Two conversations were going on simultaneously in the moments that proceeded the Gryffindor's swift exit from the Potion's classroom.
Flights upon flights above the Potions classroom, Ronald Weasley was in a heated discussion with Harry and Hermione, explaining to them what he had heard and seen, and likewise what he thought about the entire situation.
And deep down in the dungeons, a young Slytherin was fuming.
'Do you think? Do you think Weasley heard? This...this could be bad,' he added, beginning to pace in between rows of desks. 'I mean...Weasley isn't that bright to begin with, that's for sure...' he added, running a hand through his silvery blond hair.
'Relax, Draco. It is unlikely that he heard much of anything. If his story telling skills are as adequate as his potion skills, you and I have nothing to worry about.' Severus walked towards the door, and opened it.
'Your Professors will not look too kindly upon you being late to class. You are, I presume, already lacking in their graces...' he added quietly, looking at Draco.
The younger Slytherin nodded, and made his way to the door. He paused and turned towards the classroom after passing through the doorway.
He smiled a sly, toothless smile as he looked up at the Potions Master.
'It is only fun, Professor...I would do nothing to harm the Dark Lord's most prized possession,' he added.
'If I were you,' Snape warned, 'I would lay off of…the fun,' he replied, and he closed the door to the Potions Classroom with a dull bang.
Severus stood there silently with his back towards the old, wooden classroom door.
He breathed in deeply and exhaled. Looking at the mess on the floor to his far right, he muttered a cleansing spell and the contents on the floor placed themselves into a large aluminum pail that sat in the far corner of the room. Shards of glass, a cauldron or two, and some stray ingredients floated into the large container.
The Potions Master walked past the rows of desk towards his private chambers adjacent to the Potions classroom. He opened the door, and closed it quietly behind him. He took a brief moment to scan the room, and his eyes soon landed on a familiar object.
He approached one of his bookshelves that lined the main room. Scanning the books on the shelves, his eyes came to rest on a photograph in a silver frame that was beginning to tarnish ever so slightly. The frame was delicate. Thin around the edges, with a woven-like design. It was a gift from Dumbledore. A gift that Severus had come to treasure most, amongst all his other belongings.
It was a picture of the Order of the Phoenix. The new Order of the Phoenix.
There he was, placed amongst those that he once fought against. There stood some of his colleagues from Hogwarts, others were Aurors...and in the front row sat Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Hermione, placed between the boys, was smiling proudly. Harry turned his head to look at her, and then looked straight ahead, a toothless grin on his face, adjusting his glasses. The Weasley boy paused to scratch his elbow, and also looked up with a sideways grin.
Severus regarded the picture for a moment, before taking hold of the picture frame. He disassembled it, and removed a photograph of equal size and shape from behind the newest photo.
What he now held in his hand, was another picture of the Order of the Phoenix. The first Order of the Phoenix.
His eyes immediately settled on a woman in the front row. A woman with hair the color of sunset, her soft features and brilliant eyes sparkling from the photograph. Severus felt his eyes prickle with tears. It was painful to stare at her. For he still loved her – even after all these years.
He quickly placed the older photograph behind the newer one, and took the tarnished frame with him as he slowly sat down at his desk that sat across the room from the bookshelf. Placing the picture frame in front of him, he took one last look at the beautiful young Gryffindor who sat between the boys.
Severus sighed and put his head in his hands. He whispered to himself, as the Trio in front of him continued to smile and wave, oblivious to all the pain and suffering that was to come.
What if I cannot protect them...
Above the dungeons, there was another person sitting in a rickety oak chair, who was also bent over, placing his head in his hands, wondering how on Earth he could protect the woman who he had come to care for, to love. The mother of his child.
Harry Potter was at a loss for words. A complete loss.
He had heard Ron out, listened to what he had to say, hear him describe what he had seen. But Harry...Harry was quite unsure what Ron's revelation had meant. It did not sound promising, that was certain.
The Mediwitch had floated in and out of the wing, as did the Headmistress. She checked on Hermione, making sure that she was as comfortable as she could be. Likewise, the Headmistress excused her from classes for the day, and for that, Hermione was thankful.
