Chapter 8Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextUnder the watchful gaze of the school nurse, Hermione scooped up the last spoonful of beans in tomato sauce and obediently popped them into her mouth, thus finishing off her hearty English breakfast. She herself preferred to eat lightly in the morning, eating at most a couple of apples or a croissant with tea, but here she had no choice. Three days ago, Madam Pomfrey diagnosed her with "severe nervous, physical and magical exhaustion", as if Hermione had been without normal rest and nutrition for a couple of months, not a couple of days. To tell the truth, she really felt extremely exhausted. Although she had just recently gotten up, having slept for more than fifteen hours straight, she was feeling sleepy again.
Whatever it was, it didn't seem like her usual overwork. After all, she was Hermione "I'll Be Cramming Until the End of My Days" Granger, who knew very well what stress and lack of sleep due to excessive zeal were.
Besides, there was one more thing that seriously bothered her and which she did not tell anyone about. The tugging feeling in the pit of her stomach that she always got in the presence of Harry Potter had not gone away. On the contrary, it only got worse every day. What had previously been just a vague nervous itch that Hermione had been quite successful in ignoring most of the time had now turned into full-blown spasms. Long waves of pain and heat, similar to what she experienced during menstruation, haunted her throughout the time her friend was nearby, but it became even worst when...
"Hey, Hermione! How are you?" Harry looked out from behind the screen and immediately went to her bed to take her hand.
"Are you better today?" Ron followed on his heels. The previous stupid quarrel between the three of them was long and firmly forgotten as soon as Hermione's misfortune happened.
"Hey," the girl barely restrained herself from pulling her hand out from under Harry's palm. She cursed his inopportunely appeared spontaneity in tactile contacts, which was usually not characteristic of him. The heat from his fingers burned her like a burning coal, sending waves of white-hot heat from his hand through her entire body – straight to her lower part.
She nearly screamed when the boy ran his thumb over her knuckles. Even from such a simple friendly gesture of support, her entire back was instantly covered with goose bumps, and between her legs there was a heavy and sweet throb.
"Ugh..." Hermione squeaked strangledly and squeezed her thighs hidden under the blanket tighter.
Thank God she was now wearing thick hospital pajamas and not a T-shirt, otherwise everyone would have seen her rock-hard erect nipples. Unlike some of her more developed female classmates, she still didn't need a bra, but right now she wouldn't mind to have one.
"Are you sure everything is okay, Hermione? You're kind of red again..."
"I... oh... I'm fine, thank you." Just a little feverish. It seems I'm still not fully recovered," she lied and carefully pulled her hand out of Harry's soft grip.
If the boys were puzzled by her isolation and aloofness, they probably chalked it up to illness.
Hermione looked away in shame. She physically couldn't function normally around Harry, especially when he was so close and constantly boring into her with those piercing green eyes, full of warmth and concern, causing her heart to start beating at a life-threatening speed, and her hormones were literally going crazy and hammered her brains so hard that she didn't have a single coherent or decent thought left.
Just a couple of seconds later, her eyes, as if magnetized, were again glued to Harry's face. Concerned for her, he furrowed his forehead with the famous scar under his disheveled bangs and bit his lower lip. Hermione instinctively licked her own lips, leaning a little closer to the object of her inappropriate, desperate lust, as if she was going to...
"Jesus Christ, have you gone completely nuts, Hermione?! What are you thinking about?!"
She thought that her panties were now completely ruined.
Hermione sat up straighter and sat higher on the pillows to distance herself from Harry as far as it was possible considered the length of the bunk. If she could, she would apparate from here to the other side of the globe right now,just so as not to feel her abnormally swollen clitoris pulsating and rubbing against the rough fabric of her underwear, driving her into quiet insanity. The unnatural arousal raged in every part of her child body, only recently beginning to turn into a woman.
Clearing her throat, she decided to change the subject before she got completely carried away and did something truly idiotic (like attacking Harry without warning and starting to rip off their clothes, oblivious to the presence of Ron, sitting a meter away from them, and Madam Pomfrey, looming somewhere on the periphery of the room).
"Hm... So... what was interesting in class?"
"Oh, I completely forgot!" Slapping himself on the forehead, Harry rushed to his bag and began to pull out parchments with notes. "Here. I tried to write down everything in as much detail as possible, as you asked, but... uh... I think I dozed off during the History of Magic. I'm sorry, Hermione," he smiled with an ingratiating puppy look, so that she instantly forgave him for everything in the world.
"For the love of God, come to your senses, you idiot! And shut your mouth already – the drool is flowing!" she mentally gave herself a heavy kick, and, fortunately, it had some effect.
Ron, meanwhile, was stacking "light reading" books on Hermione's nightstand, which he had picked up for her from the library. At least half of these volumes related to Family Magic and Blood Rituals. Although Professor Dumbledore probably had many more resources than the school library could provide, Hermione still refused to give up, because it was not her habit to leave things to chance.
"I don't understand why you need to study even here," Ron grumbled. "If I were you, I wouldn't mind sitting back for a day or two while I still have the opportunity."
"As if you don't already do this every day," the girl snorted mockingly and grabbed the topmost book from the stack.
Although she was terribly sleepy again, she was even more impatient to start reading. Lately all she's done is lie in bed and eat, so a little more and her own convolutions will finally turn into mashed potatoes, which she was treated to every day here.
She tried hard to push away the thought that she still wasn't getting better, despite all the measures Madam Pomfrey had taken. No matter how much she rested, no matter what potions she took, her condition steadily worsened.
Hermione may have only been a second year student, but she was no idiot. Over the past three days, she had been given more tonic and restorative tinctures than the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team had consumed in a year, but she still could barely get out of bed due to the dizziness. She reminded herself of a discharged battery on its last legs, and like a battery, she, too, now had exactly two opposite poles: mortal weakness and despondency without Harry, or frantic excitement next to Harry.
Whatever that ritual did to her, it was slowly but surely killing her.
Remembering Professor Dumbledore's warnings, Hermione did not even try to cast magic. No one took the magic wand from her, it was still lying in the nightstand along with her other things, but she was still afraid to touch it, because she felt in her gut that nothing good would come of it.
She looked at Harry once again – without lustful thoughts, for a change. The boy appeared to be in perfect order; there were no signs of increased fatigue or magical exhaustion. He was still quite pale and too skinny, but that was his usual state after a summer on Privet Drive, something everyone had long since become accustomed to.
"Does this mean that the negative consequences of the ritual affected only me?"
To be honest, it was a little unfair. Not like Hermione wanted Harry to get sick too... She was just scared and felt lonely, that's all. The potential threat in the form of the Heir of Slytherin, with which it all began, has long faded into the background. The greatest danger for Hermione turned out to be Hermione herself, with her exaggerated desire to control what was happening around her at all costs.
