Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human.
Chapter 25 The Best of Me, The Best of You
By the time the screaming started, Hermione had already sent George off to retrieve Ginny's Mum. Draco and Fred, manly males that they were, did their best to stay out of Hermione's way while she tended to Ginny's rapidly progressing labor.
"He is moving way too fast," Hermione told Ginny in a stern voice. "You tell your son to slow down right now or I'm going to give him hell when he gets out!"
Ginny threw a furious glare at Hermione, and snarled, "I'll be first in line for doling out punishments. This fucking hurts- FUCKING! SHIT! OWOWOWOWOWOW!" She curled around her tensed belly and screeched her discomfort to the room at large.
"Girl, shouldn't we be taking her to hospital?" Draco asked from a safe distance away.
"I'd rather wait for her Mum before we decide on anything. Ginny, you and your Mum have a birth plan, right?"
Ginny glared at Hermione even harder than before. "Yes, the plan was to do this at the FUCKING Burrow. But I can't get there – SHIT – right now, can I?"
"Where the hell is George anyway? How hard could it be to Apparate to the Burrow, grab Mum, and Apparate back?" Fred groused. Watching his sister writhing around as if in the grips of a Cruciatus wasn't his favorite thing to do in the entire world.
Twenty minutes later, when George still hadn't turned back up yet, Hermione had Draco and Fred move Ginny from the couch to the bedroom, and started the process of lining their bed with as many spare towels as possible in anticipation of a very messy event. Hermione perused a medical text that had handy illustrations, and wrinkled her nose.
"Ginny, I know your Mum's not here, but do you mind if Freddie stays in here with you? This is going to get pretty graphic before Jamie arrives, but I'd like him to help control your pain if possib-"
"No magic!" Ginny gasped. "It makes Jamie go beserk! He'll hurt either himself or me! Freddie can… wait out there… for Mum!"
In between contractions, Ginny rested and stared at the ceiling. Tears streamed out of her eyes at random moments, and Hermione did her best to help keep her focused on Jamie's arrival instead of his father's absence. They talked about the house on Privet Drive: which room they could use as Jamie's nursery, which room they could set up as a guest room for visitors, how nice it would be to have the greenhouse in the back for spices, household potions and remedies, and that God-awful wallpaper that simply must come down immediately upon purchase-
"SHHHHIT! Where in Godric's fucking EARTH is MUM?!" Ginny screeched.
Draco and Freddie sat at the dining table, a bottle of single malt scotch between them.
"It's really quite nice stuff, Draco m'boy. Quite nice. Takes the edge off the terror without dulling the senses," Fred said conversationally, then winced as a string of shouted profanities split the room.
Draco nodded dully. He wasn't entirely sure he was comfortable with the idea of drinking himself into a stupor before suppertime, but the sounds coming from his bedroom, combined with the mounting dread induced by the idea of so many Weasley's descending on his home, was making him decidedly queasy.
"Sooo… seen any good Quidditch matches lately?" Fred asked.
Draco looked at him sharply. "No, you wanker. Muggle, remember? But thanks so much for reminding me of the best part of the Wizarding world that I love and miss so much. Maybe you'd like to show me your broom so we can see how I can't ride it too, eh?"
Fred snorted. "Sucks to be you mate. But really, can't be all bad, living out here with Hermione. There's got to be some good sports and hobbies, right?"
Draco nodded his head absently, then his eyes brightened. "Yeh, you know what, I got a motorbike just the other day. It's as good as flying, just on the ground, you know? It's so obscenely fast and dangerous, most Muggles won't even try it. Want to see it? It's just down in the gara-"
Pops of incoming Apparition cut off Draco's invitation to explore the wonders of his new hobby. Suddenly there were no less than seven more Weasley's standing in Draco's living room.
"Cripes, that's a lot of Weasels," Draco said companionably to Fred, who burst out of his chair and strode to his twin.
