Chapter 17: Truth

The whispering was everywhere she went. The accusation was wild, stupid, and poorly-written. That didn't stop most of the school from... well, not believing it, exactly, but fearing that it was true. The pretence everyone had clung to, that the war was gone, over, barely worth remembering had suddenly been shaken, and Hermione spent the day after the story's first appearance listening to whispers and seeing people flinch away from her.

Rita had not, for a wonder, done a follow-up article. But the Prophet had printed several pages of angry, frightened letters insisting that Hermione be expelled, questioned under Veritaserum, arrested, all three or worse. The Ministry had issued a statement to the effect that they had not yet been given any reason to believe Voldemort had succeeded in his attempts to escape death this time; but the statement was such a cautious exercise in covering their own backsides just in case that it read more like a confirmation than a denial.

Harry was furious. "I'm going to have Scrimgeour for this," he muttered, falling into step beside Hermione as they headed for Herbology. "Ex-Auror or not, he can't be any bloody tougher than Voldemort. One of these days I'll catch him away from the cameras and just..." He made a violent neck-wringing motion, nearly dropping his bag.

"I'd argue with you, but right now I feel the same way," Hermione said, wincing as her hip twinged. Walking fast was getting harder and harder. "Can I help?"

"Sure. I'll hold him down and you can hex him." Harry absently reached over to take her bag. "Here, give me that... anyway, I can't believe anyone actually believes this bilge."

"I don't think most of them do believe it, really," Hermione said, trying to be fair. "They're just so frightened by the idea that they can't disbelieve it. They've been pretending so hard that the war just... didn't really happen, and that it's all over anyway, and now suddenly it's all been dragged up again just when they were starting to feel safe."

"You're more understanding than I am," Harry muttered, giving a pair of third-years a filthy look as they goggled nervously at Hermione and scuttled past. "Honestly, there are times when I wonder why I bothered saving the wizarding world at all."

"You don't mean that." Hermione poked him gently. "You know you don't."

"Well, no, I don't." Harry smiled down at her. "I mean, even if everyone else annoys me, there's you and Ginny and Ron and all. And the baby. I'm glad he's going to have a more or less safe world to get born into."

"Me too." Hermione returned his smile. "I don't know if I would have dared go through with it, if the war had still been going on."

"I wouldn't blame you." Harry nodded, and then waved. "Hey, Ron!"

Ron caught up to them just as they stepped into the greenhouse. "Sorry I'm late," he said, looking rather pleased with himself. "Had to sort out a sixth-year who was saying nasty things about Hermione."

Harry bristled. "Like what?"

"Same as when everyone found out she was pregnant, but worse. You know, implying she was... that she had loose morals." Ron blushed a bit. "Anyway, she doesn't, and I should know, right?"

"You should." Hermione grinned. Harry looked at them both and went very pink. "I certainly didn't make it easy for you, and I liked you."

Ron managed to blush and smirk at the same time. "Yeah, well... if it hadn't been for the we-could-die-at-any-moment, I doubt even I would've got anywhere with you," he said, clearly considering it a compliment.

Hermione giggled and pulled out her dragon hide gloves, feeling better already. "All right. You two wrestle the Tentacula and toss me the pollinated swabs. I'd help, but..." She batted her lashes insincerely, gesturing to her stomach.

"Wouldn't let you help anyway," Harry said cheerfully, pulling on his own gloves. "You're too small. It might think you were a bunny and eat you."

"Miss Parkinson. Come in."

Severus liked Pansy. He'd had hopes for her. But now he enjoyed watching her pale and shift nervously. She recognized the silky purr that signified true fury in her Head of House, although it had never been directed at her before. "You wanted to see me, Professor?" she asked, coming to stand in front of his desk with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner approaching the gallows.

"Yes, Miss Parkinson, I did." He glared at her for a long, silent moment, and she went even paler. "I have a question for you."

"What is it, sir?" Bravado was leaking out of her like water out of a sieve.

He leaned forward, scowling. "Can you give me one even half-decent reason why you should not be immediately expelled?"

Pansy flinched. "I... what?" she stammered, wringing her hands nervously. "I haven't..."

"You deny being the one to contact Rita Skeeter and suggest to her the revolting and completely impossible story she then printed regarding Hermione Granger?"

"Yes! I mean..." She gave him a puzzled look. "Sir, why do you care what - "

Severus glared at her with an intensity that made her mouth snap shut so fast she probably bit her tongue. "Miss Parkinson, I am well aware that you and Draco were involved in the rumour-mongering Miss Skeeter perpetrated against Harry Potter in your fourth year. I chose not to interfere at that time because I did not particularly care if the Boy Who Lived To Irritate Me was inconvenienced or not. Choosing not to intervene then did not indicate that I would not know who to blame if it happened again."