In spite of herself, she continued to glance at her best friend's features for the thousandth time, surprised that she suddenly began to find him almost irresistible. Seriously, what's wrong with her? Harry, of course, was not ugly but you couldn't call him handsome either. Just a skinny, angular and not too neat boy, just like all the other boys his age. The only thing that distinguished him from his peers in appearance was his extreme thinness and short stature, which is why he still seemed younger than his age. Hermione had long suspected, and after meeting Petunia Dursley, she was finally convinced that life in the house of Harry's guardians was not very sweet. A couple of times she noticed how he was still staring at the table in the Great Hall with such an expression, as if he could not quite believe that it's real.
Hermione's jaw tensed as she thought with indignation that Harry's relatives must have starved him for years, which is why he was so frail. While Ron had grown almost a head taller than Hermione over the summer and had grown slightly in his shoulders, Harry was still slightly shorter than her and looked fragile. If it weren't for the wide student's robe and the oversized Muggle rags underneath, Harry would probably have been even more bony without clothes...
"No. Stop it. You won't think about Harry without clothes. He is your friend, period! He doesn't even like you in a romantic way! Just because you've suddenly turned into some crazy nymphomaniac obsessed with Harry doesn't mean he has to reciprocate your feelings. Professor Dumbledore will find a way to undo the ritual, and then everything will immediately return to normal," after reading this mantra to herself, Hermione took several deep, slow breaths through her nose to even out her pulse.
She had to interrupt her mental auto-training when the screen around her bed opened slightly, and the Headmaster himself appeared in the opening.
"Miss Granger. Gentlemen," he greeted them with a sly smile on his kind face, but his eyes remained serious. "I'm sorry to interrupt your conversation, but there is something I would like to urgently talk to Harry and Hermione about."
"Did something happen, sir?"
"Nothing you should be aware right now, Mr. Weasley," the Headmaster winked conspiratorially at Ron, with his half-glasses flashing, but Hermione could still sense the falseness behind his deliberately light tone. Judging by the tension that instantly shackled Harry's shoulders, he also did not buy this trick (his intuition, well trained by the Dursleys, was flashing red lights again).
As soon as Dumbledore, Harry and Hermione were alone, all feigned serenity left professar's face. Having installed powerful anti-eavesdropping charms around the screen, he took Ron's vacant chair and, with a reflexive gesture, conjured tea.
With a heavy heart and her cup clutched tightly in her hands, Hermione prepared to hear what she suspected would once again turn her entire world upside down.
Chapter 9Chapter TextThere was a terrible hubbub in the Great Hall. The clatter of spoons and forks was drowned out by the roar of explosions of experimental potions that someone was brewing right here, the hooting of dozens of postal owls hurrying to their recipients, the loud chatter of teenagers and the buzz of spells flying here and there. In short, it was a typical breakfast at a school of witchcraft and wizardry full of overexcited young wizards, so it was not surprising that no one except a few people noticed the absence of the headmaster and a couple of second years, even if one of them was the Boy Who Lived, and the second was his best friend.
And yet, someone at the Gryffindor table took notice. Ginny Weasley sat down next to her brother, who at that moment was greedily pouncing on a potato casserole in solitude, and tugged at his sleeve:
"Why are you alone?"
"M-hr-r?" Ron raised his eyebrows questioningly as his mouth was completely busy chewing and swallowing at this moment.
"Harry missed breakfast again, and he wasn't at dinner yesterday. Is he... is he sick?"
"Ah! Is our little Ginny still pining for beautiful..."
"...heroic..."
"...glorious..."
"...unsurpassed..."
"...magnificent..."
"...godlike..."
"...Harry Potter?" The Weasley twins finished comically in unison with wide grins, while their little sister sat beet red.
"Hey! Leave her alone!" Ron belligerently pointed towards the brothers with a fork with a half-eaten piece of casserole. "And just so you know, Harry is not interested in girls!"
Fred and George first stared at him, dumbfounded, and then burst into thunderous laughter.
"What? What's so funny?! Ugh, damn it! That's not what I meant! Harry just doesn't care about all this romantic girly nonsense, okay?!" Ron's face acquired the same crimson hue as Ginny's.
"There, there, Ronnikins, no need to be so angry! Brother Forge and I are sure that Harry will appreciate your selfless..."
"...attempt to defend his honor."
"Oh, by the way, here is our hero!"
At that moment, Harry actually appeared at the door of the Great Hall. At the same time, he was clearly seriously preoccupied with something, because he did not even respond to the greetings of other students while he made his way to the table. Moving like a somnambulist, he looked straight ahead with wide eyes. Ron barely had time to move to clear the edge of the bench for him, after which Harry plopped down onto the seat with a flourish.
"So? What did Dumbledore say?"
When there was no answer, Ron tried to catch his friend's gaze, but even then he failed. Harry stubbornly continued to remain silent and stare at the tabletop in front of him.
"Buddy, what happened?" Now Ron was seriously worried.
Something has been definitely going on at Hogwarts lately, just like last year. With Harry's ability to attract all kinds of trouble, he must have somehow managed to find himself in the center of another shitstorm this time too. Ron had little doubt that if his friend for some reason looked terribly upset and almost scared, then something truly horrific had happened.
"Hey?"
Harry winced as Weasley poked him in the side and muttered under his breath:
"Nothing... Nothing happened."
After that, he began to mechanically put scrambled eggs on his plate, and then, with the same absent look, stuff them into himself, almost without chewing. His face remained unusually pale, as if he had just been informed of the death of a loved one.
"What did Dumbledore tell him and Hermione that makes Harry look like an infernal now?! And why are they hiding this from me again?"
Ron was about to open his mouth to get to the bottom of the truth at all costs when his attention was caught by the extraordinary commotion at the other end of the hall. It looked like some kind of skit was being played out at the Slytherin table, in which Draco Malfoy was the main actor. Oohing, aahing and putting his hands to his face, he dramatically fell to the floor over and over again, and then got up, shook himself off and fell again, all while the students in green robes laughed loudly.
"Oh, this is so funny, Draco! I beg you, show us again!" Pansy Parkinson giggled shrilly, like a piglet, when Malfoy once again collapsed on the stone slabs to the approving whistle of the students. This time he pretended to be wallowing in a non-existent mop of hair that was choking him, which also caused chuckles from some Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs.
"Oh, I can't... My stomach is about to burst from laughter! It looks so similar!"
"What…?"
Suddenly it dawned on Ron that the stupid Slytherin was imitating Hermione fainting.
"This bloody bastard!"
Weasley's blood immediately boiled in his veins, but before he could say or do anything, Harry was the first of the two of them to jump up from his seat. Some of those present could later swear that he had apparated, although this was completely impossible. It was just that one second he was sitting at the table, and the next he was grabbing Malfoy by the collar.
