A/N: I am SO sorry for taking so long to update, and even more sorry for finishing the last chapter with such a horrible cliff-hanger. I can't apologize enough. I never abandoned this story during the last year. I've always been working on it, but this chapter turned out to be a real challenge, mainly because of two reasons: one, I had to write a lot of emotional things, which was really, really hard, and second, I'm a perfectionist. I never like what I write, so it took me thrice the normal time to finally be satisfied with the chapter. I seriously hope my disappearance hasn't lost me too many readers, and I also hope you enjoyed this second part as much as I enjoyed writing. Thanks to my lovely beta, Aida, for being such a great friend and for all your support! Telmie, I've been wondering where you disappeared to, but thanks for your help too!
Also, I opened a livejournal account for myself, and if you want to hear about updates and news and stuff, well, feel free to add me. The name is favo_de_mel. Thanks!
Nine Months
Month 7-September
Part 2
When Hermione came to, the first sensation to register in her mind was that she was thirsty. She couldn't feel anything from her waist down either, but she guessed that was because of-Malfoy!
Gasping as she was suddenly hit with a flurry of memories, her first instinct was to bring her hands to her tummy, feeling next to no comfort at finding her baby there still. But how safe?
She could guess, to a degree, what had happened-she recalled feeling a searing pain in her abdomen, remembered her sight exploding into a zillion stars and remembered, with agonizing accuracy, seeing the blood pooling at her feet once her vision had cleared. And for once in her life, Hermione wanted desperately to be wrong.
I almost got my baby killed…
The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, breaking her heart into a hundred little pieces and, eyes burning with the usual sting that heralded tears, she buried her face in her pillow, wishing to muffle the sounds of her sorrow.
Oh, Harry… where are you?
***
It was with a heavy heart that Harry arrived back home, thinking that, surely, there was no way this day could get any worse; he'd been searching for clues at the crime scene all morning and had come up empty-handed. Whoever the culprit was, he was very good at being sneaky, managing to disguise any magical traces that might facilitate the recognition of his magical imprint and leaving behind a set of very difficult-yet-clever Befuddlement Charms that had Harry Apparating all over Britain (he'd even landed himself in a cabaret in what he guessed was down-town Paris once) instead.
It hadn't taken him long after his fight with Hermione to realize he'd been at least a bit to blame for it, and that he shouldn't have allowed himself to become so easily upset by what she had said in a moment of anger; after all, Hermione had always been a tad more patient with his own tantrums as a teenager than he had been today with his wife.
He also realized that he had been a bit-okay, a lot pushy lately, and that he must have been slowly but steadily grating on her nerves with his over protectiveness until today when, finally combined with the crisis at work, she had reached her breaking point. Even Hermione had one (although Ron had always managed to challenge her calm logic and transform her into a bellicose monster with surprising quickness and ease), and it had been wrong of him to simply stalk out without listening to her first. Especially as he knew how unpredictable life (especially his) was.
However, the fact that Hermione wouldn't take her 'illness' seriously really ticked him off, and if she weren't so goddamn stubborn about going to her appointments they wouldn't be in this situation. After all, wasn't she the one who always insisted he check before rushing head first into danger? It annoyed him that she wouldn't take her own advice, especially when her own life-and their baby's-was at stake.
It was these conflicting emotions that had kept him from rushing back to her and begging for her forgiveness; instead, he'd chosen to give chase after the thieves, knowing just how important it was for Hermione. Not that he'd had much success (or any, for that matter), but he was still determined to get to the bottom of it.
It hadn't been easy; upon his arrival at the Institute, Tonks had jumped down his throat for being late and very nearly prohibited him to join the mission until he'd had to practically beg her, alleging that it was really important to Hermione and Ginny and, since she had a special spot for her 'little sisters' (and, let's face it, for Harry as well), she had finally acquiesced. Not that she could have stopped him, anyway.
He was immediately on it, and he'd used every trick he'd ever learned in Auror training to try and find them, fruitlessly until, finally defeated, he had made his way home, ready to compromise.