"But you care if we upset Granger?" Pansy asked, giving him a look which was entirely too thoughtful. "Why, sir?"

"I care that you are raising fears of the Dark Lord and his remaining works that are most easily vented upon the nearest former Death Eater, Miss Parkinson," he snapped, glaring at her. "Who, as I am sure you are aware, currently sits before you. If this rebounds on me, I assure you that not only will I expel you, I will make your life miserable, do you understand me?"

Pansy blanched. "But it really wasn't me, sir!" she said frantically. "I thought of it... We discussed it..."

"We?"

"Me, Millicent, Theodore, Vincent... most of the seventh-years except Draco." Pansy was loyal to her cohorts, to an extent, but not so much so that she was going to trifle with an angry Severus Snape. "I thought it would take her down a peg or two if Rita wrote about her being pregnant and, you know, said that she was a bit of a tramp and all that..." His eyes narrowed, and she babbled faster. "But I hadn't contacted her yet, I swear I hadn't, and I didn't suggest anything like what she actually printed!"

"Indeed. Miss Parkinson, I would strongly suggest that you not lie to me."

"All right, I did suggest something like that!" Pansy was sweating now. "That, you know, maybe the father was on our side and that was why she was ashamed of it, but not... Him. I never would have suggested that - it's too bloody nasty a thought even for me!"

"Really." He believed her. She wasn't especially subtle, although she could be devious, and she'd never been a convincing liar. "Then I suggest you find out who did contact Miss Skeeter, because unless you can produce an alternative scapegoat, I will personally hand you to the Headmistress on a silver platter... and I imagine you know how well she's taken this attack on her precious favourite."

Pansy was as white as a sheet now, and she gulped audibly. "Yes sir," she whispered. "I will."

"Good." He had made his point, and judged it wise to make a show of softening slightly before she fainted from sheer terror. "I am certain that whoever did this did not consider the potential danger to me," he said, the menacing purr gone from his voice now. "An attack on the Gryffindor Trio has always been a... valid means of expressing one's displeasure. However, further attacks on Miss Granger will not be tolerated, and I suggest you make that plain to the others."

She gave him a startled look, and he arranged his face into a sour expression. "It isn't common knowledge, since it was hardly in keeping with his heroic and noble image, but when I contacted the Order after Dumbledore's death, Mr Potter made a quite determined attempt to kill me. I only survived because Miss Granger - showing a lamentably Gryffindor lack of common sense - flung herself between me and her friend and shielded me until he could be disarmed. I was unarmed, she saved my life, and I am now unfortunately under life debt to the girl. Until it can be discharged, therefore, you are all to ignore her if you cannot be civil. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Pansy said meekly. That explanation should keep the Slytherins from directly attacking Hermione, at least... a life debt was a serious thing, especially when acknowledged openly. Attacking her would require him to protect her, even against his own House. "I'm sorry, sir. None of us thought that it might get you into trouble."

"It might yet." Especially if the secret of the child's paternity was discovered. "Go. Find out who did this, report it to me instead of the Headmistress, and it is possible that person will not be expelled." She nodded and turned to leave. "And Miss Parkinson... thirty points from Slytherin. For even suggesting such a thing."

She flinched. "Yes, sir," she mumbled and fled.

Severus scowled, heading for his quarters. The Board should arrive at any moment. Professor McGonagall had (rather to his surprise) included him in the plan she and Hermione had concocted, and it was time that he collected the necessary and assumed his place.

"I am still entirely opposed to this outrageous invasion of a student's privacy." Professor McGonagall's voice was clearly audible as the staircase ascended to the Headmistress's office. "And not just any student, but a heroine of the war and a recipient of the Order of Merlin, first class!"

The Board of Governors had taken longer than Professor McGonagall had expected to show up. (She had predicted two days - it had taken eight.) They had eventually arrived in a body, demanding to interrogate Hermione Granger privately before determining whether to have her appear before the Wizengamot to refute the charges made against her.

When Hermione opened the door on a mumble about 'allegations have to be investigated', the twelve Governors all stared at her as if she was a Blast-Ended Skrewt... dangerous, hideous and quite outside their experience. The two Aurors they'd insisted on bringing along, both of whom she knew slightly, had the grace to look embarrassed about the whole thing.

