Chapter 22: Family

"Harry, this is a stupid plan."

Hermione had dragged herself up four flights of stairs to utter those words, and her being out of breath robbed them a little of their force. She glared at him, leaning against a convenient and friendly wall and wondering whether pretending to swoon - or really swooning - would be helpful.

"So is trying to get up all those stairs by yourself," Ron said sternly, tucking a hand under her elbow to keep her steady. "I thought we discussed you doing stairs on your own, after Filch had to rescue you."

"Well, there wasn't anyone to help me, was there?" Hermione gave him and Harry both reproachful looks. "Because you were up here, doing your 'dawn duelling practice' to flush out someone who you know is trying to kill at least one of us."

It was the sort of plan Harry did come up with. Someone was trying to kill him. Ergo, he would make it easier for them to do so by making sure everyone knew that he and Ron would be in a certain place, every morning, more or less alone, where they could be nobbled with ease and convenience for all concerned. Hermione strongly disapproved of the plan, and suspected they had picked a tiny paved area tucked into a corner of the castle roofs solely because they knew it was going to be almost impossible for her to get there.

"It's going to work. Give it time." Harry looked at his watch and sighed. "Not now, though. What with you sneaking up here, and Ginny's only just gone - she was trying to talk us out of it too - and it's nearly breakfast-time. We might as well go down now and get first go at the sausages."

"Fine." Hermione winced, rubbing the small of her back. It was twinging more than usual, after all the stairs, and her overstrained stomach-muscles hurt too. She was just under two weeks short of her due date, and the day simply could not come fast enough. She was so big now that if she didn't lean back when she stood or walked, she'd tip over forwards. "Then you can both help me down the stairs."

"Of course." Ron nodded, as Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and took Hermione's other elbow. "You know, you really shouldn't keep rushing around to classes, Hermione... You could take a few days off no problem, you're already miles ahead as usual..."

"I'll have to take a few days off when I have him. That's bad enough, without missing extra time. We have our N.E.W.T.s right around the corner, Ron, and I know you know that because I wrote up a study timetable for you."

"I know, I know, and I'm doing it. Honestly." Ron lifted her bodily over a trick step and grunted. "I think you've doubled in weight."

"He said, with his usual tact and discretion," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Never tell a woman she's heavy, Ron, even you should know that."

"Well, there wasn't anything to her to start with." Ron grinned reminiscently. "I used to be able to lift her with one hand."

Hermione blushed. He actually had lifted her with one hand once, but it hadn't been the sort of interlude they should be discussing with Harry. "Yes, well, I feel as big as a house," she said, wincing as her back twinged again. "I can't wait for this to be over."

"You do look ready," Harry said, clearly trying to be tactful and not actually use words like 'whale', 'house', or 'explode'. "Another few weeks, right?"

"Two. Although it could be as long as four." Hermione shuddered. "Wizards apparently frown on inducing labour, because it's generally held that forcing a baby to be born before it's ready can inhibit magical development later and neither of you has any idea what I'm talking about."

"We're willing to be supportive, encouraging, and to let you hit us if you like while you're in labour," Ron said cheerfully. "But don't expect us to know anything about the process, because we don't, and frankly I never intend to. If I'm ever a dad, I'm going to hold her hand and let her scream at me and that's it."

"I feel very sorry for her, then. And I'll tell her to order you to watch the whole thing on pain of having to sleep on the couch for the rest of your life." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not that I'm having either of you in there, so you needn't worry. Ginny's going to be there, and Madam Pomfrey, and you two can wait outside somewhere until it's all done and I'm ready for you to go on at great length about how beautiful my baby is."

Harry and Ron both looked distinctly relieved. "Well, we would if you wanted us to," Harry said earnestly. "If it would make you feel better."

"I'm going to have enough to worry about without you two," Hermione said, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze. "But thank you."

"You're welcome." Harry smiled. "We'll guard the door or something, just in case."

"You do that." Guarding a door - preferably the one at the bottom of the stairs to the hospital wing, not the top - should keep them adequately safe and out of her hair while she and Ginny were otherwise occupied.