Amongst listening to Ron and Harry converse, Hermione had felt her eyes begin to droop, and soon the boys had found her to drift off to sleep. She was still being kept in the hospital wing for observation. She and the baby were fine, just fine. But Madame Pomfrey had believed that it was in Hermione's best interest to remain in bed just for a while longer under her supervision.
After Ron had tried his darndest to convince both Harry and Hermione that Snape was up to no good, he had left to grab some lunch, and left Harry and Hermione alone in the Hospital Wing.
Moments after Ron had left, Hermione stirred, woke up, and looked up at Harry.
'Harry?' she asked, voice full of sleep, looking up at her husband-to-be.
'Mione?' he asked, looking down at her, continuing to stroke her hand, and her arm.
'What should we do?...What should we do now...?' she asked him, her voice pleading for an answer. Any answer.
Harry looked down at the ground, and then looked at Hermione's hand. The engagement ring was so beautiful, so simple, so elegant. It completed her perfectly.
Harry's eyes focused on Hermione's, and he spoke softly to her.
'We wait.'
He said nothing more on the subject for a few moments, and Hermione did not probe any further. Each of them, but especially Harry, had thoughts swarming in their heads. Was Snape actually on their side? Harry had to admit that he had his doubts, but he clearly remembered one thing, and one thing only in his mind.
Dumbledore had trusted Snape. And that was as good a reason as any, for Harry.
As much as he despised the Potions Master, as much as he loathed him for various reasons...he had come to believe that Snape was in fact acting upon the greater good. He wouldn't let them down. Not now...Especially not now...
Hary spoke quietly to her.
'Let's not hurry to conclusions, Mione. He gave us his word - and maybe we should go with that for now...' he said, looking into her beautiful brown eyes that were now half closed.
She smiled up at him.
'Harry...if I didn't have you...I would be lost. I truly would be. I cannot wait until June...' she said, yawning and wincing a bit. Her back, although healed, was still rather sore.
'Mione, I love you so much. You are...you are my everything,' he said, his voice trailing off. Hermione was growing sleepy once again. The late morning, early afternoon sunshine was peering through the glass windows of the hospital wing, and it was so comforting. So inviting.
Harry looked at the beautiful woman before him. He got up, and strode towards the window to take a peak outside.
'Harry?' he heard her call, the sleepiness unmistakable in her voice.
'Yes Mione?' he answered turning to look at her.
'Do you know what happened this morning?' she asked, her voice hoarse.
Harry turned to look back through the window, noticing a lone thestral in the distance, soaring gracefully amongst the clouds.
'No, Mione,' he said, back still turned away from her.
But in fact, Harry did know what had happened in the Potions classroom that morning. He knew that Draco had tripped Agnes. He had seen it with his own two eyes. And he did not want Hermione to know, to get upset. Well, not just yet at least. He figured he would let her sleep, let her rest. He would tell her later.
Harry walked over to his beloved once again. The dreamless sleep potion was working wonderfully, and Hermione was in a deep sleep. He sat down on the bed beside her. All of a sudden, he felt something. Felt something move, just ever so slightly. Though her abdomen was still sheltered by the concealment charm, Harry put his hand over her stomach, and for the first time, felt his son move.
It was incredible, to say the least.
Harry's eyes welled with tears, and he smiled to himself. He kept his hand on her abdomen for a few moments, rubbing her stomach and talking softly and tenderly to their child that lay within. After a few minutes, he removed his hand. He bent over to give Hermione a kiss on her forehead, and he left the hospital wing.
Moments later, a tall figure entered the hospital wing, accompanied by Madame Pomfrey. The two stopped a few feet away from the sleeping Gryffindor.
'How is she?' the figure asked, staring at her sleeping form.
'Better. On the mend, that is certain,' confirmed the Mediwitch.
'And the child?' inquired the man.
'Perfect,' the Mediwitch softly replied, a warm smile upon her face.
The man sighed inwardly. He slowly walked over to the bedside that stood beside the sleeping mother and placed a blue bottle and slip of parchment on the table next to her cot. He paused to look down at her sleeping figure, clearly oblivious to the world around her.
'Tell her to drink that when she wakes,' the man stated softly, still looking at the girl.
The Mediwitch nodded in agreement.
The man began to walk towards the door, lost amongst his thoughts, barely hearing Madame Pomfrey call out to him in a whisper:
'Thank you, Severus.'