But he hadn't even made it to the stairs when a jet of periwinkle blue light hit him squarely on the chest, sending him flying back several feet, although he could tell there was no real strength or harm intended behind the attack; still, his only thought as he hit the wall and slid down to the floor was, Great, Hermione's still angry… just what I needed to top my day…
Groaning, he slowly got to his feet, rubbing the back of his head gingerly where he'd struck the wall and chanced a look at his attacker, only to find a visibly upset Ginevra Weasley in lieu of his wife standing at the bottom of the stairs.
"Ginny!," he began, annoyed-if Hermione had run for reinforcement he was going to throttle her!, "What the hell was that fo-Ginny, what's wrong?"
He'd finally got a clear view of his friend; Ginny's face was pale and tear-streaked, and the skin around her eyes was puffy and red, but she still looked angry enough to hex him. Again.
"The next time you feel like running out on your pregnant wife you can kiss your bloody arse goodbye, Harry Potter, because I'm going to feed you to one of Hagrid's pet Blast-Ended Skrewts myself!"
Harry's heart sank to his feet and then leaped right back up to his throat; striding over to his friend, he grasped her roughly by the upper arms and spoke right into her face with growing alarm, "Ginny, what happened to Hermione?"
The redhead choked a sob as her face crumbled, and then she threw her arms around his neck, "Oh, Harry! She's at St. Mungo's!"
Harry Apparated so fast he nearly splinched himself.
***
Harry's heart was thumping wildly as he ran into the waiting room, his mind working fast with the different scenarios of what could have happened to his wife; there hadn't been any time to ask Ginny the details, but hearing "Hermione" and "St. Mungo's" in the same sentence had been enough.
Whatever it was, it was his fault for losing his temper, and he wanted to curse himself for casting that Unplottable charm on himself.
The sight that greeted him was gut-wrenching; Molly and Arthur Weasley were huddled together on a couch by the corner and Mrs Weasley was dabbing periodically at her face with a hanky. Luna, holding Robin, looked somber as she spoke with Neville, who was shifting uncomfortably on his feet, and Ron was slumped on the couch, his hair tousled and his hands on his face.
"Ron!," he called and saw his friend's pale face flood with relief as he snapped into attention.
"Harry!," he said, his face breaking into a weak smile as he got to his feet and met him half-way in a hug, "Thank Merlin, I was so worried…"
"Ron, please," Harry begged, pulling back, "what happened to Hermione, is she alright? What happened?"
"Harry, I-"
"Mr Potter."
He whirled around to see Healer Abercrombie standing behind him, a clipboard under his arm and a grimace on his face. Harry didn't think he looked too somber, though, and so he tried to compose himself a little before he spoke.
"Healer Abercrombie," he finally managed, trying to get his hands to stop shaking and failing miserably, "is Hermione alright? Is the baby-"
He trailed off, feeling faint. Ron placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"Your wife and baby are both stable as of now, Mr Potter," Harry felt a wave of relief sweep into his body and he let out a shuddering breath, "but it was a really close call."
"What happened to them?" Harry said hoarsely, fighting the bile rising up his throat.
"Hermione has suffered what is most commonly known as 'abruptio placentae', or the premature separation of the placenta from the site of uterine implantation; the most common symptom of abruptio placentae is hemorrhage after the 20th week of gestation and shock, and it can be extremely dangerous for both mother and child because it causes the vasoconstriction of placenta blood flow, which means it could stop the oxygen and nourishment supply to the fetus and could therefore kill it. As for the mother, there are many things that could have happened to her; fortunately for both Mr Weasley here, along with the Ministry crew reacted promptly and brought her straight here, where we were able to stop the bleeding and control the damage before it had more… severe consequences."
Harry glanced helplessly from the man to his best friend, shooting the latter a confused, yet thankful look, and then turned back to the Healer, ignoring Ron's sharp intake of breath as he asked, "What caused this? I mean, why now?"