"With our very lives." Ron stopped suddenly. "Oh, bugger... forgot my Transfiguration homework, it's still under my pillow. Harry, you get Hermione down to breakfast, I'll catch up."

"Under your pillow?" Hermione looked at Harry for some sort of confirmation, as Ron hurried away. "Harry, why is..."

"It's part of his accelerated study program," Harry said, grinning a bit. "He's been sleeping with his homework under his pillow every night so it will soak into his brain while he sleeps."

"Oh, for pity's sake." Hermione sighed, covering her eyes with one hand. "Just tell me he hasn't been purchasing suspicious study aids..."

"Not that I've noticed. Of course, I can't watch him every minute." Harry helped her over another trick step. "But I don't think he'd bother. Exams are important, I know, but we could honestly fail everything and still get accepted into Auror training after the war and all."

"Yeah." Unfortunately. Hermione had really hoped that, once they'd been in an actual war, they'd settle down to some safer occupation like professional Quidditch or alligator dentistry. "Uhm... Harry? Can I ask you something?"

"Of course. Anything."

"Will you be the baby's godfather?" Hermione hurried on nervously. "I know we talked about it before, but it wasn't really decided, and I've thought about it and I'd really like you to be."

"Really?" Harry went pink and looked immensely pleased. "I mean... I'd like that. You know. If you're sure."

"I'm sure. On the understanding that if anything happens to me when he's really little, my parents will look after him, because you don't know anything about babies."

"That's true." Harry nodded. "I... thanks, Hermione."

Hermione leaned over and hugged him tightly, pretending not to notice the quiet sniffle against the top of her head. "Well, I love you. And I always wanted an annoying little brother of my own."

"Aw." He squeezed her tightly for a moment. "I love you too. You know that. And I'll be a good godfather, I promise. No noisy toys or making him sick with too many sweets."

"Good." Hermione rubbed his back gently before letting go. "You can start by getting me and the baby some breakfast."

Severus picked aimlessly at his food, his head down, surreptitiously peering at the Gryffindor table. Potter was being more than usually solicitous of Hermione, and she kept touching him on arm or shoulder, or leaning companionably against him. If it hadn't been for the indulgent expression on Ginny Weasley's face, Severus wouldn't have been able to restrain himself from hexing the boy.

The strain of pretending that nothing had changed was wearing on him. It would be easier if he spent less time with Hermione, but he couldn't bring himself to sacrifice a single moment of the time he had left with her. Every hour with her was a draught of poisoned wine that he savoured even as the pain grew worse.

She would give birth soon. Poppy had suggested to him - in confidence - that the child was likely to come early, and asked him to ready certain potions just in case. He had ruined two batches by being distracted with worry for Hermione's safety, but all was now ready. Soon his son or daughter would be born.

"Severus?"

He didn't jump, but only because he'd trained himself not to. "Yes, Minerva?" Reluctantly, he looked away from his usual close scrutiny of Hermione's plate. (It was important for her health and the child's that she ate well.)

"You're playing with your food instead of eating it again." Minerva leaned across Sinistra's chair, looking concerned. "You haven't been eating well lately... are you quite well?"

Severus scowled. Minerva knew - after all these years, she damned well should - that the tenser he got, the less he was able to eat. He would have to start having breakfast later, after she left, so she couldn't see how much he wasn't eating. "Perfectly well, Minerva. Thank you for your concern."

"Hmp." She gave him a look that indicated that he wasn't fooling her, and went back to her own breakfast. Her opening salvo of concern had been fired... the true attack would come when he was unprepared. "Tonks will need to speak to Miss Bulstrude and Mr Baddock today. Miss Edgecombe's trial has been scheduled for this weekend, in deference to the fact that all the major witnesses have classes to attend, and some of them N.E.W.T.s coming up as well."

Ah. The other reason for his vile mood this morning. Severus looked down the table and sneered a little at the sight of Lupin mooning happily over the young Auror, who was currently sporting bright blue hair and a soppy smile. It galled that Lupin could happily parade his much younger lover in front of all the school, while Severus himself would be tarred and feathered if word ever leaked out of his single involuntary indiscretion. "Of course, Minerva."