Professor McGonagall had pointedly failed to provide chairs for the members of the Board. She herself was seated in state behind her desk, with Professor Dumbledore's portrait right behind her and a forbidding scowl plastered across her face. To her left four chairs had been arranged in a row, and all four Heads of House were seated there, each expressing disdain in his or her own fashion. Professor Flitwick was frowning and looking deeply disappointed. Professor Sprout clearly hadn't bothered to clean up before arriving and was subjecting two nervous-looking Governors (presumably former Hufflepuffs) to a stare that would make a Venomous Tentacula back down. Professor Sinistra contrived to look down her nose at all of them despite being seated, occasionally yawning behind a graceful hand. Professor Snape, naturally, was scowling... and stroking the half-grown Kneazle in his lap, who was also staring fixedly at the assembled Board.

Hermione almost smiled at that typically Slytherin manoeuvre - Akilah's presence would make any attempt to cast aspersions on the nearest Death Eater extremely difficult - but she kept her face straight and her eyes lowered as Madam Pomfrey guided her to the single chair placed to the left of Professor McGonagall's desk.

Madam Pomfrey was playing up admirably, uttering little clucks and murmurs of concern as she settled Hermione into the chair and turned to glare at the Board. "I will be remaining to ensure that Miss Granger is not unnecessarily distressed," she said, folding her arms and glaring. "She is my patient, and I will not have her upset by this dreadful business any more than is absolutely necessary. She is far too fragile, and the baby might be put at risk."

"Quite right," Professor Sprout said, giving Hermione a probably genuinely concerned look. Hermione had been too nervous to eat all day and hadn't slept well since the article was published, which had left her looking decidedly peaky if her bathroom mirror was being honest. "Mustn't put any extra strain on the child."

Hermione mustered a small smile, hoping she looked like she was trying to be brave. "Thank you, Professor," she said quietly. "I'll be all right."

"Of course she will." Cornelius Fudge had managed to wangle his way onto the Board and clearly felt that he should be in charge of the interrogation - he had planted himself at the front of the group and was glaring pugnaciously at Professor McGonagall. None of the other members of the Board seemed at all keen to attract her attention, so he'd probably get away with it. "Frankly, I consider this show of supposed weakness very unconvincing. Constanzia, kindly dispel any glamours that may be on the girl."

A thin, sour-looking witch muttered a spell, poking her wand at Hermione. "Nothing," she said after a moment, looking deeply disappointed. "Not even a cosmetic charm."

"Tcha!" Madam Pomfrey made a disapproving noise. "She's eighteen years old, decidedly undersized, in her third trimester, and so upset by this... this travesty that she's barely eating. If I'd had my way, she'd be in the hospital wing right now getting some nice bed-rest, but since she insists on going to all her classes..."

"Miss Granger has excellent N.E.W.T. prospects if she can keep up with her school-work," Professor Sinistra said in a bored, sleepy voice. "Naturally allowances have been made for her condition..."

"What sort of allowances?" Fudge demanded at once. "Marking up her work, I suppose, letting her off her homework..."

"Not at all." Professor Sinistra waved a dismissive hand. "Aside from tasks she is physically incapable of completing, she is still working to well above the standard of her classmates. The allowances I mention involve her current inability to move quickly between classes, climb the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, and so on. And she has been let off the practical portion of her Potions classes until after she gives birth."

"At which time she has agreed to devote her weekends and evenings to making up the work she has missed," Professor Snape said, giving Fudge a frosty look. "I trust that you do not think I will allow her to fall below the high standard I expect from all my N.E.W.T. students, mother or not."

"Of course not." A small, insignificant-looking wizard with cold eyes answered before Fudge could, inclining his head politely to Professor Snape, who returned the salutation with the barest nod. "The Department of Mysteries has been greatly pleased with the ability of the students you have taught - Horace Slughorn himself has not produced better."

"Naturally." Professor Snape smirked ever so slightly, giving Fudge a smug look. He still hadn't looked at Hermione, which was just as well - she wasn't sure she'd be able to keep her face under control if he did.

"Yes, well..." Fudge frowned. "That is hardly the point... although I will be cautioning the examiners that they are not to make any allowances for Miss Granger when her N.E.W.T. testing commences." He gave Hermione a filthy look. "You'll earn your final marks just like everyone else."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Hermione said truthfully. "I have absolutely no intention of using my condition to gain special privileges - "

"I understand you have been given private sleeping-quarters," murmured a tall woman who bore a decided resemblance to the Patil twins. "I would certainly have considered that a special privilege when I was at school."

