Chapter 6: The View from Outside

Harry picked at his breakfast moodily. Any second now.

"Hi, Harry," Hermione said cheerfully, sitting down beside him. "Did you sleep well?"

"No, I did not bloody sleep well!" Harry snarled. "And no, I am not having nightmares about Voldemort again. No, I don't think it means something. I'm just not sleeping well, okay? Is that all right with everybody?"

There was a long moment of silence, in which he could feel everyone staring at him. "I was only asking," Hermione said, sounding hurt.

"So was I," Ginny said dryly, from Harry's other side. "About three minutes ago. So was Neville a few minutes before that."

"So was I when I woke up this morning." Ron nodded from across the table.

Harry scowled. "I don't know why everyone's so interested in how well I slept," he said grumpily, stabbing his fork into his sausage. "Why is everyone so interested all of a sudden?"

"Well, you've got black circles under your eyes, you're paler than usual and you haven't shaved," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "Not to mention that you don't usually swear at me. You're not the only one who's tired, you know."

Harry blushed, looking at her guiltily. Hermione looked almost as tired as he felt - which she'd assured them was normal for this stage of pregnancy, but it still bothered him to see the purple smudges under her eyes and the slump to her thin shoulders. "Yeah... look, I'm sorry about that, I just..." He pulled his glasses off to rub his eyes wearily. "I'm not sleeping well. I haven't been for a while. I feel... edgy."

"Really?" Ron gave him a worried look. "Are you sure there's nothing wrong? Maybe we should get Remus to check you for slow-acting hexes or something."

Hermione made a tutting noise, and they both looked at her. Harry grinned suddenly. Hermione's 'you're both such enormous idiots that I can hardly stand it' expression was annoying, true, but it was nice to see it again. When she spoke, it was in a lecturing tone that made him feel even better. Hermione lecturing meant everything was all right.

"Honestly, Ron, slow-acting hexes indeed," she said reprovingly. "Of course Harry's feeling tense. It's perfectly normal, under the circumstances."

"It is?" Ron asked, frowning. "Why? I mean, the War's over, everything's all right... shouldn't he be relaxed?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and turned to Harry. "You're feeling sort of jumpy and off, right? As if there's something you should be doing, or something important that you've missed?"

"Yeah. That's it exactly, actually." Harry nodded. "It feels like there's something sort of hanging over my head. I mean, there is N.E.W.T.s, but they aren't bothering me that much yet."

"When do exams ever bother you?" Hermione shook her head, and then smiled affectionately at him. "Harry, when was the last time that the most important thing hanging over your head was an exam? When you didn't have any immediate worries at all and you didn't have to worry about anyone being out to get you?"

Harry thought back. The War... the Order of the Phoenix... the Triwizard Tournament... Sirius... Riddle's diary and the Basilisk... the Philosopher's Stone... Dudley and the Dursleys... "I don't know," he said. "I don't think it's ever happened before."

"See? That's why." Hermione opened her diary with a businesslike air. "You're suffering from an unprecedented lack of doom, and it's coming as a shock. You'll be all right as soon as you get used to not having to fear for your life."

Harry stared at her. "You really think that's it?"

"I really do." Hermione grinned at him. "Of course, if it gets to be too much for you, Ginny can always let slip to her brothers that you've compromised her virtue, probably more than once. I'm sure you'd feel better once you couldn't leave Hogwarts grounds without fearing for your life."

Harry knew he was blushing furiously, and he didn't dare look across the table at Ron. "Hermione, will you stop that?" he said plaintively.

Hermione drew a neat line through a box marked '11'. The boxes covered the front page of her diary and seemed to run from 1 to 42. "If you like. But you feel better, though, don't you?"

"Maybe," Harry muttered, not wanting to admit that he did.

Ginny laughed and slid an arm around his waist, resting her chin companionably on his shoulder. "I'm a bit jealous," she said. "Hermione knows you so much better than I do."

"You'll catch up in no time," Hermione said cheerfully, giving Ginny a rather mischievous grin. "He's not complicated."

"Hey!" Harry said indignantly, quite sure he was being insulted. "I'm right here, you know."

"Yes, I know," Hermione said, reaching for her usual dry toast. "But you shouldn't be. You should be upstairs shaving. You know how Professor McGonagall is about poor personal hygiene."

Harry rubbed his chin a bit sheepishly. "Is it really that noticeable?"

"I'm not kissing you until it goes away," Ginny said firmly.

"I'll go shave."

"You do that." Ginny smiled sweetly at him. "I'll finish your breakfast for you."

