Friday saw Hermione and Draco visiting Hermione's parents for tea. It was a pleasant affair with a lot of delicious tea and a wonderfully sumptuous home made chocolate cake. Draco and Hermione were talking about spending the holidays in their house in Edinburgh so that the Grangers would be able to see their grandson often. Mrs. Granger was still expressing the sentiment of hoping for a girl, but Draco told her that it would be a boy. Though, the question as to how he knew he wasn't really answering. Instead he was just mumbling. His wife explained it to be the genetic make-up of the Malfoy family that took care of the first born child always being a boy. The soon to be grandmother didn't look to convinced. Genetics were never set in stone so there was hope for a girl after all.
It had been halfway through the afternoon that Hermione excused herself and went to the loo. She arrived back after what seemed a rather long time. But neither her parents nor Draco thought anything of it. It was only later that he noted his witch grimace ever now and then, though trying her best to hide it. She was still part of the conversation, at least to an extend. Something seemed to have happened and she didn't want anybody to know, that much was clear. What could have happened though?
He tried to look at the clock on the wall when ever she tried her best to suppress whatever happened to her. It was about every five minutes. Somewhere in the back of his mind alarm bells were starting to ring. It was more a feeling than real knowing, but what Hermione was hiding clearly needed to be taken care of.
He sought her eye and when she finally looked at him his worst fear was confirmed. She was in pain and pain coming in more or less regular intervals could mean only one thing, she had gone into labour. Taking a few slow breath he steeled himself for what he was about to do. She wouldn't want to go to the hospital, but he would make sure she did. He was not going to take any chances. It was too early for their son to be born. There was at least another month to go yet.
He switched chairs to sit on the couch next to her. Draping his arm around her shoulder in a seemingly simple show of affection he whispered into her ear, "We're going to get you to St. Mungo's."
To his astonishment she didn't protest. She had to be in serious pain, if she wasn't even arguing with him.
"I think, it's time for Hermione to have a bit of a rest." Draco said, trying not to let on what was really happening.
But Mrs. Granger had already caught on. She was stepping beside her daughter and the look on her face was that of love and concern. Mr. Granger's face showed only slight confusion. Moments later it finally dawned on him as well.
"I'll call an ambulance." he said, getting up from his chair.
"No!" Draco close to shouted.
His father-in-law looked at him.
"No, I'll take her to the hospital, our hospital."
"But St. John's is only fifteen minutes away. It's..."
"...a Muggle place. I'll not risk the life of my wife or child in a Muggle hospital."
The only wizard present got up and turned to his wife.
"I'll take care of you, Lea. Don't worry." his hand gently caressed her face.
Somehow all nervousness, all uncertainty and fear had fallen away from him. Draco was cool and in control. He would make sure his wife got to the place he knew was safe for her to give birth at. He would watch over her. The past with its memories might scare him witless, but he wouldn't abandon her. He would be by her side whatever the cost. If she wanted him to be there with her, he would be.
Carefully he scooped her of the couch and walked over to the fireplace. It was neither wide nor high enough for him floo them both together to the magical hospital. He would need to apparate them. The book had stated that apparition should be avoided if at all possible in the last months of pregnancy, but it couldn't be helped. There wasn't time to get back to their own house in Edinburgh in order to use the hearth there.
Hermione held on to her husband with all the strength left to her. Hiding the incredible pain making her want to scream had taken most of her strength. She was drained. Her father kissed her forehead gently. Her mother's face told her that they would be following as soon as they could.
Draco was about to apparate when he heard John Granger whisper, "Take good care of my girl."
"I will" the younger man said solemnly, "Don't worry, I will."
He spun and vanished moments later.
"Why didn't she say anything, Maggie?" Mr. Granger embraced his wife.
"I don't know, John. Maybe this is the one time were the knowledge out off a book isn't enough to prepare for the real life after all." his wife answered.
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It was hard for Draco to keep his balance and not to stumble and fall with a by now writhing Hermione. The loud sounds indicating her distress attracted a healer only moments after their arrival.
"What happened? Apparating with her in this state..." the middle ages woman started.
"There wasn't time for anything else! She needs help, now." Draco snapped back.
The healer took another look at the witch held by him.
"Follow me."
He did. The way led to the elevators, two floors up and then to a part of the hospital that seemed to have special security arrangements as this was the only time he could remember to ever having seen tall, muscular figures at the entrance to a ward.
"Put her on the examination table." the healer told him while she was washing her hands and then grabbed a book from the shelf by the door.
Hermione wasn't sure what was happening around her any longer. The pain didn't stop now. It had become a constant gut wrenching feeling she couldn't escape. She wasn't sure, if she could fight the screams trying to escape her parched throat for that much longer.
Cool, caring fingers caressed her cheeks.
"I won't leave you, Lea. I'll be here for how ever long it's going to take." a voice whispered into her ear.
She knew that voice. It was her husband, he was going to be there for her. Help her... Hermione screamed as a new wave of pain was ripping through her body.