"Well, it is extremely difficult to determine the cause of abruptio placentae, as there are many factors that could influence the functioning of the reproductive system, but in Hermione's particular case it is pretty obvious to us that it was a consequence of a perilous and sudden rise in her blood pressure. Approximately 10% of placenta abruptio cases severe enough to cause fetal death is associated with hypertension.," the Healer's expression became reproachful as he looked at the father-to-be, "I don't know what happened since the last time I saw your wife, four weeks ago, Mr Potter, but whatever it was I can see my recommendations were clearly taken for granted, as her condition has already evolved into Eclampsia, a more severe case of Preeclampsia, and in an alarmingly short time."
Harry went pale and staggered slightly against Ron, who grabbed him firmly by the arm to steady him. He felt as though someone had kicked him in the groin - the air had left his lungs and his head had begun to throb. Still, nothing could compare to the terrible pain in his chest where his heart was located; the idea of losing Hermione was unbearable. And even though he didn't think Healer Abercrombie was being entirely fair, he couldn't help but feeling a little angry at both himself and Hermione for not being more careful.
"Is she… are they going to be okay?"
The older man's expression softened considerably at his distress, and he gave Harry a rueful smile.
"Yes, Mr Potter, I believe your wife will have a full recovery. Forgive me for being so blunt, but I merely wished you to understand the seriousness of the situation and that, had it not been for magic and its reliability, I daresay the consequences would have been much worse."
Harry nodded, feeling properly chastised and then, with a tiny voice, said, "Can I see her?"
Healer Abercrombie gave him an apologetic look, "I'm afraid I can't let more than two people in at a time, and her parents are inside with her right now, so if you'll wait a few more minutes, I'll-"
Harry felt a tiny spark of anger flare inside of him; he wanted to see her, and he wanted to see her now, damn it! "But I'm her bloody husband!"
"Harry, wait."
"Ron-"
"I think there's something you should know."
***
"Where were you, mate? We've been owling you all afternoon…"
Guilt stabbed at his conscience like a thousand needles jabbing a pincushion; he wished he could say he'd simply wanted no interruption until he could bring Hermione's research back as a peace offering, (in which case he should have just stuck to flowers and extra Pumpkin Pie), but if he was honest with himself, he had to admit that part of him had been so angry that he'd intentionally made himself unavailable to her.
"I cast an Unplottable charm on myself, so any attempt to reach me would just bounce right off me…", he said quietly, looking at his feet.
"You what?!", the red-head hissed, glaring at him, "Harry! You can't just disappear on your pregnant wife, especially in her condition , you know that!"
"I know, Ron. Please, I feel like rubbish enough as it is…"
"Well, you should! What would have happened if she had gone into labor, would you have missed out on your kid's birth because of some stupid love spat? And what if she'd lost the baby today, would she have woken up feeling all alone and confused because you were being an arse? Harry!"
"I know, Ron!" Harry didn't have the strength to argue-he knew Ron was right. Rubbing his forehead tiredly, he didn't look up as he asked the red-head, "Look, just tell me what happened, alright?"
Ron sagged beside him on the chair, sulking. "It's just that - she told me what happened between the two of you this morning and frankly, I think you're both being idiots. I mean, I don't condone what she said, mate, and I told her so, but honestly, you should have just let it go."
"Ron."
"Right. Well, anyway, she floo'ed me at home and asked me to take her to the Ministry-"
"She did wh-"
"-to apologize to you," he glared at Harry for his interruption before continuing, "and to ask you to go to the Healer's with her. You weren't at Headquarters when we got there though, and she became really upset."
Harry felt like the lowest scum on Earth. "And that's what triggered it…"
"Yeah, well, not exactly… we kind of… ran into Malfoy after that."
Harry turned sharply at that. "Malfoy?"
Ron became even more somber, if possible. "Yes, and you can guess what happened after that, can't you?"
Harry groaned inwardly; an upset, pregnant Hermione, Ron-Irascible-Weasley and Malfoy (he didn't need a reason; his very person was the epitome of evil). Now that was a deadly mixture.
"He started taunting us, you know, trying to rile us up, and well, it wasn't working. At least with Hermione it wasn't, but I wanted to hex his testicles right off," he scowled, "So she was just pulling me along, you know, trying to avoid a fight, and then the wanker goes off and tells her she shouldn't be so calm, considering she'd just lost an entire research just last night."
