Poppy set her wand down, a satisfied smile on her face.

"Everything seems fine. Heart rate is good and steady. Do you mind?" she asked.

"Go ahead," said Minerva.

Poppy placed her palms on Minerva's burgeoning belly, delicately probing here and there.

"Good," she said. "Uterus is firm and appears the right size for twenty-five weeks. Any contractions? Bleeding?"

"No, nothing like that."

"Is the baby kicking and moving?"

"Yes," Minerva said, laughing and patting her abdomen for emphasis.

She had felt the baby kick for the first time two weeks previously. Sitting by the fire and sipping a cup of tea with the review copy of an article for Transfiguration Today, she had been surprised by a sudden small punch about three inches below her navel. It had come from inside her. Then there was another one. She laughed out loud. It didn't hurt at all; in fact, it was rather pleasant. She was about to Floo-call Albus in his office to tell him about it, then decided against it.

"Let's just be the two of us for a bit," she had said to the child inside her. It was like having a delicious secret that might be spoiled in the sharing.

She had told Albus the following evening, and he had sat in her quarters with a hand on her belly for half an hour before he felt it. His eyes had widened in surprise, and Minerva thought he looked like a child himself in that moment.

Poppy helped Minerva to sit up. "Do you want to know the sex?"

"Do you know it?" Minerva asked. She and Albus had decided they would wait until the birth, but she wasn't sure how she felt about Poppy knowing something important about their child that she herself didn't.

"No, but I could find out. It's a simple spell."

"No, thank you. We'd like to be surprised," said Minerva. Poppy grinned at her.

As Minerva pulled up her skirt and buttoned her blouse, Poppy said, "We should talk about how you want to manage your labour."

"I rather thought the baby would manage it for me."

Poppy gave her a sympathetic smile. "Is there anything you want to know about it? I mean, that you don't already know."

Uncharacteristically, Minerva had not gone to the library to pore over books about childbirth. She knew, intellectually, that she was probably just avoiding dealing with her fears—another unusual thing for Minerva—and that it probably had to do with her mother's death, but she didn't care to examine it very closely. She was too happy.

"I don't know," Minerva said. "How long will it take—the labour, I mean?"

Her memories of the day and two nights her parents had been sequestered in the bedroom with the midwife—hours in which Minerva had been prevented from seeing her mother—were blurry and surreal. She remembered listening to the moans through the door and her father coming out later, looking worried and exhausted, then catching sight of his little girl peeking out from behind her bedroom door.

"Try not to worry, lass," he had said. "It just takes time to bring a baby into the world. Time, and a lot of hard work."

Of course, that was before the moans had graduated to screams.

"It's hard to say how long," said Poppy, interrupting Minerva's thoughts. "First labours average between twelve and eighteen hours, more or less, but it can vary a great deal."

"And exactly how much is this twelve-to-eighteen-hours, more or less, going to hurt?"

"It … well, I don't …"

Minerva glared at her. "Poppy."

"I've never done it myself, so I don't have any first-hand experience, but from what I've seen, it will hurt anywhere from a lot to … um, a lot."

"That's what I figured," said Minerva glumly.

"But there are potions I can give you to help with the pain. There are situations in which they shouldn't be used, but they're generally safe."

"That's good to hear." Minerva was beginning to wonder just what she had got into.

"I've also seen women get good pain relief with firm back massage," Poppy said. "So you might want to bring Albus along."

"I'll do that." Minerva rubbed her back, which was already suffering the effects of a baby pressing on her lower spine and the extra weight she was carrying in front.

"In that case, you should warn him you're likely to call him all sorts of rude names once things really get going," Poppy said.

"As long as my wand isn't within my reach, Albus should come out of this relatively unscathed."

"You jest, but I saw an incident when I was at St Mungo's—a witch in labour managed to hex her husband in a very personal spot. I won't tell you what she turned it into, but let's just say he had trouble getting trousers to fit for a long time afterwards," said Poppy. "That's why they started confiscating wands on admission."

The two women laughed over the unfortunate husband's predicament for a moment, then Minerva's face clouded over.

"And what if something goes wrong?"

"Then we get you right to St Mungo's. They have more resources than I do here, and I've seen them work miracles in some of the worst situations." Poppy lowered her voice a measure. "I'm not going to lie to you, Minerva. Things do happen in childbirth … things like what happened to your mother. There are no guarantees. But the really bad things are rare, thank Merlin, and we're getting better at treating them."

Minerva was silent for a moment, then asked quietly, "Do you think she would have lived? My mother. If she had been at St Mungo's?"

"It's hard to say without having been there. Possibly. They might have recognised what was happening earlier and been able to intervene. But I'm not sure what the state of the art was back then. The Blood-Replenishing Potions were just being developed, and there was nothing effective for the massive infections some women used to develop after a difficult birth. As it was, it was too far to take her in time, from what you've told me."

After a few moments, Poppy added, "If you'd rather deliver at St Mungo's, I won't be at all hurt."

"No. I want to be here, with you. I know you can get me to St Mungo's quickly if anything goes wrong. We have a direct Floo connection. Besides, it isn't 1929."

Poppy patted Minerva's hand. "No. But if anything happened to you or the baby, Albus would never forgive me."

"Nor me," said Minerva. She stood, fastening her skirt. "Thank you, Poppy."

"It's my pleasure. Try not to worry."

"I'll try."