Chapter Two
Harry scrambled backward so fast he tripped and whacked his head on his front door. He only just managed to stifle his
yell, mentally cursing his clumsiness. The doll shifted and the little mouth made sucking motions at a nipple only it
could see. Harry stared in near terror.
'Who the hell left a baby at my doorstep?' he thought, looking frantically up and down the hall as if expecting the mother to come running if he moved his head fast enough. The hallway was deserted and it slowly dawned on him that nobody was likely to return.
"Oh, God. This is exactly what I need right now," he moaned, as he crept forward and gingerly picked up the carrier. There was a lumpy, overstuffed bag covered in pink butterflies at the baby's feet. Harry balanced the carrier in one hand, opened the door and carried the baby across the room.
He laid the carrier on his black leather couch, and stood awkwardly looking down at it. He was at a loss as to what to do! Finally he sat down and stared at the baby. It was a generic-looking infant, with thick black curls and long lashes against plump cheeks that were rosy with sleep. There was a small mole on the infant's left cheek. The nose was an almost non-existent bump and there was a tiny pink rosebud of a mouth. The baby's skin was a shade or two darker than his own and the tiny fists were clenched under the chin.
Harry's mind was whirling. Gone were thoughts of sleep or that shower he'd been about to take. He had a baby on his hands! The thought was so ludicrous that he laughed out loud. Bad idea. The baby jerked and the bag fell out of the carrier, causing something inside to rattle and Harry froze. The baby was suddenly staring at him, wide-eyed and he doubted he had ever seen eyes a more vivid green. It raised its head slightly, eyes not leaving his, then the little face scrunched up and let out a pitiful whimper. Before he knew what was happening, the baby was screaming as if somebody was stabbing it with white-hot needles, the little face red and the feet kicking in the woven blanket.
Cursing his stupidity, Harry looked around his living room thinking help, help! There was no one else there but Hedwig who was looking quite upset by the racket the little human was making.
"Hedwig! What do I do? I have no idea what to do with a baby! I'm not a woman. I'm not Hermione! She's the one who probably knows what to- Hermione!" Harry jumped up and grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment. He squibbled a quick note and tied it to Hedwig, fumbling in his haste.
"Hurry, Hedwig! Go as fast as you can!" He pushed Hedwig out the window, grabbed his wand and muttered a quick silencing charm on his door. "It would never do to have people thinking I'm a sadist as well. I can just see the headlines: UMEMPLOYED BOY-WHO-LIVED RESORTS TO CHILD ABUSE..," he mumbled bitterly.
He threw the wand down and sat back on the couch. The baby was still demonstrating what an excellent pair of lungs it had and Harry reached a hand out tentatively.
"Shh, shh," he said, patting the blanket. The kid ignored him, starting to hiccup in between screams and Harry was sure it would suffocate. The thought suddenly occurred to him that he would much rather be doing something less dangerous right about now - like maybe poking Fluffy in the eye or attempting Kung Fu on a resurrected Voldemort.
He shook his head, gathered his courage and picked up the baby. The blanket fell away, revealing that the baby was wearing a thick, pale yellow romper and the legs were still kicking frantically. He put it on his shoulder and started walking slowly around the room, patting its back nervously, murmuring soothing words. Or maybe not so soothing, because the screaming didn't let up one iota.
"Come on, Hermione," he pleaded.
As if in answer, she was suddenly there in his living room, wearing jeans, a Puddlemere t-shirt he'd once given her and a completely perplexed expression. Her trademark bushy hair was falling out of the ponytail she'd hastily gathered it into. Without a word to him, she took the baby and laid it across her shoulder.
"Shh, shh, there, there," she said juggling it and after a minute or two, amazingly, miraculously, there was silence. The baby gave one or two half-hearted cries of distress but was soon completely quiet - staring up at Hermione as she whispered cooing words.
"I know, Sweetie. I know," she murmured and Harry gazed at her with awe and not a little irritation. He'd been saying the same things and, if anything, the damn kid had screamed even louder. She carried the baby to the couch, wiped its face and started to undress it.
"Poor little thing needs a change. Hand me a clean diaper, would you?" She said, indicating the bag on the floor and Harry hastened to do her bidding. He handed her the tiny nappy just as Hermione cooed, "Ohh, you're a girl!" Harry sat back and watched her change the small girl.
That done, she gathered the baby up, cradled her in her arms and rocked her gently. She began humming softly under her breath and Harry and Hermione watched the green eyes slowly close as the baby relaxed. She heaved a great sigh and Hermione smiled.
Harry felt quite strange watching Hermione. He'd never seen her with such an expression before. Fifteen years of friendship had seen them in almost every situation imaginable but this was new. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed with - something - as she held the baby. He suddenly felt an almost overwhelming desire to kiss her and swallowed and looked away quickly.
Now was not the time. He couldn't think about his feelings for his best friend; feelings that had been growing steadily since their 6th year at Hogwarts. He had an abandoned baby to deal with, and the inevitable media circus that would result once they got wind of it.
He closed his eyes and groaned mentally.
"Harry," Hermione whispered. He looked up at her. She smiled and put a finger to her lips. "I'm gonna put her on your bed, OK?"
He nodded and watched as she carried the baby into his room. How had he never noticed just how sensual her walk was? The way her hips swayed, the way her shapely.. Harry shook his head. Stop it. She came out, closed the door and muttered a silencing charm and another he didn't recognize.
"That's so we can hear her, even if she can't hear us," she explained and sat down next to him. Her lovely brown eyes focused on his. "Ok. I'm dying of curiosity here. Where did she come from?"
Harry told her and watched her expressions range from puzzlement to surprise to alarm. "Are you sure? There was nobody out there?"
He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes wearily. "I'm sure, Hermione. Don't you think I'd rather someone else were out there? What do I want with a baby?"
Hermione, ever the resourceful one, grabbed the carrier. "I'm sure there's some kind of explanation. Maybe they didn't mean to put her on your doorstep. Maybe.. there must be some kind of clue in here." She picked up the strange blanket that the baby had been wrapped in and shook it out. "Hmm, this is interesting. This looks ethnic, somehow. Muggle ethnic. Like Mexican or maybe North American Indian. See the pattern?" She pointed out the triangular, circular and seven-sided stars woven into the soft cloth. Her long fingers smoothed the blanket and again that heart-rending look crossed her face. She sighed and folded the blanket carefully then reached into the carrier again.
"Oh, there's something else," she said, pulling out a plastic zippered bag. There were papers inside and she turned them out onto her lap. The first thing she picked up was an envelope. "Uh."
"What is it?" Harry asked.
"Well, there goes the theory that this was an accident. It..it has your name on it," she replied somewhat shakily, handing him the plain white envelope.
His name was written in an elegant cursive that Harry thought seemed vaguely familiar. Frowning, he opened it and took out a letter. Hermione gave him an encouraging smile, he unfolded the letter and began to read.