"Where in Merlin's name have you been?! Your sister is dying in there and you take your sweet time gathering up a family reunion?!" Fred shouted as he popped George on the back of the head. Molly and Arthur Weasley stood with their eldest soon Bill and his wife Fleur, who held their infant daughter Victoire, as well as Percy and George. The new arrivals took in the sight of Fred, and the blond Muggle man behind him, and varying levels of shock formed across their faces.
"I'm sorry!" George cried. "Mum wasn't at the house, so I went to the Ministry to ask Dad where she was, but he was having lunch with Percy so they insisted on coming with me when we went to Shell Cottage where Mum was having lunch with Bill and the girls, and everyone just wanted to be here for Ginny!"
"Blimey, Malfoy's really here, eh? So, where's 'Mione and Ginny?" Bill asked.
Percy strode across the room and held out his hand to Draco. "Malfoy, good to see you. Thank you so much for having us here today. I trust you are well?"
Draco stood with his mouth hanging slightly open, and shook first Percy's outstretched hand, then Arthur and Molly's as well.
"MOLLY WEASLEY YOU GET YOUR ARSE IN HERE RIGHT NOW!" Hermione's voice bellowed from the bedroom. Everyone jumped, and Molly's eyes got very wide as she turned to the sound of the shouted command.
"MUM-MAH!" Ginny's shriek split the room, and suddenly everyone was moving. Fleur turned to her husband.
"Bill, take the bebe. I must go help your Maman and sister." She pushed a squirming Victoire into her father's arms, and took Molly's hand as they dashed towards the open bedroom door that Draco pointed out.
"Malfoy!" Fleur called out as she pushed Molly inside the bedroom, "We shall need boiled water, a very sharp sterile knife, soap, many clean towels, two large bowls, and a bottle of olive oil! Tout de suite!" She ducked inside the room and made to shut the door.
"NO MAGIC!" Ginny screeched.
Fleur re-opened the door. "Gentlemen, your sister wishes to remind you that no magic can be used in this area. If you insist on using it, you could seriously hurt either her or Jamie. Malfoy! Immediatement!" Then she slammed the door in the men's surprised faces.
/…../
Molly Weasley was more than surprised to see Hermione Granger, who she'd long seen as a surrogate daughter, standing in front of her once again. The hurt and anguish for the stress and betrayal her children had felt at this girl's disappearance, however, was swept aside as she took in Hermione's hands on her hips and the fear in her eyes.
"Molly Weasley, there are more important things going on here than my sudden appearance. Ginny's not progressing properly and I don't know what to do!"
Molly's eyes shot to the bed, where Ginny Weasley was curled in a ball, gasping for air and shuddering with fear and pain. She nodded at Hermione and quickly leaned in to give her a crushing hug, then Molly bustled over to the bed to soothe her daughter's sweaty forehead with a caressing hand.
"Ginny! Oh dear, darling let's get a look at you, all right? Does your back hurt? Yes? Hermione, I'd like you to get behind Ginny and help her into a sitting position. Yes, get right behind her and support her weight. Good." Molly briskly took control of the situation, and the four women were plunged into the wholly primitive, yet wholly magical journey that was the life and death struggle of giving birth.
Fleur opened the door after a few moments to Draco's knock, and received the towels and other items she'd requested.
"No Ginny, you can't push yet, and you're wearing yourself and Jamie out by trying to do so. You have to resist it! No, dear, your body's not ready yet! Fleur, do you have the – yes, thank you dear." Molly set to work massaging oil into Ginny's tense muscles to prepare her daughter's body to deliver Jamie without injury to either of them.
After several minutes of coaxing and cooing, Molly said to the others, "You know, these are supposed to be happy events, and I'm sure you girls have many things to talk about. Fleur, why don't you tell Hermione about Victoire? Or Hermione, maybe you could tell us – well, something? Come on ladies, wipe off the sour faces!" Molly said the words in a teasing sing-song voice, but the sharp look in her eyes towards Fleur and Hermione told them that she was being deadly serious. A look down at Ginny's expression told everything they needed to know. She looked dejected, exhausted, and utterly anguished.