Harry's heart dropped to his feet. He knew now, what exactly had caused Hermione's condition, and his hatred for Draco Malfoy rose to new levels, something which he hadn't thought was even possible. He had nearly lost the most important person in his life because of him, and he wasn't going to forget that, ever.
"So what I wanted to tell you," Ron continued hesitantly, seeing his friend's reaction to this piece of news, "is that we think it was Malfoy who broke into Hermione's office last night."
As an Auror, Harry didn't allow himself to worry about Malfoy yet-Hermione came first-but he put this information in the back of his head for him to ponder later.
As a husband and future father, however, he was dying with rightful worry and, in his desperation to find someone to blame, he went and blamed the wrong person.
"She should have just stayed home…" he said bitterly, running a hand feverishly through his hair., "this would never had happened if she weren't so stubborn-"
"Don't go blaming all this on her, Harry," Ron barked suddenly, making a surprised Harry jump in his seat, "as it is, we both know stress doesn't only come from working too hard!"
Harry gaped at his friend, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "Ron, what…"
"Nobody likes being fussed over and Hermione least of all. You know how independent she is better than anyone, and you're too overprotective-no, don't look at me like that, you know it's true. I still remember that time at Grimmauld Place when you tried to push me and Hermione away to 'keep us safe' and she literally had to beat sense back into that thick skull of yours. She got you really good, remember?"
Harry did remember. It had been the summer after fifth year, a few weeks before his birthday, and he'd just been retrieved from Little Whinging and brought - against his will - to Sirius' house.
Grimmauld Place held too many memories of his Godfather-memories that were still too recent and that Harry had been neither willing, nor ready to face; so when he'd been forcibly transported there, mere weeks after Sirius' passing, he'd been none too happy.
He'd holed himself up in Sirius' old room, shying away from his guardians (or, as he liked to call them, jail keepers) and coming out only for meals (when his stomach would remind him he hadn't eaten for two days straight, that is to say) and very short trips to the bathroom.
He'd done a lot of thinking in this bedroom, about his parents, Sirius and his friends, but mostly he'd been brooding over that wretched prophecy, what it meant, and how his mere existence had been affecting the lives of the people around him since he had been born. It had made him think, not for the first time, that he'd been the cause of the pain and death of so many innocents that had had the rotten luck of knowing him.
Flooded by a pool of guilt, he'd come to the horrible realization that Ron and Hermione were the last people he had left in his life. And that if they continued to be his friends, they were most likely to end up the same way his parents and Sirius had. Dead.
They almost had, too, at the Department of Mysteries. The horrible image of Hermione falling limply to Dolohov's curse had left an imprint in his brain that liked to replay itself in his dreams (with many different, more terrifying variables) until this day. And he couldn't risk having those nightmares coming true.
So, as much as he needed and enjoyed their friendship, and as much as he was going to miss them, he'd come up with the brilliant (by his standards anyway) plan of pushing them away. He was sure that, eventually, and by being a complete arse towards them, neither Ron nor Hermione would want anything to do with him and so, in losing them, the possibilities of his friends becoming living targets were next to none. It made perfect sense to him.
And of course he forgot about one tiny little detail-he could never, ever, outsmart Hermione Granger.
Ron and Hermione arrived at Grimmauld Place on the eve of his 16th birthday, and with them the entire Weasley clan (minus Percy, of course), Lupin and a few other members of the Order, whom he'd hardly seen during his short stay.
Harry had been made aware several days before, by an ever subtle Tonks, (who hadn't even realized what she'd let slip) that they were planning a surprise party for him, and he'd thought it would be the perfect way to start his plan. So when he'd first walked into the kitchen to the cheerful shouts of "SURPRISE", a most delicious-looking birthday cake and Filibuster Fireworks making havoc around the room, he'd simply stared flatly at them for a split second-and walked right back out.