"Potter, what the...?!"
SMACK!
Harry's fist slammed into Draco's face, instantly breaking the cartilage of his thin, aristocratic nose. Pansy and a couple of other girls screamed loudly. The rest of the students jumped up from their benches and rushed to the scene. In the few short moments it took for Snape to get through the instant pandemonium, it was enough for Harry to swing again and hit the stunned Malfoy hard on the cheekbone.
"Potter! What do you think you are doing?!"
A gust of air caught Harry and tore him away from the Slytherin.
"It's Malfoy's fault! He deserves it!" Someone shouted in the crowd, and many cheered in agreement. However, everyone knew perfectly well that Snape did not care who the instigator really was. The biased head of Slytherin will never punish his favorite.
"Potter, you're finished! Do you hear me?! Finished! I will destroy you!" Meanwhile, Draco was screaming in hysterics.
Blood poured from his left nostril onto his chin and white silk shirt. His usually neat hair was disheveled, and there were angry tears in his eyes. He kept pretending that he was trying to escape from the hands of Crabbe and Goyle, who had helped him up and were now standing on either side of their "boss" with an inhibited expression on their faces, not sure whether they should attack Harry in revenge or should they wait, until their dean himself skins the Gryffindor.
Harry muttered something in response, but the words were drowned out in the general noise. Wincing from the dull pain, the boy rubbed his elbow, bruised from hitting the floor where he had been not-so-gently thrown by Snape's magic.
"I swear, once my father finds out about this, he won't leave it like that! You, and your Mudblood, and this entire school will regret messing with...!"
"ENOUGH!" the thunderous voice of the Headmaster, amplified tens of times by Sonorus, shook the Great Hall and instantly silenced everyone present. "Mr. Malfoy, we don't use that kind of language within these walls! Ten points from Slytherin!"
"But Potter hit me! My father…"
"Would be very disappointed if he knew that you allowed yourself to behave in such an inappropriate manner and disgrace his name," Dumbledore finished coolly, and Draco, to the surprise of those around him, suddenly began to look almost frightened. "Mr. Goyle, please help your friend get to the hospital wing."
"Headmaster," Snape intervened, clearly fearing that someone would try to take away his legitimate "prey." "Whatever the original reasons, Potter physically attacked a student of my House. I demand that he be punished."
The elderly wizard looked carefully at the potion master through his half-glasses before saying in a serious tone:
"I assure you, Severus, no one will go unpunished this time."
With these words, he put his hand on Harry's shoulder and led him away to the surprised and wary whispers of students and professors.
* * *
As the Great Hall remained further behind him, the level of adrenaline in Harry's blood dropped lower and lower, and the boy began to feel more and more stupid.
Why the hell did he snap and attack Malfoy?! Well, yes, the asshole earned it with his big mouth, but now the vengeful little idiot will definitely try to make the lives of Harry and his friends as miserable as possible. It's just that Harry once again allowed his emotions to cloud his mind, as often happened to him. When he saw how this bastard imitated Hermione, who was still lying in the hospital wing in serious condition... Christ. Just the memory of it was enough to make Harry want to immediately go back and give Draco a couple of black eyes too for good measure.
"Hermione would not approve of this," a sad thought flashed through his mind.
Harry knew how his friend felt about fighting, even in her honor. When Hermione finds out that he lost his temper because of bloody Malfoy, she will definitely give him a lecture about how "fists can't solve the problem." Although Harry strongly disagreed with her about this particular point (in his opinion, some people simply did not understand otherwise), he still did not want to get involved in an argument that, as he knew from experience, he would lose anyway. It was easier to give in.
He meekly allowed himself to be led into the director's office and seated on a chair, after which he lowered his head and stared at his fingers clasped in his lap with bitten off burrs. Dumbledore was rustling with something, probably organizing tea again, but Harry refused to look up. He simply couldn't imagine what the Headmaster could have told him something new to make this whole situation even a little better or simpler.
Just half an hour ago, Harry learned something huge about himself and Hermione that made his stupid run-in with Malfoy seem like child's play.
"Harry, please look at me."
Reluctantly, he nevertheless obeyed and immediately came across the worried look of senile eyes. Without waiting to be scolded again, Potter quickly said:
"I know I shouldn't have hit him, but he started it first!"
"Harry..."
"What?!"
Dumbledore's gaze hardened for a moment, so that the boy immediately deflated.
"I'm sorry, sir."
He really didn't want to be rude to the professor, who was almost the only adult who knew about Harry's problems and tried to help. It wasn't his fault that there was no adequate way out of the situation Harry found himself in this time.
"But why me?! Why does it always have to be me?!"
For a couple of minutes he allowed self-pity to completely take over his being, but these minutes quickly passed. The truth was that he was not alone in this boat. No matter how bitter his future life seemed now, Hermione's fate was many times worse: she would be the one who would have to bear and give birth to babies, one after another, until she and Harry both grew old and died.
Harry tried to imagine what his life would soon be like with a tiny baby... someone he might have to take care of... It was like trying to imagine space aliens coming to Hogwarts or something.
How can he do this?! He still needed a guardian himself! Isn't it the responsibility of adults to raise and care for children? Harry wasn't an adult. Although he often denied it verbally, wanting to be taken seriously, in reality he still felt like a child and needed support himself. He had no idea how to care for anyone other than himself. He couldn't really take care of himself either...
"Harry, I know you've had a lot on your shoulders lately. I also know that it is unfair to demand such things of you or Miss Granger, but the sad truth is that none of us have any better choice in this situation. Believe me, my boy, if there was any way to free you and Hermione from your vows, I would definitely find it."
The sincerity and sadness in Dumbledore's voice struck Harry to the core. The old man actually deeply regretted that there was nothing he could do to help them, and this made Harry briefly come out of his bubble of apathy and self-pity.
If no one, not even one of the most powerful and influential sorcerers on the planet, could do anything, then there really were no other options. This means that Harry will have to come to terms and try to somehow move on with his life.
The good news was that he wasn't alone in this. The bad news is that Hermione will also have to suffer the consequences of their rash decision. The last thing Harry wanted in the world was for anyone close to him to suffer... But if he couldn't fix the damage, he could at least try to lessen it.
Once again Harry thought about the upset, tearful Hermione he had left in the hospital wing this morning, and at that moment he knew what he should do next.
The first thing he would do was go and talk to Hermione again – this time without anyone else, just the two of them. Harry's friend was a true genius and a storehouse of knowledge about literally everything in the world, and she never lacked fresh ideas, as he had already seen more than once. If anyone could figure out how to cope with this whole nightmare with minimal losses, it would be Hermione. Harry, for his part, will try to do everything in his power to support her along this path.
