I don't even know where I'd cross-post this. :D
Title: Ill-Conceived
Author: corvidae9
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: ~8140
Summary: Hermione's first pregnancy was a nightmare, but eventually she decides she still wants another child. Despite the fact that her husband happens to be Severus Snape, Ron and Harry are there to help her figure out how to make that happen. Hilarity ensues for everyone except Severus... and a somewhat guilt-ridden Hermione. (HG/SS, RW/LL, but I'd say it's more a Trio Gen story) (looming H/D, too if you squint)(squint, I say!)
Warnings: Het Mpreg. Please don't run away, it won't bite. Hard. You can stick around for the fun and the steam before the squick kicks in, right? Right. Plus! It's a rare variant edition-- I mean, who writes het mpreg?! Sheesh.
Author Notes: Blame this in its entirety on marginaliana and Lumos. When all is said and done however, I'm pretty proud. This isn't back alley crack, after all, kids. It's 100% grade-A designer shit. Know also that having given birth (as a female, kthx, I'm not that special), I'm speaking from experience when I say that the business of squeezing an entirely new person from your favorite fun parts is just not easy or entertaining for anyone involved, even when you do have the proper equipment to begin with. These are probably also the talkiest notes ever. Just ignore me and go read already.
Hermione had spent six years despising him while admiring his skill; two outright admiring him, four working with him on and off as part of her job with the Department of Mysteries, and god help her, another two dating him, even though her two best friends thought the she might have finally succumbed to potions fumes. They had more than once bundled her off to be checked over for signs of coercive curses; they had sworn, looked pole-axed and eventually sworn some more, and yet it became clear that this man was what her heart truly wanted, and there came a point where even Ron and Harry couldn't argue anymore.
Deep in her heart, a twenty year age difference mattered not at all, nor did the swooping and the glaring; the trademark hooked nose and foul attitude- none of it. She saw his brilliant mind, his loyalty and courage; she saw (or rather heard) a voice that was steeped in caramel and rough silk, and she definitely felt strong yet precise hands that always knew exactly how to handle delicate substances.
The day she asked Severus Snape to marry her, he blanched and back-pedaled, nearly spilt his wine and called her a silly girl, a hopeless romantic and a sodding Gryffindor to boot. He pointed out that she deserved better, that he'd been an idiot to continue this dalliance as long as he had; that he was cranky, too old, had no idea what made her think that he'd make a good match for her.
She demanded that he shut up and kiss her or else face the wrath of said sodding Gryffindor. After plopping herself in his lap.
The waiter was very complimentary in his congratulations as he escorted them out.
###
The day Hermione Granger married Severus Snape, she was resplendent in an ivory cream gown that managed somehow to be frilly yet understated. Harry and Ron were her only attendants (and they were "definitely not sodding bridesmaids, thanks"). Snape had an overly cheerful Bill Weasley and a stoic Kingsley Shacklebolt at his side (who disappeared halfway through the reception and were seen again later wearing mismatching ties).
Though Ron and Harry had been warned to Be On Their Best Behavior, they couldn't help but murmur and occasionally glare at the groom, looking every bit the bat even in a Muggle tuxedo. The look on his face when Hermione's father led her in, however... well. Ron and Harry were almost convinced he was human.
Almost. But at least they were motivated to behave, and perhaps cut back on the glaring.
###
Some few years later, Hermione flew down the stairs one morning holding a pink and white plastic test packet, flinging herself at Snape's back, arms wound tightly around his chest. He patted her hands and asked in his favorite wry tone what he might have done to deserve such treatment. Then he saw what she was holding in front of him, and his mouth went dry, shock and horror warring with wild excitement, and joy and... could that possibly be pride?
He thought it might be. Sighing a breath, he tightened his hands over hers, murmuring, "So we're to be parents then?"
Hermione's only response was to let go, run to the garbage can and vomit noisily.
###
Ron and Harry cocked matching eyebrows over the low table set with various herbal teas, both crumpled into funny shapes forced by sitting on cushions rather than chairs. Hermione sat at the head of the table rubbing her distended belly like some sort of benevolent, yet business-like Buddha, already lecturing.
"...You see, the soothing environment is good for both me and the baby; there should be minimal disturbance and that in turn will cause--- oh, hell."
She rolled onto her knees and somehow up to her feet just as the retching sounds began deep in her throat, one hand over her mouth as she ran to the toilet. Alarmed, Ron and Harry didn't know whether to follow or wait. As things stood, it wasn't as if they hadn't seen it happen before - Hermione had started vomiting roughly the day she found out she was expecting and hadn't really stopped. The Eastern meditation was the latest in holistic cures for morning sickness (that, as she was fond of grousing, was more like morning-noon-night-and-sometimes-weehours sickness), and apparently as ineffective as all the others.
A plaintive "Help" sent both shooting to their feet and bolting to the toilet, where Hermione was on her knees trying to keep her hair back from her utterly colorless face. Ron immediately took over the hair-holding while Harry rubbed circles on her back, and Hermione dropped her head and cried. Again, not for the first time that they had seen, though the crying was a hundred times more alarming than the vomiting. This was Hermione after all.
Harry offered tissue and she wiped her face and nose, using them both for support to stand, though in the end it was the two of them fairly hauling her to her feet. As one, they ordered her to bed, but she insisted on brushing her teeth first. Eventually, however, she did end up lying on her left side, facing Harry who was on top of the covers reading to her from a book that seemed heavier than Hermione had been and threatened to put him to sleep, while Ron settled in behind her at enough of a distance to be able to continue the back rub that Harry had begun.
When her breathing had gone deep and even, Ron pushed himself up on an elbow to look at Harry over Hermione's shoulder, frowning.
"I don't like it. It doesn't seem right."
"Yeah, mate, I hear you," Harry murmured. "Doesn't seem like anyone we know's ever been this... bad. Gah, Patil was a rampaging cow in the office when she was pregnant, but she always seemed to have the energy to get away with it. This..."
He let his words trail off and both sunk back onto the pillows, lost in their own thoughts until a familiar and still much-despised voice rang though the room.
"Well. This is rather cozy," Snape practically growled, jaw set, eyes hard. He'd had to get used to the fact that her two best friends were men he still could not help but loathe, but the easy camraderie between them still made him uneasy-- if pressed, he admit perhaps to a little jealous as well.
Ron and Harry popped to their feet hissing, "Shh," glancing back at Hermione who appeared to still be asleep. Harry set the basin close to her hands and continued the inexorable walk toward Snape, now a step behind Ron. Ron set a hand on Snape's chest and shoved him out of the room as Harry shut the door behind them with a click and spoke.
"You. Did you see her? She looks terrible. She's still vomiting everywhere. Did you know that she's had trouble gaining the weight she should? That she nearly couldn't get off of the floor this afternoon after heaving her insides out?"
Whether he did or not was irrelevant, as it was Ron's turn to speak, the hand on Snape's chest now a jabbing finger. "And you let her stay home alone! In this condition! When it was your fault to begin with!"
Snape shoved Ron's hand away and crossed his arms. "I let her? Weasley, if you know her so well, since when do I let her do anything? She practically shoved me out of the house to have alone time with the two of you, though god knows why. And I'll thank you not to assume what I do and do not know about my own wife."
Harry had never really recovered from the shock of Hermione's choice of love interests, it was true, but all he ever heard and saw was that Snape was everything Hermione could want; Hermione was happy and that was what mattered... but lately... well. Seeing Hermione weak in any way was disturbing beyond recounting, and Harry in his secret heart couldn't help but blame her current condition on Snape just like Ron had.
"The fact remains," said Harry, "it's your job to make sure that she isn't left alone, ever, not like this. And I don't care how much she swears it isn't necessary and I don't care how much both she swears that she's really fine. She's clearly not."
Snape leaned in, eyes narrow. "And do you volunteer for the job, Potter? Do you plan to quit your job as the darling of the Auror Corps so you can sit with her?"
Both Ron and Harry said, "If I have to," and Snape blinked once before shaking his head.
"Of course. Thoughtless children that you are." He pinched the bridge of his nose in a rare moment of visible exasperation and murmured, every word sounding as though it was a painful exercise in not loosing an Unforgivable Curse. "I am in fact aware of what's been going on with Hermione, though she is a stubborn bloody Gryffindor like the rest of you, and refuses to let me take measures. I will, however, find someone to stay with her, regardless of how loud or how often she protests if it keeps you from moving in to my home. Either of you. Will this suffice, or should I expect a visit from the Domestic Abuse unit of the DMLE?"
Harry and Ron exchanged a look that was equal parts surprise and further alarm, and finally Ron nodded. "Yeah. That'll do. You'll-- err. Call us if anything... y'know, happens?"
"Damnably," Snape sighed as he recrossed his arms, "you two are at the top of her list of people to be notified in any event."
Harry nodded too. "Alright. We'll just... go."
"Do," grumbled Snape, not bothering to watch as they let themselves out and Apparated back to their shared flat. Disquieted and worried, neither remembered any other two month period ever stretching out ahead of them so seemingly endless. Bottles of beer in hand, they sat on opposite ends of the sofa, each brooding on their own and taking turns fetching new bottles until the refrigerator was empty and clock had turned over a new day.
###
"Oh, God. Fucking Hell, I'll KILL him. I SWEAR to GOD," grunted Hermione, currently standing hunched in a hospital gown tied so tight, not much more than a sliver of skin was showing. Her hand clenched around a bedrail disguised as something pretty and carved wood rather than utilitarian metal-- apparently standard at the relatively new birthing center Hermione had chosen. Harry and Ron jumped, Ron holding out a water bottle that Hermione promptly smacked directly out of his hand. "Where? Where the fuck is he? What could fucking be so important that he's late? You two Flooed him, right? You did?"
Harry swallowed; for the last hour, they'd been witness to the most horrifying transformation they'd ever thought possible. Their bossy best friend had turned into a raging maniac, prone to swear words that even they used with hesitance with every contraction. True to his word, Snape had borrowed a Hogwarts House Elf to stay with her, and when the gnarled little creature had popped into their flat without warning wringing an embroidered dishtowel, Ron and Harry were changed and at St. Mungo's in a matter of minutes.
Snape, however, had been detained at the school, though without saying by what, and had yet to show. Despite their mutual inclination to heap abuse upon her missing husband, they found themselves saying things like, "It's alright," and, "he'll be here soon," and were finally proven correct as the man swept into the room trailing protesting medi-witches.
"Hermione? Thank God. Are you well?"