Hermione nodded and quickly jumped in. "Well, I already told Ginny about how I ran into Draco out here, but I could tell you two as well. You see, my parents didn't come out of the Obliviation charm I'd placed on them well at all. In fact, they're in a long-term care facility south of here…"
Soon the three women had Ginny stripped and groaning under the onslaught of massaging knuckles and elbows as they willed the tension away from her back and legs and swollen belly.
/…../
Fleur spoke quietly in the moments between Ginny's contractions as she rubbed her laboring sister's swollen feet.
"My Grandmere used to speak to me of the early days, when we women were left to our own devices when our time came to deliver our bebes. Witch or Muggle, wealthy or poor, the women of the family would gather together to support each other when a mother's labor approached. The men, they would go off and fight their monsters and hunt for food, and with those tasks they had their own traditions, and eventually their own bonding and magic associated with their traditions. But we women, we are the life bringers. Magic beings or no, we are the ones who continue our family lines. It is up to us, within our family, to support each other, because a woman cannot deliver her bebe alone."
"This is true," Molly agreed. "Childbirth is the oldest, deepest of magics. Besides the blood magic involved, its creation at its purest, and at its most elemental, it binds us to the Earth. Once you walk through this doorway, my dearest daughter, you will be bound to the sisterhood of creators that continue our race. Men, they sow the seeds, but we are the Earth that grows and blooms and brings forth. I know it's dreadful and it hurts now, but what's happening to you is as natural as the sun rising in the morning."
Ginny rested against Hermione as she listened to Fleur and her Mother's whimsical words of comfort. Their soothing tones pressed gently across her savaged nerves and calmed her panic. She sighed as Hermione rubbed a cool flannel across her forehead.
"You know Ginny, a good friend of mine told me recently that sex is the creative force that shapes the world. That it's a gift from God to share with the one you love. And you had that with Harry. You two did this together, and you're lucky, really, to get the chance to be here. Your son is proof that it wasn't just a dream; that it's not over. So at the end of this, when all the pain ends, your Mum will hand you Harry's son, and everything will be all right in the world again." Hermione kissed Ginny's forehead, then held her hand as the pain took hold again.
/…../
Nine months ago
Hermione stepped out of the kitchen at Grimauld Place, balancing tea cups and butterbeer bottles on a tray that she carried outside. The flyers had just returned from their latest mission, successful in the destruction of the Goyle estate, but all desperately windblown and motion-sick from the storm they'd been caught up in. There were no less than six people hanging upside-down in the branches of an enormous, fat oak with low-slung branches in the center of the back yard, cloaks dangling below them so that they looked like so many gigantic bats. Dean Thomas was on all fours in the grass, vomiting his last meal away, but Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, and Harry Potter were all happily hanging and chatting from the lower branches of the tree. Up higher, slightly away from the others, Draco hung silently, rubbing his forehead with one hand as he unsnapped his cloak with the other.
Hermione passed tea cups and butterbeer bottles out as requested, easily reaching her friends on the lower branches.
"Malfoy!" she called. Silver eyes snapped open to glare at her. Hermione held up her drinks options. "Tea or butterbeer?" Malfoy smirked at her, then crooked his finger in a come-hither gesture. Hermione rolled her eyes. Malfoy had learned fairly quickly that if he wanted to engage in conversation with Hermione, that he'd better do it with as little audience as possible. He and Hermione spoke their own short-hand language of insults and threats and literary quotes that most people found either highly disturbing or highly offensive. But since both parties enjoyed the shite out of harassing each other, they'd learned to snip quietly so as to not cause an all-out brawl amongst the others, which had happened before on more than one occasion.
"Catch, Ferret!" she called up, and levitated the tray up into the branches, then when she felt Draco's wand take the upward motion of the tray away from hers, she concentrated on climbing the branches until she rested against the trunk ten feet above the ground, with her legs balanced around the branch Malfoy hung off of.
