Chapter 37

Her mind was like a perfectly cool lake's surface. The focus of Hermione's mind was not unfocused, but also not focused. It was that perfect place between zoning out and intense thought. A place of perfect disconnect from the distractions Professor Snape had enchanted to go on around her. The made no impact, they simply were. All the while, she observed coolly the different probes from her friend and mentor as he tied to elicit some kind of reaction that could lead to deeper discovery in her mind.

They were there for minutes, hours, until Severus finally withdrew and cancelled the music and distractions that were going on around them.

"Hmmm," Severus pondered her sat there. "Sufficient. I'll report to the Headmaster."

Hermione's heart soared, and she sank into the chair beneath her in relief. Her shields descended, she could feel them now, but she didn't care. Unlike Severus, it wasn't an innate ability in her. She felt more comfortable without them. Still, disbelieving, she said mildly, "Really?"

He quirked a brow. "Have you not sufficiently blocked the Dark Lord since our last lesson? Did you not successfully block me the last few times? You are, as far as I'm concerned, a proficient Occlumens. You may converse with whomever you wish. However, don't discount the fact that there are many ways to overhear conversations, and that others have not been trained as you have. You must not speak of our plan to anyone, regardless of your proficiency."

"I know," she smiled sadly. "I'm just glad to even say hello to the guys again. Now I just have to get through school."

Hermione had been dreading her exams and what the end of them meant, worried for Severus and for her own babies. The exams were only two weeks away now, and every day was another round of stress.

"You have an appointment after this, do you not?" Severus asked politely, pouring her a cup of tea.

Hermione gave a small, hesitant smile. "Yes. It's the last one before, well, the end, I guess. Last month I wasn't sure … I didn't want to know the genders. I just … it will make it so much more real. I want to know … know before this all happens."

"And are you ready for the information now?" he prodded. "There is no shame in keeping the mystery."

She sighed. "With what I'm going to do … I'd like to discuss names with him before it happens."

Severus gave her a quiet look. "The names and the children, both, are to become reminders of your time with him, aren't they?"

"I…I…" Tears prickled at her eyes. "Is that wrong of me?"

"Everything about this situation puts me ill-at-ease," Severus told her. "However, as I've said before, the way you choose to cope is not something anyone can judge. I've done much worse to preserve a memory."

To others, it would have been an acerbic condescension, but Hermione knew Severus was being comforting. It was working, too. If he'd simply said 'no' she wouldn't have believed him, and he knew that. If he'd said it was an innocent thing to do, she would have screamed. Instead, he understood that no matter whether it was something she should do, it was something she had to. Even a killer like Voldemort should have some say in the name of his children, shouldn't he?

Hermione gave Severus a sad smile. "Thank you. For understanding."

There was silence as they both contemplated over their tea. Hermione, thinking how difficult it would be to have such a conversation without tears, and Severus, pondering the psychological distress it might cause this witch to raise children not only whose father died, but who that father had had a part in naming. Helping her with her loss would be a challenge when this came to an end. He would be there, though, to help the witch he had grown so fond of.

"Would you like me to join you?" Severus finally drew his courage together to ask her. At her shocked face, he looked away. "I merely thought you might enjoy having someone to blubber over when you inevitably succumb to your hormones. If it is unnecessary-"

"Yes!" Hermione blurted. He regarded her lowly as she blushed brilliantly. "Yes, sorry. If you can, I'd love you to be there. Draco's coming, obviously, but … I'd feel better if you were there."

He chuckled. "Then it would be my honour."

Hermione beamed up at him, completely pleased with his response. To Severus, it made his discomfort well worth it.

SSHGSSHGSSHG

"Uncle?" Draco quirked his brow ass they entered the Hospital Wing. "I didn't think you'd be here."

"I offered to accompany Miss Granger," he replied stiffly.

The seemed to have a silent conversation with their faces, a sign of their familiarity but one that made Hermione feel uncomfortable and left out. To her exceeding relief, Madame Pomphrey bustled in and cut the tension.

"On the bed, Miss Granger!" she moved her by the point of her elbow. "That's right, just like last month. Raise your shirt from your stomach too."