Hermione slapped him once, hard across the face, shouting, "DO I FUCKING LOOK WELL, YOU SON OF A BITCH?" and everyone else in the room recoiled sympathetically.
Immediately, she burst into tears and fell against him. "Oh god. Severus, I'm so sorry."
"I'm fine. I've had far worse. It's you I'm worried about," Snape said soothingly as his arms wrapped around her, his expression entirely transformed as well. Ron and Harry stood transfixed, though vaguely convinced that shouldn't be watching, partially shocked that the giant bat of a Potions professor actually possessed modes other than 'intimidating' or 'unimpressed'.
Hermione sniffed. "It's terrible. None of the breathing helps, I can't focus, I can't-- oh Ow God!" Doubled over, holding on to Snape's robes for balance, she grunted again, her eyes riveted on the ground, "fucking hell. I'm never doing this again. NEVER. Never ever, this child will be an only god damn child unless you fucking want to ca--" Mid word, Hermione stopped with a gasp. "Oh god. The healer- get Lu... oh fuck."
Her knees seemed to crumple as her eyes rolled up and though Ron and Harry both ran to her side, Snape had already caught her in her descent. A trickle of blood ran down the inside of her leg and was pooling near where her heel had been, and as Ron helped Snape set her on the low bed, Harry ran out fairly shouting for a healer.
###
Harry, Ron and even Snape were herded to the waiting area as the healers worked on Hermione; something about a detached placenta; something about caesarians-- All Harry had heard for certain was 'emergency' and 'get them out of the room' and apparently, all they had left to do was sit and swear. And pray to any sort of deity or universe or karma they could muster the tiniest bit of faith in. And possibly drink terrible tea.
Snape paced the length of the room, unspeaking. A nearly unrecognizable feeling of sympathy welled in the pit of Harry's stomach and when he caught Ron's eye, he realized they were sharing the thought.
A commotion down the hall became louder and Ron and Harry were on their feet, hands clenched and barely relaxing as they realized that it was Molly and Arthur Weasley with Hermione's parents, John and Elizabeth, in tow. Behind them came Fred, Angelina, George, Bill, Charlie and Ginny. They swarmed the area hugging anyone that looked like they needed it, though only Molly was brave enough to try hugging Snape. Arthur ended up saving him by pulling him aside to talk quietly, though from the look on either's face, it was not exactly going well.
The chatter was too much, though; too forced, and Harry faded into the background, just now noticing the final visitor standing unsure near the medi-witches' station, incongruously clutching a yellow stuffed bear. Needing an outlet for his frustrations, Harry approached the familiar blond, eyes narrow and ready for a fight.
"Malfoy. What the hell are you doing here?"
Draco looked up clearly unimpressed, and clearly lifting his expressions all too well from Snape. "Same as you, I expect. I hear I have a nephew on the way."
"Nephew?!"
"Possibly a niece. But not technically, no," Draco drawled with only a hint of amusement, "And thank god or that might mean I was related by blood. In practice, however, yes. You didn't think Severus would suddenly stop having anything to do with his godson after the baby arrived, did you?"
Harry shook his head more to clear it than anything; the idea that any child of Hermione's would be stuck with Malfoy as 'Uncle Draco' playing havoc with his mind. "Oh that's just--"
"--the height of irony?" Draco said, unwittingly clutching the bear under one arm now.
"Yeah. That's one word for it," muttered Harry, disgruntled. "...just. Sod it. I have better things to worry about."
Draco cocked his head. "I heard. Is she-- are they expected to live?"
"Yes of course!" Harry snapped. "Of course they are."
With a look that Harry was almost convinced was sympathy though the words were stiff and proper, Draco murmured, "I'm gratified to hear it."
Harry honestly had no idea, but he absolutely couldn't think otherwise.
The doors to the corridor that led to the birthing rooms opened and this time it was a Healer that emerged, and Hermione's usual Obstetric Healer, at that. Her robes were covered in an odd print of bunnies and radishes, her familiar dishwater hair in a knot on top of her head and spiked through with her wand. Grinning dreamily as she dried her hands on a towel, Luna said, "Hello, family. Our Hermione has given birth to a lovely young lady I'm informed is to be named Persephone Violet Granger Snape, and though this gorgeous creature had to be unceremoniously pulled from a rather large incision low on Hermione's abdomen, she's doing just fine."
A cheer ran through the waiting room and unthinkingly Harry thumped Draco on the arm. "Hear that?!"
Draco wrinkled his nose and dusted his arm off as Harry edged away and closer to Luna who was now holding her hands out for attention.
"Yes! It's very exciting. However, Hermione is still not doing well, and though I am sure she'll be fine, we're still working. As such, I'll need to run off again just now. Professor, if you'd come with me, you can take a certain squalling young lady off of my mediwitches' hands for a bit if you're so inclined."
"Wait!" Both Ron and Harry called as they edged forward.
"How 'not well'?" asked Ron.
Luna pursed her lips. "Not well enough that I need to get back and make sure that everything will be well again." Brightening, she patted Ron's cheek. "If she were conscious, there's no doubt she'd want to see you both and tell you the whole story, but in the meantime, only the Professor gets it." She stretched up on her tip toes and kissed the opposite cheek, whispering, "I'll take care of her, I promise."
With that, she stepped back and held open the door and Snape barrelled past her. Luna smiled, clearly delighted, and waved to the crowd. "Back soon!"
Ron and Harry stared at the door as talk flared up around them again. Ron thumped Harry on the back, running the other hand over his cheek. "Well, hell. Guess we have to wait a little longer."
Harry's gaze fell on the medi-witches' station to find that the yellow bear was sitting on the counter unattended. He walked over, but there was no sign of the bearer, other than the tag on the ribbon that read "Welcome Persephone, with love from Uncle Draco".
"What?!" Ron sputtered, reading over Harry's shoulder. "Nuh-uh. We're Uncles. Malfoy doesn't get to be Uncle Draco."
Grimacing Harry poked at the bear's belly, its fur impossibly soft and begging to be pet. "Believe it. You can blame Hermione for marrying into Slytherin."
"That's shite," Ron complained. "I swear! What was she thinking?!"
"Not. A Bloody. Clue," said Harry, picking the bear up and tucking it under his arm to settle in for the wait.
###
Eventually Ron and Harry were the first (after Snape) to be allowed in to see Hermione, who looked frighteningly pale and small, though glowing, and it didn't matter how hackneyed the description. She did- she seemed to be literally glowing as she held the impossibly small baby, who they were assured at eight pounds ten ounces was actually sort of a monster and not small at all.
They took turns holding Persephone, each looking utterly terrified followed by highly impressed, neither finding it odd anymore that Snape was sitting beside Hermione in her bed. He was letting her use him as a convenient pillow, and it didn't even seem odd that once or twice they'd heard him laugh, and possibly form something that resembled a smile.
Around such an amazing creature (and her equally amazing mother), how could anyone not?
###
Three months later, Hermione sat cross-legged facing a bouncy seat, cooing about the latest developments in Arithmancy to a happily gurgling Persephone as Harry arrived via Floo and for once alone.
"Oh look, darling! It's Uncle Harry!" Hermione said to a gleefully flailing Persephone, "He and Uncle Ron are going to sit with you while mummy goes to her aerobics class, yes. It's so wonderful-- they've even promised to read to you from Baby's Primer on Classical Musicians- won't that be lovely?!" She turned a pointed look at Harry. "They will, won't they? Where's Ron?"
"Out with Luna. And yes, yes. I know the drill. Old hand at it. Get moving-- you're going to be late."
Hermione beamed as she stood. "Reeeally?"
"Yes, you're really going to be late," said Harry as he took a seat facing Persephone.
"No, daft boy," Hermione said as she grabbed her bag. "Ron's really out with Luna? Again? That's wonderful."
"Yes, ducky. Go," smiled Harry as he proceeded to tug on a set of tiny, perfect toes, setting off small, mad giggles.
"Don't fret, Harry. I know it's hard not to have him around all the time, but you'll find the right someone yet." Hermione grinned as she bent to kiss Persephone's forehead. "Goodbye, my love." She continued to grin as she turned to kiss a disgruntled Harry's forehead as well. "Be good darlings," she laughed, backing away far enough to Apparate.
Persephone squealed again at the 'crack' as Hermione disappeared, and Harry could not for the life of him hold on to his disgruntled expression (and he certainly couldn't flash a rude gesture at spot Hermione had just vacated). Instead, he pulled his Quidditch Weekly from the inner pocket of his jacket and tickled Persephone's tummy as he began to read in an animated voice.
"Now, Puddlemere's offensive lineup is sure to make the team a shoo-in for..."
###
Harry and Ron sat among piles of boxes marked "books, A-B, G-H", "books and also kitchen things", "ribbons, books, toads - FRAGILE" and "OI, CAREFUL - CANONS STUFF", hoisting butterbeers and looking entirely worn out.
"Mum's ecstatic. You saw her at Seph's birthday party - she's lost her mind," Ron said as he took a large pull. "I think she's given up on a wedding though. Think she'd be all right at this point if we just skipped to the grandkids. As if she doesn't already have enough!"
Snickering and swallowing his mouthful of butterbeer, Harry observed, "I think you can definitely have enough weddings, but the grandkids... I guess not so much."
"Yes, well, Persephone says she could use a playmate that isn't prone to exploding her toys, but that's the sort of thing that happens when the only children near her age belong to Fred Weasley," Hermione cut in as she walked in and set a bundle of toddler down. A thirteen-month-old Persephone immediately ran up to Harry and Ron but then stood, finger in her mouth, slightly faded Yellow Bear dragging on the ground, conflicted about who to tackle first.
Ron grinned and threw his arms out. "Me first, pumpkin, so I can ignore your mum's unsubtle suggestion."
Persephone flung herself at him with a squeal and Harry took a big drink before setting his bottle down. "Alright, alright, enough of that. My turn."
"Won!" Declared Persephone, and Harry burst out laughing.
Ron pointed around her, "Don't even."
"No, poppet, try 'WonWon'," suggested Harry, falling over laughing as Persephone did just that.
"This, pumpkin, is what we adults call 'grounds for murder'. Just excuse me a moment while I throttle your Uncle Harry, won't you?" growled Ron.
"All right. No murdering," Hermione laughed, nudging Harry with her foot. "You'll set a bad example for the children. How's the moving going?"
Harry looked up from his spot on the floor. "Brilliant, seeing as I'm done and it's now Ron and Luna's job to OoOF--" He coughed as Persephone decided to tackle him, continuing somewhat painfully out of breath, "--unpack."
Furrowing his brow, Ron held a finger up, "Wait. Children?"