"Much obliged, Granger, for the tea. And I truly appreciate the opportunity to observe you take on the role of a house-elf. Really, all we need to do is remove that mop of hair of yours and get you a nice tea towel to wear, and Kreacher'd be out of a job." Draco rolled upwards and handed Hermione the drinks tray, then relaxed back downwards to drink his tea upside-down.
"Piss off, Malfoy," Hermione said cheerfully, then picked up a butterbeer bottle and toasted him. "Have I mentioned how much you remind me of an albino Batman right now?"
"Funny, Granger. But if I'm an albino Batman, what does that leave the rest of them? I don't recall you mentioning superheroes called Wonder Weasel and the Amazing Flying Potty."
Hermione almost spat butterbeer and toppled out of the tree from laughing so hard, but managed to contain herself at the last second.
"All right up there, 'Mione?" Ginny called. She and Harry, upside down on the lowest branch, were holding hands and swaying back and forth like children.
"Yes! Just fine, thanks!" Hermione called down. She stuck her tongue out at Malfoy, who chuckled as he leaned back up to hand her his empty mug. Hermione gingerly accepted the mug and placed it back on the tray, then gasped and flung her butterbeer bottle away from her hand so she could grasp the thick branch she'd been perched on. The entire tree had just given a mighty shiver as Harry and Ginny had simultaneously twisted and launched themselves out of the branches to the ground below.
Hermione shook her head in exasperation as a laughing Harry grabbed Ginny around her midsection and tossed his giggling girlfriend over one shoulder. He bolted into the house as his companions whistled and cat-called from the branches of the tree.
Draco closely watched his commanding officer and co-flyer as they made for the back door of Grimauld Place. "You know, Granger, your pal Potter's a pretty stressed out bloke. Has he talked to you about timelines lately? Does he know how much longer until, well, you know, the final death match with ol' snake eyes?"
Hermione's eyebrow went up as she appraised the young man she shared a tree branch with. "Getting tired, Malfoy? Too worn out to keep up the good fight?"
Draco snorted. "Hardly. I think it's safe to say I have enough normal teenage angst to carry me through for at least a few more months, and that's not counting my phenomenally shitty childhood. That rage should carry me through at least another year or so of hand-to-hand combat and wanton slaughter of our foes."
Hermione chuckled. "Good enough for me. What's on your mind then? Harry hasn't mentioned a lot, but judging by my research I think we'll be gearing up to finish this in the next few weeks."
Draco nodded his head. "Good to know. I think your boy Potter is ready for a break. You know I found him in the library the other night, doing a little research of his own. On virility spells. Guess the stress has gotten him a little, down, eh?" Draco quipped, then waved his hand expansively towards the house. "And it appears he found a spell to work for him, as he just carted off the Weaselette like a man heading for his honeymoon."
Hermione gagged a little, then shook her head. "Gods Malfoy, why did you feel the need to share that with me? Harry's like a brother to me, and I do not want to know about the status of his… er… extra-curricular activities with Ginny."
"Oh for fucks sake, Granger, set your virgin sensibilities aside and think for a minute. Why would an eighteen year old man need a virility spell if not because he was either badly injured or horribly stressed? I should know, eh? It takes an unbelievable amount of stress to kill the sex drive of a healthy teenaged male."
Hermione tilted her head to the side as she looked closely at Draco, who was massaging his temples. "You know, Malfoy, in a round about way you actually just expressed concern for Harry. I'm really touched."
"Piss off, Granger," Malfoy sighed.
"So he was really looking at a virility spell? I guess that is rather serious, but I didn't think his stress level seemed any greater than at any other time during the war. I guess I could ask Ronald…"
"Ugh, please don't mention me in that conversation, Granger. I don't want to have to justify why you and I are discussing Potter's sex drive to your spotted lap dog."
"Oh, come off it, Malfoy. Ron's not that bad. And if Harry was feeling, um, out of sorts, he may have confided in Ron."
"Look, the only reason why I even said anything at all is because I was wondering if anything extra is going on. I really don't want to know the end result of your quest to find out the status of Potter's dick." The both of them flinched at Draco's crass statement, and Hermione held her hands out to defray any further vulgarity.
