Chapter Ten
It was an open secret amoung the gossipmongers that the rooms she now occupied with Malfoy were reserved for expectant parents. Hermione had never before listened to such twattle, preferring to ignore the rumors and hearsay whispered behind cupped-hands and in dark alcoves. She should have realized that not all truths were printed on parchment.
Word had quickly spread after they moved out of the eighth-year tower; the gossip mill at Hogwarts moved with lightning-fast speed. By dinner of the same morning they had met with Professor McGonagall, half of the student body seemed to be gawking at her as she walked to her classes. The other half were polite, or rather discreet, enough to shoot her occasion looks whilst muttering to their companions under their breath.
The official line, spread by the invaluable Miss Ginny Weasley, was Hermione and Draco had a brief tryst, and it led to her ill-begotten pregnancy. Only a handful of people knew the whole truth, mainly her three closest companions, two of which were no longer at school. Those closest to her knew better and if the others were curious, they kept it themselves.
Dinner that first evening had been awkward, to say the least. Before the food was magicked to the eighth-year table, she made the brief announcement to all seated that she was expecting. Not that they had any doubts; she stopped casting disillusionment charms on her sizable belly.
They didn't have to know the whole truth; it was Hermione's to keep. She informed them on her own terms, looking each of her fellow students in the eye, refusing to be shamed. Malfoy was mercifully absent.
Hermione had not been prepared for Pavarti's tight hug after her confession.
"Oh, I knew you'd been acting odd. Well, odder, since we returned. How lovely, a baby!" She had practically squealed into Hermione's ear.
Neville stood and hugged her as well, his expression an odd mixture between concerned and confused. "Well, that's just, um, yes, congratulations. If you need anything, of course…" His wan voice petered out, and he sat back down, red-faced and overly concerned with his goblet of pumpkin juice.
There was some mutterings on "Congratulations," amoung the group of eighth years, mixed with looks of discomfort, and in one case anger.
Lips pursed in a hard line, Dean Thomas' stood without a word and left the table. The others awkwardly avoided looking his way, and Hermione felt a faint stab of hurt at his departure.
After he left, the food appeared, and they delved in, and the burden on Hermione's mind seemed a little bit lighter.
"Chicken?" Ernie Macmillan asked, handing her the plate of the heavenly-scented roast dish, and she gladly took it. "You'll need the extra protein. I've read that the developing fetus needs as much as it can get. You should drink more milk as well as the added calcium will be greatly beneficial…"
The Slytherin's didn't say anything to her, no surprise there, though one dark haired Slytherin girl in sixth year who was at their table next to Astoria Greengrass shot her several sharp glares.
If she only knew the truth, Hermione thought ruefully as she endured Ernie's unwarranted advice, content that he was chatting with her at all.
She was glad she could, at least for now, focus on her schoolwork. The fog was lifting ever so slightly and her future wasn't so terrifying. Only now it included a plus one.
"What's this one called again?" Ginny asked, taking a nibble of the biscuit swirled with chocolate, her school books laid open and forgotten on the table.
"A jaffa cake," answered Hermione, as she opened a packet of prawn cocktail crisps for herself. Her pleading letter home was answered in the form of a box full of her favorite muggle sweets and treats. Her pregnancy cravings were longing for the familiar taste of hobnobs, jaffa cakes, and hula hoops. She's even requested a jar of peanut butter much to the bemusement of her father.
She dipped a crisp into the smooth peanut butter, relishing the fishy savoriness with the nutty sweetness. Being pregnant was weird.
"There's an awful lot of green and silver in here. Seems like the decorator was a tad biased," Ginny joked, taking a break from pillaging the snack stash and walking around her newly designed quarters.
Hermione rolled her eyes and chuckled, "Yeah, I'd noticed. Would you believe there used to be more?"
After the last elf disapparated, Hermione set about breaking up the profusion of green and silver Mrs. Malfoy had left in her wake. The once serpentine-patterned silver rug was now a cheerful motif of blues, purples, and greens. The tall, stiff-backed chairs that had been her favorite cushy reading seats were immediately changed back. Other items throughout the shared space were converted back to their former selves as well. Not that she had a problem with the colors themselves, in fact she had kept the dark green brocade curtains, but she didn't want to live in the Slytherin common room.
Thankfully, the house elves and their mistress of chaos had left her own quarters alone. The same could not be said for the baby's room.
Ginny poked her head into its room, "Oh, fancy!" She exclaimed as they entered.
"More like pompous," Hermione retorted, grudgingly. An ornate mahogany teester hung above the cradle, creating a small canopy with bolts of silver satin that fell to the richly carpeted floor. The cradle itself was wrought iron and baroque in its design. The head and end were identical scenes of an iron tree sprouting upward, it's twisting branches and leaves wrapping themselves around the four circular pillars and along the two longer sides. A similarly designed changing table, wardrobe, and rocking chair cushioned in green velvet completed the set.