"Err... including you lot," Hermione hedged.
"Bollocks, Hermione. Don't even tell--"
Shrugging, Hermione threw her hands up. "What Ronald? Yes, I want another child. Curse me."
Harry sat up carefully, holding on to Persephone as she made grabby hands for his glasses. "You almost died last time, Hermione."
"And were a bloody nightmare the whole time leading up to it," Ron said, adding under their glares, "What? 'Strue. And miserable, to boot."
Hermione huffed and sat heavily on a sofa draped in sheeting. "I know, I know. But... I don't want Persephone to grow up on her own. And I do-- I want another child..."
"So adopt!" exclaimed Ron, even as Harry said, "what about a surrogate?"
"Well, yes, about that--" Hermione smiled and sat forward. "I think I have a plan."
###
Persephone was fast asleep against Ron's shoulder, but he was still rubbing soothing circles on her back, possibly more to settle himself than her.
Harry peered at Hermione. "This is mad. You know it is."
"Well, yes and no. I mean, he's said if there was any way he could have made it better, he would have," said Hermione, biting her lip a little as the only indication that she was unsure of her plan. "And he's plenty young enough by Wizarding standards... so, you know... I don't see why not."
"Suppose you could at least tell the man," muttered Ron. "Though gah-- the thought..." He shuddered. "Gah."
"I could, but... what if he says no? Besides, if I don't, I can write it off as accidental magic and..." Hermione hesitated here.
Harry tilted his head. "You have been spending faaaar too much time around Slytherins."
"Actually," Ron piped up, "even if that's true, you'd think he'd appreciate Slytherin thinking. That may even be the way to go from the start."
Hermione furrowed her brow, her tone almost looking for permission, "so you're saying I should go ahead and do it?"
Holding up a finger, Harry spoke again. "I think, he's saying, get Snape to agree like a Slytherin would, and he won't be able to argue."
"Exactly. And that," said Ron as he clinked his bottle to Harry's, "is why we're best mates."
###
Hermione Banished the large, empty bottle of wine and replaced it with a fresh one, the coy smile not once desisting from its flutter at the edge of her mouth. Persephone was bundled safely off to her parents' for the evening, and the potion it had taken weeks to brew was stashed in the side table. Severus was beginning to look relaxed, and so she chose to abandon the strategic wrap-around dress slowly, revealing her skimpy green lingerie underneath. She sat carefully in his lap and sipped from her wineglass, tipping her head to nuzzle his neck as he ran a hand up her bare thigh.
Snape narrowed his eyes. "Hermione, what--"
"Shh," Hermione smiled winningly, offering him the wineglass. "Be good and I'll let you lap it off of my collarbones."
Whatever else he might be, Snape was a man, and through careful experimentation, Hermione had found that he was easily amused (in private) by a soft mass of woman in his lap combined with the smiling and the wine and her small hand creeping up his chest. Sure enough, he downed the contents of the glass and set it aside, catching her wrist mid-motion. "You. Are up to something."
"I'm seducing my sexy husband," purred Hermione as she shifted up to straddle his lap instead, plucking at the buttons of his shirt with her free hand. "Is it working?"
"Hermione..." Severus growled, releasing her hand to knead her arse, erection pressing hard against his trousers. "What?"
Grinding her hips just enough to make him suck in a hard breath, Hermione began unbuttoning his shirt, ducking to kiss his flesh as it was exposed. "Remember how terrible it was when I was pregnant with Persephone?"
Severus had no answer but a noncommittal grunt as he pulled her hips down against his, this time eliciting a gasp from Hermione as well.
"Remember?" She pressed breathily, her hands untucking his shirt and working up and around his chest and ribcage. "Remember how you said you'd have done it for me, if you could?" Hermione unfastened his belt and slowly unzipped his trousers, the entire time nibbling just below his ear, his hips bucking up and seemingly seeking out the pressure of her hand.
"Yes. God, yes. I love you, Hermione. You know I would have," Severus sighed as her lips and teeth performed a complicated dance along the cords of his neck, punctuated by a sigh of her own as she ground down again. He lifted his hips (and Hermione) just enough to shove his trousers down and free his erection, shivering as her fingers made contact with his bare flesh.
"I want another baby, Severus. But I can't carry it, you know that," Hermione said with the slightest bit of a pout as she stroked him deliberately. "But you could, if you wanted to."
Severus had dropped his head onto her shoulder and was breathing erratically as he gasped, "That's--- 's complicated magic -ohfuck- complicated. Christ, I need to be inside of you."
"Shh, shh," murmured Hermione, applying pressure in just the right spot to keep him from deep thought. "I know it is, but I'm talented. I've got it all together. All you have to do is say. The. Word." Each of the final words of the sentence were punctuated with a soft change in pressure. Hermione pressed the two index fingers of her free hand to Severus' mouth, letting him suck them in and swirl his tongue around them, licking her own lips before withdrawing them and using them to circle her own erect nipple through the flimsy fabric of her lingerie.
Letting her head fall back just a little, Hermione moaned, almost wanton. "Mmmm. Severus. I've got the potion ready - all you have to do is say that you're willing."
"I'm willing. God help me, I'll be sorry tomorrow, but I'll do it." He slipped a finger into her flimsy knickers and she didn't have to fake a moan as she released her nipple and reached for the small bottle of bright pink liquid. "Anything. God. Anything for you. Anything to keep you happy."
Hermione hesitated with the open bottle poised at his mouth, his wet lips on her knuckle. It didn't seem right, suddenly; to take advantage of his insecurities, to use her body as a convenient tool to achieve an end.
Then his fingers moved again and she bucked up onto her knees, pouring the liquid into his mouth without another thought. When it was gone, she tossed the vial aside and kissed him, tasting the metallic tang of blood and overripe peaches even as she felt him pull her knickers aside; even as she slid down onto him with a groan.
"That's -fuckhermionegod- right," Severus panted as she rocked her hips, his hands finding ways to encourage the soft sounds she was breathing into his skin. "The taste--yeahyes. Y-you brewed it just right."
###
A few weeks later, the familiar sounds of retching at an ungodly hour caused Hermione to stir from a sound sleep, and when she woke pleasantly surprised that it was not her doing the retching, she called out, "Alright, darling?"
Severus muttered about being fine, thanks, as well as something about the Cruciatus Curse. Hermione heard the water running and suddenly smug as hell, rolled over and pulled the blankets up with a sigh.
"Ok. Call if you need me!"
###
Certainly, it had been entertaining, those first few weeks where she could have a nice sandwich and a glass of milk, read a paper and put her feet up while Severus nibbled on toast and cursed food in general. After all, she'd been through it with Persephone for nine months straight. Thirty five and four-sevenths weeks to be exact, and at least he wasn't sick every bloody day. It was more of a hit and miss situation really-- Some days he was miserable... some days he was just a ravenous beast. Still, she didn't envy him the vomiting and cramping and craving foods that made him vomit and cramp, and after about a month and a half, began feeling very guilty. Perhaps more that she had put him in this position to begin with.
"Severus? It's not too late to... do something about this..." she began one day as she held his hair back over the toilet. "They could try and move the embryo into me or we could... terminate it..." The idea made her sick, but this was... unnatural, and the idea of his suffering for another seven months made her even more sick. "We have Persephone, after all. It was just so selfish of me--"
"Yes, it was," rasped Severus as he got to his feet, looking a little clammy. "But I agreed to it, and this is what you want." He sighed, scrubbing a hand down the side of his face. "It's what we want. And I can't see this happen to you again." Muffled as he shoved his toothbrush into his mouth, he mumbled, "I need a drink."
"Actually," Hermione said, oblivious of the murderous stare now trained in her direction, "alcohol is terrible for embryos. Studies have shown that an occasional glass of wine is probably alright, but--"
Severus spat out a mouthful of toothpaste. "Hermione? Why don't you go out and find me some chocolate fudge ice cream, hmm?"
"Now? But it's not even seven AM yet--"
"I know," he muttered. "Take your time."
###
Hermione just became less amused as the days went by. Severus was a horrible pregnant man and people were just rude. Oh certainly, his condition was rare in the Wizarding World, but not unheard of. There was no need for the staring and the pointing that only led to belligerent responses and subsequent threats, which in turn left people unwilling to drink water or anything that had been at all out of their sight.
Still, Hermione said little in the way of correction and he eventually just elected to stay in. It didn't make Hermione feel any better. It was so difficult to watch him work out a new center of gravity; worse to see that his normal mode of locomotion slowed and lost some of its aggression. When he was forced to take leave in his fifth month, it was more to avoid explaining to the children he was busy terrorizing that, no, he hadn't been spending too much time with the pudding. Rumor was rampant at any rate - his glaring and threatening was beginning to lose some credibility though he doubled his usual rate of detentions. After all, how could any man brave enough to carry a child be truly evil?
Other professors had taken to actually smiling at him in the corridors. Mid-term or not, it had had to stop. The Headmistress found a replacement willing to finish out the spring term and Snape was officially on leave of absence as of April, due in August right around Persephone's birthday.
And as such, a cranky, nauseous Potions professor and notorious double agent was left home alone for the better part of every workday with a rambunctious toddler while his wife continued her work at the Ministry. His mood was understandably not improved.
Hermione watched his belly bloom, watched his temper go from bad to impossibly worse; she watched helplessly as he vomited perfectly well-balanced meals and managed to keep down quarts of ice cream steeped in diced beets; watched as he perfected the art of the self-directed Mobilicorpus to get out of the sofa on his own and the entire time was convinced it was her fault.
Mainly, that would be because it was. And as much as he reminded her that he'd agreed, there were days when he was so frustrated and tired and just done with being an incubator, Hermione's heart hurt for what he was going through. She wondered if it was anything like what he'd been through when she was pregnant, and came to the conclusion that she perhaps had not appreciated his situation quite as much as she should have the first time around.
Given-- she was still glad not to be the one puking her insides out, and every day Severus rose early (with much difficulty) to do so, she sent up a little prayer of thanks for her magic and her skills.
###
The day of Persephone's second birthday party very fittingly dawned clear and bright and Uncles and Aunties far and wide were engaged in decorating the back garden of Hermione and Severus' home, enchanting balloons and streamers, fairy lights and hidden presents. Even Uncle Draco had made an early appearance bearing ungodly amounts of gifts and a live pygmy giraffe that Hermione declared inhumane... until Persephone ran up and hugged it, declaring it the love of her life.
