Chapter 56Chapter TextA familiar flash of Lumen Maternitatis lit the space behind the screen in a pale violet as Madam Pomfrey waved her wand towards Hermione. This time, Harry didn't see the faint glow around Hermione's stomach, because he wasn't the one casting the spell, but he still noticed the change in the school nurse's expression.
"Poppy?" Dumbledore called, and his colleague gave a brief nod.
"I can clearly see a new magical core," she stated flatly, confirming what Harry and Hermione already knew perfectly well, having spent almost the entire previous day verifying it by every possible means.
They hadn't returned to the Hospital Wing then, which was a shocking display of irresponsibility on their part, but, surprisingly, they weren't even shouted at for it. Madam Pomfrey just grumbled something about "careless youth wandering who knows where and making others worry" and made them undergo a full medical check-up again, but that was all.
Then again, even if they had been shouted at and given detention until graduation, Harry wouldn't have been too bothered. The only thing he could really focus on right now was the fact that Hermione was now carrying his child.
A child!
Against that, even expulsion from Hogwarts would seem like a minor misunderstanding, hardly worth a second thought.
After using first a potion and a spell, and then a whole host of Muggle pregnancy tests, which left them with no doubt whatsoever, he and Hermione had spent the rest of the evening in the "hunting lodge", mechanically picking at their numerous food supplies. This time, a significant portion of it, for some reason, consisted of boiled veal, as well as eggs, brown rice, and a whole tonne of various fruits and vegetables.
Harry didn't even try to understand the logic of Dobby, who had brought it all, but he didn't argue with him either, because all the dishes were remarkably tasty and fresh, and the house-elf's face shone with such unadulterated happiness that it would have been too cruel to offend him with a refusal.
As for Hermione, she barely seemed to notice what she was putting in her mouth during those moments, and Harry could understand her… He couldn't quite come to terms with it himself, because it had finally happened.
He and Hermione were having a baby!!!
Well, or they would… in about nine months. When it was born.
Harry still couldn't quite believe it was real, because… well… nothing had changed, had it? You know, apart from the fact that they now knew for sure… Though what was supposed to have changed anyway? Hermione couldn't have grown a belly overnight, could she…
Harry glanced at her from his chair, where he'd been sitting for the last half-hour, trying unsuccessfully to read one of his "Christmas" books. The fantastic plot about space pirates kept slipping away from him, pushed out by the incredible events of his own, very real life, which was more spectacular than any fiction. Hermione, meanwhile, was sleeping peacefully on the hospital bed, put to sleep by some of Madam Pomfrey's calming potions. Harry himself had also been given a dozen different strengthening and restorative concoctions, purely as a precaution, even though he'd said he felt perfectly fine (which was true).
Aside from an extremely meticulous physical examination, the medi-witch really hadn't said a single word of reproach to them, nor had Professor Dumbledore, from which Harry drew the embarrassing conclusion that the adults probably knew, somehow, why he and his girlfriend had been off the radar for so long. After all, the "fruit" of this little "escape" was now ripening in Hermione's womb.
"Two days… It's been in there for two days…" Harry swallowed nervously.
That's how old his baby was, according to Madam Pomfrey…
In the Muggle world, it wouldn't even be considered, essentially, a real person yet – just a collection of cells that didn't yet have hands, feet, or, for that matter, a heart, a nervous system, a brain, or anything else that would make them a true, separate being… Just cells. Not even an embryo… and certainly not a real human being yet.
But in the wizarding world, things seemed to be different.
As Madam Pomfrey claimed, even at this early stage, the future baby already had a very strong and distinct magical core, which had separated from the mother's core – a rarity even by wizarding standards, as this usually only happened in the second or third week. She was also very surprised by the results of the Muggle tests – she said, they couldn't possibly be positive so soon… but they were. Harry had personally seen five test sticks, laid out in a fan on the floor of the Room of Requirement, all with positive results.
So either he and Hermione were going to have a very gifted magical offspring by the end of the summer… or the reason was once again the magic of the Ritual.
For the most part, Harry didn't care how powerful this child would be. He just hoped that Hermione would be alright, and that it wouldn't harm her somehow in the future.
For now, she was just sleeping peacefully and didn't look sick at all, but he still couldn't stop checking on her every five minutes – the memory of her previous attacks, which had almost cost her her life, was still too fresh. Now that he loved her so much, more than anyone in the world, losing her would be even more unthinkable.
For a moment, he tried to imagine what it would be like – to live in a world without Hermione, and what he would do if…
"No. Stop it. She won't die," Harry told himself sternly, fighting the wave of panic that had instantly risen. "Dumbledore said she's out of danger now. We did everything the Ritual wanted of us, so she'll be fine. She's going to be fine."
* * *
"Mmm-hmm…" a sleepy sound came from the bed, drawing Harry's attention.
Setting aside the useless book, which he hadn't managed to get past the first five pages of anyway, he pushed his chair closer to Hermione.
"Hey…" he leaned over the sleepy girl, gently brushing a curly lock from her cheek, pleased to note that it was soft pink and warm, not deathly pale like it was that time in the hospital.
Hermione truly looked completely healthy and full of energy – just like she was at the very beginning of the year, before all the rumours and attacks on Muggle-borns started. Only now, seeing the difference, did Harry realise how much she had, apparently, changed over these past few anxious months. How much weight she'd lost, and how dark the bags under her eyes had been…
The key word being 'had'. Because now she looked… good. Really good. Even her hair seemed to be shinier and curlier than usual, once again resembling a wildly growing thorn bush. A blush played on her cheeks, and her face seemed to have even rounded out a little over the past day.
As he continued to stare at her, stunned by the changes, Hermione's chocolate eyes slowly opened and blinked a few times as she tried to focus on the person sitting next to her. As soon as she realised it was Harry, her lips automatically formed a sleepy smile.
"Sleep well?" Harry whispered, offering a faint smile in return.
He wanted to lean down and kiss her on the lips, but he just wasn't sure how she would react to that… after everything. Although she seemed calm and perfectly happy to see him for now, Harry was afraid that could change at any moment, the second her brain fully "booted up" and she remembered…
"Yeah," Hermione yawned and stretched on her narrow cot. "And you…?"
"I didn't sleep. Read a bit…"
She sat up, awkwardly propping herself on her hands and swaying slightly under the blankets, clearly still a bit groggy from all the potions and calming draughts. Picking up a glass of water from the bedside table, she greedily downed it in a few large gulps and sighed contentedly.
Trying to give her a bit of privacy (but mostly out of his own uncertainty), Harry made a point of not looking at her this time, instead examining his own fingers with their bitten cuticles, resting on his knees.
What would Hermione say to him once she was sufficiently herself? Would she be upset? Oh, she would surely be very unhappy… She was now…
"Well… um…" he stumbled as his voice suddenly turned hoarse.
Glancing towards Hermione, he saw that she was now nervously twisting the empty glass in her hands. An anxious furrow had settled between her thick eyebrows, which hadn't been there before.
"You…" clearing his throat, Harry tried again, but all he managed to squeeze out was a complete banality: "Hell, sorry for saying this all the time, but are you really alright?"
"Honestly?" her voice was just as hoarse and unsteady as his, and her gaze darted around the room, carefully avoiding Harry himself. "I have no clue."
Bright sunbeams crawled peacefully across the floor of the Hospital Wing at the pace of hibernating snails, and Harry couldn't stop looking at them, his thoughts wandering completely off track, thinking that the weather outside was probably, for once in a blue moon, perfect… just right for Quidditch…
"Quidditch. Pfft… Like that's what you should be thinking about, you fool."