"It's good to see them back to normal," Remus Lupin said quietly as he watched Harry stride away, rubbing his chin self-consciously. "I've been worried... after everything they've been through, I wasn't sure they could settle down to just being students again."

"It is a relief," Minerva said equally quietly. "Mr Potter has been rather tetchy, of late. I'm glad to see Miss Granger is taking him in hand."

Remus smiled, watching Hermione pour herself some tea while Ginny helped herself to the remains of Harry's breakfast. "She always has... if they weren't so close to the same age, I'd say she mothers him."

"And thank goodness for that. I shudder to think what trouble those two boys would have gotten into without her keeping an eye on them," Minerva said firmly. "Does she look tired to you?"

"According to Harry, she's exhausted all the time but won't let them help beyond carrying her books for her when possible," Remus said. "I checked with Madam Pomfrey... she said it's normal, and should pass in a week or two more at most."

"Oh. Well, if it will pass..." Minerva, having never ventured that particular interesting condition herself, looked at their only pregnant student with a vaguely suspicious expression. "She's been keeping up with her homework, so far."

"She'd keep up with her homework if she was at death's door," Remus said ruefully. "I've had a word with Ginny Weasley... she's going to let me know if she thinks Hermione is overdoing it. You know as well as I do that Hermione wouldn't breathe a word until she actually collapsed."

"Probably not, no." Minerva shook her head and then smirked. "She's been doing even better than usual in Potions... the essays, anyway. I suspect that's why Severus has been looking so sour lately."

"He has, hasn't he?" Remus sipped his tea. "Professor... I mean, Minerva..." He still wasn't used to that, she'd been 'Professor McGonagall' for so long. "If you don't mind my asking... why did he go back to Potions? I thought he'd always wanted to teach Defence."

"To be honest, Remus, I have no idea," she said very softly. "I asked him to come back, and he agreed - I thought to take up the Defence position. When he arrived, though, he announced that he would be taking Potions again and marched straight down to his dungeons. He didn't come out for days."

"That's it?" Remus felt his eyebrows attempting to hide in his hairline. "Just like that?"

"Just like that." Minerva shook her head. "He flatly refused to discuss it... and frankly, I didn't press the point. The Potions position is one of the most difficult to fill, and it would have been quite impossible on such short notice."

Remus glanced at Snape's empty seat (he had gulped his coffee and left already). "I would have thought he'd be... I don't know... happier, now that Voldemort is gone, and he's been fully exonerated," he said thoughtfully. "He's touchier than ever."

"He's upset about something," Minerva said softly, and then snorted as Remus gave her a surprised look. "I've known him since he was eleven years old, Remus. We don't always get along, but that doesn't mean I can't tell when something's bothering him. I haven't seen him this twitchy since Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban."

Remus looked down at his plate. "That was... bad?" he asked guiltily. He knew Severus had objected strenuously to his appointment both times, and he couldn't blame the man... he'd nearly killed him twice now. It was quite possible that Remus had been the reason for the twitching, not Sirius... and that he still was.

"Poppy was treating him for an ulcer by the beginning of January," Minerva said. "I have no idea what's upsetting him now, though."

Severus Snape was hunched over his desk, scribbling criticism and corrections over a pile of student essays. He looked tired and tense... but then, he always had.

"Severus?" the ghost of Albus Dumbledore said softly. He could no longer knock, but he hovered halfway through the door, ready to retreat if he was unwelcome.

Severus looked up, his shoulders slumping just a little. "Albus," he said wearily. "I am very busy. Did you want something?"

"To see how you fare, my boy, nothing more." Albus drifted through the door and made a pretence of sitting down on the hard chair where penitent students were expected to sit. "Something is bothering you."

Severus scowled. He always did, whenever Albus said anything personal. "What could possibly be bothering me? The students are back and filling the school with the squeals of happy idiocy. I have my very own dungeon back again, as dank as when I left it. And I am once again the head of the most unpopular House at Hogwarts. I am ecstatic, I assure you. Every day is a fresh delight."

Albus chuckled. "At least your ability to wax sarcastic is unimpaired," he said, smiling fondly at the younger man. "If ever it deserted you, I would be certain you were at death's door."

"Yes, well... I am perfectly well, Albus," Severus said, setting down his quill. "I am merely... tired."

"You have been, as you put it, tired ever since the school year started or a little before," Albus said gently. "As has Mr Potter, incidentally."

The Potions Master's head snapped up, and Albus was subjected to a refreshingly venomous glare. "I assure you, Albus, that Mr Potter and I are not... tired for the same reason. At all."