"That is for the sake of Miss Granger's former room-mates as much as for her own," Professor McGonagall said sharply. "I would certainly not expect them to share a room with a newborn in the months directly preceding their N.E.W.T.s and felt it best to move Miss Granger to another room once her pregnancy became physically awkward for those around her as well as herself. They are both, as I understand it, perfectly happy that she is no longer inconvenienced by the stairs in Gryffindor Tower and that they are no longer inconvenienced by her."

Professor Sprout snickered at the puzzled looks on most of the Governors' faces. "They got tired of her spending so much time in the loo," she said, smirking. "Certain things take longer and have to happen a lot more often in the third trimester, if you know what I mean."

"Ah... yes, of course," said the tall witch, with an expression of deep distaste. "I do recall."

"Yes, well..." Fudge was slightly pink. "I am disappointed, Professor, that you have allowed this... situation at all. Given her condition and unmarried state, Miss Granger is certainly not setting a good example to the younger students."

Professor McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "I consider Miss Granger to be setting a fine example for the younger students," she said sharply. "She is not only intelligent, brave and a keen scholar, she is willing to accept the consequences of her actions and make the best of them without asking for or expecting help or special treatment. I wish all our students were so responsible." Fudge opened his mouth, and she glared at him. "And before you so much as mention the word 'moral', Cornelius Fudge, I suggest you recollect that we were at school together, and you were notorious for your lack of discretion and forward planning even then."

Fudge went purple and shifted awkwardly. "That is not the issue at hand," he mumbled, trying to look dignified as six members of the Hogwarts staff smirked at him. "We came here to question Miss Granger about the serious allegations made against her by Miss Skeeter in the Daily Prophet."

Hermione looked up from the hands demurely folded over her stomach. "The allegations are as ridiculous and implausible as most of Miss Skeeter's writing," she said firmly. "I can't believe that twelve theoretically rational adults would take them this seriously."

Fudge scowled. "Miss Skeeter is a respected member of the Press, Miss Granger, and I would not advise you to be cheeky. You may not be facing the Wizengamot just yet, but you are still in a great deal of trouble."

Professor McGonagall snorted. "Mr Fudge, an unsubstantiated rumour propagated by a notoriously sensationalist journalist whose grasp of fact is so weak that she failed all but two of her O.W.L.s hardly constitutes a lot of trouble. It barely constitutes an inconvenience."

"Miss Skeeter's difficulties at school are not an issue here!" Fudge said, puffing up angrily. "The allegations she has made are extremely serious!"

"They are extremely ridiculous," Professor McGonagall snapped back. "As if Miss Granger, one of the closest friends of Harry Potter, would have anything at all to do with Voldemort - " several members of the board flinched at the name, " - let alone allowing him to procreate!"

"Has Miss Granger confided the name of the child's father to you, Headmistress?" The speaker was a witch who must have been pretty before her face set itself into a permanent sneer.

"She has not," Professor McGonagall said, drawing herself up stiffly and glaring at the sneering woman. "I have respected her privacy in the matter."

"Then you are really in no position to insist who it may or may not have been." The sneering woman gave Hermione a disdainful look. "Still, this matter should not take long to resolve. Minister Scrimgeour has authorized the use of Veritaserum in this case, to be administered by the Aurors."

Several people spoke at once.

"Outrageous!" Professor Flitwick squeaked. "Absolutely appalling!"

"Miss Granger is not a criminal," Professor Sinistra said, looking fully awake for the first time. "This is against all precedent - "

"You cannot possibly be serious," Professor McGonagall said disdainfully.

And over the top of them all, Poppy Pomfrey said, "No."

"Minister Scrimgeour - "

"Minister Scrimgeour does not have the authority to endanger my patient!" Madam Pomfrey said sternly. "I will call in the Healer from Hogsmeade if I must, but Miss Granger will not be drinking Veritaserum."

Fudge puffed up again, glaring at her. "You do not have the authority to - "

"Actually, Mr Fudge, I do. As the Hogwarts Matron - and I was a qualified Healer in my day, long ago as that was - I have primary responsibility for Miss Granger's well-being. I have every right to prevent you or the Minister himself from endangering her health or that of the baby."

"With Veritaserum?" The sour-looking witch... Constanzia... made a rude noise. "Veritaserum is perfectly safe, Madam, as well you know. This is a blatant ploy to allow the girl to avoid questioning - "

"Veritaserum is harmless to most people, yes." Professor Snape spoke, his scornful tone commanding silence as easily as it did in the classroom. "However, it contains an infusion of pennyroyal." There was a moment's pause, and he sighed in obvious impatience. Nobody, not even Poppy had known about the pennyroyal until he mentioned it, but he managed to convey his utter disdain for anyone so idiotic as to have missed something so obvious. "Pennyroyal is the primary ingredient in most potions used to dispose of unwanted pregnancies. It is a highly effective natural abortifacient."