It was tearing him apart. She was writhing and screaming just like last time. His body was covered with goosebumps and he shivered in the cold suddenly engulfing him. Just like last time... Though this time it was his fault that she was in so much pain. He wanted to take all the agony away. He wanted to make it all go away, but could only helplessly watch as the girl he loved suffered yet again with him having to watch, unable to do anything.
The healer was now slowly moving her wand over the panting witch before her. There was a deep frown on her face. It did nothing to calm the expecting father's nerves. Something was wrong. He could feel it.
"Don't leave her our off your sight. I'll be back in a minute."
Draco looked at the woman now vanishing through the door. What did she think he'd do? Abandon his wife while she was clearly in a state of utter distress?
"Draco?" Hermione's voice was laboured and hoarse.
"Yes, Lea? I'm here."
She just looked at him and the sinking feeling in his heart was like a knife made of ice slicing through him. Her eyes were dull and had lost their normal sheen. Even when he had utterly exhausted her with his body in the past had she lost this special spark. It was gone. There was resignation and agony swimming in the deep brown he loved to get lost in.
"Hang on in there, Lea, hang on..." he was pleading with her.
His heart was racing, his mind conjuring all sorts of horrible nightmares for him to endure. What was happening? Another ear splitting scream engulfed him. Where was this Merlin forsaken so called healer? Right on cue the witch re-appeared, two further female healers following her.
They gathered around their patient while Draco carefully dabbed the sweat from his wife's forehead with his shirt sleeve.
"I think the turn has gone too far. The head is too far bend over."
"There will be breakage, if there isn't any intervention."
"We'll lose both of them, if we can't correct the position in order to have a safe delivery."
Bewildered the only male in the room looked from one healer to the other. What were they talking about? Did that mean his witch was going to die? What about their child? What about their son? Why were they not doing something? Anything!
He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. The oldest of the three women was standing next to him.
"What's your name, dear?" she asked with a kind voice.
"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. She's my wife, Hermione."
"Ah." recognition was flicking over her features.
"What's happening? Why's she in labour now? It should have been another month before..."
"Yes." there was something strangely re-assuring in her voice, "Under normal circumstances your child would have been born in about a month's time, but it didn't move into the right position. It will not be possible for it to be born naturally. It's neck would be snapped in half, killing it. Which could lead to the death of the mother as well."
Utter horror gripped hold of the young wizard. He'd just been told that his beloved witch and their child were going to die. Whatever had gone wrong was the death sentence for the two people most dear to him.
"We'll see that we correct the situation, but in order for us to do that you'll need to leave and wait next door."
"NO! There's no way I'm leaving her!"
He didn't get the opportunity to protest any further as the dark of unconsciousness claimed him.
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It was late on Friday evening while Narcissa Malfoy and James Mulligan were sitting in their living room enjoying a glass of wine that a large owl was pecking at the window.
"Who is sending a letter at this time of night?" he muttered.
"I don't know, Jay."
She might not have known as yet but Narcissa had the worst feeling of foreboding she had ever had.
While the parchment was read the colour slowly drained from her auror's face. He handed her the letter a moment later, gulping the rest of his wine down in two large swigs.
Dear Mrs. Malfoy,
we have to inform you that your son Draco and his wife Hermione have come to St. Mungo's this afternoon.
The condition of your daughter-in-law is critical. Please come at your earliest convenience.
Shenaid O'Keeffe
Head Wife
St. Mungo's Hospital Maternity Unit
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Harry had been send to collect the Grangers without having been told why exactly he was expected take them to the St. Mungo's. He had a fair idea that it must be in connection with Hermione as they were her parents after all, but what exactly had been happening... He could only guess.
Mrs. Granger looked haunted with a hint of harassment. Which didn't make much sense really. Mr. Granger on the other hand was sporting a look of defiance. He wouldn't allow to happen whatever was in the process of happening.
As they arrived a maternal looking healer was already waiting for them.
"Please follow me."
So they did. Harry was wondering, if the healer had forgotten that he was there as well, but wouldn't be complaining. This way he might be able to find out, what was going on.
They were led into a waiting room that contained already three people, Draco Malfoy, his mother and James Mulligan. The relationship between his colleague and his ex-nemesis' mother was a open secret in the Auror Office by now.
After everybody had been seated the healer started to explain the situation. She spoke of the unfortunate position the baby was in, the possible consequences and what they were going to try and do to rectify the problem.
Harry was listening only with one ear. He was observing Draco. The once high and mighty Slytherin was sitting in his high backed chair with an expression of despair and hopelessness on his face. There wasn't the hint of cockiness or superiority left within him. Which in a way was understandable. If he truly loved Hermione, and by all accounts he did, her death would most likely break him. He was facing the all too real prospect of leaving this place as a widower. What a thought.
For a moment there was only silence filling the room. Then Mrs. Granger started to quietly sob. Her husband was embracing her tenderly, trying his best to console her.
Harry's thoughts wandered. He remembered the memories of his old Potions Master. Snape had been holding the woman he had loved for most of his life in his arms while for once pouring his emotions out in screams of despair and loneliness. He had never fully understood what his teacher had been feeling in that very moment, the moment he found Lily Evans dead. Though one glance at Draco and he could see the same despair and loneliness he had seen on the older wizard's face. His classmate was feeling what their teacher had been feeling when he found his love murdered.