He was immediately pressed into service assisting Ginny with the singing chorus of flowers around the birthday girl's throne, though there was a bit of a falling out as Ginny charmed them to sing the latest Wyrd Sisters tune, and Draco far preferred anything from Carmen. Eventually a compromise was reached in that the wreath alternated songs and when Molly and Arthur arrived with cake and another handful of children and grandchildren, the party was suddenly in full swing.
It was a brilliant accomplishment, given that Hermione and Severus were barely speaking but to inquire over each other's health and then snark about the response, whatever it might be. They'd learned a few months ago, the fewer words they said to one another, the less arguing there would be, and as such, safe territory included, 'Good morning', 'I love you', 'What do you want for dinner', and 'Good night'. Anyone straying from this map invited a messy verbal exsanguination. (Actually, 'What do you want for dinner' was sort of a loaded question if Snape had looked in a mirror within about half an hour or so, as this prompted a discussion on how awful it was to be so fat and how it didn't matter since he'd be full after two bites anyway.) 'Fancy a shag' was also fairly safe territory, oft-visited and well-beloved, and a good reason they were still speaking at all.
Regardless, the party went off without a hitch, and Snape spent most of it sitting in the shade with his feet up, large glass of cold water in hand. Persephone ran back and forth and in circles, finally crawling into Uncle Harry's lap for a rest with Yellow Bunny, and was only roused by the promise of cake.
Harry carried her in a circuit of the garden on the way to the cake table and the party followed, singing and laughing; a party that Snape managed to stroll along with if not quite sing, head held high.
That was however, until several drinks clattered to the ground as the oddly bulging Snape was suddenly clutching the picnic dinner table, ostensibly to keep from hitting the ground. The garden went impossibly silent as Hermione rushed over, eyes wide and exchanging murmurs with Snape, who had pried the fingers of one hand from the table in order to massage his distended abdomen.
The surgery had been scheduled for the following Monday, but apparently this baby was disinclined to wait. Doubling again, Snape swore and Hermione looked up panicked, to find that Harry, Ron and Malfoy were already within arm's reach, ready to catch, carry; pretty much anything.
Luna clapped her hands loudly, grinning from ear to ear. "Well. Time to move the party. I've got a baby to deliver!"
###
Harry rushed into the waiting area after delivering Hermione and Snape into the medi-witches' hands, nervous fingers threading through his hair, though he was a little conflicted as to why. After all, when it had been Hermione in this position, it had been an emergency; she had been ill and alone in the operating room- they could have lost both her and Persephone, a thought that gave him a cold shiver every time. This time, they'd known it was coming, the birthing center was prepared; there was a plan in place and Hermione was staying with Snape all thoughout the procedure and thank god that it wasn't Hermione on the table... but still. As much as he didn't care for the man, it had been rough... and damn it all, he was carrying Harry's niece or nephew (but he was fairly sure Hermione had skewed the potion toward 'girl').
And where was Ron? Luna was busy scrubbing up to perform the surgery, Molly had taken Persephone and the rest of the children, and Arthur and the remaining adults had taken to cleaning up the party and fetching Hermione's parents. Ron had no plausible excuse, and yet he was pointedly not there.
In the corner of the room, however, was a peaked and... rumpled(?!) Draco Malfoy, who must also have come directly from the party. His leg crossed ankle to knee and bouncing yet another bear (green, this time - so perhaps not directly) on his jittery thigh. Harry cocked his head, remembering the barest hint of sympathy he'd expressed when it had been Hermione in this position. The thought crossed his mind, too, about how even though Harry went out of his way to avoid running into Malfoy, he'd seen enough to know that he was all Snape had that passed for family, and he doted on Persephone... well. As much as he and Ron ever had.
Swallowing hard, Harry crossed the room and sat in the seat set at a 90 degree angle from where Malfoy sat, separated by a corner table and a cheerful lamp.
"Hey. He's going to be fine, you know. Luna knows what she's doing," Harry offered tentatively.
"Lovegood," muttered Malfoy, his voice hard as he stared into space, "is lucky to know her name and what time of day it is. And yet we trust her with severing and suturing charms and newborn children." He turned his attention to Harry. "Are we at the irony portion of this interaction yet, Potter? You and I, positions reversed? And yet, I see the gaggle of relations hasn't made it in yet. Suppose it wouldn't be much of a hardship if Severus miraculously had complications; after all, there would no more dealing with the nasty Slytherins in the big Gryffindor family, hmm?"
Harry glared at Malfoy as he spoke, breathing until he thought he was calm enough to answer it. All of it. "I- grr. I know, that you want to just --- just throttle something right now, alright? Because you're right, I've been there. And we've done our damnedest to accept this..." Harry gestured vaguely, "this freakish joke of nature that is our Hermione and your... godfather being in soppy, ridiculous love that involves... gah. Large words and research holidays. So, don't... don't think you're the only one weirded out by all this." Eyes on Malfoy even as the Slytherin looked away, Harry went on a little more quietly, "I saw you last time. You were worried. I know you don't care much for Hermione, but you know what it would do to one to lose the other. I--"
"--didn't even want to think about it," murmured Malfoy. "I had never in my life seen Severus happy until he met her." With a snort, he added, "Or rather, met her as an adult. He couldn't stand her as a student, either. Not that he tolerates any student, really."
With a sigh, Harry slumped in his seat, letting his head thump back onto the wall behind him. "Yeah, well. He's stuck with all of us, now. Which, incidentally, is all of us. At all bloody times. Rest of the Weasleys are on the way with Hermione's parents. Minus Molly, who's minding the flock of grandchildren."
Malfoy sighed and then huffed a tiny laugh. "Yes. Imagine his joy. On all counts."
"I'm sure he'll be thrilled." Harry cracked an eyelid and cast a sideways glance at Malfoy. "He's going to be fine, really. It'll be alright."
"Mmph," was Malfoy's only reply, and Harry went back to staring at the insides of his eyelids, trying to relax until a small voice piped up.
"Uncam!!"
Harry sat directly up, and apparently so had Malfoy. Persephone stood facing the corner they inhabited, Ron standing behind her looking impossibly tall by comparison. Finger in her mouth, Yellow Bear dragging along as usual, she again seemed to be trying to decide who to go to first.
"Me first--" both Harry and Malfoy said at once, immediately shooting dirty looks at each other.
"She's a Pumpkin, not a Snitch," said Ron, amused. "Share." He tugged on a dark, wispy pigtail as he spoke, easily fending off her chubby hands as she tried to bop him with Yellow Bear. "Thought she should be here for the big event, so I went to grab her from the Burrow."
Harry spoke again, "Get me first, poppet, and then you can sit with Uncle Draco. He needs it more than I do."
Persephone tackled him with giggles and hugs, babbling about Papa's baby and Harry did his best to ignore the look Ron gave him as he finally let her go. Instinctively, she climbed carefully into Malfoy's lap, squeezed him breathless and then began a quiet conversation between Yellow Bear and Green Bear. Malfoy shot him a look of confused gratitude and proceeded to entertain Persephone with tales of Green Bear's exploits on his way to becoming her sibling's best friend. Ron slumped into the seat next to Harry.
"Bit of a different view from here, yeah?" muttered Ron, nudging with a friendly elbow.
"Pssh. Yeah, little," grumbled Harry. "Sort of sucks either way."
"Bloody well hope they're done, either way. Can't do this again. Give a man a heart attack."
With a snort of laughter, Harry covered his face. "I-"
Malfoy's story was suddenly loud enough for Ron and Harry to hear. "And so Green Bear came to keep the baby company, and he had to be an extraordinary bear, because he is going to be the last one of his kind. Isn't that right?"
Ron and Harry bumped knuckles with a "here's hoping" and "I'll drink to that" just as the usual Hurricane Weasley swept into the waiting area. Persephone squealed as Arthur arrived at the head of a procession made up of Fred, George, Bill, Charlie, Ginny and various significant others, hangers on and eldest children, laden with flowers, stuffed animals and balloons, some of which had also come directly from the party.
"Any news?"
###
"Phoebe Elizabeth. Merlin, but you're small," murmured Ron as he held the baby - another monster apparently, weighing in at nine pounds even. Light-haired where Persephone had been dark to begin with, nose recognizable though still flat and softly rounded. An old hand at baby handling, Harry chomped at the bit for his turn, though this time they were in the nursery rather than the hospital room.
"Stop hogging the baby, Ron," he murmured. Hermione elbowed him.
"Quiet, you. But yes, please Ron, share. I need to get back to Severus and Persephone." Hermione shifted, running the inside of her wrist against the side of her chest and grimacing in a familiar way. "I seem to have miscalculated slightly in my scheming and plotting and apparently it's time for Miss Phoebe to eat."
Ron looked up alarmed as he handed Phoebe off to Harry. "Miscalculated?! How?"
Hermione pursed her lips. "Weeeell... apparently when the baby is the product of a man and a woman... the woman still ends up breastfeeding. You remember how fun that was for me, I trust?"
Trying not to laugh, Harry rocked Phoebe quietly. "Yeah, but now you've got experience."
Furrowing his brow, Ron asked, "Why would anyone else want to force a male pregnancy?"
Hermione cocked her head toward Harry. Harry held up the baby slightly and arched a meaningful eyebrow at Ron, who was busily being a master at blocking out information he was privy to, but didn't often take into consideration.
"I mean, I wouldn't..." said Harry, "'cos it's sort of weird and a little twisted. But there it is." He shrugged, quickly adding with a grin, "No offense, Hermione," even as she shoved the back of his head.
"Oh. Well. Right. Obviously that." Ron flushed and coughed in an admirable attempt to cover his uncomfortable shifting. "Who's hungry?"
###
Several weeks later, Hermione's face flared green in Harry's grate as he walked in the door from work, already peeling off his Auror's robes.
"Harry? Oh! Good! There you are. Are you free tonight to watch Phoebe and Persephone? Just for a bit - Severus is chaperoning some function or another at the school and I've got to pop out for tea, or coffee or something else I'll go mad. Ron and Luna are off in Sweden and my parents aren't answering the phone. An hour? Maybe two?"
Harry scrubbed a hand over his face and nodded, "Yeah, yeah 'course. Give me a few minutes to shower and change?"
"Oh, God. Thank you," said Hermione. "That's perfect. See you in a few."
Waving over his shoulder, Harry padded to his bathroom.
Grinning, Hermione sat back, taking another handful of Floo Powder and only pausing for a moment before tossing it onto the grate.