Hermione and Ron had stopped him in the hallway a moment later, demanding an explanation, and he'd lashed out at them in such a way that he was still ashamed of himself. He'd told them, in no uncertain terms, that it was not a day to celebrate, seeing as Sirius had just died weeks before, and that they should be ashamed of themselves. He told them he wanted to be alone, and that he wanted everybody out within the hour. He'd gone and locked himself in his bedroom after that, feeling a kind of bitter satisfaction at remembering the stunned expression in Ron's face and the hurt in Hermione's. But as he got ready for bed, he couldn't help but feel a little sad for this new loss of his; at least this time it was by his choice.
He had barely finished unbuttoning his shirt when the door was literally blown off its hinges and an irate Hermione had strode in, hair flying wildly around her and her wand shaking violently in her hand.
Since that stupid fight during fourth year, Ron had been reluctant to confront him, but Hermione had never been scared of giving Harry a piece of her mind-had always been quite opinionated, really-and so that was exactly what she'd done.
They had a horrible row that night.
She'd told him he had no right to be so rude to the people who had tried their darnedest to make his birthday an enjoyable one.
He'd spat that he'd gone his entire life without any stupid parties and that he could do without one that year too.
She'd yelled back that he was being an idiot and a prat, and that he had better apologize and get his "bloody arse" downstairs or else she'd curse him so bad he'd be "as mangled as a Manticore and as appealing as a Bubotuber pus covered Clabbert".
He'd roared that she was being a "nosy little banshee" and he definitely didn't need someone like her in his life.
Hermione had smacked him.
To this day Harry could not yet fathom how someone as small and delicate as Hermione could hit so hard-but then again he'd learned when he'd met her that she was much more than she let on, so it really shouldn't have been that surprising if she was physically stronger than she appeared as well. Besides, if Malfoy's expression when she'd slapped him was any indication, he should have known it'd be painful. He'd just been used to Hermione always seeing his side of things, and being on the receiving end of her anger was completely new-and unnerving-to him.
At least it had achieved its goal-to shock him into speechlessness. He'd had to sit and listen to Hermione rant on and on about how inconsiderate and stupid he was to turn away five years of friendship because of his "saving people thing"-and yes, she'd figured out why he was acting like that the minute she'd seen Hedwig return to her for the third time without a reply.
She'd told him she was completely capable of taking care of herself without him fussing over her all the time, ("Honestly, Harry, I'm older than you, for one, and I did not get top marks at the O.W.L's because you helped, you know!"), and if he thought she and Ron were simply going to run off in fear and abandon him because of an "ugly, good-for-nothing Kaiser wannabe with a superiority complex" he had an other thing coming.
And then she'd burst into tears, and proceeded to weep all over his shirt as she clung desperately to his neck.
Twice as shocked as before (his 'perfect plan' having been busted so suddenly) Harry had barely managed to wrap his arms around her and pat her awkwardly on the back. He'd listened as she begged him brokenly not to push her away because she couldn't possibly live without him.
"You're so focused on keeping me from dying, Harry," she'd told him, later, once she'd managed to calm down, "that you can't see that, by doing this, you're killing me yourself…"
It was the first time Harry had broken down and cried before anyone.
He'd cried and mourned, for Sirius and his parents and himself, and all throughout she'd cried with him and held him, and been there for him in a way no one else had before in his life.
They had become terribly close after that, and their relationship had grown steadily from there, up until a few months later when Harry shockingly realized the hippogriffs in his stomach only happened when Hermione was around, and he became highly aware of every word, touch and look she gave him. And even Harry, slow that he was, began to understand the feelings that had been building up for the past year regarding his best friend, in a way that was both scary and exciting.
"-she feels like you're suffocating her…"
Harry snapped himself out of memory lane and turned to look at his best friend, who had seemingly kept talking, though Harry had no recollection whatsoever of what he'd said.
"What?"
"I know you're worried about her, Harry, but there's no need to overdo it."
You're so focused on keeping me from dying, Harry, that you can't see that, by doing this, you're killing me yourself…
Harry felt his heart tighten in his chest.
Bloody fucking hindsight…, he thought bitterly.
He just knew he was going to mess this up; he'd sworn to himself and to the entire world at his and Hermione's wedding day that he'd always protect her. And when they'd first gotten together he'd sworn to Ron, Hermione's big brother by default, that he'd never hurt her.