Was history going to repeat itself? Only time would tell and truce be told, whatever their differences had been in the past nobody deserved to endure this kind of pain. Not even Draco Malfoy.
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Blaise sat on the bench in front of his locker, trying to straighten the twigs of his broom as best he could. He'd been through another gruelling practice and was hoping for a quiet pint in Hogsmeade later. It had been a long day. For some strange reason the team captain thought it best to start the day at 6 am with a dozen laps around the pitch. Blaise couldn't disagree more, but he had signed up to play for the Lightings and therefore he was just going to keep his head down and endure whatever torture their captain came up with.
"Are you coming for a pint in the Cauldron, Blaise?" a deep male voice interrupted his thoughts.
He looked up. It was Eddy, one of the Beaters.
"No. I've made other arrangements."
A snort was the answer. Blaise frowned.
"What?"
"We all know that you hang out at Hogsmeade more evenings than not, mate. Who of the village pretties is your favourite then?"
No reply was forthcoming.
"Don't waste your time. They're all either married, engaged or not the full shilling."
"My girl isn't going to be there."
"Right." his team mate left with a wide grin on his face. Blaise tried not to sigh.
It was a lie. He hoped more than anything that Ginny would be in the village. He hadn't been able to find out yet how she managed to leave the school without anybody noticing, but for the last four days she had been in the Three Broomsticks by 8 pm without fail. At first he had thought his imagination was playing tricks on him, but then he had been watching her sitting at the bar for about two hours before she left again.
The weird thing was, nobody questioned her being in the pub. Madame Rosmerta had to know who she was and that she wasn't supposed to leave Hogwarts any time she saw fit.
An hour later Blaise sat in the corner of the Three Broomsticks that provided a perfect view of the bar, but allowed him to stay hidden in the shadows. He hadn't been halfway through his first butterbeer when she appeared. A butterbeer was ordered and then she just sat there, stared into her glass and scribbled into a notebook. He had the suspicion that it might be her diary.
Wouldn't it be fun to read what she wrote? No. He knew all too well what kind of things were most likely written in the little book, all the ways she would employ to make him suffer. He sighed. He was seriously deluding himself, if he thought that Ginny Weasley was still thinking of him. She was back with Potter. She was probably composing smoochy love letters.
Another hour past with Blaise wondering and Ginny writing. Then a loud commotion at the back door caught both their attentions. A large macaw fluttered through the rafters, clearly not quite sure where to land. Ginny held her arm out for him as she had done for a number of owls in the past. Like the owls the macaw seemed to know this to be the signal of where he was expected.
She gently stroked him while wondering who would be sending a letter with this bird that so clearly didn't belong here.
"Who has send you then?" she ran her finger over his head and he leant into her touch, "I wonder, if you have a name."
"Herman, Herman, macaw, Herman." the bird replied.
"You're a smart bird, aren't you?"
He affectionately nipple her hair while she set him on to the bar and carefully removed the letter he was carrying. She didn't take the time to look at the name of the addressee and unfolded the stiff parchment.
You've got to come to St. Mungo's immediately! Hermione's gone into labour and something is wrong. They won't let Draco to her and he's going mental.
She stared at the words. The handwriting looked familiar. Where had she seen it before? After a moment she realised that it was Harry's handwriting. Her own fiancé had written this letter. But why didn't he address her? Why didn't the note say who had send it and why expected Harry her to comfort Draco of all people?
She slowly turned the letter and read the addressee's name Blaise Zabini. A big frown formed on her face. She looked at the bird that was now sampling her butterbeer. Either Harry had been so pre-occupied himself that he had sent the bird to her instead of Bl... She didn't finish his name in her thoughts. It was too painful.
"Whom are you supposed to deliver this letter to?" she asked the macaw.
He in turned looked at her, tilted his head and made a purring noise.
"Excuse me?"
"Blaise. Letter for Blaise." he finally croaked.
"And why are you delivering it to me?" that bird was clearly mental. Why did Harry use it instead of his own owl?
"Do I look like..." she started only to find the feathery scatter brain snatch the letter from her. It took off and vanished into the shadows of a nearby corner.
Ginny knew that there were seats in these corners. She had been hiding in them with her own one or other boyfriend in the past, in the days before Harry.
The macaw was quietly making strange bird noises when a figure was appearing from the dark corner carrying him on his arm, Blaise Zabini.
He didn't say anything. He didn't even look at her, at least not at first. When he had reached her his free arm snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against his body. She was about to protest when his lips silenced her.
He kissed her slowly and with care at first, but then his demands were overwhelming her. She wanted to fight, but instead gave in and allowed herself to be captured by his roaming mouth. Her brain just switched off. She couldn't help it. Guild would be consuming her later, she knew, but right in this moment all that counted was the wizard holding her. His warm body set her alight, promising delights that she knew were forbidden to her. She might kiss him, but he wouldn't have her.
His eyes were even darker than usual as he pulled back and easily held her gaze. He didn't have the intention to do anything else but kiss her.
"Let's go." he whispered and apparated them to St. Mungo's.