Potter was hanging all over Hermione this morning. Draco couldn't help noticing, and he scowled into his scrambled eggs. He couldn't hate Hermione for not loving him - her heart had been given long before he'd started noticing her, and she'd never known that he cared. And he couldn't hate Severus, because... well, there were too many reasons to count there. But he was miserable and he wanted to hate someone, and Potter was always a good target.

So was Lupin. Nymphadora was sitting at the teachers' table for some reason, and Lupin kept sneaking soppy looks at her when he thought nobody was looking. He was probably holding her hand under the table as well. Draco had written to his mother as soon as Hermione had told him about that unfortunate entanglement - not only had Narcissa not known, but when questioned, Andromeda had admitted that she and Ted had never actually met the man. Ted had made a tactless comment about werewolves the first time Nymphadora had mentioned the new boyfriend (Muggle-born or not, Ted was clearly a sensible man), and Lupin had never been brought up again.

Still. Her lamentable taste in men aside, Nymphadora was his cousin. The only one he had, or was likely to. It would be nice to get to know her a little, and he had an excuse he'd prepared earlier...

She left the Great Hall by the teacher's entrance, but Draco had long ago found the shortcut that crossed that particular hallway, and was in plenty of time to intercept her. With Lupin following her like a puppy, naturally. "Good morning, Nymphadora."

She blinked at him. "Hi, Draco. Did you want to talk to me about something?"

"Yes." Draco stared pointedly at Lupin.

Lupin cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Er... I should go get ready for my first class. I'll see you later, Tonks."

"Of course." She watched him go, and turned back to Draco with a reproachful look. "I don't get to see him often, you know."

"You've only ever seen me once, and I'm family."

"Yeah. Good point." She did look penitent at that. "But you've been either at St Mungo's or in school since your mum and my mum started talking again."

"Mostly." Draco nodded, examining her face. She was a Metamorphmagus, of course, but at least for the moment she definitely looked like a Black. Pointed chin, pale skin, the large dark eyes that Bellatrix and Andromeda had shared, aristocratically straight nose... "But there are some issues of inheritance that we should discuss."

Nymphadora blinked. "What inheritance?"

"Aunt Bellatrix's assets all went to Mother when she died. Since Sirius Black and your mother were both disowned, Mother and I are officially the only surviving heirs to the Ancient and Noble House of Black, and all the fortunes thereof, excluding the house and decaying elf that Black managed to palm off on Harry Potter. Since my father's death, all the Malfoy fortunes, except the portion settled on my mother, have also passed to me." Draco shrugged. "Mother and I have been discussing granting your mother the one-third share of the Black fortunes that she would have been entitled to if she hadn't run off with what Grandmother used to call 'That horrible dirty man with the big nose'."

Nymphadora sniggered. "I always thought Mum's family called him worse things than that."

"Oh, they did, but Grandmother prided herself on her refinement. Never did a coarse word pass her lips... at least, not in public." Draco smirked. "I wanted to ask you if your mother would be offended if Mother made the offer. It's only the inheritance she would have had if her parents had been more reasonable, not charity of any kind."

"It's... well, I'm not sure, but she might be all right with it." Nymphadora nodded slowly. "I mean, what with the Malfoy fortunes as well, it's not as if you and Aunt Narcissa are going to need it."

"I doubt I'd even notice it was missing." Draco nodded. "And Mother would feel better, I think, if she could buy Aunt Andromeda's forgiveness instead of getting it for free."

"That's awful, Draco." Nymphadora grinned and shook her head. "I know what you mean, though. This way she wouldn't have to feel obligated to Mum for talking to her again."

"Exactly. She's a Slytherin. We're trained early on to get nervous when someone does something nice for us and doesn't seem to be getting anything out of it themselves." Draco's grin was almost identical to hers, something that pleased him. It made her seem more like real family. "Just out of curiosity, what were you?"

She grinned, touching her hair. "Isn't it obvious? Ravenclaw, like Dad."