"You cannot give it to Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey said sternly. "It would seriously endanger the life of her child. I will not permit it, and your Aurors would not administer it even if you tried to insist."

"Of course not, Madam Pomfrey," the younger one said meekly. He looked about thirty, quite young enough to still clearly remember the school matron. Fudge glared at him, and he shrugged. "She is quite right, Mr Fudge. We can't do anything that might endanger the baby. Don't think it's ever come up with Veritaserum before, but Professor Snape would be the one to know about Potions or anything like that." He gave the Potions teacher a nervous look.

"I assure you, Stebbins, I have checked with St Mungo's as well as Professor Snape, and they will confirm that Veritaserum is considered unsafe during pregnancy, although this is the first time the question has actually arisen." Madam Pomfrey smiled indulgently at the young man, who blushed and tried to surreptitiously straighten his collar and tidy his hair.

"No matter." Constanzia shrugged. "A Verity Charm will not be as comprehensively effective, but it should do for our purposes. I assume that that meets with your approval, matron?"

Madam Pomfrey sniffed. "It will do. But if Miss Granger shows any signs of becoming overtired or distressed I will end this interrogation at once."

"A Verity Charm will have to do, then," Fudge said ungraciously. "Constanzia, if you would - "

"Certainly not." Professor McGonagall rose from behind her desk, looking down her sharp nose at the rather shorter Fudge. "I will not have a person I barely know casting Truth Spells on one of my students. If you insist upon this foolish rigmarole, Mr Fudge, then I will cast the charm, and I will ask your questions if and only if they are appropriate and relevant, is that understood?"

Fudge went purple. "Minerva, you go too far! You have no authority to - "

"She does, actually." It was the older Auror... Hermione was fairly sure his name was Savage. He'd worked with Tonks a few times. "Since the repeal of the Educational Decrees, Professor McGonagall, as Headmistress, has final authority on all tests, punishments, reprimands, inquiries and assorted disciplinary measures regarding any current student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry unless directly overruled by a parent, in the case of a minor, or the student him-or-her-self if he or she is of age. Unless, of course, there is reason to suspect that the Headmaster or Headmistress is deliberately blocking inquiry into a criminal matter, in which case a submission would have to be made in writing to - "

"Yes, yes, Savage, you've made your point." Fudge looked positively apoplectic, and as he looked away, Savage gave Hermione a tiny wink. "Very well, Minerva, you may cast the charm, but you are to relay all our questions!"

"Unless they are inappropriate or immaterial to the matter at hand," Professor McGonagall said coolly. "In which case I will insist that you rephrase them... or do so for you." She moved to stand in front of Hermione, drawing her wand out of her sleeve. "Oro Veritas," she said, touching the tip of the wand to her lips and then Hermione's. "What is your name?"

"Hermione Jane Granger," Hermione said immediately. It was an odd feeling - she had to answer, but the mind-dulling fog of Veritaserum wasn't there. She was fairly sure she could even phrase her answers to avoid things she didn't want to answer, as long as she answered the actual question and was strictly truthful.

"Very good." Professor McGonagall nodded. "If she were not being compelled to answer absolutely truthfully, she would have answered 'Hermione Granger', leaving out the information she considered irrelevant." Fudge looked over at Savage, who flicked his wand and then nodded, presumably agreeing that the spell was in force. Professor McGonagall gave Fudge a disdainful look. "If you are ready, Cornelius, you may begin your questioning."

Fudge glared at Hermione. "Who is the father of your baby?"

Professor McGonagall shook her head. "Inappropriate, Cornelius. The baby's father wishes to remain anonymous. If he is not the person you foolishly suspect, then publicly exposing him is both unnecessary and unethical. Rephrase, please."

Fudge glared at her. "Very well... Miss Granger, is Voldemort the father of your baby?"

Professor McGonagall nodded and repeated the question. Hermione frowned. "No, of course not! The very idea is absurd."

"Did he have anything to do with your pregnancy?"

"Not directly," Hermione said, and blinked. He hadn't had anything to do with it at all!

"Aha!" Fudge looked positively delighted. "How did he cause it to come about, then?"

Professor McGonagall relayed the question, her eyebrows rising sharply. "He started the war," Hermione said, and sighed quietly with relief. Apparently 'anything' really did mean anything to this spell. "That indirectly led to the baby's conception." She hastily bit that answer off before it could get any more detailed.

