Epilogue
"Rise and shine, pumpkin flower," Harry announced as he slid the curtains apart to reveal a blazing sun.
Hermione grabbed a nearby pillow and ducked her head beneath it. "You know I hate it when you call me that," she growled.
Through the pillow she heard him chuckle. His arms slid behind her back and knees as he lifted her from the bed. "I know," he grinned. "That's why I insist on doing it."
Hermione flopped over in his arms. "But I don't want to get up," she moaned. "Just five more minutes, please!"
Harry laughed as he continued to carry her to the loo. "Nope, you promised."
"Well, enjoy it now Mr. Wizard. Give me a few more months and you won't be able to pick me up anymore," Hermione scoffed running her hand over the nascent bulge in her belly.
"Nonsense," he replied with a Cheshire grin.
"What is that look for?"
"Wingardium leviosa!" he chimed as she floated from his arms toward and through the doorway to the loo.
"Harry Potter! Put me down this instant!" She caught a final glimpse of him as he winked and the door snapped closed. Growling in frustration she barked, "Remind me, again, why I married you?!"
"Because you love me," his muffled voice sing-songed through the door.
"Love you," she muttered, grabbing the vanity and pulling herself to the sink. "I'll show you what I'd love to do," she continued. "I'd love to turn your favourite chair into a Venus fly trap, that's what I'd love to do," she babbled on while bobbing up and down in front of the mirror.
"You know, some experts have suggested talking to yourself is one of the initial signs of insanity," Harry said as he popped his head through the door and handed her a fresh towel.
Hermione nearly choked on her toothbrush. "Like anyone believes Gilderoy Lockhart! He's…."
"Insane?" Harry interrupted as he ducked back through the door and pulled it shut. She could hear him laughing all the way to the kitchen.
She picked up her wand and pointed toward the bathtub. The faucet turned on and the bath oils dumped themselves into the running water. Tossing the towel on the floor next to the tub she pulled herself over the porcelain edge and mumbled, "Gravitius." Dropping into the warm bath water, she settled her head against the terry pillow. "Why in the world did I agree to this?" she whispered to herself thinking about the day to come.
In the 6 months since their marriage, Harry pestered her about learning the levitation charms for her chair. Hermione always equated such charms with her abysmal ability to fly a broomstick and therefore had no interest in flying about the flat. It wasn't long before she noticed a pot, a book or her favourite quill placed just beyond her reach. For as much as she argued the point, Harry never confessed to anything. But Hermione knew him - and he was a terrible liar.
So after an evening with Ron and Emily, which still took a bit of getting used to, and a bit too much Bailey's, she'd made him an offer he couldn't refuse.
*
"Harry, really. We live in a first-floor flat. Everything I need is well within reach. There's no need for me to learn how to fly this chair around like some blasted magic carpet. Besides, you take wonderful care of me!"
"Hermione, I'm not always there to take care of you. I have a job; I'm gone from the flat for the majority of the day. I just want to know that you can take care of anything that comes up."
"Of course I can," she retorted.
"But…our circumstances might change one day…and then…well," he stammered.
And they were back to that. Hermione rolled her eyes, knowing full well where Harry's thoughts had wandered. They hadn't left that place since he met Neville and Luna's daughter at St. Mungo's. Needless to say, Celestine captured Harry's heart in less than five minutes and he'd been hard-pressed to muster a coherent thought since then.
"Oh, all right," Hermione announced, stopping Harry dead in his tracks. "I'll make a deal with you." Harry raised an eyebrow as Hermione folded her hands in her lap. "Should the day come that our circumstances do change, I promise I'll try the spells. Happy?"
"Delirious," he smiled.
*
Hermione's fool-proof plan failed to produce the results she was looking for.
*
"I have good news for you, Hermione," Morgenstern announced as he swirled his wand over her abdomen.
"What," she mumbled, still clutching a cool towel to her forehead.
"You're perfectly fine."
"Fine? What medical school did you attend? I'd like to check their credentials. Look at me! I'm doubled-over, I'm heaving my stomach through my ear. I'm hardly 'fine!'"
"No, but you are pregnant."
Hermione scrambled to sit up in the chair. Morgenstern grabbed her arm before she fell backwards and pulled her to a sitting position. He looked virtually incapable of containing his laughter - which she didn't find funny in the least.
"Pregnant!" she exclaimed. "How is that possible?!"
Now Morgenstern was laughing. "Well, you see the bird flies from flower to flower…"
"Adam!" Hermione blasted. "This is hardly the time for jokes!"
"Hardly the time? Hermione, this is a wonderful thing! You should be jumping for joy!" Hermione scowled at him. "Okay, bad choice of words." Her face softened. "All I'm saying is you should be happy about this. Harry is going to be over the moon."
