Author's Note: I hope no one got tired of waiting and lost interest in the story. To all who are reading this, welcome back, and thanks for returning. The wait is over, so here we go.
Hermione lay quietly in her hospital bed, the crisp, white sheets tucked dutifully under her chin by her husband, who sat in a chair at her side. Harry knew she would sleep for several hours. Owing to her small stature, both had known that the birth would be a difficult one. Harry had insisted that Hermione be given a general anesthetic. Her protests were in vain. She'd wanted very much to witness the birth of her first child, but the doctors agreed with Harry that the labor would be long and agonizing. Harry could sometimes be adamant to a frightening degree when it came to sparing his wife undue pain or discomfort. Hermione chafed outwardly at Harry's overprotectiveness, but secretly she loved him all the more for his unswerving devotion.
Harry was sitting so close to the bed that his elbow rested on the mattress not six inches from his wife's shoulder. Her stillness brought back terrible memories of another time not so long ago, when Hermione lay in a bed very like this one, in a hospital as unlike this one as it was possible to be. Harry curbed his fearfulness and brought it to heel. That day was in the past, never to return, save in the occasional nightmares which still haunted the young former wizard. St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was hundreds of miles, and another lifetime, away. This was an ordinary Muggle hospital. Hermione's sleep was a natural one, albeit induced by artificial means, from which she would shortly awaken. They were together. They were safe.
And, as of one hour and seventeen minutes ago, they were parents.
Harry's arms cradled a tiny bundle of blankets containing his newborn son. He could just make out a minute face roughly the size of a croquet ball, its eyes squeezed shut. James Potter the Second slept as peacefully as his mother. Looking at the two most important people in his life, Harry vowed that, so long as he lived, they would never know the fears which had been his legacy since that day when Voldemort had murdered his parents. He would be there for them always, withhold no blessing that was within his power to bestow. He would be the father that his baby son's namesake never had the chance to be to Harry.
There had been some doubt at first as to whether this child, fathered by a wizard of no small magical prowess, would be born with magical blood or not. But tests conducted by Madam Zorgas (the last only a week ago) had confirmed that Hermione's firstborn would be 100% Muggle. Harry was more than a little surprised at this news, but Hermione showed no surprise at all.
"Wizardry comes from magical blood, Harry," she reminded him. "You and I no longer have magical blood. Not since we took the Mortalis Potion. The baby is being nourished by my non-magical blood, so it's not surprising that he or she will be born a Squib."
"But your parents are both Muggles," Harry reminded her. "Not a drop of magical blood between them. Yet you were born a witch."
"It all comes down to genetics, Harry," Hermione said patiently. "One or both of my parents obviously has a latent magical gene. To my knowledge, I'm the first magical person ever born in our family. That makes my genetic predisposition to magic razor-thin. Even without the Mortalis Potion, the odds were 50-50 that I'd have at least one non-magical child, even with you as their father. And don't forget that your mother was Muggle-born herself, so your genetics are in question as well. Now, with neither of us possessing magical blood, our chances of producing a magical offspring are practically non-existent.
"In fact," she said softly as she caressed the prominent bulge of her pregnant abdomen, "I'm just as glad our child won't be a wizard. Madam Zorgas said that his or her magical blood would eventually have been a threat to our health -- all of us," she mouthed throatily, patting her belly again. "We would have been faced with the choice of destroying our baby's magic with Mortalis Potion -- or -- giving him up."
Harry was equally relieved that such a choice had not been necessary. Had their child been born a wizard, his magical blood would have been a threat not to Hermione's body, but to her mind. Even carrying such a child in her womb would have been impossible, especially during the last trimester, when its magical blood would fully develop and, ultimately, attack the barrier that was Hermione's mental and emotional salvation with catastrophic consequences.
Looking down now upon little James sleeping peacefully in his arms, Harry knew that it was nothing short of a miracle that the child possessed no slightest trace of magical blood. But it was not an unqualified miracle for that. The latent gene of which Hermione spoke was no doubt imbedded as firmly in James' DNA as it had been in her parents'. If James were not a wizard, he could still father a witch or wizard, even through a Muggle wife. The odds were slim, but that did not make them wholly non-existent. The magical threat to Hermione's life and sanity was not completely erased. But such worries were fuel for fires to be kindled in the future. Harry's attention was focused firmly on the present. Despite all that had happened in the past year, Harry knew he was truly blessed, and he vowed that he would spend every day of his life in grateful acknowledgment of that blessing.