Fudge sagged, looking deeply disappointed. "Was Voldemort in any way directly involved in the... initiation of your pregnancy?"

"No."

"To your knowledge, did he instigate another person to induce your condition?"

"No."

The sneering witch moved forward, and Fudge nodded to her. "Miss Granger," she said coolly. "Did the child's father in any way coerce you to have... relations with him? Ply you with alcohol, offer you a potion, cast a charm or anything of that nature?"

"Certainly not. If he had, I would not have hesitated to report him immediately," Hermione said firmly, when the question had been relayed. "There were dozens of Aurors and Law Enforcement Wizards about."

"Yes. Quite. You were an entirely willing participant, then?" The sneer developed an overlay of smirk, which was worrying.

"Yes," Hermione said reluctantly. This was veering towards questions she didn't want to answer, especially with him standing right there.

The smirk widened slightly. "With how many partners did you... engage... during and immediately after the war? Entirely willingly?"

There was a shocked mutter from the Heads of House, and Professor McGonagall drew herself up in anger. "Decidedly inappropriate! Miss Granger is under no obligation to satisfy your prurient curiosity!"

"Merely attempting to clarify, Headmistress. I will rephrase. Miss Granger, are you certain, without any doubt, as to the child's paternity? There is no possibility that there may be another candidate for the position?"

"None whatsoever. He was the only one in that time-frame." Hermione clamped her mouth shut, blushing. "Although I don't see why that's at all relevant."

"We do need to be sure. Was the child's father known to you personally?" The sneering witch held up a graceful hand to halt Professor McGonagall's protests. "I merely wish to be certain, Professor McGonagall, that the man in question could not have been a servant of Voldemort who misled Miss Granger by posing as an innocent stranger."

Professor McGonagall gave her a poisonous look. "Oh, very well... Miss Granger, was the baby's father personally known to you before you were... er... intimate?"

"Yes, we had known each other for approximately six years at that time," Hermione said immediately and blushed. Damn. That narrowed it down far too much.

"I see." The sneering witch frowned. "And you are certain that Polyjuice was not involved in any respect? That someone posing as someone you know did not approach you?"

Professor McGonagall made an impatient noise. "Attempting to wring a coherent question out of that... Miss Granger, is it possible that you were approached by someone who was not who he appeared to be and that your child was therefore fathered by a person unknown to you?"

"Absolutely not." Hermione squelched a triumphant grin with some difficulty. Professor McGonagall knew perfectly well that the baby's father hadn't approached her at all - she'd approached him.

"Really, Fudge, this is ridiculous," Professor Sprout said a bit testily. "And a damned waste of everyone's time. She's told you half a dozen times that You-Know-Who wasn't involved, and it's nobody's business but hers who the father is otherwise."

But Fudge's eyes had narrowed thoughtfully. "It wasn't You-Know-Who himself, but... Miss Granger, was it one of his Death Eaters? Not acting on You-Know-Who's behalf, but on his own?"

Hermione took a deep breath, her heart seeming to skip a beat as she waited for Professor McGonagall to repeat the question. She looked up at the Headmistress, and their eyes met. Oh please don't ask me that oh please oh please...

Professor McGonagall gave her an odd, unreadable look, and then sniffed disapprovingly. "Oh, for heaven's sake... in the interests of speeding this along, Miss Granger, was there any possibility that the father of your baby was loyal to Voldemort, as a Death Eater or mere minion, or that he was in any way under the influence of persons loyal to Voldemort in either of the aforementioned capacities?"

"None whatsoever," Hermione said firmly, dimly aware that her hands were trembling and sure that she must be as white as a sheet. Oh, if Professor McGonagall hadn't phrased it exactly the way she had... did she know? How could she know? "There could be no possible doubt that he was on our side."

Fudge frowned. "Damn it, girl, there must be some reason behind this story! Why would Rita Skeeter print such a story, or your classmates spread it, without some grounds for suspicion?"

"Fudge, Miss Granger can hardly be expected to know why that woman would - "

"Nevertheless, Professor McGonagall, please repeat the question. Miss Granger, without naming the child's father, what reason could Miss Skeeter have for printing that article?"

"Because I've been blackmailing her since fourth year," Hermione said involuntarily. "Oh, bugger." She considered fainting.

There was a long silence. "You've been what?" Professor McGonagall asked, as everyone in the room stared at Hermione in shock.

"Blackmailing her," Hermione mumbled, blushing scarlet.

"With what?" Savage asked, moving forward. "Relay the question, please, Professor McGonagall."