"Hello? Draco? Listen, are you free tonight to watch Phoebe and Persephone? Just for a bit - Severus is chaperoning some function or another at the school and I've got to pop out for tea, or coffee or something else I'll--"
---end
♥
Author: corvidae9
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: ~8140
Summary: Hermione's first pregnancy was a nightmare, but eventually she decides she still wants another child. Despite the fact that her husband happens to be Severus Snape, Ron and Harry are there to help her figure out how to make that happen. Hilarity ensues for everyone except Severus... and a somewhat guilt-ridden Hermione. (HG/SS, RW/LL, but I'd say it's more a Trio Gen story) (looming H/D, too if you squint)(squint, I say!)
Warnings: Het Mpreg. Please don't run away, it won't bite. Hard. You can stick around for the fun and the steam before the squick kicks in, right? Right. Plus! It's a rare variant edition-- I mean, who writes het mpreg?! Sheesh.
Author Notes: Blame this in its entirety on marginaliana and Lumos. When all is said and done however, I'm pretty proud. This isn't back alley crack, after all, kids. It's 100% grade-A designer shit. Know also that having given birth (as a female, kthx, I'm not that special), I'm speaking from experience when I say that the business of squeezing an entirely new person from your favorite fun parts is just not easy or entertaining for anyone involved, even when you do have the proper equipment to begin with. These are probably also the talkiest notes ever. Just ignore me and go read already.
Hermione had spent six years despising him while admiring his skill; two outright admiring him, four working with him on and off as part of her job with the Department of Mysteries, and god help her, another two dating him, even though her two best friends thought the she might have finally succumbed to potions fumes. They had more than once bundled her off to be checked over for signs of coercive curses; they had sworn, looked pole-axed and eventually sworn some more, and yet it became clear that this man was what her heart truly wanted, and there came a point where even Ron and Harry couldn't argue anymore.
Deep in her heart, a twenty year age difference mattered not at all, nor did the swooping and the glaring; the trademark hooked nose and foul attitude- none of it. She saw his brilliant mind, his loyalty and courage; she saw (or rather heard) a voice that was steeped in caramel and rough silk, and she definitely felt strong yet precise hands that always knew exactly how to handle delicate substances.
The day she asked Severus Snape to marry her, he blanched and back-pedaled, nearly spilt his wine and called her a silly girl, a hopeless romantic and a sodding Gryffindor to boot. He pointed out that she deserved better, that he'd been an idiot to continue this dalliance as long as he had; that he was cranky, too old, had no idea what made her think that he'd make a good match for her.
She demanded that he shut up and kiss her or else face the wrath of said sodding Gryffindor. After plopping herself in his lap.
The waiter was very complimentary in his congratulations as he escorted them out.
###
The day Hermione Granger married Severus Snape, she was resplendent in an ivory cream gown that managed somehow to be frilly yet understated. Harry and Ron were her only attendants (and they were "definitely not sodding bridesmaids, thanks"). Snape had an overly cheerful Bill Weasley and a stoic Kingsley Shacklebolt at his side (who disappeared halfway through the reception and were seen again later wearing mismatching ties).
Though Ron and Harry had been warned to Be On Their Best Behavior, they couldn't help but murmur and occasionally glare at the groom, looking every bit the bat even in a Muggle tuxedo. The look on his face when Hermione's father led her in, however... well. Ron and Harry were almost convinced he was human.
Almost. But at least they were motivated to behave, and perhaps cut back on the glaring.
###
Some few years later, Hermione flew down the stairs one morning holding a pink and white plastic test packet, flinging herself at Snape's back, arms wound tightly around his chest. He patted her hands and asked in his favorite wry tone what he might have done to deserve such treatment. Then he saw what she was holding in front of him, and his mouth went dry, shock and horror warring with wild excitement, and joy and... could that possibly be pride?
He thought it might be. Sighing a breath, he tightened his hands over hers, murmuring, "So we're to be parents then?"
Hermione's only response was to let go, run to the garbage can and vomit noisily.
###
Ron and Harry cocked matching eyebrows over the low table set with various herbal teas, both crumpled into funny shapes forced by sitting on cushions rather than chairs. Hermione sat at the head of the table rubbing her distended belly like some sort of benevolent, yet business-like Buddha, already lecturing.
"...You see, the soothing environment is good for both me and the baby; there should be minimal disturbance and that in turn will cause--- oh, hell."
She rolled onto her knees and somehow up to her feet just as the retching sounds began deep in her throat, one hand over her mouth as she ran to the toilet. Alarmed, Ron and Harry didn't know whether to follow or wait. As things stood, it wasn't as if they hadn't seen it happen before - Hermione had started vomiting roughly the day she found out she was expecting and hadn't really stopped. The Eastern meditation was the latest in holistic cures for morning sickness (that, as she was fond of grousing, was more like morning-noon-night-and-sometimes-weehours sickness), and apparently as ineffective as all the others.
A plaintive "Help" sent both shooting to their feet and bolting to the toilet, where Hermione was on her knees trying to keep her hair back from her utterly colorless face. Ron immediately took over the hair-holding while Harry rubbed circles on her back, and Hermione dropped her head and cried. Again, not for the first time that they had seen, though the crying was a hundred times more alarming than the vomiting. This was Hermione after all.
Harry offered tissue and she wiped her face and nose, using them both for support to stand, though in the end it was the two of them fairly hauling her to her feet. As one, they ordered her to bed, but she insisted on brushing her teeth first. Eventually, however, she did end up lying on her left side, facing Harry who was on top of the covers reading to her from a book that seemed heavier than Hermione had been and threatened to put him to sleep, while Ron settled in behind her at enough of a distance to be able to continue the back rub that Harry had begun.
When her breathing had gone deep and even, Ron pushed himself up on an elbow to look at Harry over Hermione's shoulder, frowning.
"I don't like it. It doesn't seem right."
"Yeah, mate, I hear you," Harry murmured. "Doesn't seem like anyone we know's ever been this... bad. Gah, Patil was a rampaging cow in the office when she was pregnant, but she always seemed to have the energy to get away with it. This..."
He let his words trail off and both sunk back onto the pillows, lost in their own thoughts until a familiar and still much-despised voice rang though the room.
"Well. This is rather cozy," Snape practically growled, jaw set, eyes hard. He'd had to get used to the fact that her two best friends were men he still could not help but loathe, but the easy camraderie between them still made him uneasy-- if pressed, he admit perhaps to a little jealous as well.
Ron and Harry popped to their feet hissing, "Shh," glancing back at Hermione who appeared to still be asleep. Harry set the basin close to her hands and continued the inexorable walk toward Snape, now a step behind Ron. Ron set a hand on Snape's chest and shoved him out of the room as Harry shut the door behind them with a click and spoke.
"You. Did you see her? She looks terrible. She's still vomiting everywhere. Did you know that she's had trouble gaining the weight she should? That she nearly couldn't get off of the floor this afternoon after heaving her insides out?"
Whether he did or not was irrelevant, as it was Ron's turn to speak, the hand on Snape's chest now a jabbing finger. "And you let her stay home alone! In this condition! When it was your fault to begin with!"
Snape shoved Ron's hand away and crossed his arms. "I let her? Weasley, if you know her so well, since when do I let her do anything? She practically shoved me out of the house to have alone time with the two of you, though god knows why. And I'll thank you not to assume what I do and do not know about my own wife."
Harry had never really recovered from the shock of Hermione's choice of love interests, it was true, but all he ever heard and saw was that Snape was everything Hermione could want; Hermione was happy and that was what mattered... but lately... well. Seeing Hermione weak in any way was disturbing beyond recounting, and Harry in his secret heart couldn't help but blame her current condition on Snape just like Ron had.
"The fact remains," said Harry, "it's your job to make sure that she isn't left alone, ever, not like this. And I don't care how much she swears it isn't necessary and I don't care how much both she swears that she's really fine. She's clearly not."
Snape leaned in, eyes narrow. "And do you volunteer for the job, Potter? Do you plan to quit your job as the darling of the Auror Corps so you can sit with her?"
Both Ron and Harry said, "If I have to," and Snape blinked once before shaking his head.
"Of course. Thoughtless children that you are." He pinched the bridge of his nose in a rare moment of visible exasperation and murmured, every word sounding as though it was a painful exercise in not loosing an Unforgivable Curse. "I am in fact aware of what's been going on with Hermione, though she is a stubborn bloody Gryffindor like the rest of you, and refuses to let me take measures. I will, however, find someone to stay with her, regardless of how loud or how often she protests if it keeps you from moving in to my home. Either of you. Will this suffice, or should I expect a visit from the Domestic Abuse unit of the DMLE?"
Harry and Ron exchanged a look that was equal parts surprise and further alarm, and finally Ron nodded. "Yeah. That'll do. You'll-- err. Call us if anything... y'know, happens?"
"Damnably," Snape sighed as he recrossed his arms, "you two are at the top of her list of people to be notified in any event."
Harry nodded too. "Alright. We'll just... go."
"Do," grumbled Snape, not bothering to watch as they let themselves out and Apparated back to their shared flat. Disquieted and worried, neither remembered any other two month period ever stretching out ahead of them so seemingly endless. Bottles of beer in hand, they sat on opposite ends of the sofa, each brooding on their own and taking turns fetching new bottles until the refrigerator was empty and clock had turned over a new day.
###
"Oh, God. Fucking Hell, I'll KILL him. I SWEAR to GOD," grunted Hermione, currently standing hunched in a hospital gown tied so tight, not much more than a sliver of skin was showing. Her hand clenched around a bedrail disguised as something pretty and carved wood rather than utilitarian metal-- apparently standard at the relatively new birthing center Hermione had chosen. Harry and Ron jumped, Ron holding out a water bottle that Hermione promptly smacked directly out of his hand. "Where? Where the fuck is he? What could fucking be so important that he's late? You two Flooed him, right? You did?"
Harry swallowed; for the last hour, they'd been witness to the most horrifying transformation they'd ever thought possible. Their bossy best friend had turned into a raging maniac, prone to swear words that even they used with hesitance with every contraction. True to his word, Snape had borrowed a Hogwarts House Elf to stay with her, and when the gnarled little creature had popped into their flat without warning wringing an embroidered dishtowel, Ron and Harry were changed and at St. Mungo's in a matter of minutes.
Snape, however, had been detained at the school, though without saying by what, and had yet to show. Despite their mutual inclination to heap abuse upon her missing husband, they found themselves saying things like, "It's alright," and, "he'll be here soon," and were finally proven correct as the man swept into the room trailing protesting medi-witches.
"Hermione? Thank God. Are you well?"
Hermione slapped him once, hard across the face, shouting, "DO I FUCKING LOOK WELL, YOU SON OF A BITCH?" and everyone else in the room recoiled sympathetically.
