Morning sickness takes it out of you a bit."

"Sleep well, Hermione," Harry said, equally matter-of-fact. "We'll see you in the morning, if you're up to breakfast."

"Thanks, Harry." Hermione smiled gratefully at him and the others. Ginny seemed to be restraining Ron in some way... one of his arms was twisted behind him, anyway. She gave Hermione an encouraging smile and a little wave with her free hand.

Nodding, Hermione headed for the stairs, keeping her back straight and her face expressionless. Halfway up she paused, waiting. Any moment now...

"It is not mine!" Ron's wrathful voice was instantly recognisable. "Or Harry's! And it's none of your bloody business, Seamus!"

Hermione shook her head, smiling ruefully. Ron exploding was like the sun rising... it happened earlier or later at different times, but it was inevitable in the long run. Maybe it was a big family thing... all the Weasleys tended to lose their tempers at full volume.

She headed for the familiar dormitory, and the lovely warm, welcoming bed. She was alone long enough to go through the familiar night-time rituals... putting out robes for tomorrow, with clean socks and clean underwear, brushing her teeth and her hair, checking on Crookshanks (gone, probably to try to re-establish dominance over Mrs Norris) and finding a book to read in bed.

Not a book about babies, pregnancy, or anything similar. A nice, reliable Muggle text on chemistry.

She was reading when Lavender and Parvati came in, which was useful, as she could ignore them without being pointed about it. She didn't want to have to talk to either of them just now.

They whispered their way through getting ready for bed, glancing at her surreptitiously now and then. Eventually, Lavender seemed to have worked up the nerve to speak, as she plaited her hair with an exaggeratedly casual air. "So... er... Hermione..." Hermione lowered her book and was startled by the malicious look on Lavender's face. They'd never gotten along, but neither had they actively disliked each other - until the Thing with Ron. "Do you know who the father is?"

Hermione sat bolt upright, dropping her book and glaring. Lavender had the grace to blush, but she didn't look away. "Of course I bloody know who the father is!" she snarled. "I'm in no doubt whatsoever as to who the father is!"

"So who is it?" Parvati asked inquisitively. "Ron and Harry said it wasn't them, but they wouldn't say who it was."

"It wasn't them, and they don't know who it was because I haven't told them," Hermione said primly. "I'm going to be a single mother."

"You're not going to get married?" Parvati squeaked, looking as horrified as if Hermione had announced that she planned to start breakfasting on live kittens.

"Certainly not just because I happen to be pregnant," Hermione said, with a disparaging sniff. "This isn't the Dark Ages." Although it might as well be, at Hogwarts.

"But..." Parvati was clearly having serious trouble with this idea. "But what did your parents say?"

"That they're glad I lived long enough to get pregnant, what with the War and all, and that I can live at home until I find a job, after N.E.W.T.s." Hermione shrugged. "Why, what would yours say?"

Parvati shuddered. "Avada Kedavra, probably," she said, and she didn't sound as if she were joking.

"There are potions you can take," Lavender said, giving Hermione a you-idiot sort of look. "I mean, if he's not going to be around, and you have exams..."

Parvati looked at Lavender as if she'd suggested something obscene. "She wouldn't!" she said, sounding horrified. "Not to her own baby!"

"No, I wouldn't, as it happens," Hermione said. "I'm in favour of the potions as a generally available option -" she got her own share of the you-monster look from Parvati "- but they're not for me. Goodnight, Lavender. Goodnight, Parvati." She put her book on the table beside her bed, blew out her candle and firmly turned her back to both of them.

She fell asleep before they could start whispering.

Severus had watched her through most of dinner.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected, although being hexed by Harry Potter the moment the boy entered the hall had seemed the likeliest option. At the very least, he'd anticipated filthy looks from her friends as she endured her martyrdom at his greasy hands.

Instead, they'd walked into the Hall flanking her like knights of old, Ginny Weasley just ahead of them, walking with a militant stride that hinted that she would do violence to anyone who tried to hinder her. They'd headed straight for the Gryffindor table, none of them looking at the teachers' table except to wave to Hagrid.

Granger looked nervous and paler than usual. She sat quietly through the Sorting, elbowing Weasley when he attempted to intimidate a new Slytherin first-year. And then she looked up at him and he looked away, not wanting to seem to approve her for an act of simple decency.

He kept finding his eyes wandering back to her, though. She picked at her food and played absently with her dessert instead of eating it. (The misleadingly-named morning sickness? She was far enough along for it if he remembered right.) She looked tired, lacking her usual bright enthusiasm for a new year full of fresh and exciting homework.