Ron had snorted and said it was stupid as Harry was a man and therefore bound to screw up sometime, but Harry had been confident.
When you love someone you never think you can hurt them-at least not intentionally, and then it doesn't really matter as you never meant to hurt them in the first place.
Well, Harry was just learning that it did in fact matter, and it was a harsh wake-up call to his ego that he simply couldn't protect her forever. Not even from himself. But Hermione was no porcelain doll to be kept-she was her own person and he would do well to remember that.
He knew now that he had been going the wrong way about it, and it had taken him almost losing his wife and baby to realize it. He was swamped by such a powerful wave of guilt that, for a second, it became hard to breathe.
"I should have been there.," he managed in a choked voice after a second, causing Ron to shoot him a bewildered look.
"What?"
"I wanted her to stay home so that… so that she would be safe... but I wasn't there. When she needed me, I wasn't there... I… I've been so intent in protecting her that I never realized what I was doing to her myself instead…"
"You didn't know, mate…"
"But I should have," Harry said, and the anguish infused his voice "what kind of husband does that make me?"
"The kind that makes mistakes," Ron said firmly, yet comfortingly, "Harry, if there is one thing that I've learned, is that no matter how much you love them, sometimes love isn't enough. You've got to work hard to keep it floating, and even harder to keep it pure. It isn't easy, mate, but it's worth it just to see the smiles on their faces when you tell them you love them. And Harry, do you love Hermione?"
"More than life itself," he whispered. The red-head smiled and clapped him once on the back.
"Well, then, mate, there's your answer."
Harry gave him a small but grateful smile; he wasn't alright-but he was going to be. As soon as he saw to his wife.
"When did you become the voice of reason?," he joked half-heartedly, in a feeble attempt to lighten up the mood.
Ron snorted. "Since I had to try and figure out Luna."
"Have you made any progress?," Harry asked, amused, and Ron chuckled.
"Not really, but I love her anyway," he sighed and leaned back against his chair. "You know," he said thoughtfully after a while, "for some strange reason, falling in love with Loony Lovegood is the sanest thing I've ever done in my life. And since then, everything has made more sense to me."
Harry sighed and looked down at his wedding ring. Yeah… falling in love…
A soft cry broke the air and he looked up to see Luna rocking Robin, who'd just woken up from a nap on his mother's shoulder. Luna was cooing gently to her baby, trying to soothe his hiccuping cries.
Harry's own eyes misted over.
To think that he had run the risk of never meeting his baby.
It was a horrible thought, but before he could dwell further on it the door to the waiting room opened and in came Healer Abercrombie, followed by Hermione's parents, Ted looking mutinous next to his wife.
Everybody in the room stood up, and Harry winced at the look on Mr. Granger's face as he spotted him on the other side of the room. Ted made to head for him but Caroline, who looked extremely upset, placed a placating hand on his elbow.
Ron squeezed Harry's shoulder and pushed him gently towards the door before walking up to speak to the Grangers himself. Harry shot a grateful look at his back and made a beeline for the Healer, who was holding the door open for him.
"How is she really?," he asked quietly as they started together down the hall.
"She's doing as well as expected," the man explained grimly, "although I am a bit worried about her reaction once she wakes up. I expect she will blame herself for this… accident. You must be very understanding and gentle with her, as her state of mind has direct implications on the child's health, and her own. The baby is fine. Fetal distress appears early in the condition in approximately 50% of cases, but young baby Potter is very strong and responds well to stimuli, so I believe there is no need to induce labor, or go for a cesarean section. The only known cure for Preeclampsia is delivery, and since there is no immediate danger to the fetus that requires the delivery to be early, Mrs. Potter will carry the pregnancy to term."
An uneasy silence followed. A second after, they were standing next to Hermione's room.
Harry turned to face the Healer, and his throat was very dry when he spoke.
"You said… before… you said that Hermione's condition had complicated even further… you said it was-"
"Eclampsia, yes."
"Right, Eclampsia. I'm not sure if I… What is… What happened to her?"
