Disclaimer: This is all for fun, I do not claim ownership of the characters or anything recognized from the work of JK Rowling. I am only borrowing them.
Warning: Mature themes, subject to change: mild violence, strong language, substance use or abuse, scenes of a sexual nature as well as general innuendo smattered throughout, adult themes including but not limited to death and disease both mental and physical.
[A/N] Thank you to everyone who has read, followed, and added this story to their favorites list. I have started to build a Pinterest board for some of the places and people I envision when I'm writing this story. To chime into the Hermione as a POC debate, my idea of Hermione is pretty fluid. All I imagine is Ashley Moore's crazy curly hair so until I find someone that meets my headcanon even more accurately she is it. This would be a good time to mention that I do have a board on Pinterest for this story specifically.
As always, I'm on tumblr and twitter under the same username, disillusionist9.
Playlist: Welcome - Heather Nova | Order of the Phoenix Soundtrack - Nicholas Hooper/John Williams | In the Sun - Chris Martin ft. Michael Stripe
Friday, August 5th, 2005 | 3:01am | The Lodge, Loch Lomond
The stag Patronus erupted in front of Hermione in the hours of the morning that were barely past the dark of night. Harry's frantic shouting about labor and how St. Mungo's wasn't safe and pleas for her to come help woke Draco from across the hall.
"What the fuck is wrong now?" Draco shouted as he opened the door with a bang. Wisps of Patronus dissipated around him in an ethereal halo of magic. Astoria had come home that night and was deftly wrapping a dressing gown around her nightdress behind him.
Hermione was up out of bed and yanking on a pair of the Muggle jeans she'd packed. The shirt she'd worn to bed was heavily rumpled, and possibly inside out, but she was making no move to change it. "Ginny's in labor and Harry asked me to come. I'm going to Grimmauld Place."
Astoria silently lay a hand on Draco's arm, the one clenched onto the door handle, and he relaxed slightly at the gesture.
"Is she early?" he asked exponentially more calmly than before. His Healing instincts were undoubtedly taking over to assist in his calmer demeanor.
"No," replied Hermione as she was doing up the fly of her jeans. "But James' labor was and she'd been taking potions to help Albus come to term. I was brewing them, but she's past thirty seven weeks so I'd stopped to let her pregnancy run its course. She didn't trust St. Mungo's to make them after the ones she was given for James were ineffective, so I did."
Draco nodded absently as he discreetly rubbed a bit of sleep from his eyes. A thought hit him sharply and he turned to look at Hermione with a questioning look with an undertone of indignance.
"How old is James again?"
Hermione smiled despite herself at his obviously affronted tone. It was strange how that tone, so similar to the one he used when speaking to her pre-War, could amuse her now. Looking up at Draco from where she was securing her wand sheath to her arm she said, "He'll be three in December, it was well before you and Snape worked in the Potions lab so don't get your feathers ruffled."
Placated, Draco took Astoria's hand from his arm into his own. He kissed her knuckles and gently implored her to go back to bed which she did after affectionately stroking his cheek.
The dark form of Snape appeared in Astoria's wake, standing just behind his godson who remained in the doorway. He took in Hermione's flurry of activity with a swift sweep of his eyes.
"Don't Apparate," Draco said, taking his first step into the room. "Use the Floo connection, it will be safer."
"I shouldn't think they've changed their Floo password," Hermione mumbled to herself as she tied her shoelaces. The soft tinkling of glass bottles above her focused her attention upward. Snape was scrutinizing the contents of her medicinal bag with long fingers, extracting a bottle here and there to examine the contents.
"You'll need more basic vitamin and nourishment elixirs for Mrs. Potter. And ones specifically for the infant," Snape said critically. His smooth baritone was scratchy with sleep, creating a deep sound that for a moment made the small hairs on Hermione's arms prickle the same way goosebumps did from a sudden chill.
"I've some of those at home," she replied, barely suppressing a yawn. "And coffee."
"You'll need better than coffee," grumbled Snape, "if you plan to use the magic stores you've been building the last week on this then you'll need something stronger. Come."
Draco moved lithely out of the way of his godfather as he swept out of the room with her supply bag. Otherwise prepared to depart, Hermione stood to follow him and paused to smile at Draco.
"Thanks for not being a shite about this," she murmured. "I promise to call if I need you. Honest."
"You'd better," he said while fighting a yawn. Quickly, he hugged the shorter witch to him before she walked away. "And I mean that. Floo call me. Or Severus."
Hermione didn't even try to restrain a snort. "I doubt Snape will want to be present for all of this domestically blissful activity."
"You'd be surprised. He's one of the reasons I'm here, you know," confessed Draco. "Ginny has you, and my mother had Severus."