It was a relief when dinner ended, and he could follow his Slytherins down into the cool peace of the dungeons. He'd missed them more than he'd expected to. It felt good to be... not home, exactly. In refuge, perhaps.

"Professor Snape?"

He would have snarled at anyone else to go away. For Draco, he stopped and turned, looking his godson over. Draco was thinner and even paler than usual, but he was standing straight, his eyes meeting his godfather's fearlessly for the first time in his life. Turning his coat had served Draco well, overall, even taking into account the half-empty sleeve hanging at his left side. "What is it, Draco?"

Draco cocked his head, a crooked smile quirking his lips. His Aunt Andromeda's oddly charming smile; the only way he resembled her. "You look like shit," he said softly. "So do I, of course, but I thought you'd been sleeping more lately."

"The advent of the school year has brought us both a few sleepless nights, I imagine," Severus said, returning the smile with a small, thin one of his own. "You still refuse to have a prosthetic fitted?"

Draco nodded. "It was... a sacrifice," he said quietly, touching his left arm where it ended, just below the joint of the elbow. "A small price to pay for my soul, overall."

"I see." It was foolish and superstitious, but that was pure-bloods for you. "You won't be able to continue your study of Potions without it. You know that."

"Yes, I know." Draco looked... calm. Almost serene. It was a bit disturbing. "I'll miss it, a bit, but I'll live. Do you know, Charms was always my favourite subject? Didn't do to say so, of course."

"Of course." Severus nodded. Lucius had not had a high opinion of Charms. "I shall endeavour to forgive you for abandoning me to the mercy of Potter and Weasley undistracted."

Draco laughed at that. "You're losing Granger as well, aren't you?"

Severus would have started, if years as a spy hadn't destroyed that particular urge. "What do you mean?"

"I bumped into her on the train. Well, she charged past me in order to beat me to the toilet. Morning sickness, she said. Given the risks in Potions, especially if someone makes a mistake, I assumed she'd be dropping the subject."

"That would have been preferable, yes." Severus scowled. Secrecy would have been even more preferable, if impossible. "However, Professor McGonagall has ordered me to allow her to complete the written work while she is pregnant and to go through as many of the potions as are feasible with her after she gives birth. Apparently suggesting that she sacrifice one of seven potential N.E.W.T.s for the sake of her child's health is simply asking too much of the wretched girl."

Draco shook his head. "When she's one of McGonagall's precious darlings, of course it is." He seemed to consider it. "At least she'll do the work. She won't expect you to just pass everything because she's going to be a mummy."

She'd better bloody well not. And she wouldn't, he knew that... Granger, for all her academic flaws, wasn't lazy. "True. I shudder to think what special treatment Weasley would demand, were he capable of falling pregnant."

"I'd have to throw him down a flight of stairs for the sake of all wizard-kind." Draco shook his head, and in a rare moment of affection, reached out to touch his godfather's shoulder gently. "Get some sleep." He slipped past, his pale hair shining in the darkness of the corridor, and then he was gone.

She'd told Draco. Of all people. Draco hadn't insulted her once, either, which meant she'd made some sort of favourable impression... and it hadn't been 'I gave your Head of House a good time' because that would certainly have merited a comment.

Potter had barely looked at him all through dinner, which meant he didn't know either. And Minerva had been quite firm when she'd said that the Granger girl had refused to name the baby's father. Well. Maybe he was going to get out of this relatively unscathed after all... one year, minimal contact thanks to the limited Potions classes, and then he need never see the wretched girl or the child again.

Feeling slightly cheered, he headed for bed.

"Hermione, are you going to be in there all morning?"

Lavender sounded annoyed. Screw her, then, Hermione thought, and was sick again. She should have listened to Molly Weasley and put the crackers next to her bed. And a drink of water, too.

"Hermione, it's nearly time for breakfast," Parvati called.

"Don't talk about breakfast!" Hermione managed between heaves. "And go away!"

"Hermione, we need to - "

"You need to go to one of the other dorms and use their toilet, is what you need to!" Hermione snarled. "I'll have the remedies handy tomorrow so this doesn't happen again, but it's too late now, so push off!"

The nerves were definitely contributing to the throwing up. It'd never been this bad before, but this morning she'd woken up with a horrible feeling of impending doom which was apparently sitting on her stomach like a vomit-inducing lead weight. She ignored the grumbling as Parvati and Lavender got themselves together and left. Served them right for being cheeky last night.