The Healer sighed. "Eclampsia may sometimes follow Preeclampsia, if that condition cannot be brought under control, and is the unfortunate occurrence of seizures."
Harry swayed a little on his feet and had to lean against the wall for support. "She was… seizing?"
Healer Abercrombie nodded gravely. "I'm afraid so. Right after she lost consciousness. She was put into stasis as soon as Aurors from your department arrived to the scene, though, which was very lucky indeed as it was probably what saved her life. Magic, in these cases, is most definitely an asset, and we were able to save your family because of it. They were able to transport Mrs Potter here in scant minutes and give her the help that she required. I can assure you she will be perfectly alright. We will keep her in for a couple of days for observation, and then she'll be allowed to go home. I will put my foot down on this, however: she is not to over exert herself. Her maternity leave starts tomorrow. She is to drink her potions and to relax. I would also recommend you to take leave from work, Mr Potter, because I have the feeling your wife is going to need you tremendously."
Harry gave him a sad smile. "You don't have to ask. I intended to do that anyway." Besides, I'm pretty sure Tonks will take care of that for me.
What he had done, placing an unauthorized Unplotting Charm on himself, was cause enough for suspension.
The old man was nodding approvingly.
"A wise decision, my friend," he said, clapping the younger wizard on the shoulder, "I am sure things will work out in the end, just as long as you are there for each other. Now, go and see your wife."
Harry didn't need telling twice. Turning the door knob with shaking hands he entered the dimly lit room-and stopped dead on his tracks at the sight that greeted him.
The room was wide and comfortable, or as comfortable as a hospital room could be in any situation. The bed was in the centre and Hermione was lying on it on her side, propped up against the pillows with the sheets pooling up around her hips.
She had her arms curled protectively around her belly and her legs tucked in as far as they could go, and when Harry walked closer he noted with dismay the anguished look on her pale face, which told him hers was not a peaceful sleep. There were two small spheres of light, each of a different color, floating over his wife's body, monitoring both her and the baby, and Harry saw the one level with her head would flicker every once in a while.
Suddenly feeling very tired, Harry let himself drop onto a chair next to the bed, leaning forward to cross his arms on the mattress and burry his face in them as he grasped one of her hands in his own.
After a minute, only the sound of his sobbing could be heard in the room.
***
When Hermione awoke again she could tell it was nearly morning. The light that filtered through the window tinged the opposite wall a pale orange, portent of the battle between the rising sun and an approaching storm.
She blinked owlishly, still half-asleep, and tried to remember where she was.
"Happy birthday, sweetheart…"
Hermione jerked, startled, and finally noticed the disheveled form of her husband, who was slumped in a chair next to the bed. His hair was sticking up in every direction, as if he'd been running his hands repeatedly through the ebony strands. His glasses were askew on his nose and there were dark rings under his eyes, which were swollen and red.
Hermione regarded Harry silently as he gave her a tiny smile and stood up shakily, stepping closer to the bed.
He flicked his wrist and a long stem red rose materialized in his hand. He offered it to her with a gentle kiss on the forehead and she accepted it wordlessly, gazing down at the rose with quickly filling eyes.
"Hermione?," Harry questioned, bending slightly over her, and was taken by surprise when she threw both arms around his neck, so that he as momentarily off balance.
Hermione shuddered violently against him and didn't even try to muffle the single sob that issued from her lips. "Oh, Harry…"
She tightened her hold on her husband, who was stroking her back soothingly up and down.
"There, love, it's okay…," he murmured softly, his cheek pressed against her temple, his fingers threading gently through her hair. "I'm here, I'm sorry…"
"No, Harry, I'm sorry," she said brokenly, leaning back to look him in the eye. "I nearly killed our baby-oh, Harry, I'm going to be a terrible mother!"
"Hey, don't say that," Harry told her, holding her face gently with both hands. "Don't ever say that. The baby is fine. It wasn't your fault…"
"But it was," she insisted, anguish filling her voice. "I should have listened to you-should have stopped working, should have-"
"You were right."
"-stayed home but I… wait, what?"
Harry sighed and turned so that he was sitting against the headboard instead. "Scoot over, let's talk."