Before Hermione had a chance to react sentimentally, or at all, over his admission, Draco released her and lightly shoved her down the hall.
Friday, August 5th, 2005 | 3:15am | The Lodge, Loch Lomond
Severus grumbled to himself as he measured out potions meticulously from larger containers into travel-friendly vials and bottles. The draught he'd sent to Mrs. Potter by owl the night before had worked incredibly effectively.
As if he expected differently.
The gentle labor expedient was commonly used when the mother was under duress or strain, or had gone well over term, and had simple enough ingredients. It hadn't been any sort of bother for him to brew it and send it by return owl within an hour's time of Draco's suggestion. Once the bird could no longer be seen on the horizon, he set to work preparing the tonics needed for a healthy childbirth.
"You've certainly prepared a lot of Blood-Replenisher and Vitamin K booster," commented the witch behind him.
"I work in a hospital, Granger, where the possibility of bleeding out is not uncommon. I would be remiss to not have a general coagulant and blood-replenisher readily on hand."
He swore he could feel the heat of her blush against his back. Although, from anger or chastisement he couldn't tell lest he turned around. The temptation to do so just to see the warmth in her cheeks itched at him until he couldn't help but scratch at it.
A mere week ago her skin was pale with exhaustion and bruises mottled her exposed arms and shoulders. Now with the right nourishment potions, rest, and Draco forcing her to eat to replenish her strength, she looked closer to the schoolgirl he taught almost a decade ago.
No. Severus never lied to himself. He'd needed to lie, or at least bend the truth, to so many others he decided years ago to never lie to himself. Schoolgirl was an unsuitable descriptive. Not much remained of that school girl in her outward appearances and he partially blamed himself for that. Mostly Albus Dumbledore and his meddling, but he still shouldered some of the blame for her rapid ascension into maturity. The Granger girl was framed by the light of the fire in the library behind her, highlighting every errant strand and curl of her hair in stark relief. Her face was in slight shadow but rekindled vitality had returned to her eyes along with her renewed strength. As she watched his movements shrewdly her hands moved from her hips to cross in front of her very-much-not-an-adolescent chest.
There were the beginnings of an imbalance within him and he scrabbled for purchase against the seamless wall establishing itself. The easy choice was to let Occlumency slip like silk over his consciousness to hide his moment of distraction.
"There's more than enough in that satchel for Mrs. Potter and her newborn. If you should find they are not enough that is the time to call Draco through the wards. Do not wait for Potter's permission, use your status as their first born's godmother to circumvent their paranoia."
The blush had entirely left her cheeks, he noted, as she moved closer to the workbench where he placed her now fully stocked Healer's kit. As her index finger found the corked top of the largest bottle he shifted his weight from one leg to the other to lean a bit closer to her. At this distance he could easily count the freckles from the sun on her cheekbones. The color difference was faint, drawing his line of sight acutely down the path they created from the inside corner of her eye all the way to…
"Pepper-up," he grumbled in explanation, sitting heavily onto the stool behind him.
With the straps of the kit firmly over her shoulders like a Muggle backpack she was prepared to Floo to Grimmauld Place but she seemed to hesitate. Her gaze did not move from the shelves behind his workbench and the lines of her shoulders were tensed. The tableau before her was not the same as his office while at Hogwarts; the shelves were still lined with ingredients but the light was warmly ambient instead of eremitical shuttered torchlight. He also chose to keep the whole pickled salamanders and jars of sheep's eyes out of sight unless needed.
"Thank you, Snape," she said rigidly.
Without waiting for a reply, and with the haste his plan was counting on, she swept from the room with a fan of curls behind her. She practically tripped over herself to get to the upstairs Floo.
After the familiar whoosh of Floo departure met his ears he listened for footfalls on the stairs. Draco did not disappoint as he appeared with a mug of coffee for his godfather in one hand and for himself in the other moments later.
"Everything's ready for us to leave, Severus," he said between sips of his cuppa. "Astoria will be here in order to 'call' me if she truly does need my help."
Severus stood from his workbench to grasp the proffered coffee and drank half of it before answering. "Your mother and father received my owl last evening warning them of our imminent meddling with the wards." The last half of the coffee was drained in one gulp and the soiled dish banished to the upstairs kitchen to be handled by the house elf.
"Thank Merlin these wards don't require some vacuous ceremony with hideous robes," Draco sneered. "I've had enough pomp and circumstance to last me the decade, not that anyone cares."
"Don't let Astoria overhear you saying that," countered Severus, "I'm sure she's expecting a wedding that will be in the papers for weeks."
"I'm sure our decision to elope will cause more media frenzy than another pureblood wedding."
Severus laughed more heartily than he had in weeks as he imagined Lucius's reaction to his son's pithy response.