"Ah. Of course." Draco nodded. "I always wondered how a Muggle-born managed to secure one of the Black sisters. Dazzled her with his intellect, right?"

"That and putting something he called an Emperor's New Clothes Spell on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team." Nymphadora smiled proudly. "They beat Slytherin to the championship, then the minute they touched the ground all their clothes turned invisible. They still got the Quidditch Cup, but Mum says it was almost worth it to watch them screaming and running for the change-rooms, clutching their brooms in an attempt to hide their... inadequacies. It was an all-male team that year, or she might have thought it was less cute."

Draco laughed until he had to lean back against the wall. "Oh, that would definitely have done it. I wish I knew that spell!"

"I'll just bet you do." Nymphadora sniggered. "He wouldn't teach it to me while I was at school, no matter how hard I begged. He said if he did Professor Dumbledore would remember whose mum and dad were there the last time it happened and catch me."

"Probably. But it would have been worth it." The mental image of Potter and Weasley dashing frantically for the change-rooms with hands strategically clamped to groins was one he would treasure. If only he could make the humiliating daydream reality.

"Oh, yeah." Nymphadora grinned. "I use it now, though, sometimes. Nothing slows a criminal down like suddenly being naked."

"I can imagine." Draco snickered. "I like the sound of your dad. I can certainly see why Aunt Andromeda fancied him."

"Yeah," she said, looking proud. "He was a real scoundrel at school, according to her. But a funny, good-natured sort of scoundrel who laughed a lot. Mum always said there wasn't much fun in the Black household, and she likes a good laugh herself."

The Malfoy household hadn't exactly been a barrel of laughs, either, and Draco's sympathy for his Aunt Andromeda rose. Yes, Ted Tonks was a Muggle-born, but a clever, devious Muggle-born who liked to laugh. He could see the appeal. "Well, if you think it wouldn't offend her, I'll suggest to Mother that she brings it up. Phrasing it as restitution for past injustice rather than an attempt to buy Aunt Andromeda off, naturally."

"Naturally. And Mum is pleased that they're speaking again, honestly."

"So am I. It's helped Mother a lot." Draco smiled, and was smiled at in return. He could be quite fond of his cousin, he thought, Auror or not. "And I'm glad I finally got to speak to you, Nymphadora."

She looked pained. "Tonks. I hate Nymphadora."

"Really?"

"Merlin, yes." Tonks winced. "Do you have any idea what a name like that can do to you at school? 'Niffy' was about the nicest nickname I had. And I couldn't even shorten it, because 'Dora' is horrible too."

"I see your point. All right, Tonks. But it's not very dignified."

"It's better than the alternative." Tonks looked at her watch. "And don't you have a class to get to?"

"Damn. Yes." Draco rolled his eyes. "Defence Against The Dark Arts. No offence intended to your... ah... friend, but it's incredibly dull. I'm a Malfoy; I knew most of the hexes and counter-hexes he's teaching us now before my voice broke. And used most of them during the war, too."

"He has mentioned the problems with that. Either he teaches what half the class already knows, or he leaves the other half hopelessly behind." Tonks nodded. "At least you know you'll pass your N.E.W.T, right?"

"With my eyes closed and my remaining hand tied behind my back, yes. But I should at least make an appearance in class, or he'll get all flustered." And then try to be stern, and Lupin trying to be authoritative was a pitiful sight. "It was... nice... to talk to you, Tonks."

"You too." She smiled at him. "We'll catch up, once you're out of here, all right?"

"I'd like that." For the first time in a long time, Hermione was far from his mind as he hurried to a class they shared.

Hermione winced, as her stomach cramped again. Ron leaned over, with a concerned expression. "You okay?" he whispered loudly.

"Fine." Hermione directed her reassuring smile somewhere between Ron's worried expression and Professor Lupin's inquiring one. "My back hurts, that's all."

"Okay." Ron went back to doodling on his parchment. As hard as she tried, Hermione just couldn't convince either him or herself that he should be taking notes. They'd learned most of what Lupin was covering now in the DA, and even Ron had memorized it all by now.