But couldn't help, but wondered, when this child was finally born, would he even have time to play? Despite detentions, he hadn't been formally removed from the team, so he was supposed to attend training somehow… right? He was the Seeker, after all…
"Bloody hell, that's not important right now!" Harry shook his head, trying to focus on the present, not on all the supposed limitations that having a baby would place on him… in some as-yet-very-hazy and relatively distant future.
"Do you feel… um… anything?" he finally managed to ask, meaning Hermione's stomach. Fortunately, she was already an expert at deciphering any of his meaningless "mumblings".
"No," she shook her head.
"Oh… Right. Probably still too early, yeah?"
Harry felt like a moron, asking questions they both already knew the answers to, but he just couldn't bear the silence that had fallen between them. He had grown so used to him and Hermione being on the same wavelength lately that it felt wildly strange to talk to her like this. As if they'd had a row.
But they hadn't argued, had they? Like… They just knew now, but that… that didn't change anything between them, right? They still loved each other and were dating?
"What if she doesn't want to be my girlfriend anymore?!"
"They're not going to let us out of here anytime soon, are they?" Hermione muttered after a while, unaware of his frantic thoughts.
With a sigh, she leaned back against the pillows and finally looked directly at Harry's face, meeting his uncertain gaze.
"I doubt it," he managed a chuckle, also leaning back in his chair and letting his muscles relax.
"But I feel good… physically, I mean. What about you?"
"Fine," he nodded. "Physically."
His mind was in complete chaos right now, but Harry doubted that anyone in his position could do better and would be absolutely calm. When it came down to it, he was holding up rather well… At least, he was very successfully suppressing the urge to jump up and scream in horror, then run towards the Forbidden Forest, somewhere deep into its heart, still screaming and wailing like a banshee.
So he was coping normally and was fine, all things considered.
"I'm going to have a child. Hermione and I are going to have a child. Hermione is pregnant with my child. We're going to have a BABY!"
His right leg began to nervously tap a rhythm on the floor of its own accord, and he had to forcefully control his own breathing to avoid slipping into hyperventilation. The knowledge that in nine months he would be holding a tiny, helpless creature in his arms, connected to him by blood and completely dependent on him, wouldn't go away, no matter how hard he tried to drown it out with other thoughts.
It was all too fresh. Nothing helped to distract him for long.
"Do you think they'll let us tell anyone?" he blurted out without transition, saying what had been on his mind for a while.
"What do you mean?" Hermione looked at him suspiciously, and Harry grew even more flustered.
"Er… just, you know. Not that we have to tell everyone, of course!" he added quickly. "I was just thinking that… er…"
He was thinking about the third member of their "Golden Trio", as half the school had already dubbed them.
He and Hermione had been avoiding Ron all of December, practically ignoring all his attempts to understand what was going on with them, and it couldn't help but affect their friendship. Involuntarily, they had grown distant from Ron, and Ron had become cooler and more suspicious of the two of them, the more often they "forgot" to include him in their affairs.
Harry knew that the red-haired boy was angry with him and Hermione… and, honestly, was Ron wrong to be? Of course, he didn't know all the circumstances, but that was only because they weren't telling him anything! It was they who were being secretive, strange, and distant, constantly disappearing somewhere, sometimes alone, sometimes together…
Harry absolutely understood why Ron might interpret such behaviour as a betrayal of their friendship.
"We can't tell him," Hermione said sternly, having no trouble reading what he had left unsaid, as always.
"But Ron's our best friend! And he took part in the Ritual too, so I thought…"
"Harry, this isn't a bloody joke!" she was now truly frowning, folding her arms across her chest, clearly displeased with his "flippant" attitude.
"I know!" he snapped back, irritated that she kept talking to him like he was a little child.
He wasn't a child! He was capable of understanding all the danger that loomed over them.
But he also wouldn't prove anything by yelling, and would only confirm Hermione's point – that he was immature and untrustworthy. Instead, he tried to approach it from another angle, logically, as she liked.
"I know," Harry repeated more quietly. "I'm just trying to say that… we're all three friends, you see? He's already angry with us because we're not telling him anything and constantly disappearing somewhere together."
"And what exactly are you proposing to tell him? That we're married now and expecting…"
"No! No, of course not!" he shook his head furiously, feeling his cheeks burn. "Well, not exactly that. Definitely not the baby part, obviously. But we can tell him the rest, can't we? He'll understand… in time. I'm sure of it."
A heavy sigh escaped Hermione's chest as she looked at Harry as if he were an idiot, which caused him another wave of dull resentment.
"No, Harry. That's stupid and dangerous. I forbid you from telling Ron or anyone else."
"You forbid?" a very unpleasant, sour feeling appeared in the pit of his stomach. He now looked at Hermione with disbelief, as if seeing her for the first time.
"Yes, I forbid. If you won't understand it any other way," her expression and tone were hard and unyielding. "You're suggesting we reveal to everyone…"
"Not everyone! Just Ron!"
"It's practically the same thing."
"Listen…"
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" she exploded. "This isn't just your life, it's mine too! Why are you so calm?!"
"I'm not calm! I just think it's unfair to Ron and…"
"Oh, I'm so sorry! I feel so bad for poor Ron!" the sarcasm in Hermione's voice could have made Snape jealous. "Sorry that I'm not going to risk my reputation just because Ron Weasley, heaven forbid, might get upset!"
Seeing Harry staring at her silently in shock, pale with fury, Hermione finally backtracked, adding more softly and quietly:
"I love Ron too. He's my friend just as much as he is yours, but I don't want rumours spreading around the school. If we make even one single mistake… Please, Harry. It's too dangerous. Just hear me out! I just want you to finally understand…"
"She's right. You know she's right," a thin, rational voice chimed in somewhere in the back of his mind, while the main part of Harry's brain was still reeling between anger and resentment over how horribly unfair it all seemed to him.
Why, why did Hermione always have to be like this – trying to tell everyone what to do?! Did she really love commanding people that much?! Even him?!
"Don't be ridiculous. She's just scared it'll all get out. And be honest, you know very well how vindictive Ron can be when he's angry at someone. Are you really willing to bet everything on him keeping his mouth shut? Even if you two end up arguing again?" the same inner voice noted phlegmatically, the one Harry usually tried to ignore but could never get rid of completely. Because its words actually made damn sense right now.
Because Harry himself was terrified that everyone would find out. How could he not be?!
He tried to imagine the immense shock and disgust on the other students' faces when they realised he had married and was shagging his classmate, and now she was pregnant by him… They would mock him and laugh at him for the rest of his days. He tried not to think at all about how Hermione would be treated in that regard – he'd already had the "pleasure" of reading a hint of it in that disgusting article by Skeeter, and that was just based on silly rumours. For now.
"We can't tell anyone. Never. Not even Ron," he realised, in the end. Though the realisation didn't make him feel any better or happier.
His life was still a complete mess, and he couldn't even share his problems with anyone who was truly important to him… except, of course, Hermione. But he couldn't just talk to her all the time!
More acutely than ever, he felt the lack of a parental figure around him. He desperately needed someone he could just talk to without holding anything back. He used to think Dumbledore could be that person, but now he was no longer so sure. Not after the old man had deceived him and Hermione.
"I need to tell her about the contraceptive potion," he remembered, but now wasn't the time. They hadn't even processed the pregnancy news yet, and on that wave, they had nearly had a massive falling out. So he just would tell her some other time.
The only remaining adult Harry could trust had betrayed him, and now Harry himself was forced to betray Ron… This was complete and utter shite.
"He's going to hate us forever," Harry muttered glumly, finally. The ball of anger in his chest deflated as quickly as it had inflated, and he felt sick at his previous outburst.
Hermione was just worried about them both and trying to be the voice of reason, as always, while he wasn't thinking at all, letting his emotions lead him.
"If he's really our friend, he'll understand," she replied, but even her own words sounded uncertain.