Immediately, she burst into tears and fell against him. "Oh god. Severus, I'm so sorry."
"I'm fine. I've had far worse. It's you I'm worried about," Snape said soothingly as his arms wrapped around her, his expression entirely transformed as well. Ron and Harry stood transfixed, though vaguely convinced that shouldn't be watching, partially shocked that the giant bat of a Potions professor actually possessed modes other than 'intimidating' or 'unimpressed'.
Hermione sniffed. "It's terrible. None of the breathing helps, I can't focus, I can't-- oh Ow God!" Doubled over, holding on to Snape's robes for balance, she grunted again, her eyes riveted on the ground, "fucking hell. I'm never doing this again. NEVER. Never ever, this child will be an only god damn child unless you fucking want to ca--" Mid word, Hermione stopped with a gasp. "Oh god. The healer- get Lu... oh fuck."
Her knees seemed to crumple as her eyes rolled up and though Ron and Harry both ran to her side, Snape had already caught her in her descent. A trickle of blood ran down the inside of her leg and was pooling near where her heel had been, and as Ron helped Snape set her on the low bed, Harry ran out fairly shouting for a healer.
###
Harry, Ron and even Snape were herded to the waiting area as the healers worked on Hermione; something about a detached placenta; something about caesarians-- All Harry had heard for certain was 'emergency' and 'get them out of the room' and apparently, all they had left to do was sit and swear. And pray to any sort of deity or universe or karma they could muster the tiniest bit of faith in. And possibly drink terrible tea.
Snape paced the length of the room, unspeaking. A nearly unrecognizable feeling of sympathy welled in the pit of Harry's stomach and when he caught Ron's eye, he realized they were sharing the thought.
A commotion down the hall became louder and Ron and Harry were on their feet, hands clenched and barely relaxing as they realized that it was Molly and Arthur Weasley with Hermione's parents, John and Elizabeth, in tow. Behind them came Fred, Angelina, George, Bill, Charlie and Ginny. They swarmed the area hugging anyone that looked like they needed it, though only Molly was brave enough to try hugging Snape. Arthur ended up saving him by pulling him aside to talk quietly, though from the look on either's face, it was not exactly going well.
The chatter was too much, though; too forced, and Harry faded into the background, just now noticing the final visitor standing unsure near the medi-witches' station, incongruously clutching a yellow stuffed bear. Needing an outlet for his frustrations, Harry approached the familiar blond, eyes narrow and ready for a fight.
"Malfoy. What the hell are you doing here?"
Draco looked up clearly unimpressed, and clearly lifting his expressions all too well from Snape. "Same as you, I expect. I hear I have a nephew on the way."
"Nephew?!"
"Possibly a niece. But not technically, no," Draco drawled with only a hint of amusement, "And thank god or that might mean I was related by blood. In practice, however, yes. You didn't think Severus would suddenly stop having anything to do with his godson after the baby arrived, did you?"
Harry shook his head more to clear it than anything; the idea that any child of Hermione's would be stuck with Malfoy as 'Uncle Draco' playing havoc with his mind. "Oh that's just--"
"--the height of irony?" Draco said, unwittingly clutching the bear under one arm now.
"Yeah. That's one word for it," muttered Harry, disgruntled. "...just. Sod it. I have better things to worry about."
Draco cocked his head. "I heard. Is she-- are they expected to live?"
"Yes of course!" Harry snapped. "Of course they are."
With a look that Harry was almost convinced was sympathy though the words were stiff and proper, Draco murmured, "I'm gratified to hear it."
Harry honestly had no idea, but he absolutely couldn't think otherwise.
The doors to the corridor that led to the birthing rooms opened and this time it was a Healer that emerged, and Hermione's usual Obstetric Healer, at that. Her robes were covered in an odd print of bunnies and radishes, her familiar dishwater hair in a knot on top of her head and spiked through with her wand. Grinning dreamily as she dried her hands on a towel, Luna said, "Hello, family. Our Hermione has given birth to a lovely young lady I'm informed is to be named Persephone Violet Granger Snape, and though this gorgeous creature had to be unceremoniously pulled from a rather large incision low on Hermione's abdomen, she's doing just fine."
A cheer ran through the waiting room and unthinkingly Harry thumped Draco on the arm. "Hear that?!"
Draco wrinkled his nose and dusted his arm off as Harry edged away and closer to Luna who was now holding her hands out for attention.
"Yes! It's very exciting. However, Hermione is still not doing well, and though I am sure she'll be fine, we're still working. As such, I'll need to run off again just now. Professor, if you'd come with me, you can take a certain squalling young lady off of my mediwitches' hands for a bit if you're so inclined."
"Wait!" Both Ron and Harry called as they edged forward.
"How 'not well'?" asked Ron.
Luna pursed her lips. "Not well enough that I need to get back and make sure that everything will be well again." Brightening, she patted Ron's cheek. "If she were conscious, there's no doubt she'd want to see you both and tell you the whole story, but in the meantime, only the Professor gets it." She stretched up on her tip toes and kissed the opposite cheek, whispering, "I'll take care of her, I promise."
With that, she stepped back and held open the door and Snape barrelled past her. Luna smiled, clearly delighted, and waved to the crowd. "Back soon!"
Ron and Harry stared at the door as talk flared up around them again. Ron thumped Harry on the back, running the other hand over his cheek. "Well, hell. Guess we have to wait a little longer."
Harry's gaze fell on the medi-witches' station to find that the yellow bear was sitting on the counter unattended. He walked over, but there was no sign of the bearer, other than the tag on the ribbon that read "Welcome Persephone, with love from Uncle Draco".
"What?!" Ron sputtered, reading over Harry's shoulder. "Nuh-uh. We're Uncles. Malfoy doesn't get to be Uncle Draco."
Grimacing Harry poked at the bear's belly, its fur impossibly soft and begging to be pet. "Believe it. You can blame Hermione for marrying into Slytherin."
"That's shite," Ron complained. "I swear! What was she thinking?!"
"Not. A Bloody. Clue," said Harry, picking the bear up and tucking it under his arm to settle in for the wait.
###
Eventually Ron and Harry were the first (after Snape) to be allowed in to see Hermione, who looked frighteningly pale and small, though glowing, and it didn't matter how hackneyed the description. She did- she seemed to be literally glowing as she held the impossibly small baby, who they were assured at eight pounds ten ounces was actually sort of a monster and not small at all.
They took turns holding Persephone, each looking utterly terrified followed by highly impressed, neither finding it odd anymore that Snape was sitting beside Hermione in her bed. He was letting her use him as a convenient pillow, and it didn't even seem odd that once or twice they'd heard him laugh, and possibly form something that resembled a smile.
Around such an amazing creature (and her equally amazing mother), how could anyone not?
###
Three months later, Hermione sat cross-legged facing a bouncy seat, cooing about the latest developments in Arithmancy to a happily gurgling Persephone as Harry arrived via Floo and for once alone.
"Oh look, darling! It's Uncle Harry!" Hermione said to a gleefully flailing Persephone, "He and Uncle Ron are going to sit with you while mummy goes to her aerobics class, yes. It's so wonderful-- they've even promised to read to you from Baby's Primer on Classical Musicians- won't that be lovely?!" She turned a pointed look at Harry. "They will, won't they? Where's Ron?"
"Out with Luna. And yes, yes. I know the drill. Old hand at it. Get moving-- you're going to be late."
Hermione beamed as she stood. "Reeeally?"
"Yes, you're really going to be late," said Harry as he took a seat facing Persephone.
"No, daft boy," Hermione said as she grabbed her bag. "Ron's really out with Luna? Again? That's wonderful."
"Yes, ducky. Go," smiled Harry as he proceeded to tug on a set of tiny, perfect toes, setting off small, mad giggles.
"Don't fret, Harry. I know it's hard not to have him around all the time, but you'll find the right someone yet." Hermione grinned as she bent to kiss Persephone's forehead. "Goodbye, my love." She continued to grin as she turned to kiss a disgruntled Harry's forehead as well. "Be good darlings," she laughed, backing away far enough to Apparate.
Persephone squealed again at the 'crack' as Hermione disappeared, and Harry could not for the life of him hold on to his disgruntled expression (and he certainly couldn't flash a rude gesture at spot Hermione had just vacated). Instead, he pulled his Quidditch Weekly from the inner pocket of his jacket and tickled Persephone's tummy as he began to read in an animated voice.
"Now, Puddlemere's offensive lineup is sure to make the team a shoo-in for..."
###
Harry and Ron sat among piles of boxes marked "books, A-B, G-H", "books and also kitchen things", "ribbons, books, toads - FRAGILE" and "OI, CAREFUL - CANONS STUFF", hoisting butterbeers and looking entirely worn out.
"Mum's ecstatic. You saw her at Seph's birthday party - she's lost her mind," Ron said as he took a large pull. "I think she's given up on a wedding though. Think she'd be all right at this point if we just skipped to the grandkids. As if she doesn't already have enough!"
Snickering and swallowing his mouthful of butterbeer, Harry observed, "I think you can definitely have enough weddings, but the grandkids... I guess not so much."
"Yes, well, Persephone says she could use a playmate that isn't prone to exploding her toys, but that's the sort of thing that happens when the only children near her age belong to Fred Weasley," Hermione cut in as she walked in and set a bundle of toddler down. A thirteen-month-old Persephone immediately ran up to Harry and Ron but then stood, finger in her mouth, slightly faded Yellow Bear dragging on the ground, conflicted about who to tackle first.
Ron grinned and threw his arms out. "Me first, pumpkin, so I can ignore your mum's unsubtle suggestion."
Persephone flung herself at him with a squeal and Harry took a big drink before setting his bottle down. "Alright, alright, enough of that. My turn."
"Won!" Declared Persephone, and Harry burst out laughing.
Ron pointed around her, "Don't even."
"No, poppet, try 'WonWon'," suggested Harry, falling over laughing as Persephone did just that.
"This, pumpkin, is what we adults call 'grounds for murder'. Just excuse me a moment while I throttle your Uncle Harry, won't you?" growled Ron.
"All right. No murdering," Hermione laughed, nudging Harry with her foot. "You'll set a bad example for the children. How's the moving going?"
Harry looked up from his spot on the floor. "Brilliant, seeing as I'm done and it's now Ron and Luna's job to OoOF--" He coughed as Persephone decided to tackle him, continuing somewhat painfully out of breath, "--unpack."
Furrowing his brow, Ron held a finger up, "Wait. Children?"