Chapter 10Chapter TextThis couldn't be true. Just couldn't. Her life couldn't have ended so stupidly after it had just begun!
In the first five minutes after Professor Dumbledore gave her and Harry another portion of increasingly marvelous, stunning news, Hermione literally lost touch with reality. All she could realize and feel in these moments was the frantic pulsation of her own heart, painfully pounding against her ribs.
The Headmaster continued to say something, but she could not make out a word due to the roar of blood in her ears. He seemed to be arguing with Harry about something or trying to explain something...
When her brain finally rebooted and she was able to move her tongue again, she could only produce some incoherent babble:
"But how... Professor... you said... you promised to find a way... I... I can't..."
She almost missed the moment when Harry ran out of the hospital wing in rage and fear, slamming the door loudly. What a pity that damned weakness prevents her from doing the same thing... Now she would not refuse to hide in some tiny quiet corner and cry there to her heart's content, feeling sorry for herself with all her might.
"Miss Granger, here... take this."
At first, Hermione stared in bewilderment at some white rectangular object that was being handed to her, and only then did it dawn on her that it was a handkerchief. But why would she...? She ran her palm over her cheek and was surprised to find moisture there. Had she already crying? Looks like it...
And then it just came out of her. A heavy, painful sob burst from her chest, and then another, and another, and now she was bawling like a five-year-old child in front of Professor Dumbledore, who was looking at her tranquilly and sadly, not trying to calm her down – either because he believed that she doesn't need it, or is simply unable to find the right words of consolation.
When, after twenty minutes of continuous moaning, she began to hiccup and choke, Madam Pomfrey finally brought her a calming tincture, which Hermione drank in one fell swoop. The effect was immediate - she actually calmed down to the point of being a brick, but at the same time the drowsiness returned.
"Professor Dumbledore, what will happen to me now?" She asked quietly. "I'll have to leave school, right?"
"Miss Granger..." the Headmaster began, and then corrected himself: "Hermione. I really can't give you the answer to this question right now. I won't hide it from you, in the past there have been precedents with students getting married and pregnant at Hogwarts, but never at such a young age."
Marriage. Pregnancy... She would have to conceive Harry's child no later than the end of December, that is, in the next two weeks, which means the baby would be born around August next year. If she stayed at Hogwarts, she would spend the entire next academic term pregnant. By the time of the transition exams, she will already have a noticeable belly, unless there is some means in the magical world to hide it... One way or another, she will give birth to her first child before she herself turns fourteen!
Her whole body shook with a trembling of horror so strong that Hermione's teeth began to chatter.
"I can't! I don't want it! Please don't force me! Please, I beg you, professor, do something! Come up with something, anything, YOU PROMISED ME!!!" She wanted to scream this with all her might, but she knew that it was useless, and therefore she continued to silently nervously fiddle with the edge of the blanket with trembling fingers.
Finally, Dumbledore left her too, as Hermione's eyelids began to close again against her will, and she fell into a heavy, drug-induced, dreamless sleep.
* * *
The next time she woke up, it was almost midnight. She skipped breakfast and lunch, and therefore attacked the late dinner offered to her with a greed that even she did not expect from herself. She thought that after the morning shocks she would feel sick just from the sight of food, but no. Having eaten a huge plate of rice with mushrooms and pork in one sitting, she washed it all down with hot tea and was about to reach for a book when the flap of her screen moved slightly to the side, letting in... emptiness.
"Harry, I know it's you." Madam Pomfrey has already finished her rounds, you may appear. Just don't make any noise," Hermione grinned weakly into the space where she assumed her friend, hidden by the invisibility cloak, should be.
And sure enough, a moment later Harry appeared before her. He was holding a small cardboard box in his hands, tied with a frivolous pink bow.
"Here, take it" he put the strange object on her lap and stepped back.
"What is this?"
"Open it."
Although she was still in a rather lousy mood, Hermione was intrigued, so without hesitation she pulled the ends of the ribbon and removed the lid. To her even greater amazement and secret joy, inside were her favorite chocolate eclairs – exactly the ones that she sometimes allowed herself to eat on special occasions, like after perfect semester exams. So how on Earth could Harry possibly know about this little weakness of hers? Did someone tell him? But who? At Hogwarts, she didn't share her dessert preferences with anyone. If only…
"No way!"
"Did you write to my mum? And she answered you?!" Hermione drawled incredulously.
"Huh?" there was bewilderment on Harry's face. "Oh… No! I mean... uh... well, I've seen you sometimes get packages with these eclairs and you eat them right away like... um... I mean, I thought you must really like them, so I asked Fred and George for some... Because you're sick and all that," he quickly added, as if making excuses.
"Fred and George?" Hermione repeated slowly. She decided to put the rest of the information (that Harry seemed to pay attention to such little things as her favorite forbidden sweets) until later.
"Yeah. To be honest, I have no idea where they got them from. They mentioned some worms and something else about the moon*, but to be honest, I think they were just messing with me. Maybe they know how to order these things by owl or something."
"They didn't put anything in there, did they?" Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously, to which the boy actively shook his head from side to side.
"No, no, it's good! I was surprised myself. Truth be told, they refused to help me until I said who it was for. Then they made very strange faces and started laughing like hyenas... You know, don't tell Ron, but sometimes I think his brothers are a little bit of kooky."
"You tell me…"
Giggling, they each picked up an eclair, and Hermione immediately bit off half of hers. In the end, her normal life is already over, which means she has nothing to lose. The universe will not collapse and Hogwarts will not shatter into small pieces overnight if she at least once in her existent treats herself to sweets at inopportune times and for no particular reason.
To her endless pleasure, the taste turned out to be exactly what she liked most: a soft, thick layer of natural milk chocolate, airy choux pastry and delicate, moderately fatty and not too cloying fudge.
Before she could stop herself, Hermione had swallowed the entire eclair, moaning in pure bliss as she did so, and immediately grabbed the next one. She didn't even try to eat gracefully because what the hell?! Nobody sees her anyway, except Harry, who won't judge her anyway (not after witnessing of food annihilation by Ron Weasley so many times). She even licked every finger that was stained with chocolate icing.
Taking another bite of the eclair, Hermione suddenly caught Harry's gaze directed at her... and almost choked. Her friend... No… Her husband looked at her with an expression like... well, perhaps the best word for it would be "hungry."
Hermione hurriedly grabbed the glass of water on the nightstand to drain it in one gulp.
"Oh my God..."
The traitorous heart was beating like a drum again. A real fire flared up between her legs and at the same time a direct portal to Niagara Falls opened. If Harry felt something half strong as this right now, there was no telling how long they could hold out without conceiving this damn baby...