"Hermione?"

"Ginny? What're you doing in our dormitory?" Everything seemed to be up now, and she risked flushing and moving away from the toilet long enough to wash her mouth out in the small hand-basin.

"Checking to see if you were all right. Parvati Patil said it sounded like you were throwing up everything you'd ever eaten," Ginny said through the door. "Nerves or morning sickness?"

"Bit of both. What was it like down in the common-room after I left?" Hermione decided it was safe to risk brushing her teeth and began to do so.

"Last night? The usual - wild speculation, flights of fancy and a general desire to watch the train-wreck as closely as possible. You know how it usually is with Harry? Like that, but with sex, so it was more interesting." Ginny knew Hermione well enough to know that honesty would be appreciated more than tact, it seemed.

"Tell Harry to enjoy being out of the limelight while it lasts," Hermione said, after she'd rinsed. At least her purgatory was going to take some of the pressure off Harry. That was something.

"Any time you need a diversion, I'll drop a hint that I've seen him naked," Ginny offered, sniggering a bit as Hermione opened the door and wobbled out. "Trust me, the mere hint that he's anatomically correct should divert all female attention from you."

Hermione laughed weakly. "Yeah, well, there is that... thanks, Ginny. I mean it." The nervous lead weight was gone, and with it a lot of the nausea. "I think I can face breakfast now... some dry toast, maybe. Or fruit. Please don't let anyone get near me with pumpkin juice."

"I'll do my best." Ginny patted her shoulder. "You look horrible, you know... all washed out. Did you sleep all right?"

"Fine... except I kept having weird dreams." Hermione shook her head. "Not bad, just... weird. There was this one where I'd had the baby, and people kept dressing it up while my back was turned. It came as a real shock to turn around and see it wearing a green bowler hat like the one Fudge used to wear. And the Professor Dumbledore costume I'll leave to your imagination, but it included a beard. A real one."

"Now that sounds scary." Ginny shuddered. "Come on, let's get you some weak tea and toast."

"Tea and toast sounds nice," Hermione said hopefully.

The staring and murmuring were much more pronounced this morning - apparently word had gotten around. Some people looked shocked or disdainful, others sympathetic, but most just looked curious. Hermione kept her head high and ignored them as Ginny led her to the more sparsely populated end of the table farthest from the door and closest to the teachers.

She thought she sensed cold black eyes boring into the back of her neck as she sat down. She ignored them.

"Want me to move the pumpkin juice?" Ron asked, picking up the jug and giving her a worried look.

Hermione sniffed. "It's not too bad, actually... it smells much worse when it's cooked," she said, more than a little relieved. "Just don't actually get it near me, and it'll be all right." She reached for the toast. "Word seems to have gotten around, doesn't it?"

"Harry and I will hex anyone who's rude to you," Ron said, looking around with a scowl. "Or punch them. Whichever you like."

"You can't punch or hex the whole school, Ron," Harry said wearily. "I know it's horrible, Hermione, but you do get used to it, I promise. And they'll lose interest sooner or later."

"I hope so." Hermione nibbled on her toast, more because Mrs Weasley had promised that having something in her stomach would help the nausea than because she wanted it. "That stripping idea is starting to sound more appealing, though."

"No," Harry said very firmly. "I love you, Hermione, but no." Then he blushed, realizing what he'd said.

"Oh..." Hermione's lip trembled, and she leaned over to hug him tightly. "I love you, too," she said, sniffling a bit.

Ron looked at them, and then at Ginny. "Doesn't it bother you that he just said that?" he asked curiously.

"No, of course not." Ginny rolled her eyes at him. "That'd be like him getting jealous if I said I loved you. Hermione's family."

"I s'pose." Ron shrugged and dived back into his breakfast. "Hey, you think we'll get some sort of extra credit in Defence for foiling Voldemort? We should."

"It doesn't count if you do it in the holidays, Ron," Hermione said firmly, wiping her eyes quickly and releasing Harry, who was looking both embarrassed and pleased. "Anyway, I'd be more worried about Transfiguration if I was you, you two haven't practiced at all."

Severus had watched her come into the Hall, of course, late and looking pale and drawn. It was ridiculous; he really couldn't care less if her ill-advised pregnancy interfered with her breakfast, but still he noticed that she ate only dry toast and drank tea diluted to a pale beige with milk.

When she leaned over to embrace Harry Potter, he focused on his own breakfast and refused to look again.