"Err... including you lot," Hermione hedged.
"Bollocks, Hermione. Don't even tell--"
Shrugging, Hermione threw her hands up. "What Ronald? Yes, I want another child. Curse me."
Harry sat up carefully, holding on to Persephone as she made grabby hands for his glasses. "You almost died last time, Hermione."
"And were a bloody nightmare the whole time leading up to it," Ron said, adding under their glares, "What? 'Strue. And miserable, to boot."
Hermione huffed and sat heavily on a sofa draped in sheeting. "I know, I know. But... I don't want Persephone to grow up on her own. And I do-- I want another child..."
"So adopt!" exclaimed Ron, even as Harry said, "what about a surrogate?"
"Well, yes, about that--" Hermione smiled and sat forward. "I think I have a plan."
###
Persephone was fast asleep against Ron's shoulder, but he was still rubbing soothing circles on her back, possibly more to settle himself than her.
Harry peered at Hermione. "This is mad. You know it is."
"Well, yes and no. I mean, he's said if there was any way he could have made it better, he would have," said Hermione, biting her lip a little as the only indication that she was unsure of her plan. "And he's plenty young enough by Wizarding standards... so, you know... I don't see why not."
"Suppose you could at least tell the man," muttered Ron. "Though gah-- the thought..." He shuddered. "Gah."
"I could, but... what if he says no? Besides, if I don't, I can write it off as accidental magic and..." Hermione hesitated here.
Harry tilted his head. "You have been spending faaaar too much time around Slytherins."
"Actually," Ron piped up, "even if that's true, you'd think he'd appreciate Slytherin thinking. That may even be the way to go from the start."
Hermione furrowed her brow, her tone almost looking for permission, "so you're saying I should go ahead and do it?"
Holding up a finger, Harry spoke again. "I think, he's saying, get Snape to agree like a Slytherin would, and he won't be able to argue."
"Exactly. And that," said Ron as he clinked his bottle to Harry's, "is why we're best mates."
###
Hermione Banished the large, empty bottle of wine and replaced it with a fresh one, the coy smile not once desisting from its flutter at the edge of her mouth. Persephone was bundled safely off to her parents' for the evening, and the potion it had taken weeks to brew was stashed in the side table. Severus was beginning to look relaxed, and so she chose to abandon the strategic wrap-around dress slowly, revealing her skimpy green lingerie underneath. She sat carefully in his lap and sipped from her wineglass, tipping her head to nuzzle his neck as he ran a hand up her bare thigh.
Snape narrowed his eyes. "Hermione, what--"
"Shh," Hermione smiled winningly, offering him the wineglass. "Be good and I'll let you lap it off of my collarbones."
Whatever else he might be, Snape was a man, and through careful experimentation, Hermione had found that he was easily amused (in private) by a soft mass of woman in his lap combined with the smiling and the wine and her small hand creeping up his chest. Sure enough, he downed the contents of the glass and set it aside, catching her wrist mid-motion. "You. Are up to something."
"I'm seducing my sexy husband," purred Hermione as she shifted up to straddle his lap instead, plucking at the buttons of his shirt with her free hand. "Is it working?"
"Hermione..." Severus growled, releasing her hand to knead her arse, erection pressing hard against his trousers. "What?"
Grinding her hips just enough to make him suck in a hard breath, Hermione began unbuttoning his shirt, ducking to kiss his flesh as it was exposed. "Remember how terrible it was when I was pregnant with Persephone?"
Severus had no answer but a noncommittal grunt as he pulled her hips down against his, this time eliciting a gasp from Hermione as well.
"Remember?" She pressed breathily, her hands untucking his shirt and working up and around his chest and ribcage. "Remember how you said you'd have done it for me, if you could?" Hermione unfastened his belt and slowly unzipped his trousers, the entire time nibbling just below his ear, his hips bucking up and seemingly seeking out the pressure of her hand.
"Yes. God, yes. I love you, Hermione. You know I would have," Severus sighed as her lips and teeth performed a complicated dance along the cords of his neck, punctuated by a sigh of her own as she ground down again. He lifted his hips (and Hermione) just enough to shove his trousers down and free his erection, shivering as her fingers made contact with his bare flesh.
"I want another baby, Severus. But I can't carry it, you know that," Hermione said with the slightest bit of a pout as she stroked him deliberately. "But you could, if you wanted to."
Severus had dropped his head onto her shoulder and was breathing erratically as he gasped, "That's--- 's complicated magic -ohfuck- complicated. Christ, I need to be inside of you."
"Shh, shh," murmured Hermione, applying pressure in just the right spot to keep him from deep thought. "I know it is, but I'm talented. I've got it all together. All you have to do is say. The. Word." Each of the final words of the sentence were punctuated with a soft change in pressure. Hermione pressed the two index fingers of her free hand to Severus' mouth, letting him suck them in and swirl his tongue around them, licking her own lips before withdrawing them and using them to circle her own erect nipple through the flimsy fabric of her lingerie.
Letting her head fall back just a little, Hermione moaned, almost wanton. "Mmmm. Severus. I've got the potion ready - all you have to do is say that you're willing."
"I'm willing. God help me, I'll be sorry tomorrow, but I'll do it." He slipped a finger into her flimsy knickers and she didn't have to fake a moan as she released her nipple and reached for the small bottle of bright pink liquid. "Anything. God. Anything for you. Anything to keep you happy."
Hermione hesitated with the open bottle poised at his mouth, his wet lips on her knuckle. It didn't seem right, suddenly; to take advantage of his insecurities, to use her body as a convenient tool to achieve an end.
Then his fingers moved again and she bucked up onto her knees, pouring the liquid into his mouth without another thought. When it was gone, she tossed the vial aside and kissed him, tasting the metallic tang of blood and overripe peaches even as she felt him pull her knickers aside; even as she slid down onto him with a groan.
"That's -fuckhermionegod- right," Severus panted as she rocked her hips, his hands finding ways to encourage the soft sounds she was breathing into his skin. "The taste--yeahyes. Y-you brewed it just right."
###
A few weeks later, the familiar sounds of retching at an ungodly hour caused Hermione to stir from a sound sleep, and when she woke pleasantly surprised that it was not her doing the retching, she called out, "Alright, darling?"
Severus muttered about being fine, thanks, as well as something about the Cruciatus Curse. Hermione heard the water running and suddenly smug as hell, rolled over and pulled the blankets up with a sigh.
"Ok. Call if you need me!"
###
Certainly, it had been entertaining, those first few weeks where she could have a nice sandwich and a glass of milk, read a paper and put her feet up while Severus nibbled on toast and cursed food in general. After all, she'd been through it with Persephone for nine months straight. Thirty five and four-sevenths weeks to be exact, and at least he wasn't sick every bloody day. It was more of a hit and miss situation really-- Some days he was miserable... some days he was just a ravenous beast. Still, she didn't envy him the vomiting and cramping and craving foods that made him vomit and cramp, and after about a month and a half, began feeling very guilty. Perhaps more that she had put him in this position to begin with.
"Severus? It's not too late to... do something about this..." she began one day as she held his hair back over the toilet. "They could try and move the embryo into me or we could... terminate it..." The idea made her sick, but this was... unnatural, and the idea of his suffering for another seven months made her even more sick. "We have Persephone, after all. It was just so selfish of me--"
"Yes, it was," rasped Severus as he got to his feet, looking a little clammy. "But I agreed to it, and this is what you want." He sighed, scrubbing a hand down the side of his face. "It's what we want. And I can't see this happen to you again." Muffled as he shoved his toothbrush into his mouth, he mumbled, "I need a drink."
"Actually," Hermione said, oblivious of the murderous stare now trained in her direction, "alcohol is terrible for embryos. Studies have shown that an occasional glass of wine is probably alright, but--"
Severus spat out a mouthful of toothpaste. "Hermione? Why don't you go out and find me some chocolate fudge ice cream, hmm?"
"Now? But it's not even seven AM yet--"
"I know," he muttered. "Take your time."
###
Hermione just became less amused as the days went by. Severus was a horrible pregnant man and people were just rude. Oh certainly, his condition was rare in the Wizarding World, but not unheard of. There was no need for the staring and the pointing that only led to belligerent responses and subsequent threats, which in turn left people unwilling to drink water or anything that had been at all out of their sight.
Still, Hermione said little in the way of correction and he eventually just elected to stay in. It didn't make Hermione feel any better. It was so difficult to watch him work out a new center of gravity; worse to see that his normal mode of locomotion slowed and lost some of its aggression. When he was forced to take leave in his fifth month, it was more to avoid explaining to the children he was busy terrorizing that, no, he hadn't been spending too much time with the pudding. Rumor was rampant at any rate - his glaring and threatening was beginning to lose some credibility though he doubled his usual rate of detentions. After all, how could any man brave enough to carry a child be truly evil?
Other professors had taken to actually smiling at him in the corridors. Mid-term or not, it had had to stop. The Headmistress found a replacement willing to finish out the spring term and Snape was officially on leave of absence as of April, due in August right around Persephone's birthday.
And as such, a cranky, nauseous Potions professor and notorious double agent was left home alone for the better part of every workday with a rambunctious toddler while his wife continued her work at the Ministry. His mood was understandably not improved.
Hermione watched his belly bloom, watched his temper go from bad to impossibly worse; she watched helplessly as he vomited perfectly well-balanced meals and managed to keep down quarts of ice cream steeped in diced beets; watched as he perfected the art of the self-directed Mobilicorpus to get out of the sofa on his own and the entire time was convinced it was her fault.
Mainly, that would be because it was. And as much as he reminded her that he'd agreed, there were days when he was so frustrated and tired and just done with being an incubator, Hermione's heart hurt for what he was going through. She wondered if it was anything like what he'd been through when she was pregnant, and came to the conclusion that she perhaps had not appreciated his situation quite as much as she should have the first time around.
Given-- she was still glad not to be the one puking her insides out, and every day Severus rose early (with much difficulty) to do so, she sent up a little prayer of thanks for her magic and her skills.
###
The day of Persephone's second birthday party very fittingly dawned clear and bright and Uncles and Aunties far and wide were engaged in decorating the back garden of Hermione and Severus' home, enchanting balloons and streamers, fairy lights and hidden presents. Even Uncle Draco had made an early appearance bearing ungodly amounts of gifts and a live pygmy giraffe that Hermione declared inhumane... until Persephone ran up and hugged it, declaring it the love of her life.