She did so, and Hermione squirmed a bit. "I found out she was an unregistered Animagus," she said, looking down at her knees. "That's how she was finding out all those horrible things about Harry she was printing in our fourth year. She was sneaking onto the grounds as a beetle."

There was another long, long moment of silence. "Are you aware, Miss Granger, that failing to register as an Animagus is an extremely serious offence?" Savage asked, by way of Professor McGonagall.

"Yes. Professor McGonagall told us that it was, and there's a cautionary note in our Advanced Transfiguration textbook. It doesn't specify what precisely happens to you if you don't register, but it said that it was serious. I assumed that meant Azkaban."

"It does mean Azkaban. Probably a long stint, if this has been going on for a matter of years." Savage frowned. "Why did you blackmail her? Why not just report her?"

"Because I didn't trust the Ministry to adequately punish someone it found so useful in discrediting Harry, when he started saying Voldemort was back," Hermione said promptly. "I wanted her to stop writing horrible things about Harry and his friends... including me... and I wasn't absolutely sure she'd go to Azkaban, so I threatened to turn her in if she didn't stop writing stories altogether for a full year."

"But she printed an interview with Harry himself in your fifth year."

"I forced her to," Hermione said, twiddling her fingers nervously. "I couldn't trust anyone else, but I knew Rita would write the truth because she was afraid of Azkaban. If Harry tried to tell his story through anyone else, it could have wound up distorted or worse."

"I always wondered why she wrote that," the sour-looking witch muttered to the sneering one. "Not nearly as sensational as her usual stuff."

"You are aware, Miss Granger, that you could be charged with conspiring to conceal a class S magical crime?" Savage frowned at her as Professor McGonagall meekly relayed the question, looking stunned.

"Yes, sir," Hermione said just as meekly. "But it seemed like the best way at the time."

Savage glanced briefly at Fudge. "I do see your point. Given your ongoing protection of the Boy Who Lived, which has assuredly saved his life at least once, I doubt charges will be laid against you on this matter. Do you think it likely that Miss Skeeter printed this story in an effort to discredit you?"

"Yes." Hermione let out a tiny sigh of relief. "If she'd managed to make me out to be some sort of dangerous liar... if the Board of Governors hadn't rushed here to question me so fast, and if the rumours had more time to build... I could have said anything I liked about her and everyone would have just assumed I was trying to shift suspicion away from myself."

"Clever," Savage said quietly. "Yes, we'll definitely have to have a word with Miss Skeeter. I'll check with my superiors, Miss Granger, but I think we can let you off with a warning, this time. If you're ever caught concealing illegal activity from the authorities again, though..."

Professor McGonagall didn't relay that one, but Hermione was absolutely truthful anyway. "Oh, I won't, believe me. Never again!" She'd make damn sure she didn't get caught next time, if there was a next time.

Fudge had been sputtering with shock and now finally found his voice again. "An unregistered Animagus! A beetle! Sneaking about and spying... why, she might have been anywhere! Seen anything!" He looked positively terrified. "Savage, perhaps - "

"Don't worry, Mr Fudge," Savage said genially. "I'll handle this one personally - she won't be getting away with it this time. She won't have anything to blackmail me with."

"Not carrying on with any loose women or gambling down in Knockturn Alley, sir?" Stebbins said, grinning.

"Certainly not," Savage said mildly. "I'm a happily married man, Stebbins, as well you know, and if you continue being cheeky, I'll tell Mrs Savage you don't want any more feeding up."

Stebbins made a show of clamping his mouth shut immediately, and Hermione giggled quietly. Professor McGonagall, who was looking decidedly frazzled, cleared her throat to get everyone's attention. "Are there any more questions, or may I release Miss Granger from the charm?"

"Yes, of course." Fudge was now looking at Hermione with sudden nervousness. "I trust, Miss Granger, that you have learned your lesson about blackmail."

Hermione waited until Professor McGonagall had removed the spell, then nodded politely at Fudge. "Oh, yes, Mr Fudge. I promise, I won't ever get caught doing it again."

Fudge nodded and then paused, looking suddenly nervous. Savage and Stebbins looked to be trying not to grin. "See that you don't," Savage said, giving her a little nod. "Ladies, gentlemen, I believe we're finished here? Miss Granger is looking a bit done in."

"That she is," Madam Pomfrey said, giving Hermione an evaluating look. "Professor Snape, would you have any Energy Elixir on hand? Strengthening Solution would be dangerous, of course, but a little Elixir diluted with milk would be all right. If you could bring it to Miss Granger's room..."