"What am I thinking right now?! Jesus Christ… Where do I even get these thoughts from?! It's all a ritual. That's it! These are the consequences of the damned ritual! And also stress... I've never been like that... I'm not like that! It's not me!"
"Um... Is there something on my face? Chocolate?" Harry sheepishly scratched his cheek, from which he was trying to blindly wipe off the non-existent remnants of icing. "You look at me like..."
"Sorry. Just thinking about something. Actually, I wanted to talk to you..."
"Me too…"
"Harry, we..."
They both fell silent, staring at each other with equal levels of fear and embarrassment.
"How are we even going to do this thing if we can't even talk about it properly?"
Collecting herself and taking a deep breath, she tried again:
"Harry, I think that..." and then a great idea suddenly came into her head, so she ended in a completely different way than she had intended: "...I need to go to the library!"
"To the library? Right now? But, Hermione..." the boy looked confused and with a clear hint at the impressive stack of books she already had, but his friend just waved his off.
"I think we should do some research."
"Research?"
"Yes, research," Hermione repeated emphatically and then explained, seeing that her friend still could not understand what she was getting at: "Right now, you and I know very little about carnal knowledge, or sexual intercourse."
"S-sexual int... ahem... Hermione, are you serious right now?"
"Very. And you should too," a familiar moralizing note appeared in her voice. Finally feeling in her element, Hermione straightened her shoulders and spoke in a confident lecturer's tone: "We cannot begin to practice before we have studied the theory. It doesn't work that way."
"But... Do you think this is necessary? I mean... in Flying class we were just told to get on our broomsticks straight away."
"Yes, and remember what it led to!" Hermione barked. "Do you want everything to end the same way here?!"
Harry shook his head in panic, to which the girl nodded in satisfaction.
"Exactly. I know that you and I don't have much time, so we will use it wisely. First, we will draw up questions about the subject of the experiment, and then we will conduct a theoretical analysis, and only after that we will begin practical exercises."
Carried away by a new clear goal, Hermione found her pencil for notes in her nightstand, pulled out a cardboard from an empty eclair box and began listing the points that interested her directly on it. At this time, Harry sat quietly, like a mouse under a broom, afraid to disturb her.
"Here!" Ten minutes later she handed him a cardboard densely covered with writing.
As Harry read, his cheeks turned a darker shade of red.
"D-do you want me to go to Madame Pince with this?"
"Yes. And then to the owlery. I would be surprised if there are any books on sexology and sex education at Hogwarts that are newer than the early 20th century. Can you imagine, most purebred witches still know absolutely nothing about disposable pads! This is madness! I'm not even talking about tampons and menstrual cups!.."
Judging by the completely blank expression on his face, Harry had no idea what she was talking about either. This further convinced Hermione that she had been absolutely right when she decided that it would be best for them to start with the basics.
So, they would both study this subject from cover to cover with all the care and diligence with which Hermione was accustomed to approaching the analysis and assimilation of anything new. Thinking about it like that, it was even better. As long as she and Harry treated it like just another difficult discipline, they might even be able to overcome their fears and awkwardness and eventually get it right.
For herself, Hermione decided that they simply must to succeed, because their lives directly depended on it.
* Apparently Fred and George used the Marauder's Map to sneak the eclairs from the Honeydukes. Or maybe they acted more wisely and simply visited the Hogwarts kitchen where asked the elves to cook them Hermione's favorite sweets.
Chapter 11Chapter TextPotions Master Severus Snape didn't have many things in this life that he could call truly enjoyable: a successfully brewed experimental potion; a new book that he had been wanting to read for quite some time; the smell of perfectly brewed coffee in a tiny café on the coast of Corsica that very few people have ever been to... The night patrol of Hogwarts, contrary to the opinion of his students and the vast majority of his colleagues, was definitely not one of these things.
The joy of catching careless idiots wandering around the corridors at inopportune hours and deducting points from them was greatly exaggerated and required much more energy than Severus had available. If it were up to him, the man would be much more willing to spend precious night hours on personal projects, or reading scientific articles, or just relaxing... Alas, as the Head of the House, he was forced to wander uselessly back and forth at least two nights a week, going around every nook and cranny of the castle in search of possible intruders.
So today, instead of doing something useful or, at least, just getting a good night's sleep, he was forced to glide around the castle like a gloomy shadow or some kind of overgrown bat, with whom ungrateful little brats, whose empty heads he tried to fill with at least a minimal set of knowledge from year to year, were always comparing him behind his back. What a sad and wasteful waste of his many talents!
Every aspect of his patrol routine was familiar and had become automatic over the years: anti-noise spells, casting in advance on his sturdy orthopedic boots; black tails of his robes, flying behind his back like wings; the gloomy, cold and merciless gaze of his obsidian eyes, glaring with contempt at the pathetic figures of students trembling with primal horror after he caught them red-handed trying to sneak into the kitchen or make out with each other in the broom closet… Boredom. Terrible, hopeless boredom!
Shrugging his shoulders in disgust, the Head of Slytherin turned at random into one of the passages, which, as he remembered, would soon lead him to the dungeons. The ankle, bitten by Hagrid's stupid dog last year, still had not fully recovered and often ached when the weather changed. Because of this, Severus was especially impatient to finish the tedious routine for the day, and therefore he subconsciously chose the most circuitous routes, in which the likelihood of bumping into someone was minimized, and tried not to listen too much to any...
Shh-shh… Shh-shh… Shh-shh…
"God damn!"
Mentally promising all the circles of hell to those morons who decided to stand in the way between him and the warm bed, Snape turned off the light at the end of his wand and silently swam in the direction of the suspicious rustling.
His thick black clothes and dark hair provided him with perfect camouflage against the background of thick shadows cast by numerous columns and knight armor standing in niches. For some time he continued to sneak towards the sound, which became more and more distinct with every meter passed.
"Footsteps. One pair of boots. Someone who has forgotten or doesn't know how to cast a silencing charm. In a hurry, but tries to walk as quietly as possible. Definitely a student. Probably no older than third year. Well, well, well…"
Frankly, after so many years, he really learned to get some kind of perverted pleasure from the process of tracking down his "prey." This helped not to lose his tone and introduced some variety into the teaching routine. On the other side, immediately after the capture everything always developed according to the same dull scenario: grab, scare, scold for stupidity, deduct points or assign detention, escort back to the common room. So bloody tiring.
Continuing to stick to the darkest areas, the Head of Slytherin slowly approached the unsuspecting fool, who led him further and further from his original intended goal. And here's the strange thing – although Severus continued to clearly hear the hasty shuffling of boots, he could not make out their clumsy owner. What student could be so smart as to cast a high-quality disillusionment charm, but at the same time so careless as to forget to get rid of the sound?