Surreptitiously, Hermione looked at her watch, and felt a little bubble of excitement start to build. That crampy pain was suspiciously regular. Of course, it could be just Braxton-Hicks contractions, and she shouldn't get her hopes up, but it didn't feel like of the occasional cramps or twinges that she'd had before...

She tried to take notes, more out of a desire to support Professor Lupin than anything else. The fact that more than half the seventh-year class rarely paid attention didn't make his job any easier, surely, and even if she wasn't a prefect anymore she should set a good example. The notes got harder and harder to concentrate on, though. Eight minutes apart.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Harry asked, managing a much more surreptitious whisper than Ron.

"Fine." If this wasn't real, she didn't want anyone to know. And even if it was, it would go on for hours and hours yet. No need to make a fuss. "It's just getting really uncomfortable to sit for a whole double lesson."

"Oh. Yeah, I can imagine." Harry winced, looking down at the bulge that was causing her to sit significantly back from her desk. "Do you need to get up and walk around a bit? I don't think Remus would mind."

"Professor Lupin while we're in class, Harry. And no, I'm fine."

Harry nodded, and went back to drawing snakes on the margins of his parchment. Or perhaps they were just squiggles, since Harry had never progressed beyond stick-figures, and stick-figure snakes were just squiggles when you thought about it...

Hermione forced herself to concentrate again on the lecture. She was getting really easily distracted, for some reason. Was it too soon for this? Should she be worried that it was too early? Thirty-seven weeks - thirty-six and a half, really - was early. On the other hand, she wasn't very big, she was still in her teens and it was her first baby. Those factors often meant babies came a little early, and Madam Pomfrey had warned her that it might happen. She'd also said that the baby would probably be perfectly all right; he was big and well-developed, for his age, and some babies were just ready that little bit earlier or later. Besides, it might still be Braxton-Hicks contractions. Even if they were unusually regular.

"Hermione?"

"I'm fine!" Harry was looking at her funny. "What?"

"The bell just went. Usually you're already dashing for the toilets by now."

"Oh. Right." Hermione gathered up her books hastily. "I was... thinking about something else."

"I could tell. Give me your bag." Harry shook his head. "You want me to walk you up to Arithmancy?"

"No, I'll be fine. Draco is going that way, I'm sure he wouldn't mind -" Another contraction, and Hermione's knees buckled. She grabbed hastily for the desk, gritting her teeth. "Gn... I'm fine, honestly."

"That doesn't look like fine to me," Ron said, giving her a worried look. "That looks like you breaking your word."

Hermione stared at him. "Like me breaking my... what?"

"You said you wouldn't have the baby in class, Hermione. You promised you wouldn't."

Bugger. She had, too. "Er... well, I'm not having it right now or anything..."

"I knew it!" Ron raised his voice. "Re- Professor Lupin! Hermione's starting to have the baby now!"

"Hermione?" Remus took her arm gently. A bit too gently... if Ron hadn't helpfully grabbed her other arm she would have tipped over again. Hermione silently vowed never to complain about Keepers and their too-tight grabbing ever again. "Hermione, are you in labour?"

"Well... maybe. It's a bit early to be sure." Hermione blushed. Everyone in the class was whispering, staring at her, or both. Mostly both. "I'll be fine to go to Arithmancy, honestly, the early stages take hours and hours, and I'm not even sure if I am yet. It could be false labour, there's really no way to know this soon..."

"Even so, I think we'd better get you to the hospital wing, just to be sure. Harry, you'll look after Hermione's things, won't you?"

"I'll bring them with me." Harry beamed. "She said that me and Ron could wait outside."

"Yeah." Ron brightened. "We'll have to miss a few classes, but this is a once in a lifetime event!"

"I'm just an excuse to get out of Potions to you," Hermione said, poking him. "Fine, if you want to be helpful, go and find Ginny. She's going to help me. And Harry, you go drop off that bag in my room and get the blue one that's in the cradle."

"Right!"

"We'll be right there!"

Both boys dashed off, and Hermione leaned a bit more heavily on Lupin's arm, which gave slightly before he stiffened up. "Draco, you have Arithmancy next, don't you? Would you tell Professor Vector that Hermione won't be in class today?"