"Miss Granger had an interesting suggestion on the subject," Albus said, then paused for a moment. There had been an indefinable something in Severus's eyes at the mention of that name. "She told Mr Potter that he was, as I understand it, 'suffering from an unprecedented lack of doom', and that it was coming as a shock to his system. You, too, are in such a situation... for the first time in a much longer life than Mr Potter's, you are not in direct danger from anyone. Imminent doom is not hanging over you, and you have a sudden dearth of enemies. Is that what's bothering you, Severus? The sudden release of a tension to which you are too accustomed to let go of easily?"

"No." The thin shoulders tensed and then slumped. "Perhaps. I am not entirely without enemies, even now, but it is... disconcerting to find myself with only a single role to play, instead of half-a-dozen."

Albus sighed. "I had hoped that my presence at your trial would be enough," he said apologetically. "I have told you before, Severus, and I will tell you again, how sorry I am for what I asked you to do that night."

"You asked too much," Severus said shortly, looking away. "You always did. And even in death, you continue to do so. I am fine, Albus. I am... adjusting. Please leave me alone."

"If that is your wish." Albus nodded, lowering his eyes sadly. Severus had passed the last and greatest test of their friendship... but it seemed Albus himself had failed. "One question, before I go, about Miss Granger..."

Once again, the name was greeted by an infinitesimal moment of tension. "What about her?"

"How is she doing, Severus? You know the signs of strain after all these years as Head of House. As does Minerva, but in the case of Miss Granger, who is so very much like Minerva herself as a girl, she is inclined to be a little less observant than usual. I know Miss Granger is tired, but... is she handling the stress of approaching N.E.W.T.s and impending motherhood combined?"

Severus scowled, eyes going to the desk where a single roll of parchment lay slightly apart from the rest. "Her work is in general higher than her usual standard. She is managing quite well," he said, clearly begrudging every syllable.

"Really?" Albus made a thoughtful noise. "Her other teachers have mentioned that the standard of her work has dropped somewhat. Still brilliant, of course, but less comprehensive than usual. She must be making a special effort for Potions, to make up for being unable to perform the practical portions of the subject."

Severus looked surprised at that. "Indeed. Interesting." He picked up the solitary roll of parchment, fiddling with it and frowning. "I have a question for you, too, before you go," he said slowly. "I am unconvinced that Miss Granger is ready for the responsibility of motherhood. It is a difficult and thankless task at best, and she is very young. Do you think she will be able to perform it to an adequate standard?"

Albus smiled. "I think she will perform more than adequately... and will undoubtedly be the fussiest, most overprotective mother since Molly Weasley had her first. As long as the child survives the avalanche of woollies, healthful potions and protective charms that I am sure she is already preparing, I am certain he or she will have no complaints." Severus nodded, seeming to relax a little bit, and Albus nodded. "A moment of youthful indiscretion aside, Hermione has very little in common with Eileen," he said very gently. "I do not think you need fear that this child will ever be unloved or unwanted."

Severus frowned. "Go away, old man," he said, going back to his marking with an annoyed flick of his quill.

Albus drifted away through the door, pleased to have divined at least one source of Severus's distress. He knew that Eileen and Tobias had told their son over and over that he had been an unwanted complication which had forced them to remain together long after their brief passion had faded. Naturally, he would be concerned about the welfare of another child conceived during a moment of carelessness... but Hermione Granger was nothing like Eileen Prince. Albus hoped that he'd laid that fear, at least, to rest.

Perhaps it was for the best that she refused to name the child's father. Better one loving parent who wanted you than two who regretted you, after all.

Draco was sometimes convinced that one day his wand would actually grow onto his right hand. And not in the way that he had been jocularly warned about when he was fourteen. Thank Merlin, he was of age... although he probably could have gotten a dispensation, under the circumstances.

He'd come to terms, more or less, with losing his left hand and forearm. Professor Snape had said something at the time like 'if thy hand offend thee, strike it off' - he didn't remember the precise words, since he'd been half out of his mind with pain, but it was something along those lines. It had helped him adjust. The Dark Mark, and the hand it was attached to, had represented a part of him that he didn't like and didn't want. In a way, it had almost been a relief to see it go.

What frustrated him was how hard everything was to do with only one hand. He'd cut his hair ruthlessly short, which had solved one problem, but he had to use magic for almost everything else. Getting dressed in the morning. Showering. Getting his bloody trousers up. Everything had to be either done by magic or take forever. He'd thought more than once about getting a prosthetic fitted, but... no. He never again wanted to be the person he'd been when he was whole.