It was unnerving the way Severus stared. Draco always had averted his eyes during the appointments, either too embarrassed to stare at a pregnant lady or trying to preserve her modesty. Severus Snape didn't flinch in his gaze, but watched intensely. Even when she raised her shirt to bare the very round belly, he didn't avert his gaze but looked at her large belly with an unfathomable expression.

"Severus, you're making her heart rate spike," Madame Pomphrey chastised the Potions Master, making Draco cough out a chuckle. "Oh, none of the Mister Malfoy. I simply can't check her blood pressure if you're going to make it jump up like that."

He quirked a brow at her, but politely averted his gaze from her belly. Sure enough, her heart rate resumed a semi-stable rhythm and she was soon thoroughly checked over and declared as healthy as the month before.

"Your body is showing too much strain for my liking," Madame Pomphrey said matter-of-factly. "You need to keep up proper nutrition and sleep, especially these last few months if you don't want them coming too early. And try to avoid stress. Now, the children –"

Hermione gave a sad smile. "Can I know their genders now?"

Madame Pomphrey beamed. "I was wondering when you would ask, Miss Granger."

With a complicated wand motion and a muttered spell, the see-through stomach was once again on display with her much larger babies in full view. They looked so small and fragile, Hermione just wanted to feed them like Mrs. Weasley to get some meat on their bones. Madame Pomphrey took her folder in hand and made some notes, took some measurements, and then patted her stomach fondly.

"Congratulations, Miss Granger," Madame Pomphrey smiled. "You are carrying two identical, healthy, baby girls."

Such a simply phrase, but Hermione felt every single tear she'd ever withheld come over her eyelids and spill down her face. Baby girls. She was going to have baby girls.

Severus took her hand in comfort while Draco offered her a handkerchief, not knowing what else to do while she was still uncovered for Madame Pomphrey. Hermione hiccupped a laugh at his hesitant behaviour. After all the times he'd hugged her, she'd think a little bit of skin wouldn't deter him. Still she accepted the handkerchief and tried to stop the tears.

"I'll just go and update the files. They're still a little small, but if you make sure you're eating whenever you're hungry that's just fine. Congratulations."

Madame Pomphrey patted her hand before bustling back to her office, leaving her with her pre-designated godfather and Severus.

Severus attempted to distract her form her tears, a wiser strategy than his usual 'stop your sniffling' approach. "What female names have you considered?"

"How do you…?" Hermione glared good-naturedly, although she thought the effect would be less with her eyes red-rimmed and moist. "You shouldn't assume I make lists for everything, you know."

"It was an educated guess," Snape smirked.

"I-I don't really know," Hermione replied, her voice soft as she tried to keep it from cracking with her tight throat. "I have a list of nearly ten names for each gender, and five pairings for fraternal twins. None of them sound better than the others."

Snape chuckled. "You never did have the ability to pare down your assignments, did you? Promise me they won't end up like Dumbledore with five names apiece. No child deserves that."

Hermione and Draco both chuckled.

"If you do, I'll just keep calling them blueberries," Draco offered, earning a light smack from Hermione. "Hey, it was accurate!"

"Hmmm," Severus placed a hand on Hermione's belly. It felt warm and comforting, making her sigh in contentment. Severus looked at her with a strange expression, and she found her breath catching. "Are you thinking muggle or wizard for the names?"

She blushed. "Both? Something that works here and there would be very nice."

"I'm sure you'll choose wisely," Severus interjected. Then his face went pensive, and Hermione saw his forehead crease in despondent thought. "You're fortunate, Miss Granger. Sons are often harder to separate from their legacies in the wizarding world; your daughters may be accepted, one day."

That line brought the group back to solemn reality. As happy as they were to disconnect the happy news from him, they all knew that the dark shadow of Voldemort would overshadow their lives.

Hermione nodded though, accepting his comfort. "Most Purebloods want sons, though, right?"