"Of course." Draco looked worried, and Hermione tried to smile encouragingly at him. He'd been a little more distant since he and Crabbe started speaking again, but he was still a friend. "Do you need help getting to the hospital wing? I'd be happy to -"

"No, no, I can manage." Lupin smiled at him, but Hermione didn't think it looked terribly sincere. "All of you, get going to your next class."

Before they were halfway to the hospital wing, Hermione was wishing desperately that Draco had come with them. Or that she'd kept one of the boys. Lupin just didn't have the knack of supporting her the way they did, and her last contraction had been intense enough that she'd had to drop his arm and grab for the sturdier and more reliable wall. "Nnngh..."

"What is going on here?"

She'd never been so happy to see Severus. Ever. Not even at the victory celebration where the baby had been conceived. She tried to smile at him, but it came out as more of a grimace.

"Hermione is in labour," Lupin said, reaching over to pat Hermione's shoulder gently. "We're going up to the hospital wing now."

"Ah. I should have realised that you were on the way to the hospital wing merely from the fact that she is leaning on a wall, you are standing there ineffectually, and neither of you is actually moving." His sneer really was a wonderful, observant sneer. She'd never appreciated it so much.

Lupin straightened up, frowning. "If she wants to pause while she has a contraction, Severus -"

"Then you should be supporting her, not standing there like one of her idiot friends waiting to be given instructions." Severus made an impatient noise, and Hermione found herself being scooped up in his arms and cradled securely against his chest. She put her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder with a little sigh. "I will take Miss Granger up to the hospital wing. You may follow along uselessly if you wish."

Hermione giggled very quietly as he turned and stalked away. Over his shoulder, she could see Professor Lupin looking angry and embarrassed... but not following. Hah. Teach him to not be any help. "Thank you," she murmured, holding on just a tiny bit tighter.

"I have no desire to see you tumble down the stairs and break yourself because Lupin can't maintain a grip on you." He sounded grumpy, but he was holding her very securely against him. "Are you really in labour, or is he just getting over-excited?"

"I think I am. I've had a few false contractions before, and this feels... different. It's higher up, and sort of... well, it's hard to describe, but it's not the same. And they're much more regular."

"How long have you been having them?"

"Since just after breakfast." He snorted, and she blushed. "And yes, I went to class anyway, but I honestly wasn't sure. The aching and twinging and cramping has hardly stopped for weeks. It took a while before I realised this was different."

"I see. And did you then alert someone, or try to go to Arithmancy anyway?"

"I tried to go to Arithmancy," she mumbled, hiding her face against his neck. He smelled a lot better than she remembered. More herbs, less smoke. "But honestly, first-stage labour takes practically forever. I could have gone."

"Hmph." Was he holding her just a fraction tighter? "Foolish, but you knew that."

"Yes, I did." Hermione snuggled just a tiny bit, hoping he wouldn't notice. "I'd have felt so silly if I made a fuss and it turned out not to be the real thing, though."

"Even so." His voice sounded a little strained, and he didn't speak again. He didn't loosen his grip, though, and she enjoyed being in his arms while it lasted. All too soon, they were at the hospital wing and he was lowering her onto a bed as Madam Pomfrey hurried over. "Miss Granger appears to be in first-stage labour, Poppy."

Madam Pomfrey muttered a charm, waving her wand over Hermione's stomach. A short plume of orange smoke shot out of the end of the wand and the matron nodded. "Oh, yes... have your waters broken yet?"

"Not yet." Hermione cupped her hands over her stomach. "It's really now?"

"Oh, yes." Madam Pomfrey smiled encouragingly. "The baby is on his way. Thank you for bringing Miss Granger up, Severus," she added. "I can take it from here."

"Thank you," Hermione said softly, and Severus looked at her for a long, inscrutable moment before nodding and turning away. Hermione's eyes stung as he walked away, and she had to stifle an irrational urge to call him back. His son or daughter was about to be born, he should be there...

"Now," Madam Pomfrey said cheerfully. "Let's get you out of those robes and into something more suitable."