It was a relief of sorts, though, to have someone else's troubles to take his mind off his own. "You don't look like you're sleeping," he said, sipping his tea. Out of a mug, thankfully... teacups were hard to keep steady with only one hand, something his godfather had realised at the first of these meetings.

Snape definitely did look a bit the worse for wear. Draco had expected some sort of improvement, after the war ended... but if anything, Snape looked wearier than before. Now he made a sour face, sipping his own tea. "I haven't been," he admitted. "Have you?"

Draco shook his head. "Not always. Sometimes I'm all right; sometimes... I dream. You?"

"Often." Snape looked into his cup, his expression distant. "It's... unsettling, the way everyone seems determined to pretend the War never happened."

"Oh, Merlin, yes," Draco said fervently. "Here we are, all back at school like good children, squabbling over the Quidditch Cup and house points..." And there was another regret. He could still fly, and he was grateful for that, but he would never play Quidditch again. One hand for the ball, one for the broom, that was the minimum.

"Well, given how long the general populace were successful in denying the Dark Lord's return altogether, I suppose it should come as no surprise that they're anxious not to think about him now," Snape muttered, stirring his tea absently. "It feels... surreal, don't you think? As if we've woken from a dream and found that none of it really happened at all... except that in dreams, it's still real." Draco nodded. "It's easier for me, I think," he said, lifting what remained of his left arm slightly. "I have this constant reminder that it was real, and that I survived." He saw the familiar guilt shadow his godfather's face and shook his head. "And will you stop that?"

"Stop what?" Snape asked, quirking a sardonic eyebrow.

Draco ignored it. "Feeling guilty that it was my Dark Mark we used against Him," he said firmly. "I won't say it wasn't disgusting and disturbing seeing my arm used like that, but I wanted it off. I cut it off, not you. Stop feeling guilty for not protecting me from a sacrifice I wanted to make."

Snape sighed and looked away. "I will try," he said after a long moment. "But I still think I should have been the one to - "

"No, you bloody well shouldn't," Draco said very firmly. "I don't need it for what I want to do with my life, all right? Charms only takes one. Potions requires two. That's how it is." He set his mug down to reach for a biscuit. "How are classes now, anyway? Weasley managed to go a week without doing something stupid yet?"

"Two," Snape said, seeming relieved at the switch to a less painful topic. "I suspect he's hoarding his idiocy until he can do something really spectacular, like kill the entire class in one go."

"You have my sympathies." Draco shook his head, grinning. "Losing me and Granger... still, at least you have the Ravenclaws."

"For what they're worth." Snape looked aggrieved. "I don't miss the gratuitous sucking-up, mind you, but at least I didn't have to watch you every moment to make sure you didn't put something in your mouth."

"I don't miss it, either." And he didn't. If nothing else, his brief stint as a Death Eater and the death of Dumbledore had finally broken down the barrier between the two of them. Draco no longer tried to please Snape with the fawning that Lucius had enjoyed, and Snape spoke more openly to Draco, so Draco suspected, than he did to any other living person. It felt good, to be able to be honest with someone. "Is Granger keeping up all right?"

The eyebrow went up again. "Why?" Snape asked curiously. "You've never liked the girl."

"No, I never did." Draco shrugged. "She was one of Potter's sidekicks, a Gryffindor and a Muggle-born. The possibility that she might be likeable in some way never occurred to me. It's... different, this year."

"Different how?" The tone of the question was subtly off... just a shade too casual for real disinterest. Snape really wanted to know - he wasn't just making conversation.

"Well, she's civil to me," Draco said wryly. "One of the few, given my former Death Eater status. She's not my new best friend, or anything, but she's pleasant enough. And she's not having an easy year, either."

Snape snorted. "She knew she was pregnant before the year began," he said dismissively. "She had more than adequate opportunity to either get rid of the child or leave the school, and she decided that she would manage both pregnancy and education. She knew it would be difficult, and I do not pity her for a choice freely made."

"I didn't expect you to," Draco said dryly. "But it's nice not to be the only social pariah in our year. We even sit next to each other in Arithmancy, now... Padma Patil seems to think that promiscuity might be catching."

Snape's head snapped up, and there was an angry glint in his eyes. "Miss Patil is in no position to condemn a witch of infinitely superior abilities for a single moment of carelessness," he snapped. "Sentimental, self-indulgent and short-sighted Miss Granger may be, but she is hardly a - " He seemed to realise what he was saying and closed his mouth with a snap. "The girl has so many faults," he muttered, looking away. "It hardly seems necessary to accuse her of one of the few she lacks."