Harry just shook his head silently.
"He won't. He'll turn his back on us," knowing his best friend's fiery temperament, Harry was almost certain of it.
When Ron was really, truly offended by someone, he could be an extremely nasty and difficult person to be around. Even Harry, with all his affection and loyalty to him, understood that. The last thing he wanted was to be on the receiving end of that side of Ron Weasley's character.
But what the hell else could he do in that case?! Go and blab everything behind Hermione's back? He would never do that. It was low and stupid, and she would never forgive him. He was already losing Ron's favour because of all these damn secrets – he couldn't risk losing Hermione too.
"So, we're just going to pretend nothing's happening? Keep lying to him?" he couldn't help but ask bitterly, because, no matter how he looked at it, he still felt a little resentful, though not at Hermione specifically anymore, but at the situation in general.
"We never lied to him. We just didn't tell him the whole truth."
"As far as I'm concerned, it's the same thing."
"Harry…"
"Alright! Alright!" he threw his hands up, surrendering and sighing tiredly. "I won't say anything to Ron. I swear."
"Good," Hermione gave a short, serious nod. "I appreciate that."
"Right…"
Harry sighed deeply again, his gaze listlessly wandering around with no particular purpose. Even the sunny day no longer brought him any joy, because he couldn't stop thinking about how he was surely going to lose his first real friend. As soon as the holidays ended and Ron returned to school, he would surely try to talk to them again… And Harry would still have to hide a significant part of his life and problems from him. Ron would definitely sense that something was wrong and decide that he'd just been abandoned.
"I like this even less than you do, believe me," Hermione also sighed heavily, depressed by their first real row. "However, the fewer people who know about us, the better…"
"I just don't like lying," Harry grumbled.
"I know."
* * *
They both fell silent for a while, feeling the same oppression and exhaustion from all the bollocks they had to deal with hourly, every single day. It seemed nothing could be easy or normal in their world anymore.
Harry's boot started tapping out a frantic rhythm on the stone floor again when Hermione's voice cut through the oppressive silence, making him stop:
"You could write to him, if you want."
"About what? He's at home with his family," Harry grimaced, hating how jealous and pathetic he sounded.
Right. Ron, unlike him, had a proper family he could go back to for the holidays. Not cold, nasty relatives or his girlfriend's parents who hated him, but actual, living mother and father he could talk to and ask for advice if he needed to.
Harry had no one. That was his fucking lot in life, and he might as well accept it and stop whining and waiting for a miracle that was never going to happen.
"Do you regret not going with them?" Hermione asked quietly, trying to catch his eye, but Harry refused to look at her again.
He didn't want her pity or her sympathy. He could handle his own stupid emotions about some stupid childhood trauma he should have gotten over long ago.
"Er… a bit, if I'm honest," he finally forced out, because he had to say something to her. "Sorry."
"It's okay," she gave him a small, genuine smile. "You… um… could still go, you know. There's still time."
"What? But you…"
"I'll stay here. I'll be fine, I promise."
"Or we could both go."
"I… don't think so. No."
"I don't want to leave you on your own," Harry frowned. He really didn't like the idea of going away for a whole week while Hermione was all alone in the castle.
Well, fine, not completely alone – the nurse was still here and other people too, but Harry hated the thought of just abandoning Hermione here when he'd promised to spend the holidays with her.
"That's really sweet of you, but…"
"No," he cut her off. "I don't want to leave you, alright? If you're not going to the Burrow, then I'm not going either."
Hermione's eyebrows shot up, and her cheeks flushed slightly at his fervent tone and the decisiveness in his voice. But still, she shook her head:
"You don't have to feel obligated to stay…"
"Well, yeah. But it's alright."
It really was. So what if he didn't spend the rest of the holidays with the Weasleys? Hermione needed him right now. She'd just found out she was pregnant, for goodness sake! Besides, he could visit Ron next year…
"Unless Ron's so angry he completely ends our friendship," his ever-present, pessimistic inner voice piped up nastily, but Harry decided to ignore it.
"But are you sure that…"
"Absolutely sure. I want to be here. With you."
Now Hermione's entire face was definitely a bright shade of red, and her eyes shone with unspoken emotions.
"Sometimes you're too nice, you know? It's annoying," Hermione sighed with mock displeasure, though her eyes were laughing.
"Nah. You like it," a wide, smug grin spread across Harry's face.
Without warning, Hermione's hands grabbed him by the lapels of his jumper, making him gasp and practically fall on top of her.
"Yes," she breathed into his mouth. "I like it very much…"
Their lips met halfway in a kiss that was already so familiar and natural to both of them, their hands burying themselves in each other's hair, and for a while the only sounds within the space of the screen were the wet sounds of their kissing and excited giggling.
"Harry…" Hermione called again when they'd finally calmed down a bit and were now just sitting on the bed cuddling, their backs pressed against the hard metal headboard.
"Yeah?"
"Mm… Nothing."
Harry's left hand rested on Hermione's shoulders while his right hand mindlessly stroked her hip – with no hint of anything more right now. They were in the Hospital Wing, after all, and it was the middle of the day, so Madam Pomfrey was definitely still somewhere nearby, not to mention that this time no one had bothered to create a soundproof private room for them like last time.
"And anyway, who said we're going to do this again? We've already… um… achieved the goal," Harry thought gloomily. "Maybe Hermione won't want to anymore…"
At that very moment, he felt her palm, out of nowhere, touch him right there, between his legs, making him literally choke on air and lose his train of thought completely.
"H-Hermione…?"
"Shh…"
"But Madam Pomfrey…"
"She won't come check on us for hours yet, I'm sure. Not until her evening rounds. Now relax and try to be quiet, okay? We don't want her to suspect anything."
"O-okay…"
He had to bite his lower lip hard and dig his fingers into the sheet as Hermione quickly unzipped his flies and boldly slipped inside, gripping him right over his pants.
"Remember, you need to be quiet. Can you be quiet for me, Harry?" her lips whispered, bathing his ear in a hot stream of air, making the skin on the back of his neck prickle.
All he could do at that moment was nod frantically, not trusting his voice at all.
The danger of moaning and giving them both away only intensified when Hermione started moving her hand back and forth, stroking his quickly swelling cock through the cotton fabric, which was a bit rough and not ideal, but Harry was so stunned by this sudden pleasure that had fallen upon him that he didn't dare complain.
It was like that episode at her parents' house – then she'd also pounced on him just like that without any warning, completely ignoring the danger of being seen. Sometimes Harry absolutely didn't understand her, to be honest. Just a moment ago she'd been telling him off for being "careless" because he wanted to tell Ron about them, and now she herself just…
"Girls are so… oh… contradictory…"
It seemed this was Hermione's way of coping with crises and calming him down. And, to tell the truth, Harry didn't mind at all… Definitely not with the way her fingers were squeezing and stroking him up and down now, making his pants quickly get wet at the front.
"Ah…" he couldn't help but let out a short breath when she sped up. He immediately clenched his jaw tight, fighting the urge to moan louder. From his desperate attempts to stay silent, sweat began to accumulate on his temples and neck.
"Be quiet! Or I'll stop," Hermione warned sternly. Though it wasn't quite a real threat, because right after that her nimble fingers slipped right under the elastic of his boxers and squeezed him there for real.
Harry's eyes rolled back in his head as she began to wank him quickly and furiously, occasionally playing with his foreskin with her thumb. After a couple of minutes, she had to make a short pause to spit into her hand and also smear his pre-cum across her palm for better lubrication, but then the movement resumed with new force.
