When Hermione had learned of the reproductive system that governed magical biology, she was, predictably, incensed – as much as by the ineffectiveness of protest or knitting to change things as by the situation itself. When she – and, much to his dismay, Ron – had presented as Omega a few months after the final battle, Hermione couldn't bring herself to be too heartbroken over the dissolution of their brief romance in the face of her body betraying the goals and values of her mind.
Many other Muggleborns – Alpha and Omega alike – were similarly unmoored, and though she couldn't revolutionize biology, Hermione realized she could improve the systems that dealt with it. She soon secured a grant from St. Mungo's and the Department of Magical Education to ensure proper education on the topic at Hogwarts, train and provide counselors and therapists to ease the transition, and ensure that heat and rut suppressants and contraceptives (and their recipes) were accessible to all.
After several months of taking advantage of one of the therapists she hired, Hermione came to some kind of terms with her presentation. She rode through the necessary first heat with a completely unfazed Ginny, which in itself required more therapy, and armed herself with heat suppressants and the determination to never hook up, never mind bond, with an Alpha.
This determination attempted valiantly, but ultimately failed, to withstand a growing, mutual attraction to her main suppressant brewer slash former Hogwarts professor slash reformed Death Eater.
And now, her battle against roles assigned to her secondary gender was facing another blow, because it seemed that she wanted a child.
Not a whole gaggle of children, like Harry and Ginny and Luna had and were continuing to produce – just the one! Something she had come to reluctantly realize in her therapy sessions - that she paid full price for, by the way, because the grant wasn't *that* generous - was that while Harry had a "saving people" thing, she probably had a "taking care of people thing" (Harry, bless him, being Exhibit A). Because it began before she presented as Omega, she could at least be somewhat assured that it wasn't her secondary gender making her feel this way - but she still had several concerns, worries, and well, outright fears.*
What if it was the gender roles associated with her primary gender that were influencing her? Especially since the Wizarding World had even fewer women in leadership positions than the Muggles. How could she be both clever, intelligent, political advocate for the overturning of gender-roles Hermione, and a mother? And what if she was bad at it?
And wasn't it selfish, anyway, to bring a child into the world that she knew had so much wrong with it? And how would it look for someone who has publicly advocated against societal roles based on secondary gender to do something so….Omega-like?
(Perhaps she was on worse terms with it than she liked to believe.)
Hermione had brought up this point with Fleur – also an Omega, who had taken up Hermione's cause with aplomb – who, looking like she doubted Hermione's supposed intelligence, simply said:
"Was your goal to help everyone suppress their genders, or was it to give them the most choices possible? Not doing what you want to do because of how it will look – that's the opposite of autonomy."
But it wasn't just about what she wanted (and this should have probably been her biggest concern): what if Severus didn't want children? Obviously he couldn't stand them when he had taught at Hogwarts, but he had mellowed considerably (for him), and was actually quite gentle with Harry, Ginny, and Luna's children.
Well, there was only one way to find out. And she hadn't fought with the Sorting Hat to be put in Gryffindor for nothing.
Severus listened attentively through her whole anxiety-woven spiel about said worries, concerns, and fears, and only the barest hint of exasperation showed on his face. When she was finished, he let out a soft snort, leaned forward, and took her head in his hands.
"You have defied simple categorization from the day I met you. Have you forgotten your old House so quickly? Let me assure you, as I have many times before – intelligence, curiosity, ambition – those are not traits any rational person would associate with Gryffindors, and yet, there you were."
"Only because I insisted!" Hermione protested. "And you would hardly have said that at the time."
Severus raised an eyebrow. "Are you attempting to argue with me that you are not courageous, stubborn, and prone to occasional bouts of foolishness? Because I am at least as stubborn, but with more experience and a willingness to fight dirty."
"How is trapping a reporter in her Animagus form and blackmailing her not dirty?" Hermione retorted, but then sighed. "Fine, point taken. People aren't definable as one thing – whether by antiquated and divisive school housing systems or their genders. I–" She closed her eyes to collect herself, to translate her feelings into words that made logical sense; Severus's hands didn't move an inch. "Ever since I found out I was a witch, I fought to prove to everyone, including myself, that I belonged, by being the smartest and the most capable. And…it worked! I became "the brightest witch of my age", who everyone was sure would go on to some incredible career, make new discoveries or inventions, become Minister of Magic! None of that – none of the idea of Hermione Granger that I and the people around me created, especially after I presented – involves children."