"Got it Malfoy, please, ugh. But look, are you sure he was looking up a virility spell? I mean, could you have just caught him with that particular page open?"
"Well, Granger, he'd been studying that particular open page for about fifteen minutes before I happened to walk by to see what he was studying so intently. Potter's not usually one I see rolling up his sleeves in the stacks, you know? So, he was either studying the virility spell on one side of the page, or the fertility spell on the other. And honestly, what eighteen year old male wants to learn a fertility spell? It has to be the virility spell. That's why I was wondering if something-"
"'Mione! When the hell are you coming down from there? Come on, let's go get something to eat, I'm starving!" Ron shouted from the base of the tree, where he, Neville, and Seamus were standing next to a recovered Dean.
/…../
Hermione knelt behind her friend and held her in her arms as Ginny strained to bring her son into the world. As Ginny panted and panicked, a huffing whisper crept its way into her exhalations. As her energy flagged and her pain increased, the huffs grew louder, until it went from a whispered mantra to a wailing scream that the men clearly heard and understood on the other side of the flat.
"Haaarry! Harry! Harry, Haaaa-rrrryyy!" Ginny sobbed as her defeated body struggled against the pain.
"Ginevra, sweetheart, please stop fighting him. You have to move with Jamie now. Feel your body and push when he does. Hermione, dear, move your legs under Ginny and lift her up. We don't need gravity to work against us now, do we?" Molly cooed and cajoled, coaxed and calmed her daughter into moving with instead of against her labor.
Soon, Fleur and Hermione were crowded on either side of the young woman, who had moved to all fours as she howled through her contractions. They took turns rubbing Ginny's neck and lower back, supporting the girl's weight so she focus on pushing.
"Ginny, Ginny, come on now. Move with the baby. It's okay, it's almost over," Hermione sang against the side of her friend's head as Ginny cried.
"Come now, Ginevra, one BIG push. Good girl! Good girl!" Fleur chanted as she wiped the sweat away from Ginny's forehead.
"Come on Ginny dear, there! THERE! Good girl!" Molly cried, as Ginny bellowed and delivered her son into the world.
A few moments of frenzied activity got Ginny cleaned and comfortably settled into the bed, pleasantly doped up with a pain-blocking charm now that Jamie was separated from her body. Molly and Fleur cleaned up the baby and crowed delightedly at his perfection, then quickly gave him to his Mother so she could meet him.
Ginny and Hermione marveled at the baby that Molly presented to her daughter. His face was bright red and wrinkled, his abundant black hair stood on end, and his blue eyes were wide open as if he were shocked to be in this new situation. Jamie blinked, and Ginny blinked, and then she burst into tears as she nestled him to her breast and sobbed in relief.
"He's… perfect!" Ginny gasped. "He's so beautiful! I was so worried there'd be something wrong with him, because of the magic, you know?"
"No, he's absolutely perfect darling. Ten fingers and toes, good heart and lungs, and he's just about the prettiest baby I've ever seen," Molly said as she ran a gentle finger across Jamie's cheek.
Fleur and Hermione agreed. Jamie was lovely. And healthy. And here.
Ginny held her tiny son up to her face and rubbed their noses gently together. She sighed and whispered something in Latin that drew her Mother up sharply.
"What did you say?" Molly asked.
Ginny looked puzzled and slightly embarrassed. "Nothing really, it's just something that Harry, um, used to say when we were… together. Optime de me, Optimum vobis. The best of me, the best of you. I always liked the way it sounded." Ginny shrugged awkwardly, then shifted to nestle her son into her side.
"Ginevra Weasley, you mean to tell me Harry said that while you two were intimate?" Molly asked in a strained voice.
"Er, yes?" Ginny asked.
"Ginny, that is a fertility spell!" Fleur said in surprise. "Why in the world would Harry have used a fertility spell on a seventeen year old girl during a War?"
"Not just that!" Molly cried. "She's a Weasley! We don't mess about with fertility spells! She's lucky she didn't have triplets! Why in the world would Harry have been using a fertility spell?"