Harry could only marvel at her persistence and fearlessness with which she insistently satisfied his desire, being just one step away from discovery. If she was wrong, and Madam Pomfrey, or Dumbledore, or anyone else happened to walk in here…
"Fuck…"
But she refused to stop, making him practically lose consciousness from how skillfully and deftly she touched him, driving him to complete madness and loss of control over his own body, so that very soon his hips began to thrust upwards involuntarily.
"Mm…" he slapped himself over the mouth, just in time to clamp it shut to prevent a loud cry from escaping into the empty air as her hand flickered in the air with incredible speed.
"Shh… Almost there… Just like that… You're doing great…"
Leaning his head back against the metal bed frame, to the accompaniment of Hermione's encouraging words, Harry let himself fall into this haze of pure lust and adrenaline as her fingers continued to work something indescribable on his cock.
"Just like that… Almost there… Come on…"
"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck…"
"Come, Harry… Just like that… Come…"
"Mph…" he bit his fingers almost to the point of drawing blood, and at that same moment his cock exploded, spurting thick white streams of cum, splattering everything around – Hermione's hand, his own stomach, the sheets… Some even got on their faces and hair, but Harry couldn't bring himself to worry about that.
He came hard, dirty, and heavily, twitching and writhing in Hermione's arms, who continued to hold him close, whispering something encouraging and sweet to him, kissing his cheek, and his temple, and behind his ear…
"O-oh…"
"Mione…" he breathed out, almost silently, collapsing on the bed like a scythe-cut sheaf, breathing fast and with a whistle. "Fuck…"
"Ew. You always swear at the end," she snorted and stroked him lightly again, causing a residual spasm of pleasure mixed with pain from the heightened sensitivity in his body.
"S-Shit… Sorry. I didn't expect… Oh, fuck…"
"But you liked it?" she clarified.
"Yes, of course! Of course, I liked it!" he struggled to bring his breathing back to normal. "But…"
"But?"
"You… um… are you sure everything's okay? I mean, you're now…" he hesitated, not knowing how to phrase this correctly without offending her, so he simply waved his hand toward her stomach.
"Huh?"
"Er…"
"Wait. You thought that because I'm… You thought we wouldn't have sex anymore?" Hermione said slowly, raising one of her dark eyebrows.
"Well… er… isn't that the case?"
"Oh…"
"Oh?"
"So she means we still will be…?! Damn. I'm stupid."
It seemed he'd just wound himself up, thinking she wouldn't be interested in fooling around with him now that they were no longer in danger… Harry had never been so happy to be wrong.
Meanwhile, a concerned expression suddenly appeared on her face:
"But maybe… you don't want to?"
"What? No! Of course not! I want to! I really want!" he stared at her comically. "I just thought you wouldn't want to anymore."
"Where did you get that idea?"
"I… er… I don't know. Just… you know. It doesn't matter. I realise now it was very stupid to think that."
"Well… It's not stupid. But you were wrong," she snorted, then declared confidently: "I want to keep having sex with you, Harry, if that's okay with you. I like it. And I love you. I want you".
"I love you too," he replied automatically, still stunned, but in the best possible way.
"Good."
"Good."
"So we'll keep doing this?"
"Yes. Of course."
"Cool…"
Having settled that, fully satisfied with their agreement, they quickly cleaned up all the "evidence" with a quick Scourgify, after which Harry settled back on the mattress next to Hermione. Though the bed was a bit narrow for two, they were comfortable, even if they had to sit pressed close together.
Not knowing what else to do now, with ages left until evening and lights-out, Harry reached for the book he'd left earlier.
"Lucky Starr?" Hermione looked at the cover with interest. "I think I've read about him before."
"You have this book?"
"Not this specific one, but we definitely had an Asimov collection at home. Want to read together?"
"Is that comfortable?"
He wasn't sure if that was such a good idea – it sounded a bit too syrupy for his taste. But if Hermione was suggesting…
"Of course. Or we could read aloud. Oh, that's even better! We won't have to wait for each other to turn the page."
"Mm… Then aloud… But you should do it! I don't read very fast…"
"I know."
"Hey! I read just fine, okay? Not everyone reads as fast as you do!"
"I know."
"You… Stop. You're teasing me, aren't you?"
"What makes you say that?"
"You're teasing! Hermione, stop!"
"Why?"
"Grrr!"
Still sniggering wickedly, she pecked Harry on the cheek while deftly snatching the book from him as he was distracted.
"Hey! That's mine! Give it back!"
"Come and get it!"
"Give it here. I'm counting to three! One, two…"
Without finishing the count, he sneakily pounced on the squealing Hermione, pinning her under him again and starting to kiss and tickle her wherever he could reach.
The space rangers and pirates conquering the Galaxy could wait a little longer.
Chapter 57Chapter TextThe last week of the holidays had passed rather quietly and wasn't particularly festive, not least because they were still confined to the Hospital Wing, only allowed to return to Gryffindor Tower a day before the other students arrived. As a huge exception, they were permitted to attend a modest (by Hogwarts standards) New Year's feast, after which they were promptly herded back like a pair of disobedient sheep into a pen. Whether this was a coincidence or veiled revenge from Madam Pomfrey for their unsanctioned outing, history does not say. Whatever the case, these quiet days had all too quickly flown by, in Hermione's opinion.
Then again, they could have stayed for another whole month, and it still wouldn't have been enough for her. Never before had she so desperately wished that classes would never start, and she actually loved going to lessons. The mere thought of Hogwarts filled with other students made her stomach clench and flutter, as if trying to crawl up her oesophagus.
To face all those people and their stares… and their gossip… Oh, Lord, no. Anything but that!
Even knowing that they didn't really know anything about her and Harry yet, except that they'd started dating literally on the eve of the holidays and, as far as anyone knew, hadn't gone beyond holding hands and maybe one or two innocent cheek kisses, Hermione couldn't help the rising nausea.
She was so scared. Horribly, unimaginably scared that someone, somehow, would figure everything out, and then…
What would happen after that, she had never properly allowed herself to consider, because peeking behind that veil was a direct path to a panic attack and a full blown nervous breakdown, and she'd had quite enough of those already. She just knew that being exposed in front of everyone would be absolutely awful. A real catastrophe.
Married in her second year. Pregnant at thirteen…
While she had somehow managed to come to terms with the first point, and even found some pleasure in certain… erm… special activities with her young husband, the second point still wouldn't fit into her consciousness.
"Pregnant. I'm pregnant now."
Even after almost a week since Madam Pomfrey had personally confirmed it in Professor Dumbledore's presence, it still sounded absurd. Since then, literally every waking minute, Hermione had spent trying not to flinch or freeze whenever her thoughts wandered down that dangerous path.
And yet, continuing to "not notice" it was simply pointless, and she understood this perfectly… with her mind. All that remained was to convince her own heart, which stubbornly tried to deny reality out of pure obstinacy.
Swallowing, Hermione examined herself one more time in the mirror in the Gryffindor communal showers, where she was preparing for the upcoming breakfast – much more thoroughly and for much longer than on any other day. She needed to look normal this morning. The train with her classmates and the other students would arrive very soon, and the corridors of Hogwarts would once again be filled with their stomping and clamour…
And – it had only just occurred to her – she would have to share a bedroom with the other girls again. And… oh, god… the showers. She would have to undress in front of them in the shower!
Oh, no… No, she couldn't!
How could she stand there completely naked in front of everyone, knowing a child was growing in her womb?! And no one was supposed to suspect! How was that even possible?! How, in the name of all that was holy, was she supposed to hide her growing belly under such circumstances?!
Hermione had to grip the sink tightly with her fingers to keep from falling as a wave of dizziness washed over her.
No. She would not vomit in the communal toilet.
It was still too early for morning sickness, anyway. This was just fear and nothing more. She wouldn't let it affect her. She was stronger than this.
She was strong. Strong.
She had everything under control.
She could get through this.