Sensing movement from the corner of his eye, Harry looked toward the door and smiled. A slender figure in green surgical scrubs had entered without knocking. A gloved hand tugged at the surgical mask over which soft brown eyes peered warmly above the bridge of a freckled nose. The mask fell away, revealing a face radiant with a smile matching Harry's own.
"Everything go okay, Gin?" Harry asked softly so as not to disturb his sleeping son.
"Piece of cake," Ginny whispered. Standing beside Harry now, she bent to look into the ruddy face of baby James. "May I hold him?" she asked with a childish tremble in her voice. Harry allowed Ginny to take James, whose blankets shifted to reveal a few small, feathery wisps of raven-black hair. Ginny looked longingly at the infant in her arms, and Harry knew the mothering urge was exerting a powerful force on her. He sincerely hoped that she would not have to wait long to find a special someone whose life she could complete even as Hermione did Harry's. Ginny kissed the tiny forehead gently before returning James to Harry's waiting arms. In the same motion, she leaned in and kissed Harry on the cheek. She laughed silently as Harry's face assumed the same ruddy glow as his son's (though neither could match the coal-fire lambency of Ginny's freckled cheeks).
"As soon as Hermione's on her feet," Harry said before Ginny could withdraw, "we'll do lunch. I'll send Hedwig."
Ginny nodded before straightening and re-tying her mask. Dumbledore had assured them that very limited and controlled exposure to magic would pose no threat to Hermione's Memory Charm. Hermione was duly informed that properly-spaced visits, lasting no more than two hours each, would be insufficient to trigger her magical "allergy." Hermione and Harry both looked forward to their monthly visits from Ron, Ginny, Dumbledore, et al. No more than two persons per visit was the rule. Much as Harry missed his magical friends and anticipated their visits, he would take no undue chances with Hermione's sanity at stake. At first he had demurred altogether, but it soon became evident that Hermione's improved state of mind following visiting days was a boon to her health outweighing the limited risks of exposure. Seeing her old friends made her happy; being happy made her healthy in both body and spirit. It was a fine line to walk. But it was, as Dumbledore had said, simply the price to be paid.
Her surgical mask affixed once more, Ginny smiled through the green folds. "We're having a family reunion at the Burrow next month," came her muffled voice. "I'll take plenty of snaps."
"Muggle photos only," Harry said through an anticipatory smile.
Her hidden grin widening in acknowledgment, Ginny said, "Give Hermione my -- " She caught herself. It was an instinctive parting comment, but she well knew, as did Harry, that Hermione must never know of her visit to the hospital today. Magic or no, Hermione was no fool. She must never so much as suspect what had taken place in the operating theatre following the birth of her son.
Her brown eyes caressing the threesome one last time, Ginny exited the room and was gone.
His baby son held firmly in his arms, Harry leaned onto the bed until his cheek brushed against his wife's bushy mane. With James effectively lying on the bed next to his mother, Harry freed his left arm and very gently teased at the wisps of sable crowning his son's tiny head. The smile that washed over his face was one of satisfaction, though spiced with a dash of guilt.
Ginny had excelled at Charms at Hogwarts, getting top marks. He had supreme confidence in the Memory Charms she'd cast on the personnel in the operating theatre today. The doctors and nurses assisting James' birth would have no recollection of a nameless surgical resident with soft brown eyes and flaming red hair tied in a neat bun. They would not remember this strange woman waving a magic wand over the newborn babe, changing his white-blond hair to raven black and his ice-pale eyes to emerald green.
Harry rested his head on his wife's shoulder, his hand lying protectively upon the warm bundle which was James Potter the Second. It had been a long night, and his eyes began to droop heavily.
"You're going to be a great man, James Potter," Harry whispered as he drifted off to join his wife and child in a light, blissful sleep. "But more than that, you're going to be a good man. The sins of the father will not be visited on you. You are my son. Mine and Hermione's. And I love you."
Author's Note: I dare not neglect to extend a heartfelt thank-you to everyone who took the time to review last time. A special nod goes to Kenji, whose questions and speculations hit VERY close to home. Believe me, reviews like that keep me on my toes. I always try to tie things up without leaving any loose strings dangling. This chapter answered a couple of questions. The next (and last) chapter may or may not surprise, but we had enough surprises earlier. What we need now is closure. Tune in next week, won't you? The wait is almost over. See you all then.