Hermione's mind popped back to her memory of Draco hanging out of an oak tree, watching Harry run with Ginny over his shoulder like a desperate man. Like a man running out of time. That had been just two weeks before the final battle that had ended the war and Harry's life.
"He knew," she said suddenly, and sadly. Three sets of eyes snapped to her face. "Harry knew, I think, that he wasn't going to come out of the last battle. We'd speculated on it over the years, that he may not make it through the fight. But when it came down to it, I think he just didn't want to leave Ginny empty-handed."
Hermione turned to face her friend, and rested a hand on Jamie's tiny back. "He knew he couldn't stay, but he didn't want to leave you alone. He wanted to give you a gift, conceived in love, that you could keep long after he was gone." Hermione's face screwed up as she fought to keep her emotions in check. Molly and Fleur looked to be doing the same, but Ginny gasped as her tears flowed freely onto her son's blanketed body.
"Well," Hermione croaked, "shall I go get Arthur? Start bringing your brothers in?"
Ginny nodded her head woodenly as she clutched her baby to her breast.
Hermione stood up from the bed and made for the door and announced the birth of Jamie to the assorted Weasley men and her boyfriend. Then, in the hubbub of activity, she quietly picked up her keys and jacket and exited her flat. She made her way across her storage room, down the elevator, and into her garage. Through the moonlight coming in the small windows, she could see her sedan and Draco's motorbike parked side by side. In the small space in between the two, she sat down on the hard floor and leaned her back against the cold metal door of her car. In the quiet, distant space she inhabited, far removed from the joy and celebration upstairs in her home, Hermione finally allowed herself to let go.
Eight months of repressed grief howled out of her body as she bent under the weight of the sobs that crushed her lungs and narrowed her focus to the world immediately surrounding her. Cold, harsh, quiet reality. Silent as the grave, unforgiving as a marble slab, and so, so alone.
Her best friend really had sacrificed himself like a damned farm animal. He knew, and he'd told no one. He knew, and he'd done it anyway. While she and Draco had been swinging from invisible ropes in a tower, blithely complaining about their pathetic injuries and petty squabbles, her best friend, the brother of her heart, had willingly and knowingly walked to his death and saved the whole God-damned world from a mad man.
Optime de me, Optimum vobis. Well, his son would certainly be someone special, being the best of Harry Potter and the love of his very short life.
To Be Continued…
Author's Note: Er, sorry this took so long, but I had a very hard time writing this chapter. A couple of reasons, really. Number one, it was devastatingly sad for me. I went through an unnecessary amount of tissues and mascara trying to get this right, and eventually had to give up and stop fucking with it, but writing through Hermione's and Ginny's eyes was a little on the creepy and depressing side – to the point where I was getting sick of myself. Also, not knowing how many men and/or non-mothers are reading this, I didn't want to over-do the home-birth scene, but wanted to portray the seriousness, the magic and the miracle of the birth process without it being just plain gross.
So, yes, Harry knocked Ginny up on purpose. That's something I've been planning from the very get-go, which is why it didn't bother me overly much that I'd killed poor Harry off – even though it hasn't been a very popular decision with some of you all. It's all about the sacrifice, people. It happens to be an underlying, constant theme for my story, and I like it. There are people and times and things we'd give anything for – to preserve, to protect… I don't think most of us ever experience anything like that, but I know without a doubt that this point is going to come up in several different ways throughout the next four and a half years. Not in such sad and angsty ways every time - I promise this story will continue to be predominantly happy and will end on a happy note.
Also, the Weasley's are not here to stay. They are not major players in this tale. We'll be getting back to the regularly scheduled programming soon. For those of you who (hurt my feelings) expressed a lack of interest in my muggles and great relief at the reintroduction of familiar characters and possible magic– please consider that this is a passing phase. Muggle life is coming back, since it's kind of the premise of the entire story. So, erm, I'd prefer to not get yelled at about that, if you don't mind.
And lastly, for those of you who are tolerating me on Twitter, HI!
Acro