Out of habit, one familiar name involuntarily came to mind, the owner of which, despite his young age, had already settled in Snape's liver and was now actively gnawing his way to the spine. But this was absolutely impossible. Potter is only a second-year student, and also very mediocre and lazy to even suspect the existence of disillusionment charms in the world. Another thing was his annoying shaggy little friend... but, as far as Severus knew, she was now in the hospital wing under the supervision of Poppy.
Whoever they were, they led Severus deeper and deeper into the castle, until, in the end, it became absolutely clear that they were moving in the direction of the library.
"So it's you after all, Miss Granger? Have you decided to try your luck again and impose another curse on yourself or someone else?"
Severus' lips curled into a scornful smirk. However, in reality he rather felt sorry for the foolish girl. It's not her fault that Mordred knows what's going on at school, so she and the other students have to find ways to protect themselves by their own while the administration, as usual, sits on their arses. In truth, Snape did not understand Dumbledore at all in this regard. If he were the director himself, he would call the Aurors to the school or, at least, secretly drug the most suspicious individuals with veritaserum... Literally anything, just not sit idly by, waiting for the next attack when instead of a cat they stumble upon the corpse of a child! Sometimes Severus even began to think that the mask of an old crazy nincompoop was not a mask at all...
Lost in thought, he almost missed the next fork where his invisible target had turned.
Just before the doors to the library, the steps expectedly died down, and then a lone bodyless hand appeared in the air with a magic wand clutched in its fist.
"Alohomora!" A barely audible thin voice sounded in the corridor.
"Potter! "
A shiver of anticipation ran down Snape's spine. Invisible or not, Potter won't get away this time! The man was about to step forward and reveal himself, scaring the presumptuous brat to his gray hairs, but he didn't have time.
If it weren't for his steely self-control, tempered by years of espionage, he would probably have shouted obscenities or thrown a curse, but Severus only squeezed his wand tighter in his secret pocket when someone's invisible hand suddenly fell on his shoulder. A slight jolt in the consciousness announced the presence of Legilimens, who – well, who would doubt it! – turned out to be Dumbledore.
"Apparently no one sleeps in this bloody castle today."
"Good night to you too, Severus. Please don't disturb our young friend. I'm sure he has a good reason for being here at this hour," even as a mental projection, the old man somehow managed to sound condescending.
Cursing silently and not even bothering to hide it behind a mental shield, Snape hastily stepped back into the alcove, allowing Potter to escape into the darkness of the library with impunity. There was nothing more he could do.
"I hope your Golden Boy doesn't blow up the school, Headmaster. Good night."
Spinning on his heels, the extremely irritated Potions Master stormed out of the corridor, leaving Dumbledore to deal with Potter and his delirium since he couldn't sleep anyway.
* * *
Harry's wand hand shook nervously, causing the light at the end to dance erratically across the bookshelves, which grew longer and more intricate as he made his way further into the winding depths of the library.
"Ancient Runes. Curses and evil eyes. Family magic. Blood magic. Artifacts. Arabic mysticism..." in order not to get confused, he read out in a whisper the names of the sections he passed by.
It always amazed him how anyone, other than people like Madam Pince and Hermione, who apparently had some kind of special innate magic, could navigate this chaos. He himself was forced to tediously go through each section, constantly checking the list given to him. The task was made more difficult by the fact that there were no exact titles or authors, only approximate search areas, which forced him to skim through each potentially useful volume.
Of course, he could have just waited until morning and asked the librarian for help, but Harry would have been more willing to meet Quirrell once again, possessed by Voldemort, than to ask Madame Pince for things like "an atlas of reproductive anatomy" or "the influence of the phases of the moon on the conception of a healthy magical child." The woman would probably have questions that Harry was unwilling and unable to answer.
However, after an hour of fruitless wandering through the dark halls, he was ready to reconsider his previous decision. At the very beginning, he dove into the Family Magic section with hope, but was quickly disappointed. The "theory on the physical interaction of the sexes" he needed was not there, but there were any number of household charms for washing nappies, heating water for bathing newborns, potions for babies' colic, transfiguring literally anything into nipples and sippy cups... The direction it was all taking made Harry's mouth go dry, so he hurried out of there to try and find the information he needed in more… safe parts of the vault. Someday he will probably need all this stuff too, but, thank God, this day will not come tomorrow.
After that, Harry began to wander here and there at random, but all he could learn was that the titles of the books often had nothing at all to do with the essence of what was written.
"Damn, there are thousands of books here! How am I supposed to find something here?!"
In irritation, he kicked the nearest shelf, which immediately brought down a stack of dusty tomes on his head.
"Achoo!"
In a panic, Harry covered his nose and mouth with his hands and froze in place, listening with all his might to the ringing silence. When no one came running to catch him red-handed after two minutes, he allowed himself to breathe normally again.
"Phew... I need to finish and get out of here."
He turned on the tiny Lumos again and bent over the scattered books to hastily stuff them back onto the shelf at random. Hermione would have chewed him out for such blasphemy, but Harry justified himself by saying that he was acting for good purposes.
When order was restored, he was about to move on, but some strange feeling inside made him take another closer look at one of the book's spine.
P. Found "Search charms for all occasions"
A search of the table of contents quickly led to a spell that was ideally suited for his purposes. Wand movements and pronunciation were not particularly difficult, so after a few minutes of practice, Harry confidently commanded:
"Quaerere Librum reproductive anatomy! Quaerere Librumconceiving children! Quaerere Librum pregnancy and childbirth!.."
In response to each new request, his wand threw out pale silver sparks in all directions, like fireworks, involuntarily reminding him of…
"Okay. Focus," Harry shook his head vigorously, clearing away the memories of the secluded room on the seventh floor where he had recently spent a few delightful minutes alone with himself.
Frankly, since then he had often thought about repeating his experiment, but he would never have dared to do such things in a shared shower or, even worse, in a bedroom, where other boys could catch him at any moment. Perhaps later he could visit the seventh floor again...
"Or maybe soon I won't need it at all. If Hermione and I..."From such thoughts, all the blood in his body instantly rushed south, and Harry was forced to start thinking about all sorts of nasty things, like slicing flobber worms or Uncle Vernon's face, as soon as possible.
Once his skull became clear again and "mini-Harry" had settled back down, Potter returned to trying to conjure a search. He enthusiastically tried again and again, increasing the radius of the spell until, in the end, he managed to cover four sections entirely. Armed with a new method, he combed the room again, and this time found dozens of books, of which he settled on the most detailed and illustrated ones.
"Quaerere Librum copy charm!"
Almost two more hours were spent duplicating the found volumes and reducing the copies. By dawn, Harry left the library with a sense of accomplishment and a bag filled to the brim with textbooks on fertilization, conception, pregnancy and childbirth. It was truly a colossal amount of information – literally. And all this will need to be read in the next few days.