"Are you alright, deary?" the magical mirror's coolly concerned voice echoed in the emptiness, startling her.
Hermione didn't answer, too busy slowly breathing through her nose, fighting the stomach cramp.
"Enough! Professor Dumbledore said there are special amulets and spells for this so that no one will notice anything. And you can't change what's going to happen anyway, so lift your head! You're stronger than this. You can handle this!"
After mentally reciting this mantra to herself several times, Hermione lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, trying to look confident, as befits a Gryffindor, not as if she were about to faint from fear.
To tell the truth, her face in the reflection was still a bit gaunt from frequent insomnia, but, on the whole, she already looked much better than before… erm… the act of conception. Even the excessive thinness that had plagued her since the day of the Ritual had disappeared, along with the constant feeling of threat somewhere on the periphery of her consciousness. The nasty, broken feeling in her body, which she had apparently started to get used to, was also gone.
And she hadn't had any more episodes, which was a very good sign…
It was such a relief to finally take a full breath without that oppressive feeling on her shoulders! It was as if a heavy, invisible yet completely real weight had been lifted from her. Finally, she began to look and, most importantly, feel healthy, not like some consumptive ghost of a girl who had lived too short and disappointing a life.
Probably, now she would even have to watch her diet again so as not to gain excess weight…
"But you'll gain it anyway," her inner voice grumbled. "All pregnant women get fat."
This was another unpleasant truth she would have to come to terms with in the future – she would get fat, no matter what she did. As far as she remembered, this happened around the third or fourth month, although in some women, weight gain began earlier due to extensive hormonal changes, and was often very rapid and dramatic…
Soon, she would become porky and clumsy, waddling through the corridors like a duck. How charming… And, considering she would have to carry and give birth not just once, but always, this was probably the last time she could see herself in the mirror without extra pounds.
Lifting her sweater and vest, Hermione placed a hand on her pale and still very flat stomach – right over the place where this… this thing was supposedly located now.
"Not a thing. A baby. You have to learn to call it properly, otherwise you'll never get used to it."
"You're in there, aren't you? Madam Pomfrey said you were in there…" she whispered, uncertainly stroking her skin and, of course, not feeling anything yet.
She couldn't feel anything – it had only been a little over a week. The skin under her fingers was soft and exactly the same temperature as the rest of her body, completely indistinguishable from its usual state. Inside, she felt nothing either, because her uterus hadn't even started to enlarge yet – that wouldn't happen before the end of the first trimester.
It was so easy to pretend that nothing was happening… but she couldn't. It wasn't in her character to bury her head in the sand and hope for the best, that the problem would "somehow resolve itself". Her rational mind and upbringing did not allow her to do this. Besides, in her case, nothing was going to "resolve itself" anymore.
"I know for sure that you're in there…" Hermione took a deep breath, "whether I want it or not."
It was so strange – to realise that right now she was carrying some living, new creature inside her. A whole separate person was growing inside her, even if he or she was currently just a mass of cells the size of a grain of poppy for now. It probably wouldn't even be visible to the naked eye yet.
And yet, it was already a very real child… A magical child, to be precise, with its own magical core and all the rest. Hers and Harry's baby, probably conceived during one of their "love sessions" in the Room of Requirement…
This time, they had both truly done everything they could to make it happen. In this set of cells, now actively dividing in Hermione's uterus, all of hers and Harry's desperation, fear, and passion had merged into one – and now their mission was finally complete.
"Hooray!" – her lips twisted in disgust.
She had finally become that living incubator that the curse had envisioned.
From now on, her body no longer belonged to her. Now there were two of them – and there would always be two… for all nine months, until the time came for her to spread her legs again and push this creature into the world. Then a short respite awaited, followed by a new conception, gestation, birth… and so on in a circle, until she grew completely old, never achieving anything she had dreamed of.
"Don't think about it. Don't think about it. DON'T THINK ABOUT IT."
Dropping the hem of her sweater abruptly, Hermione clenched her teeth so hard that her jaw ached and squeezed her eyes shut as another wave of fear washed over her body, making it tremble with a fine shiver. She had to remind herself again how to breathe properly as her mind once again spiralled down, into the maw of the chthonic horror that had taken up permanent residence in the limbic system of her brain recently.
Snatching a comb from the sink, she dragged its teeth through her tangled curls, fully aware that this wouldn't improve the situation with her appearance, but that wasn't her goal. The sharp pain at the roots of her hair, as she furiously tugged at them, trying to undo the knots, helped to distract her and stop thinking for at least a few seconds.
Somewhere in the distance, a bell rang, signalling that there were no more than twenty minutes left until breakfast.
She knew she couldn't hide in here forever. It was time to pull herself together and go downstairs – into the real world…
"There's no need to fret so much, sweety," the mirror commented, interpreting her sudden paleness and wide eyes in its own way. "You look quite presentable… for someone with absolutely no sense of fashion. Though you could do with a bit more styling… and trim those eyebrows a little…"
Thank goodness most of the enchanted mirrors only simulated dialogue and were actually unable to understand or tell anyone what they saw, otherwise Hermione would have been in big trouble.
As usual, ignoring the tirade from the magical piece of furniture, she took a few slow, deep breaths and tried to give her face a serene expression.
"I'm okay. Everything's okay."
She did manage to calm down enough to stop herself from running back to the bedroom and locking herself in there for the rest of the day.
"I can do this. I can do this. I can do this…"
Still, her knees shook and threatened to buckle with every step as she descended those miserable ten steps down to the common room.
* * *
Harry was already waiting for her downstairs.
He was sitting in a deep armchair by the fireplace, already dressed in his school uniform like her, nervously tapping his fingers on the armrests, but he rose immediately when she appeared. Even from a distance, she could see how utterly on edge he was, judging by how huge and frightened his eyes looked.
"Ready to go?" he practically rushed to her, standing so close that it seemed absolutely unbearable for him to be separated for too long. To be honest, Hermione could completely understand, because she was feeling exactly the same way.
For too long, it had been just the two of them and no one else. They had grown so used to being inseparable 24/7 that even the temporary separation into different bedrooms now felt strange. Not to mention the fact that they would soon have to let someone else back into their personal space…
Besides, Hermione simply missed Harry. Her body, which had only recently awakened to sexual pleasure, was now literally yearning to be near Harry's body again, preferably naked. This wasn't like her mind melting and her bones aching from pain when the Ritual's compulsion pressed down on her. No, this time Hermione knew for certain that she wanted this herself.
She missed Harry's touches, his skin against hers, the way his lips and hands felt on her body, and the tender look he gave her while they made love.
Made love… That's what they had been doing. And she missed it terribly now.
Aside from that last incident in the hospital wing, when she had, so to speak, offered Harry a helping hand (for which she was still a little ashamed, but also very excited), they hadn't had sex or even petting since. In fact, nothing more serious than short kisses had happened between them – mainly because they were under constant supervision. Now that Hermione's pregnancy was finally confirmed, she was being diagnosed even more often than usual, forcing her to simultaneously drink a ton of new potions meant to support her still too young and not fully formed organism.
She and Harry just needed a few more moments alone in silence before they had to face the outside world again…
The bell rang for the second time, making everything inside Hermione tense.
"Don't be a coward! Show him you're not afraid."
"I'm ready. You?"
"Yeah… Let's go."
He habitually grabbed her hand, intertwining their fingers, and led her towards the portrait hole. Hermione didn't comment on this, but she didn't pull her hand away either.
"So what if we're holding hands? We're a couple now. Couples do that. There's nothing strange about it. No one will think anything of it…"
Hermione had indeed seen many older couples – some discreetly, others quite openly – walking hand in hand, and no one paid it any special attention, except perhaps some rather dim individuals who might snicker, but most were too busy with their own problems and classes to care about someone else's romantic life.