They both caught on to the meaning of her words and flinched. Draco spoke first, his voice tense, "You think …"

"No," Severus interjected firmly. "The Dark Lord will not care. While those in his circle discriminate due to legalities, he has never had a problem with women if they have power. As his daughters, their power would never be in question."

"He wants them," she told them with a hesitant voice. The men stared. "He … he's really protective of them. He talks to them like a father, already. It's so … real. I promise I didn't ask because I thought he'd hurt them …"

Severus' eyes darkened and he shot a look to Draco. "Draco, step out. I need to discuss something with Miss Granger."

There was a brief moment where Draco looked to Hermione for her nod of acceptance, then he about-faced towards the door. When he'd stepped outside, Severus threw up privacy wards and turned to Hermione.

"Hermione," he offered an appraising eye, but a dejected slump, "are you second-guessing our current course?"

"No! Of course not!" Hermione grabbed the hand on her belly. Severus practically jumped, having forgotten it was there. "I'm not going to go back on my word, Severus. I wouldn't do that!"

"Then what?" He pulled back his hand and folded it with the other across his lap. "You are crying."

Hermione shook her head. "I-I'm HORMONAL! I'm allowed to cry. It-It's the waiting. Him being alive but knowing he's going to be killed … I'm going to be fussing over everything until this is over."

Severus nodded. "From my perspective, you are treating him as one treats a terminally-ill loved one. Your emotional response is a kind of early mourning, to help cope when the trauma occurs. My question is whether any of this response is from guilt that may, one day, prove the flaw in our machinations."

Hermione paused. Of course she felt guilty, but his words made her wonder why. From the beginning, her and the resident Dark Lord had an understanding of where they stood. She was allied with Harry, the one he would do anything to kill just to ensure his own immortality. He … he wanted to rule the world. To start a monarchy, a legacy. A world where magic was the most important quality. He simply couldn't see how it wasn't.

Yet … they'd grown close. They could hurt each other physically, yet she hadn't moved to stab him or kill him in his sleep. He knew she'd raise his children on her side, and yet he promised not to take them from her. They'd developed a sort of conditional trust, like honour among thieves only with warriors. Trust was what made it hard, she realized. She trusted him to care for her, and he … who knew if he trusted her the same way.

"If I did feel guilty, but still went through with it, would the guilt ever go away?" Hermione asked tentatively.

Snape's eyes were contemplative, distant. Like he was remembering. "There will come a time when you accept it. You may regret it, you may even occasionally relive it, but the guilt does eventually fade."

That was a very good answer, clearly from experience. Hermione simply nodded.

That night she approached Voldemort more tentatively than normal. He quirked a brow, but let her get the words out without prompting. She sat to the side of his chair and took his hand into hers.

"We're having girls."

Girls. At those words he had immediately taken her into his arms and proceeded to pleasure her and deny her only to shatter the earth around her. In just two weeks, she wouldn't feel his love-making again, and she savoured his intense, visceral reaction to the joy she brought him.

Sated, naked, and with his arms wrapped around her stomach, Hermione sighed. "I'm glad you're happy."

"Why would I not be?" He kissed her neck, sending shivers down her spine and tingling through her entire nervous system. "You believe I wanted sons? I am surrounded by bratty boys and subordinate males every day. My daughters … my girls … they will be better than them all. I am undeniably pleased to be having twin girls, my very own pair of little princesses."

There was so much emotion there that Hermione wondered if something had happened to make that phrase so emotional. Did he always want a little girl one day? Hermione knew better than to ask, to pry, but oh how she wanted to understand the deep feeling behind that phrase.

"What should we name them?" Hermione asked as casually as she could, but inside she was begging. "Do you have any favourites?"

"I don't want either of them to regret the names we pick. They must not have a connotation to either of our sides, to anyone we have ever known." He paused. "This is as important to you as it is to me, am I correct?"

She nodded mutely.

"I'm glad," he murmured in Hermione's ear. "Tell me what you want."

They discussed names well into the night, Nagini came and wrapped gently around them as they spoke, and eventually they had a small list. Satisfied with their work, Hermione kissed him with all the fervor of her impending goodbye and then pulled him close so they could sleep. This was a memory of him she would keep.