"At least I'll have a great excuse to skip my homework,"Harry tried to find something positive.
Hurrying to quickly find his "catch" Hermione, he hastily pulled on the invisibility cloak and rushed to the hospital wing at top speed.
The still invisible Dumbledore smiled into his beard and locked the library door again. Finally, everything seemed to be going as it should again.
Chapter 12Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text"…a most grievous affliction, doth beset pregnant women with sudden and violent convulsions, oft leading to unconsciousness. This perilous malady, heralded by swellings and severe headaches, doth arise from an imbalance of the humors, particularly the overabundance of choler and melancholy. Left untreated, it bringeth great danger to both mother and babe, oftentimes resulting in the loss of life. Remedies prescribed include the application of cooling herbs, such as rue and sage, and the diligent bleeding of the patient to restore balance within the body. Skilled midwives and physicians must attend to those afflicted with all haste to avert the direst outcomes. "*
Unable to read any further into this clearly outdated medieval nonsense, Hermione rolled up and moved the parchment to the pile of already viewed ones. As she had expected, there was not a single modern material among the materials in the Hogwarts library. The most "advanced" information was the 1938 contraceptive brochure for married women, which contained such "valuable" advice as: "inject lemon or orange juice into the vagina immediately after intercourse to kill the semen" or "jump up and down to shake the seed out."
And the classic magical methods have not gone much further than them! In this case, the reason was the chauvinism typical of magicians towards single pregnant women and women in general. It was hard to believe, but many wizards and witches still considered sex exclusively as an act between a married couple, and therefore the vast majority of magic pharmacies even refused to sell contraceptive potions and other specific decoctions to unmarried women! The same was true for spells, which could only be learned by purchasing a certain kind of book, which also not everyone could get their hands on yet...
Rubbish! Absolute rubbish and complete lack of basic human rights – that's what it was! As if no one had bothered to tell these archaic wizards that the times of Queen Victoria had passed, and the entire civilized world had long since treated women as separate, independently thinking human beings who had the right to decide for themselves whether to marry or not, whether to have children or not!
Ugh... Hermione's blood boiled like lava while reading all this nonsense – from newspaper editorials to copied reference books. And all this was now the world in which she had to live! Against this background, Hogwarts, with its battle of the Houses and the specific attitude of some students towards Muggle-borns, looked like a stronghold of adequately and tolerance. Hermione had never even thought until now that in the rest of the magical world everything could be completely different... Was it the influence of Professor Dumbledore, thanks to whom women and girls in the castle were treated the same as boys, without any restrictions on their rights? Or was it the atmosphere and traditions of Hogwarts itself, two of whose founders were women? Hermione didn't have the answers to these questions yet, but she would definitely get to the bottom of it, because it directly affected her entire future, if she really wanted to connect her life with this place.
Was everything really that bad in the rest of wizarding society outside the school? Was there really nothing she could do to fix it, and she would just have to accept her fate?!.. Hell, no! Hermione Granger refused to turn into a stupid, powerless baby-making machine, no matter how much the ritual or the whole damn wizarding community pushed her to it! You picked the wrong one this time, dears, and messed with the wrong witch!..
If the knowledge of modern magicians about conception, pregnancy, the menstrual cycle and the female body in general was still at such a backward level, it is not surprising that their number did not exceed several hundred thousand throughout the world. It's strange that they even managed to survive in such inhuman conditions.
Having read, and even more so, having seen enough moving color illustrations and engravings depicting female and male genital organs, babies in a cross-section of a woman's womb, as well as different stages of pregnancy, associated complications and completely wild methods of "treatment", Hermione was in quiet horror. And these cavemen were going to guide her pregnancy! No way!
Knowing now full well what exactly was at stake, Hermione overcame her embarrassment and nevertheless turned to Madam Pomfrey for help, asking her to send someone to the Muggle bookstore. She terribly regretted that she did not have access to the Internet here, because then everything would have become much simpler.
Hermione had jotted down a list similar to the one she had given Harry, with specific questions that were unlikely to cause problems for impartial Muggle booksellers, and Madam Pomfrey promised to be sure to pass it on to Professor McGonagall. Now all that remained was to wait for her order to be delivered, but in the meantime Hermione could pass the time with these notes, in which truth and mysticism were often barely distinguishable from each other. What was definitely in abundance there were visual and colorful descriptions of various disgusting things.
"Verily, in the latter days of her condition, the matron with child doth present a countenance of fullness and girth, her form beset with the swelling of her belly, causing her gait to be slow and ponderous. Her countenance doth oft betray signs of weariness, and her limbs find themselves oftentimes overtaken with heaviness and stiffness. The babe within doth press upon her tender organs, provoking discomfort and unrest. Yet, she doth await with patient hope the appointed time when travail shall begin, and the fruit of her womb shall be brought forth into the world."
Running her eyes along the lines of ancient texts, which sometimes dated back five hundred years or more, Hermione often could not resist rolling her eyes when she came across one or another anti-scientific, chauvinistic or simply strange passage. Particularly "gratifying" was the absolutely cold and detached description of the sexual act, as if it were nothing more than some kind of obligatory condition of the transaction, and not the culmination of the love of the spouses or at least their mutual physical attraction.
"To conceive a child, let the husband and wife prepare their bodies and minds with due care. The husband must purify himself and approach his wife with fitting speech, fostering an air of tranquility. The wife should be receptive and recline upon her back with knees gently bent and parted, easing entry. The husband shall then position himself betwixt her legs, guiding his member into her natural opening with deliberate and steady motion. He should move rhythmically, ensuring mutual fulfillment of duty and comfort. Upon reaching the peak moment, he must deposit his seed deeply within her womb, thus enhancing the likelihood of conception. This act, performed with diligence and earnestness, shall fulfill the sacred duty of progeny ordained by the Creator."
Debt, that's what it was for her. No more, no less. In a fit of idiocy, she did not bother to properly study the ritual, as a result of which she swore allegiance not only to Harry, but also to the entire Potter family, which she now had to revive on her own, putting her body, health, mind and all her life on the altar of this great goal.
She tried to imagine how she obediently lay down on the bed and spread her legs - completely naked, and Harry lay on top of her and settled between her thighs - also completely naked...
A sharp pang of fear twisted her insides when her thoughts went even further and painted a picture in which Harry's cock pressed against her tiny virgin vagina and sharply entered, after which she screamed in acute pain. In her frightening fantasy, the boy's penis was disproportionately huge, red and thick, just like those adult phalluses in the pictures in the medieval medical treatises that she leafed through all day.