He swung his legs up to rest on top of the mattress and they fumbled together for a moment, trying to find a comfortable position with Hermione's belly in the way.
Finally, Harry settled back against the pillows, his arm around her shoulders and her head tucked in under his chin. She was clinging to him tightly, so he ran his other hand over her arm in order to get her to relax.
"I won't apologize for wanting to protect you, Hermione. I care about you and my instinct is always going to be to keep anything from happening to you. But I don't want to hurt you, and I have been going the wrong way about it.,*" he chuckled and placed a little kiss at the crown of her head. "Fortunately, I had Ron knock some sense into me. You're not my child, Hermione, and you don't need me to protect you all the time… you're my partner, my equal, my better half… and I should treat you as such.," he sighed. "I'm sorry about what I did, but I hope you understand that I did it because I love you and I worry about you… and… you're going to become a wonderful mum, love, and I'll be right there to watch as you do."
Hermione had been quiet while he spoke, sniffling only occasionally, but managed to compose herself enough to answer.
"Thank you, Harry," she said softly, leaning back to look in his eyes, "I'm glad you understand, I really am," her voice broke a little on the last word, and she took a deep breath, "but I need to apologize too. I wasn't being fair to you and I was way out of line. I'm sorry, darling, I'm sorry for being so stubborn and so reckless. The last thing I want is for our baby to get hurt, and I promise I'll be more careful from now on."
A single tear ran down her cheek and she tightened her arm around his waist.
Harry sighed in relief, and cast a tender smile at her.
"It's alright, love. We both learned a harsh lesson today, the first of many, but as long as we're together I know we can do it.," he leaned his forehead against hers. "You and I have always made a great team."
Hermione smiled, but it didn't last.
"What?," came Harry's reaction.
"It's just… I was so scared, Harry… it hurt so much and I was so worried about the baby and you weren't there, and I know it's silly but I thought I was dying and my only thought was that I wouldn't get the chance to tell you that I love you.," her eyes were filling again and she wiped impatiently at them. "I hate fighting with you, but I hate parting angry with you even more. I'm s-sorry, Harry, I'm s-so sorry…"
Harry just shushed her and held her as her eyes finally overflowed and her chest heaved with sobs. He knew it had to have been hard for her to wake up alone in that hospital bed and feel she was the reason her child's life had been endangered.
He knew because he felt the exact same way. So he just held her while she cried, and assured her without words that he loved her and that it wasn't her fault.
Soon her sobs subsided into hiccups and then into light sniffling, and when finally her breathing evened, he spoke again. "You know, as horrible as this experience has been, I'm actually glad his happened."
Hermione looked up at him questioningly, eyes puffy and bright. "What do you mean?"
"Because it showed us that love and marriage aren't as pure and perfect as we thought they were.," he pushed a stray lock of hair off her face and smiled. "We've been married for two wonderful years, Hermione, but we've been fooling ourselves if we thought it was always going to be this easy, and I think I finally understand what Ron was saying earlier. Love was never meant to be easy, sweetheart, that's why the chances that we take have the risk of becoming sour. We learn from them, but what's the point of having a heart if you're not willing to take the chance of being loved*? We've still got a long way to go and a lot of mistakes to make together, but we can only try and do our best and hope it'll be enough."
Hermione finally retuned his smile. "When did you become so philosophical?"
Harry laughed. "I'm afraid I can't take credit for it all. You should have heard Ron-you would've been impressed."
Hermione sighed, and snuggled closer to him as her eyes began to droop again. Beside her, she heard Harry yawn and do the same.
She smiled sleepily.
Falling in love had been scary as hell, but she would never trade loving and marrying Harry for anything in the world. And as scary as she was of the future, she knew it was a chance she was happily willing to take.
To be continued…
*Part of this was borrowed from Mark MacKinnon's Ranma fanfiction, The Shadow Chronicles. It's a wonderful read, if you're interested!
*This is not mine either. It's from a Digimon fanfiction I read a long time ago, but sadly, I cannot remember the name. I just thought it was perfect, and portrayed exactly what I wanted to write.