Draco's eyebrows went up. "A slut she certainly is not," he said bluntly. "She acts more like a virgin saint than anything else, even with the current evidence to the contrary. I'm surprised to hear you defending her, though." Snape huffed in annoyance, but didn't say anything. "On second thought, though, I'm not really surprised."

Snape glared at him. "Why? I assure you that I am no fonder of Potter and his cohorts than I ever was."

"No, but there are some things that are... inappropriate. Something I learned from you, as I recall." You don't hit girls, you don't hex girls, and you don't call a lady's reputation into question. You just don't. Evil was a negotiable point, but being coarse was unthinkable. Needless to say, that had been an idea drummed into him by his mother and his godfather - Lucius had disagreed. Draco pushed away the pang of guilt at the thought of his father with practiced speed.

Snape relaxed slightly. "That is true," he said. He looked almost... relieved. Some lingering guilt about the Granger girl? Draco couldn't help wondering.

"She is... nice," Draco said thoughtfully, sipping his tea. "I saw her knitting a little hat in the library the other day while she was studying, and I found myself almost envying the baby. One day it will know that she loved it enough to be willing to put her N.E.W.T.s and her beloved learning in jeopardy for its sake."

"Yes," Snape said rather tersely, and there was a long pause in the conversation.

Snape had never mentioned it, but Draco remembered being pulled aside as a small child and cautioned by Narcissa never to ask about his godfather's parents. He'd drawn his own conclusions from that. "It seems to be generally agreed that she will be a doting mother," Severus said, staring into the fire.

"There are worse things," Draco said quietly. His mother was a bit mad and utterly amoral, but he'd never for an instant doubted that she loved him. The worst thing about giving up his arm and his alliance to the Dark Lord had been his fear of disappointing her... or worse, causing her to be hurt.

She'd made him beg a lot, but she'd forgiven him eventually.

"Yes, I suppose there are." Snape nodded slowly, then shook his head slightly and set his mug down with a firm click. "It's getting late. I'll escort you back to your common room."

Bonus Material: PLEASE READ

This has come up in quite a few comments, both by email and review-posting on FFnet and since I have no desire to keep typing out my arguments regarding Hermione's choice to not have an abortion, I will make my argument here. Anyone who brings this up again will be referred back to this note unless they have a very well-thought-out point to make.

Hermione is not choosing to keep the baby for 'sentiment', 'morality', my own 'cultural bias' and certainly not to 'force Snape to marry her'. I know that abortion is a difficult subject for many people, especially those from the U.S. where it has been made such a political football.

Hermione did not have an abortion in 'Accountable' because I believe that it would be inconsistent with her character to do so. I am not trying to send any sort of message and I am personally much in favour of abortion being readily available for those who wish to have one. But some people just don't feel comfortable with doing that, and that, too, is a completely valid choice.

Hermione has indicated strongly over the years, through her protectiveness of Harry, her insistence on championing the oppressed whether they want her to or not, and her adoption of Crookshanks more or less solely on the basis that nobody else wanted him, that she is a very nurturing character with a strong protective drive. I cannot see the Hermione who formed S.P.E.W. and gave up seeing her parents almost entirely to take care of Harry giving up her own child because her pregnancy is inconveniently timed and/or awkward to explain.

Nor, I think, would Snape want or expect her to. He is not so self-indulgent as to want a healthy, much-wanted child to be obliterated because its presence will make him temporarily uncomfortable. Moreover, aborting the child without telling him would be a worse abrogation of his rights than the initial conception - what if he'd always wanted children? What if he would be ecstatic to find someone willing to bring a child to term for him and then hand it over, or just give him access-visits? She has no way of knowing until she tells him.

There seems to be a prevailing assumption that I am an American. I am, as it happens, Australian. I consulted on this story with whitehound, who is British. (For those interested, I am also married to an American and have a British grandparent.) Not everyone on the Internet is American, nor are they all ignorant of British cultural mores.

Abortion, however, is a profoundly personal choice, as I attempted to show in the first conversation with Lavender and Parvati - Hermione is opposed to abortion in her own case, Lavender assumes that it is the only possible choice, and Parvati is horrified at the mere suggestion. All are equally valid attitudes, and despite the fact that all three girls are the same age, going to the same school, and from the same country, they are all very different attitudes. People are like that.

I also strongly believe that telling all in the first chapter or two of a long story makes it a boring one. No, I haven't revealed nearly all of what happened, how Hermione feels about it, how Snape feels about it, or anything else. These things will be revealed - as will the nature of Ron's war wound and the plot against Harry - when the time comes. Patience is a virtue.