She would have to submit and willingly endure it while Harry penetrated her in the most intimate, dirty way, panting and sweating with zeal, until he finally shot his sperm into her womb and shoved the baby inside her. And then she'll get fat and bloated like a pig for nine whole months, until her flat breasts become gigantic and filled with milk, and her belly begins to prevent her from walking normally, and her ankles become swollen, and she starts running to the toilet every five minutes, because the baby's huge skull will begin to press on her bladder, and this will continue until it is time to give birth...
"…in the latter days of her condition, the matron with child doth present a countenance of fullness and girth, her form beset with the swelling of her belly, causing her gait to be slow and ponderous. Her countenance doth oft betray signs of weariness, and her limbs find themselves oftentimes overtaken with heaviness and stiffness. The babe within doth press upon her tender organs, provoking discomfort and unrest. Yet, she doth await with patient hope the appointed time when travail shall begin, and the fruit of her womb shall be brought forth into the world. "
How did magical healers get used to delivering babies? Did they know about the caesarean section or... or would she have to give birth vaginally? But her pelvis is still too narrow! Her birth canal isn't even formed properly yet! She can't! This baby will just tear it apart! She's not ready!..
"Breathe! Damn it, Granger! Breathe! Just breath. You're just panicking. Everything will be fine. Breathe..."
However, no matter how much she inhaled, no matter what calming words and techniques she used, panic had managed to shoot its poisonous claws into her and was now eating away at her insides with sulfuric acid of pure horror.
Trembling like a leaf in the wind, Hermione pushed the pile of scrolls away and pulled the blankets towards her. She wanted to hide or run away, but she was too weak to do either of those things. Over the past twelve hours she had gotten much worse: now she couldn't even eat without immediately vomiting. Because of this, she became completely weak and now resembled a shadow of her former self.
"Mum... mummy..." she sobbed and quietly called into the void, dreaming that her mother would be here. Let her scream and get angry at Hermione again, as long as she doesn't leave her alone with this nightmare.
Hermione suddenly felt very cold, and even two blankets thrown on top did not help. Wrapping them around herself as tightly as possible, the girl curled up into a tight ball, hiding her icy nose in the sheet, and closed her watery eyes. She cried again, but this time she didn't care even if someone came in and saw it.
After a few minutes of quiet sobbing, Hermione fell into a restless sleep filled with nightmares.
* * *
"Alright, let's dive into the real deal about baby-making and keeping it safe with birth control. When you're down to start a fam, it's all about knowing when you're most likely to get knocked up – check your cycle, peeps! Condoms are legit for keeping it safe from STIs and unplanned surprises. There's also the pill, IUDs, and implants to choose from – find what works best for you, fam. And if you're not ready to be a parent yet, that's cool too – stay in control and do you! It's your life, your body, your choice."
"Yeah, of course..." Harry said sarcastically. "What should those who have no choice do?"
With a frustrated snort, he threw the stupid magazine at the opposite wall. Next to his chair, as well as on the sofa and on the floor, whole piles of colorful glossy rags were scattered, by and large, rather useless, but at least funny. This collection of Muggle reading for teenagers, unusual for Hogwarts, was discovered him quite by accident – oddly enough, in the same room on the seventh floor where Harry wandered in last time. Today he went there on purpose – early in the morning after successfully pretending to be sick. With a haggard face after a sleepless night, it was not at all difficult to feign a cold, and then sneak out of the bedroom under the invisibility cloak as soon as the others had left for classes. Even if someone missed him there, they would simply assume that he had gone to the hospital wing.
At first, Harry honestly tried to read what he had copied from the library, but the texts were so boring and confusing that he almost fell asleep several times.
"Sexual intercourse for the purpose of conception involves the insertion of the man's erect penis (phallus) into the woman's vagina. This process typically includes thrusting motions, during which semen containing sperm is ejaculated from the penis into the vagina. The sperm then travels through the cervix into the uterus, where they encounter and fertilize an egg released by the ovary during ovulation…"
He was forced to pause because the number of new medical terms began to sharply exceed the number of words in ordinary English, which he was still able to understand. Almost all he understood from what was written was "penis", "vagina" and "sperm", and only because he heard them from Dudley. He was used to thinking of his cousin as a mentally retarded slow-witted nitwit, but it looked like Harry himself was a complete dumb this time.
It was in his attempts to cheer himself up and distract himself with something less academic that he discovered these magazines on the shelves of the room. He had seen something similar at his previous school, but had never been particularly interested. As it turned out, it was in vain. Maybe if he had read this before, he wouldn't now be drowning in a sea of completely new, incomprehensible phrases.
Without much hope, Potter reached for another tabloid and finally came across an article with the promising title "Everything you wanted to know about conceiving children, but were afraid to ask." Despite the fact that the text was clearly aimed at girls, it was the closest reading to the desired topic that he had found so far.
Skipping the usual introduction, Harry went straight to the second paragraph:
"Let's break it down for getting preggers! First off, know your cycle – when you're most fertile is key. Get down with your partner and keep it real chill. When you're good to go, make sure they hit the spot with their swimmers deep inside you. Keep it vibin' and fun, 'cause that's how you up those chances. Remember, it's all about timing and wanting it happen!"
Crap! How can someone even understand this?! What kind of "cycle" was the author talking about? Starry? Lunar? What kind of "swimmers" are these? And how exactly does Harry know when it is "good to go"? And where?! Or would Hermione have to tell him?
It was even worse than the recipes in Aunt Petunia's cookbooks, where half the ingredients were labeled with phrases like "add to taste." What if he has no idea what this taste should be like because he's cooking for the first time in his life?! How many times in early childhood he was slapped and told what a stupid fool he was, simply because he was not born with the knowledge of a damn chef, stuffed into the subcortex by default! So why is he expected to know everything about some "eggs" and "ovulations", as if it were some kind of common knowledge?!
"Why can't someone just explain stuff normally in simple words?! I just want to know how to get a girl pregnant!" Harry grabbed his hand into his hair and sat there for a while, closing his eyes. Unnoticed by himself, he began to slowly doze off and was soon fast asleep in the chair, hunched over and his head hanging on his chest.
He was awakened several hours later by a sharp jolt. The whole room around was shaking, as if an earthquake was raging outside, and the door frame was glowing and cracking as if someone was trying and could not break through. Frightened and still sleepy, the boy jumped out of his chair and almost tripped over his own foot as he hurried to the door. He hesitated for a few seconds before opening it (after all, he had no idea who was outside), but then decided to take the risk. What if someone needs help?
"Harry! Follow me!" an extremely worried Dumbledore appeared on the threshold with the phoenix on his shoulder.
"Sir, what...?"
"No time to explain! Grab my hand! Quickly!"
As soon as the boy did as he was told, all three of them were engulfed in flames, and a second later they disappeared from the corridor without a trace.