"The set is a family heirloom, and was Draco's when he was a baby," or so the house elf who had moved it there had told her when he apparated in the next morning to add the finishing touches.
"Oh, it's Draco now, is it?" Ginny asked coyly, moving back to their impromptu study area on the couch.
"I can't go calling the father of my child by his surname its whole life, can I? That would be ridiculous," Hermione reasoned, falling back onto the couch with a grunt.
"Draco Bloody Malfoy," Ginny said, shaking her head. "I still have a hard time wrapping my head around it all."
"How do you think I feel?"
Ginny shifted in her seat, embarrassed. "I'm sorry Hermione. What happened to you...and with him of all people. If you ever want to, you know, talk about what happened. You know I'm here for you, right?"
"I know, thank you. I just honestly wanted to get through one school year without something mad happening, and, well, too late for that," she said, half-jokingly, and gestured to herself. "It's bizarre thinking there will be an actual, real life baby in that hideous crib soon."
Ginny only nodded, her hand coming to rest on hers.
Hermione, not wishing to dwell on her own thoughts for much longer, smiled slightly, and changed the subject. "How are you managing your Head Girl duties?"
Groaning, Ginny, slumping back onto the couch and throwing her arm across her face dramatically. "You would not believe the absolute insanity that happens at this school. I was so blissfully unaware until now. Did I tell you about the added patrol hours the Prefects have to do? They're acting like Voldemort is still alive and hiding in the girl's loo! Being head girl seems to be little more than breaking up fights and scheduling patrols and listening to unending complaints. Just this morning, I had to hex two Hufflepuffs apart…"
Hermione listened while Ginny ranted about the nuances of her new role as head girl. The role she would have had. Being head girl was something she wanted before, but now it seemed such a trite and petty thing to have been jealous over. She was going to a mum soon. The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying, and Hermione laid a hand upon her belly to assure herself it was all still real.
"-and you know how they are. Oh, before I forget, Mum wanted me to ask you where you'll hold the birth rite ceremony," Ginny asked nonchalantly, moving her wand to hold her potions book in the air. "She says the Burrow might do, if you wanted."
Hermione looked up from her arithmancy book. "Birth rite?"
"Yeah, after the baby is born." At Hermione's quizzical expression, Ginny asked, "Well, what do they do in the muggle world to celebrate births?"
"Well, if the family is religious, they have a christening. It's basically a Christian blessing after the baby is born. In America, they have baby showers. Like a pre-birth party where people, mostly women, bring gifts to the expectant parents."
"It's kinda like that, except it's after the baby's here."
"Really Ginny, I don't think we need to make a big deal out of-" Hermione started, flustered.
"Hermione, this isn't some silly get together - it is a tradition going back centuries. The celebration of life is a very important one in wizard culture. I haven't heard of a witch or wizard not having a birth rite, even a small one. It's bad luck. On the first new moon after the baby is born, the parents, friends, and family gather to officially give the child a name, bestow gifts and blessings. The godparents will then take an Unbreakable Vow to protect and care for the child should any harm come to the parents."
Ginny continued to explain, her potions textbook all but forgotten. "In the old days, the Birth Rite was also when the Officiant and midwife would check the child for magic before naming it. Sometimes parents would end the rite, and the baby might not be seen again. The old tradition was to never mention this child again as it might bring great shame to the parents who had either sent it to muggle schools or simply gave away their Squid child."
"That's ghastly!" Hermione exclaimed. So what if her child was a Squid? She would love it just the same. She thought of all those poor children, discarded by their parents for something they had no control over, of old Filch who roamed the halls of Hogwarts, miserable and lonely.
"It is! But we don't do that anymore, thank Merlin."
"What do they all do afterward? Are only women invited?"
"Anyone's invited to come. It's pretty much a big party afterward. When our neighbors, the Wrens, had a daughter a few years back, they had a massive bonfire with half of England there. The party ended around four in the morning and only because someone called the aurors when Fred and George challenged Juan Comadreja to a duel after Juan insulted one of their inventions, and that almost turned into a brawl between our families."
Hermione laughed at Ginny's no doubt accurate account. There were times, such as these, where Hermione forgot she was new to this world of magic. After all the years of learning about the rudimentaries of magic in a far-off school, and reading about the past in an abstract, distanced way, she didn't know their way of life as others such as Ginny did. She was born with magic all around her, where all the folklore and norms of this world were as innate to her as breathing.
Jotting down a mental note, Hermione vowed to go to the library and discover all the wizarding traditions she should know.
Next Chapter: The results of the paternity potion are in. Draco, you are _ the father!