Hermione herself had always found such public displays of affection a bit too pompous and cloying… right up until Harry started doing the exact same thing. If she was surprised when he first took her hand during that walk by the lake, she didn't show it, and soon she stopped paying attention to it altogether.
Besides, holding Harry's hand was very pleasant, okay? She wasn't going to give it up – certainly not because of some silly fear!
"He's my boyfriend, so it's fine," she decided, and with that, she gripped his palm more confidently, letting him lead her further down the empty corridor, past rows of suits of armour and paintings.
For now, there was absolutely no one to stare at them, except perhaps some portraits that glanced their way before disappearing behind their frames to get on with… whatever painted people usually did when they vanished from your sight. Truth be told, Hermione had never been interested in the subject of magical painting before, though, when she thought about it, it was rather curious…
Their footsteps echoed loudly in the empty walls, but soon a distant hum was added to it, a sound that couldn't be mistaken for anything else. Hermione unwittingly squeezed her fingers tighter on her companion's palm.
"…they're playing in July. Dad promised to get us all tickets, so…"
"…failed Divination and Potions…"
"…Trevor, wait! Stop!.."
"…two whole bloody scrolls!.."
Hermione felt Harry tense noticeably beside her, but otherwise, nothing could be guessed from his appearance. They stopped together near the entrance to the Great Hall, listening to the noise of voices, which was becoming clearer, so they could already make out individual phrases.
"…told Marietta we could sit together, but she…"
"…at Madam Puddifoot's…"
"…they stuck my hair to the pillow! Again!.."
Finally, the first students appeared at the end of the corridor, and most of them, as usual, were hungry Gryffindors eager to get to the food before everyone else. Hermione could already see Neville, Parvati, and Lavender with the other girls among them, and…
"Ron," Harry muttered beside her, his gaze fixed on their best friend, who was easy to spot in the crowd due to his shock of red hair. Amazingly, he had managed to grow even taller since Hermione and Harry had last seen him a couple of weeks ago.
His pale, freckled face was now twisted into a miserable grimace as he told something to Dean and Seamus, who were walking beside him. In response, both other boys laughed uproariously, to which Ron snorted indignantly but then started laughing too, unable to help himself.
"Remember, we're not supposed to tell him anything," Hermione whispered loudly as a final reminder, to which Harry shrugged irritably.
"I know. Stop repeating it all the time, I'm not an idiot."
"I'm not saying you're an idiot. I just…"
"Hey, guys!" Ron's loud voice, as he was already hurrying towards them, cut her off. Rudely pushing past other people, he quickly joined them, leaving Dean and Seamus behind for a moment. "What's up? Don't tell me you've been sitting here alone the whole time!"
"Yeah," Harry smiled, rubbing his neck awkwardly. "We got back a bit earlier than we thought…"
"Ugh. That sucks! You should have come to ours. Mum cooked so much again that we had to give the leftovers to the garden gnomes. I don't know why she always does that and then makes us get rid of them in the summer. Like… what's the point, eh? They'll just come back anyway…"
And so, like that, chatting about everything and nothing in particular as if nothing had happened, the three of them made their way to the Gryffindor table and took their usual seats, pushing the first-years aside. Mostly, it was Ron who chattered, loudly complaining that Fred and George hadn't given him a moment's peace all holiday with their "pranks". Harry responded with equally loud laughter and feigned horror, while Hermione rolled her eyes and snorted, and it was all so familiar and ordinary, as if they hadn't been separated at all.
If Ron was upset with his friends for ignoring his invitation to stay and not even writing to him once for the rest of the holidays, other than sending him Christmas presents, he didn't show it.
As if everything was just normal again…
But for everyone else, including Ron, nothing had happened at all. Even for Harry, in a way, everything was the same.
Surreptitiously checking her surroundings, Hermione once again made sure no one was looking at her strangely. No one, except Harry and Ron, paid her any special attention – and thank God for that! The last thing she wanted was to be back in the spotlight of someone's scrutiny.
Now, finding herself among other people at last, Hermione couldn't even understand why she had been so scared before. Her belly wouldn't show for a few more months, so things weren't that bad. She could afford to relax a little…
Soothed by this thought, in a much better mood, Hermione reached for the casserole and put a generous portion on her plate. Now that she had calmed down a bit, she realized that she was, in fact, ravenous. Maybe some sausages and vegetables wouldn't hurt either…
"Wow, are you going to eat all that?" Parvati beside her snorted disdainfully, looking at the mountain of potatoes, meat, and salad piled in front of Hermione, who at that very moment was trying to reach for the fruit dish but froze upon hearing someone address her.
"I… just didn't have dinner yesterday," she managed, and still picked up a rosy pear, then hastily returned to her plate.
Despite her classmate's unpleasant remark, Hermione's appetite hadn't gone anywhere – on the contrary, it had grown. Her stomach was rumbling loudly, demanding to be filled.
"Sod it all! I'll eat as much as I want. It won't matter soon anyway," she thought viciously, shovelling another spoonful of casserole into her mouth.
She could literally feel the food beginning to dissolve and digest right on her tongue, before it even reached her stomach.
She was so hungry! And it all tasted so good…
Without stopping chewing, she picked up a crispy slice of toast and crunched into it, no longer caring that her mouth would be full of crumbs. Fortunately, no one else said a word to her for the rest of breakfast, so she managed to finish her colossal portion in peace.
* * *
"Hey," Harry's whisper was right by her ear as they were all walking down the corridors to their first lesson, which today, unfortunately, was a double Potions with the Slytherins. "I heard what Parvati said…"
"It's fine," Hermione cut him off without turning her head.
Her stomach was now completely full, and a sweet languor of satiation was spreading through her body, but she was still irritated, though she couldn't have said what exactly. Harry was suddenly getting on her nerves too – all his worried looks, his attempts to see her face, and his heavy sighs, as if she were seriously ill…
She wasn't ill! She was fine, for God's sake!
"I'm just worried…"
"I said I'm okay! You don't have to walk on eggshells around me!"
Obviously, she'd shouted that a bit too loudly, because now not just Harry but other people around them were staring at her strangely.
Great. So much for her trying to "not attract" attention! Just brilliant.
Hermione swallowed hard.
"Sorry. I've just got a terrible headache. I didn't mean to yell at you," she mumbled, lowering her eyes, to which Harry gave an understanding nod and discreetly squeezed her hand.
"Ugh… What on earth is the matter with me? I feel like I'm going to explode."
"Well, well, well, if it isn't Potter and his little band of misfits!" Draco Malfoy's drawling, unpleasant voice echoed through the dungeons at just the "right" moment. "How were the holidays, Potty? Your Muggles didn't want to see you again, you poor thing? It seems even they don't need you."
"Piss off, Malfoy," Harry retorted flatly, far more concerned with figuring out what was wrong with Hermione than with getting into a row with the Slytherin prat, who was just waiting for it.
"What, did good old grandpa Dumbledore finally let you sleep on his hearthrug? Or did you have to kip under a bridge?"
"Shut your mouth, you git!" Ron swore, already reaching for the wand hidden up his sleeve, when Professor Snape's lanky figure appeared in the doorway of the Potions classroom.
"I see everyone is here. Excellent," he surveyed the instantly silenced students with a dark glare, then barked without warning: "Well, what are you all staring at?! Get inside and take your seats!"
Not daring to defy the formidable professor, who was, as usual, in a foul mood, the second-years from both houses filed into the classroom and began setting out their supplies on their desks.
"Page three hundred and eighty-two," Snape commanded briskly, marching to the blackboard without preamble. "Today you will be brewing the Mens Sana potion. Does anyone know what that is?"