She opened her eyes, and was embarrassed to find them wet. Severus' eyes – steady, sturdy islands in the eye of a storm – didn't move as his thumbs wiped away her tears.
"I did not realize you cared so much for the opinions of others."
Hermione's throat made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. "Neither did I, until recently. I would have rather remained unaware."
"What would you do, then, in the absence of their opinions?"
"That's the other thing, too isn't it? How can I possibly know if this is what I want, or what my body wants?"
Severus' eyes were halfway through an eyeroll before he stopped them. "Hermione, you have been on heat suppressants for years. Unless you are doubting the craftsmanship of your supplier – in which case, that is a discussion I would prefer to have at the office – your Omega hormones aren't influencing this desire."
"Of course I'm not doubting you," Hermione protested. "And I don't want to be a slave to other peoples' opinions, either! And if we could just do this without being questioned or gossiped about, I would be much more at peace with it. It just seems easier to continue to be what people think you are."
"It is," Severus said softly, "until it isn't. And it seems like you've hit that point."
"I'm tired," Hermione admitted. "I'm tired of trying to figure out who I want to be, what to do to achieve it, and ending up feeling like I've let myself down. I want to do something just because I want it."
That got Severus to frown. "I assume I shouldn't conclude from that statement that our relationship is actually in service to some other goal?"
"That's not what I meant," Hermione said gently, and then remembered, "Oh, I suppose I should have asked this earlier, but, um,….you want a child, too, right?"
"I promise, Hermione, we wouldn't be having this conversation if I didn't."
Hermione felt something rise up in her chest, something that seemed to float up through her throat and manifest itself in a big, ridiculous, smile. "Oh! Good. But you're sure, right? You've thought about it before this?"
"Goodness, woman, do you want my three foot essay on the subject? Don't answer that." It was Severus's turn to close his eyes and take a breath. "Yes, you exquisite woman, I want a child – *your* child. I knew it when – and if you repeat this to him, I will be forced to ensure he shares a hospital room with Lockhart – I saw Potter's eldest run to him for the first time. I don't recall what was wrong, but the way she looked at him – with implicit and unwavering trust in him to care for her, and it being well founded…well." He paused again. "I would like to give a child that. And, if I must admit it," A swallow. "That kind of faith—fresh, unbroken–would be nice to have, and to live up to."
That was enough for Hermione. She threw her arms around him and cried. His arms lowered to encircle her, and as he buried his nose in her hair, she pretended that she did not feel wetness in the roots.
After they composed themselves, Hermione lifted her head to look at him. "Let's do it, Severus. Let's have a baby."
As if it had been an effort not to smile, Severus's burst out of him in a rare display. "You realize your heat is not due for three months."
"I believe I have an extremely reliable supplier of heat inducing potions for a partner, though."
In a tone only half-mocking, Severus asked, "But you're sure? You've thought about this before?"
Hermione playfully slapped his shoulder. "Some may have said I've thought *too much* about this."
"For once, I agree with some. Luckily for you, I do have the required potion on hand."
"Oh? And for how long has that been the case?"
Severus rolled his eyes. "I told you when I first realized my desire. You do the math."
"You didn't tell me what age! Jamie started walking at, what, 13 months? But if she was running, it was probably at least a few months later…and she's four now…"
Severus kissed her quickly on the mouth, before making more quick presses down her body.
"I assume that was to shut me up?"
Severus mumbled an assent between kisses.
"I just – ah – wanted to make sure it hasn't gone bad."
Severus stopped and looked up. "There's no expiration date, but there will be a few days before it takes effect."
"Can I assume, though, that there's no harm done if we were to have a few practice rounds beforehand?"
Somehow, in the same movement, Severus lifted her up to her feet with one arm, and pulled out his wand and summoned the potion.
"You certainly can. But first - drink."
And Hermione did.