"Of course, Madam Pomfrey." Professor Snape nodded and swept out of the room, giving the Governors a disdainful look on his way past.

Hermione was feeling decidedly wobbly by the time they reached her room, and when Madam Pomfrey and Dilly had pushed her into her nightgown and into bed, she embarrassed herself horribly by bursting into tears. Dilly was promptly ordered off for tea, biscuits, and other soothing and strengthening things, and Madam Pomfrey sat down on the edge of the bed, putting a comforting arm around Hermione's shoulders. "There, there... it's all right, dear, you've had a very upsetting day."

"I'm f-fine." Hermione gulped, wiping her eyes with the edge of her sheet. "I am. I'm just a b-bit overtired."

"Of course you are." Madam Pomfrey handed her a hanky. "Late pregnancy is hard enough all by itself, without exams and all those stairs and now this... I'd put you on bed-rest every weekend from now until your delivery if I thought I could trust you to do it."

"I do most of my studying in bed now. I can prop myself up with the pillows so I'm almost comfortable." She wiped her eyes, trying to squash the tired sobs back down. "It just seems so overwhelming sometimes... especially now..."

"I know." Madam Pomfrey drew her into a comforting hug, and Hermione didn't resist, laying her head on the nurse's shoulder. "Being a mother always is overwhelming at times, dear, ask anyone who is one. But it's not that way all the time, I promise."

"I h-hope not." Then Hermione heard the door open and sat up quickly, pulling away from Madam Pomfrey and wiping her eyes. The last thing she wanted was for him, of all people, to see her being so childish.

"The Elixir," Professor Snape said, looking at Hermione with an unreadable expression as he held out the small bottle to Madam Pomfrey. "Is Miss Granger unwell?"

"Just tired out and upset after those nasty accusations," Madam Pomfrey said cheerfully. "A little Energy Elixir and dinner on a tray, then a nice long sleep and all will be well in the morning." Dilly reappeared and Madam Pomfrey joined her at the small table, pouring tea and giving Dilly what were probably detailed instructions about not letting Hermione get out of bed.

That left Hermione very nearly alone with Professor Snape, but not alone enough to talk about anything really important. She looked down at her hands, which were clasped over her stomach. They always seemed to wind up there. "Thank you for the Elixir," she said tentatively.

"I supply all the potions Madam Pomfrey requires for her patients. Thanks are unneeded." He sounded a little terse, and they were both silent for a moment. Then he spoke again, with a note of amusement in his voice. "I never would have suspected you, of all people, of blackmailing somebody. Certainly not over a period of years."

Hermione blushed furiously. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Oh, I agree. But I wouldn't have imagined a member of the Noble House of Gryffindor to be so... practical." She looked up and caught him smirking just a bit. "No wonder she was so desperate to discredit you. A Gryffindor, Harry Potter's dearest friend... even before you became a war heroine, it would have been difficult for her to counter any accusations from you."

Hermione couldn't help grinning a tiny bit herself. "Well, I did think of that," she said, feeling a just a little proud of herself. "Aside from implying that I was what Ron calls a scarlet woman, which she'd already done, she didn't have anything to blackmail me with, so I could get away with threatening her."

"Very devious." It sounded like a compliment. It probably was, coming from him. "If you could play chess as well as you play at intrigue, you might actually win a game someday."

I'll keep trying." Hermione smiled ruefully. "Of course, if I'd known the whole scarlet woman thing was going to be able to come back to bite me, I might not have risked it." Immediately she bit her tongue, wishing she could take the words back. They brought up... things she wished weren't between them but could never be avoided for long.

Snape snorted quietly. "You are hardly a scarlet woman, Miss Granger, current circumstances aside," he said, looking at her with a penetrating gaze that seemed to go right through her. "I have heard more than one Slytherin refer to you, both before and after your pregnancy, as the virgin saint of Gryffindor. I assure you they do not mean it as a compliment - but they would not be slow to call you something worse if you showed any sign of warranting it."

Hermione blinked in surprise, meeting his eyes to see if there was any mockery in his gaze. For once, there wasn't. "Draco's called me that a few times," she said, smiling a little. "I thought it was just him."

Smiling and mentioning Draco, quite unaccountably, made Professor Snape freeze up as mentioning their brief encounter had not. "I fear not," he said coolly. "Madam Pomfrey, is there anything else you need?"

"No, no, Severus, thank you." Madam Pomfrey was bearing down on Hermione with a glass of pinkish milk in her hand and a determined expression. "Now, dear, just drink this down... It won't taste good, but it'll make you feel better."

Hermione took the glass and drank obediently, as Snape walked out of the room without another word.