He scanned the class with an arctic gaze that made even the Slytherins shiver, the Head of the Snake House curling his lip in contempt when he found no volunteers.
Even Hermione hesitated to raise her hand, even though she knew the answer – she had no desire to get on the wrong side of her least favourite teacher so soon, at the very start of term.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk…" Snape purred, and at his predatory tone, Neville, sitting by the wall, began to tremble violently. "It seems not one of you lazy oafs could be bothered to open your textbooks over the holidays. I would say I'm disappointed, if it weren't so typical."
His coal-black eyes continued to scan the room until they stopped on the third desk in the middle, occupied by Hermione and Harry. The man's thin, pale lips twisted into an unpleasant smirk that boded nothing but ill.
"Oh, no."
"And what about our precious Miss Granger? Don't you know the answer either? Regrettable, most regrettable. Pray tell, what important business could you have been occupied with for the past two weeks that you couldn't even find time to glance over the curriculum for this term?"
Malfoy and his cronies sniggered nastily, while a ragged, discontented murmur came from the Gryffindor side of the class, though it quickly stopped when Snape shot them a single look.
Hermione, however, was in no mood to laugh. The blood drained from her face as she realised what he was getting at. She couldn't believe he'd said it right here, in front of the whole class! He'd practically stated outright that she had some kind of secret!
"Why is he doing this?!"
All her gratitude towards this man vanished in an instant.
Not for the first time, Hermione was tormented by the question of what reasons there must have been for Professor Dumbledore to trust Snape at all and allow him to work as a teacher. Snape was a bilious, quarrelsome person who despised children and hated Harry with his entire soul, always trying to harm him on the sly whenever he got the chance. And now it seemed he had set his sights on Hermione too, simply because of her association with Harry.
"Bastard…" Harry's furious whisper, of course, immediately drew the professor's attention, whose hearing was indeed little different from a bat's sonar.
"Is there something you'd like to share with the class, Mr Potter?" The man oozed, coming out from behind his desk and walking with deliberate slowness down the aisle to their desk. His whole posture screamed, 'Just give me a reason, boy!'
"No," Harry gritted through his teeth, his eyes boring into the surface of the desk.
"No, sir," Snape corrected viciously. "It seems your manners are as poor as ever. Five points from Gryffindor for disrespect to a teacher, Mr Potter! And another five points for your… girlfriend's slack attitude to her studies," he spat out the word "girlfriend" with disgust. "It seems that kissing you has so addled her brain that she's completely forgotten the need to study."
This time, the laughter echoed throughout the whole classroom.
Now Hermione's face was burning, as was Harry's, who was tense as a wire, clenching his fists under the desk. Ron, sitting at the next desk with a white-faced Neville, was also barely suppressing his rage.
"How can he do this?! Why?! What did Harry ever do to him?! What did I ever do to him for him to treat me like this?!"
Hermione's heart was hammering like mad, and her anger made her want to both cry and smash something, while simultaneously yelling at Snape.
"Vile, disgusting old bat!"
She had never flared up so quickly over personal insults before, and she could quite literally see a red haze before her eyes. Snape had finally managed to get under her skin, and Hermione couldn't even have said precisely why. She just glared at him, sending every curse she could think of his way and wishing the ceiling would collapse on him.
Snape, meanwhile, had already finished his little demonstration and returned to his desk, intending to continue the lesson.
"Now, the Mens Sana potion… Yes, Miss Granger?" One of his dark eyebrows shot up as he noticed her raised hand.
"I'd like to answer your previous question, sir. If I may," she declared, loudly and clearly, standing up without being asked, looking the Dungeon Terror in the eye. Her voice trembled slightly, not from fear, but from hatred and adrenaline.
"I'm not afraid of you! You're a nasty, merciless, unprincipled git, but I'm not afraid of you!"
For a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of surprise, and even something akin to grudging respect, in his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and his gaze shuttered again.
"Did you now?" he gave Hermione another contemptuous smirk, but then magnanimously waved a hand. "Very well, proceed."
"The Mens Sana potion, also known as the Sanity Potion, comes from the Latin phrase 'Mens sana in corpore sano', which translates to 'a sound mind in a sound body'," Hermione rattled off, instantly recalling everything she knew about the concoction. "It's used to clarify the mind, improve concentration, and is suitable for those who need to maintain focus for long periods – for example, during exams, and also…"
"Why isn't any of you dunderheads writing this down?!" Snape roared, cutting Hermione off for a moment. Everyone in the class jumped at his shout, grabbing for their scrolls and quills to take notes under her dictation.
The longer Hermione spoke, the calmer she became, and her fury, which had been about to boil over, slowly subsided into a more peaceful, disgruntled simmer.
Finally, after several minutes of a detailed, monotonous description of the potion's properties, uses, and side effects, Snape was satisfied with her answer.
"Acceptable, Miss Granger. Sit down," he said sourly, clearly displeased at having to praise her even a little bit. "Though next time, try not to draw out your answer, luxuriating in the sound of your own voice."
"Look who's talking!" Hermione gritted her teeth.
Of course, he hadn't even awarded her any points, even though she had, for all intents and purposes, delivered his introductory lecture for him.
"Biased bastard."
Harry's angry snort from the next chair echoed her thoughts.
"Now, who can name the main ingredients needed for the Sanity Potion? Miss Granger, I can see your hand perfectly well from here, no need to jump up and down. Your uncanny resemblance to a squirrel is already obvious to everyone…"
This time, he called on his Slytherins in turn, who mumbled something or other with great difficulty, for which their House was ultimately awarded fifteen points (completely undeserved, it must be said).
When it was time for the practical part of the lesson, Hermione sent Harry to the storeroom with a list of ingredients while she began setting up their cauldron and selecting their tools. She wasn't about to give Snape any more reasons to find fault with her or her boyfriend. It was obvious that the man had found himself a new "hobbyhorse" and was going to milk the topic of her new relationship with Harry for all it was worth, so the fewer reasons he had to look in their direction, the better.
"Here," Harry grunted, setting down a hefty box in front of her containing various jars and pots, which Hermione inspected one by one with a critical eye.
"Where are the whispering willow roots?"
"Oh, I forgot. I'll be right back…"
"Get the fresh ones!" Hermione called after his back. "The white ones, not the brown ones!"
"Will do…"
As soon as the students had their necessary components, the room was filled with a varied, quiet hum of voices, the scraping of mortar and pestles, and the bubbling of boiling cauldrons. Snape continued to glide between the rows, needlessly berating the Gryffindors and giving too much praise to the Slytherins.
Hermione tried to block it out, focusing intently on the recipe. It was a relatively easy potion to brew, its composition surprisingly similar to the Pimple-Vanishing Potion they'd learned to make at the beginning of the year. All in all, Hermione saw no reason why she shouldn't brew it perfectly.
Entrusting Harry with the more menial tasks, like grinding obsidian into a fine powder, she set about the more precise processes, like weighing the ingredients and adding them to the cauldron at the right time. Her partner didn't seem to mind being directed, and Hermione herself felt much calmer and more confident knowing she could control most of the tasks.
It was comfortable for her and Harry to work together, especially when Professor Snape wasn't looming over them, having temporarily switched to terrorising someone else in another part of the classroom.
"Now we need to stir for three minutes clockwise at a speed of one rotation per second," Hermione quoted, and Harry nodded obediently, picking up the ladle.
In a way, it was like when they cooked together in her parents' kitchen. They hardly even needed to speak to understand what the other wanted.
It had been exactly twenty-two minutes since they'd started brewing, and at this stage, their potion had a perfect emerald hue and a consistency like very thin cream, which was exactly as the textbook described.