He was immediately pressed into service assisting Ginny with the singing chorus of flowers around the birthday girl's throne, though there was a bit of a falling out as Ginny charmed them to sing the latest Wyrd Sisters tune, and Draco far preferred anything from Carmen. Eventually a compromise was reached in that the wreath alternated songs and when Molly and Arthur arrived with cake and another handful of children and grandchildren, the party was suddenly in full swing.
It was a brilliant accomplishment, given that Hermione and Severus were barely speaking but to inquire over each other's health and then snark about the response, whatever it might be. They'd learned a few months ago, the fewer words they said to one another, the less arguing there would be, and as such, safe territory included, 'Good morning', 'I love you', 'What do you want for dinner', and 'Good night'. Anyone straying from this map invited a messy verbal exsanguination. (Actually, 'What do you want for dinner' was sort of a loaded question if Snape had looked in a mirror within about half an hour or so, as this prompted a discussion on how awful it was to be so fat and how it didn't matter since he'd be full after two bites anyway.) 'Fancy a shag' was also fairly safe territory, oft-visited and well-beloved, and a good reason they were still speaking at all.
Regardless, the party went off without a hitch, and Snape spent most of it sitting in the shade with his feet up, large glass of cold water in hand. Persephone ran back and forth and in circles, finally crawling into Uncle Harry's lap for a rest with Yellow Bunny, and was only roused by the promise of cake.
Harry carried her in a circuit of the garden on the way to the cake table and the party followed, singing and laughing; a party that Snape managed to stroll along with if not quite sing, head held high.
That was however, until several drinks clattered to the ground as the oddly bulging Snape was suddenly clutching the picnic dinner table, ostensibly to keep from hitting the ground. The garden went impossibly silent as Hermione rushed over, eyes wide and exchanging murmurs with Snape, who had pried the fingers of one hand from the table in order to massage his distended abdomen.
The surgery had been scheduled for the following Monday, but apparently this baby was disinclined to wait. Doubling again, Snape swore and Hermione looked up panicked, to find that Harry, Ron and Malfoy were already within arm's reach, ready to catch, carry; pretty much anything.
Luna clapped her hands loudly, grinning from ear to ear. "Well. Time to move the party. I've got a baby to deliver!"
###
Harry rushed into the waiting area after delivering Hermione and Snape into the medi-witches' hands, nervous fingers threading through his hair, though he was a little conflicted as to why. After all, when it had been Hermione in this position, it had been an emergency; she had been ill and alone in the operating room- they could have lost both her and Persephone, a thought that gave him a cold shiver every time. This time, they'd known it was coming, the birthing center was prepared; there was a plan in place and Hermione was staying with Snape all thoughout the procedure and thank god that it wasn't Hermione on the table... but still. As much as he didn't care for the man, it had been rough... and damn it all, he was carrying Harry's niece or nephew (but he was fairly sure Hermione had skewed the potion toward 'girl').
And where was Ron? Luna was busy scrubbing up to perform the surgery, Molly had taken Persephone and the rest of the children, and Arthur and the remaining adults had taken to cleaning up the party and fetching Hermione's parents. Ron had no plausible excuse, and yet he was pointedly not there.
In the corner of the room, however, was a peaked and... rumpled(?!) Draco Malfoy, who must also have come directly from the party. His leg crossed ankle to knee and bouncing yet another bear (green, this time - so perhaps not directly) on his jittery thigh. Harry cocked his head, remembering the barest hint of sympathy he'd expressed when it had been Hermione in this position. The thought crossed his mind, too, about how even though Harry went out of his way to avoid running into Malfoy, he'd seen enough to know that he was all Snape had that passed for family, and he doted on Persephone... well. As much as he and Ron ever had.
Swallowing hard, Harry crossed the room and sat in the seat set at a 90 degree angle from where Malfoy sat, separated by a corner table and a cheerful lamp.
"Hey. He's going to be fine, you know. Luna knows what she's doing," Harry offered tentatively.
"Lovegood," muttered Malfoy, his voice hard as he stared into space, "is lucky to know her name and what time of day it is. And yet we trust her with severing and suturing charms and newborn children." He turned his attention to Harry. "Are we at the irony portion of this interaction yet, Potter? You and I, positions reversed? And yet, I see the gaggle of relations hasn't made it in yet. Suppose it wouldn't be much of a hardship if Severus miraculously had complications; after all, there would no more dealing with the nasty Slytherins in the big Gryffindor family, hmm?"
Harry glared at Malfoy as he spoke, breathing until he thought he was calm enough to answer it. All of it. "I- grr. I know, that you want to just --- just throttle something right now, alright? Because you're right, I've been there. And we've done our damnedest to accept this..." Harry gestured vaguely, "this freakish joke of nature that is our Hermione and your... godfather being in soppy, ridiculous love that involves... gah. Large words and research holidays. So, don't... don't think you're the only one weirded out by all this." Eyes on Malfoy even as the Slytherin looked away, Harry went on a little more quietly, "I saw you last time. You were worried. I know you don't care much for Hermione, but you know what it would do to one to lose the other. I--"
"--didn't even want to think about it," murmured Malfoy. "I had never in my life seen Severus happy until he met her." With a snort, he added, "Or rather, met her as an adult. He couldn't stand her as a student, either. Not that he tolerates any student, really."
With a sigh, Harry slumped in his seat, letting his head thump back onto the wall behind him. "Yeah, well. He's stuck with all of us, now. Which, incidentally, is all of us. At all bloody times. Rest of the Weasleys are on the way with Hermione's parents. Minus Molly, who's minding the flock of grandchildren."
Malfoy sighed and then huffed a tiny laugh. "Yes. Imagine his joy. On all counts."
"I'm sure he'll be thrilled." Harry cracked an eyelid and cast a sideways glance at Malfoy. "He's going to be fine, really. It'll be alright."
"Mmph," was Malfoy's only reply, and Harry went back to staring at the insides of his eyelids, trying to relax until a small voice piped up.
"Uncam!!"
Harry sat directly up, and apparently so had Malfoy. Persephone stood facing the corner they inhabited, Ron standing behind her looking impossibly tall by comparison. Finger in her mouth, Yellow Bear dragging along as usual, she again seemed to be trying to decide who to go to first.
"Me first--" both Harry and Malfoy said at once, immediately shooting dirty looks at each other.
"She's a Pumpkin, not a Snitch," said Ron, amused. "Share." He tugged on a dark, wispy pigtail as he spoke, easily fending off her chubby hands as she tried to bop him with Yellow Bear. "Thought she should be here for the big event, so I went to grab her from the Burrow."
Harry spoke again, "Get me first, poppet, and then you can sit with Uncle Draco. He needs it more than I do."
Persephone tackled him with giggles and hugs, babbling about Papa's baby and Harry did his best to ignore the look Ron gave him as he finally let her go. Instinctively, she climbed carefully into Malfoy's lap, squeezed him breathless and then began a quiet conversation between Yellow Bear and Green Bear. Malfoy shot him a look of confused gratitude and proceeded to entertain Persephone with tales of Green Bear's exploits on his way to becoming her sibling's best friend. Ron slumped into the seat next to Harry.
"Bit of a different view from here, yeah?" muttered Ron, nudging with a friendly elbow.
"Pssh. Yeah, little," grumbled Harry. "Sort of sucks either way."
"Bloody well hope they're done, either way. Can't do this again. Give a man a heart attack."
With a snort of laughter, Harry covered his face. "I-"
Malfoy's story was suddenly loud enough for Ron and Harry to hear. "And so Green Bear came to keep the baby company, and he had to be an extraordinary bear, because he is going to be the last one of his kind. Isn't that right?"
Ron and Harry bumped knuckles with a "here's hoping" and "I'll drink to that" just as the usual Hurricane Weasley swept into the waiting area. Persephone squealed as Arthur arrived at the head of a procession made up of Fred, George, Bill, Charlie, Ginny and various significant others, hangers on and eldest children, laden with flowers, stuffed animals and balloons, some of which had also come directly from the party.
"Any news?"
###
"Phoebe Elizabeth. Merlin, but you're small," murmured Ron as he held the baby - another monster apparently, weighing in at nine pounds even. Light-haired where Persephone had been dark to begin with, nose recognizable though still flat and softly rounded. An old hand at baby handling, Harry chomped at the bit for his turn, though this time they were in the nursery rather than the hospital room.
"Stop hogging the baby, Ron," he murmured. Hermione elbowed him.
"Quiet, you. But yes, please Ron, share. I need to get back to Severus and Persephone." Hermione shifted, running the inside of her wrist against the side of her chest and grimacing in a familiar way. "I seem to have miscalculated slightly in my scheming and plotting and apparently it's time for Miss Phoebe to eat."
Ron looked up alarmed as he handed Phoebe off to Harry. "Miscalculated?! How?"
Hermione pursed her lips. "Weeeell... apparently when the baby is the product of a man and a woman... the woman still ends up breastfeeding. You remember how fun that was for me, I trust?"
Trying not to laugh, Harry rocked Phoebe quietly. "Yeah, but now you've got experience."
Furrowing his brow, Ron asked, "Why would anyone else want to force a male pregnancy?"
Hermione cocked her head toward Harry. Harry held up the baby slightly and arched a meaningful eyebrow at Ron, who was busily being a master at blocking out information he was privy to, but didn't often take into consideration.
"I mean, I wouldn't..." said Harry, "'cos it's sort of weird and a little twisted. But there it is." He shrugged, quickly adding with a grin, "No offense, Hermione," even as she shoved the back of his head.
"Oh. Well. Right. Obviously that." Ron flushed and coughed in an admirable attempt to cover his uncomfortable shifting. "Who's hungry?"
###
Several weeks later, Hermione's face flared green in Harry's grate as he walked in the door from work, already peeling off his Auror's robes.
"Harry? Oh! Good! There you are. Are you free tonight to watch Phoebe and Persephone? Just for a bit - Severus is chaperoning some function or another at the school and I've got to pop out for tea, or coffee or something else I'll go mad. Ron and Luna are off in Sweden and my parents aren't answering the phone. An hour? Maybe two?"
Harry scrubbed a hand over his face and nodded, "Yeah, yeah 'course. Give me a few minutes to shower and change?"
"Oh, God. Thank you," said Hermione. "That's perfect. See you in a few."
Waving over his shoulder, Harry padded to his bathroom.
Grinning, Hermione sat back, taking another handful of Floo Powder and only pausing for a moment before tossing it onto the grate.
"Hello? Draco? Listen, are you free tonight to watch Phoebe and Persephone? Just for a bit - Severus is chaperoning some function or another at the school and I've got to pop out for tea, or coffee or something else I'll--"
---end
♥