Trusting her partner with the stirring, Hermione moved on to one of the most crucial and unpleasant stages – squeezing the slime from the bellies of Cornish glowworms. The amount of slime had to be correct to the milligram, otherwise the potion could either become excessively thick and ultimately send the drinker into a state of unprecedented agitation and, in rare cases, madness.
Immense concentration and precision were required at this moment, so Hermione did her best to block out the noise and commotion around her.
Lifting her scalpel, she sliced the belly of the first worm, carefully watching as every drop of slime fell precisely into the crystal measuring cup.
"One, two, three, four…"
Finishing with the first worm, she immediately performed the same procedure on the second, without stopping her count.
"…eighteen, nineteen, twenty…"
She had about half a minute left to prepare the third and final worm and add its slime to the total mass when she caught some movement in her peripheral vision and heard a stifled giggle.
"No!"
Even though she knew she had no time, Hermione instinctively threw her hand forward, trying to prevent a foreign object from falling into her and Harry's cauldron.
Plop!
SSSSSSSSSS…!
The unfinished potion foamed up in an instant, hissing menacingly, and Hermione had time to see Draco Malfoy's smirking face just before the liquid slopped over the sides of the cauldron, flooding the floor.
Yelping, Harry dropped the ladle and tried to jump back as far as possible, but his heel caught on a chair and he crashed backwards onto the floor with it.
"Potter!" Snape was already bearing down on the scene like a whirlwind, ready to unleash his full wrath upon Harry and Hermione, as if it were their fault, but he never got the chance.
BANG!
Triggered by Malfoy's sabotage, Hermione's magic reacted automatically, creating a protective cocoon around her while simultaneously shoving everything else out of its path, which included the boiling cauldrons and the other people.
* * *
Bam!
Bam! Bam! Bam! BAM!
BOOM! BOOM! KA-BOOM!..
Chaos erupted as dozens of under-brewed concoctions and hundreds of ingredients mixed all at once in a wild medley, and it all started to foam and explode like dominoes amidst the frightened screams of second-years, who hid under desks and the hems of their robes from the flying splashes.
Part of the class had been shielded by Snape's barrier, but the main damage was already done.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed as she finally opened her tightly squeezed eyelids and saw him lying on the floor next to the overturned cauldron.
Fortunately, he didn't seem to be badly hurt, just frightened… all thanks to a shimmering cocoon of light, identical to the one still surrounding Hermione, was glowing around him.
"Whoa…" Harry slowly sat up, looking around in a daze.
Overturned cauldrons, ruined books, and shards of glass were strewn everywhere, and their classmates sat in shock on the floor, drenched in caustic substances. Some were crying loudly and moaning in pain from their burned hands and faces, while a couple of people lay unconscious.
Snape was darting around the classroom, waving his wand and muttering healing charms to stabilise the worst cases until help arrived. At some point during the process, Hermione noticed a beautiful silver doe appear beside him and vanish immediately into the wall, and ten minutes later, Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall burst into the classroom.
After that, the lesson was, of course, completely and irrevocably ruined, and for the rest of the day, the entire second-year Gryffindor and Slytherin cohort was in the Hospital Wing, with the exception of Harry and Hermione, who were the only ones completely unharmed. The two of them were released after a brief precautionary check-up, during which they could hear Snape raging behind a screen, demanding that Professor Dumbledore deduct at least a hundred points from their House for the so-called "prank played by Potter."
"Greasy git," Ron grumbled in response, cradling his bandaged, burned hands. "Of course, he forgot to mention that his favourite was the one who set off the explosion!"
This time, Hermione didn't scold him for disrespecting their professor, because she was in complete agreement.
Thank God, Ron was relatively unharmed, having managed to dive under his desk in time, but Neville, sitting half a metre away, was far less lucky – the boiling substance thrown by the explosion had crashed down right on top of him, so the boy was still lying unconscious on a cot, covered from head to toe in the foul-smelling burn ointment.
If anyone had asked Hermione, she would have said it was entirely Snape's fault. If he hadn't been so biased and kept a better eye on Malfoy instead of needlessly picking on her and Harry, nothing like this would have happened!
Looking at the state of the other students, some of whom would take days to recover, Hermione shuddered with a delayed horror as she realised just how lucky she and Harry had been. If it hadn't been for that strange protective magic… Christ. She didn't even want to think about it.
Nevertheless, the fact that only the two of them in the entire class were unharmed was… unsettling. Even suspicious, if you looked at it from an outside perspective.
Naturally, Hermione was glad she didn't have to be lying in a magical healing coma, regrowing a new face and hands, but she knew that in her case, it wasn't just dumb luck. Those barriers around her and Harry hadn't appeared out of thin air for no reason.
Given all the circumstances, there was only one logical explanation…
"It works."
Hermione glanced sideways at Harry, trying to guess if he'd reached a similar conclusion, but he was busy nodding along to Ron's latest angry tirade against Snape.
As for herself, the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. The Ritual they had performed was designed for protection, and today it had done exactly that – protected her and Harry from a direct threat.
Of course, there was still the option of accidental wild magic, but… erm… Why, in that case, did it activate for both of them at the same time, as if on command? And why was the effect completely identical?
That was too strange for a simple coincidence. Plus, Hermione didn't believe in coincidences anyway.
No, it had to be much simpler and more logical.
Having gotten what it wanted in the form of a tiny Potter growing in her womb, the Ritual seemed to finally be working for her, not against her.
It was unknown if this would protect her from the Heir of Slytherin, but, to be honest, Hermione didn't want to find out. What had happened in Potions was quite enough, thank you very much, and no further demonstrations were needed.
There hadn't been a single chance she could have protected herself from the explosion on her own. She wouldn't even have had time to draw her wand, let alone remember the right spell in time. It all happened too fast. She and Harry were right next to the cauldron…
Once again, this was too close.
Fortunately for them, this time the Ritual's protective magic had worked as it was supposed to, which was good news… sort of. On the other hand, it also immediately drew a massive amount of unwanted attention to her and Harry. Hermione had no doubt that for the next few days, all conversations and gossip would be about this. There would surely be those who, like Snape, would claim they had caused the explosion…
"I hope, no one thinks there's more to it than a simple prank," Hermione sighed, distractedly rubbing the scraped skin on her palm, which she had managed to bruise on something in the classroom.
It would be unpleasant if she started being seen as a school hooligan who disrupted lessons and endangered other students, but that was better than everyone deciding there was some special magical connection between her and Harry.
"I still don't get what actually happened in there. What do you think?" Ron sniffed and winced in pain when he couldn't scratch his nose properly with his bandaged hand.
"Um…"
Hermione threw a quick glance at Harry, ready to intercept him if he decided to say too much, but he looked just as bewildered and awkward as Ron.
"I think we just got lucky," Hermione said airily, with a shrug.
"Yeah… Tell me about luck," Ron said uncertainly, but then his mouth split into a wide grin: "Can't say the same for Malfoy, though. The little brat got a face-full of cauldron."
"At least he doesn't look so much like an albino rat anymore," Harry giggled. "He should be grateful."
"Pff… I doubt it. Besides, nothing could fix his ugly mug…"
They sat like that for a while longer, bad-mouthing the Slytherins, until Madam Pomfrey finally kicked Hermione and Harry out of her domain, for once deeming them too healthy to be there.
Promising a distraught Ron they would definitely visit him tomorrow before classes, they headed back to the Tower to kill time until lunch.
Walking through the now-empty corridors, Hermione couldn't stop replaying in her mind the memory of the surge of magic that had burst from the centre of her body to become a golden, impenetrable cocoon.
"It really works…"
She and Harry needed to talk about this. And they probably needed to test it somehow, too…
"Harry, wait."
"Huh?"
"I have an idea," with that, she grabbed his hand and spun one hundred and eighty degrees, dragging him towards the stairs to the seventh floor.