"But I didn't think I could have children because of…well, you know," she stammered.
"Hermione, just because you can't feel your lower body doesn't mean it doesn't work." Her brows furrowed in confusion. "Your reproductive organs weren't damaged by the spell, your spine was. The nervous connection between your lower body and your brain was severed. All that means is you cannot make your lower body do what your mind wants it to do. The actual organs and muscles are as healthy and operable as anyone else's," he explained.
Hermione wondered why she'd never thought of it like that before. But it made perfect sense. She looked up and caught her healer's eye. "So I'm going to…I've got a…"
Morgenstern laughed again. "You're going to have a baby. Harry's baby, unless there's something you'd like to tell me," he winked.
Hermione scoffed and punched him in the shoulder. "Of course it's Harry's baby!"
Laughing, he replied, "Then I'll give you this potion for the morning sickness, which is a healthy sign by the way, and fetch your husband from the waiting room."
*
Hermione downed the goblet as Morgenstern left the room and hoped she'd find some appropriate way to share the news with Harry. In the minute that passed between Morgenstern's exit and Harry's arrival, she decided not to tell him right away. This was a moment she'd resigned herself to never having and wanted to be sure it was an announcement to remember.
Although Morgenstern appeared confused when she made no announcement, he played along and saw them both from his office. It wasn't long before Hermione crafted the perfect plan and used Harry's time at work to her advantage.
*
Hermione placed a vase of stargazer lilies on the dining table and wrung her hands together with anticipation. Harry would be home any minute. Rolling to the cooker, she checked the Brunswick stew a final time and turned the heat down.
"Yum! Something smells fantastic!" Harry's voice called from behind her. She heard the door close and his bag fall to the floor under the coat hook. As usual, she felt his arms wrap around her from behind mere seconds later. He nuzzled her neck and gave her a kiss. "Hi," he said. "How are you feeling today?"
"Fine, Harry. Morgenstern said it was nothing to be upset about and he was right." She looked up and smiled as he kissed her on the cheek. "Get settled at the table; dinner's ready."
Without argument, Harry set himself at his place and pulled the napkin off the plate. "Erm, Hermione?" She looked over and saw him inspecting his rather tiny silver spoon. "Was there some catastrophic use of shrinking spells in the flat today?"
"No, why?" she kept her voice as level as possible.
"Either this spoon has been charmed, or I got a lot bigger at work today."
Hermione rolled over to the table and plucked the spoon from his hand. "Oh, that. That's not yours."
Harry's eyebrows knitted together. Hermione took the spoon and went back to the kitchen. As she brought the stew to the table she waited for the inevitable question.
"Who's spoon is it?"
"I found it at a thrift. I thought Luna would like it for her collection." Hermione smiled at Harry as she scooped the stew onto his plate. "Tuck in while it's hot."
Gratefully, and according to plan, Harry hadn't pressed the subject any further. But she'd done enough to plant the seed of interest and waited to see how long it would take for it to blossom.
It didn't take long.
"So, I saw Neville today," Harry said without looking up from his plate.
Smiling inwardly, Hermione replied, "Did you? How are Luna and the baby?"
"Fine!" he replied. "He had new pictures and took the better part of fifteen minutes making me watch Celestine roll over. I guess that's the prerogative of any new dad though, eh?"
"I guess so," she answered. For as much as she'd planned to drag this out over dinner, she realized she'd never make it and cut to the chase. "Well, you could always show him your pictures."
Harry's fork clinked against his plate. "What pictures?"
"Oh, didn't I tell you?" Hermione replied with manufactured innocence. "Morgenstern dropped by today to check on us."
"I thought he said you were fine."
"He did."
"Then why did he need to check on us?"
Hermione couldn't stop the giggle that escaped her lips. "Not 'us' as in you and me, silly." She pulled a few moving ultrasound pictures from her robes and pushed them across the table toward Harry. "'Us', as in your wife and your daughter."
She leaned back in her chair and absent-mindedly ran her hand over her stomach as the colour drained from Harry's face. What she originally thought was cute turned to concern when she didn't see him breathe.
"Harry?"
"M…my…my daughter?" he stammered, unable to take his eyes from the somersaulting blob on the ultrasound.
"Your daughter."
He pushed his plate to the side and reached across the table with a trembling hand. Pulling the pictures toward him, his face broke into the widest grin she'd ever seen. "I'm going to be…to be…"
"…a father," she finished, rolling around the table to where he sat. She stopped her chair in front of him and was shocked to see a tear rolling down his cheek. "Harry, you're supposed to be happy," she whispered, feeling a bit like Adam Morgenstern.
He snapped his head to hers and met her eyes. "Happy?!" he exclaimed. In one lightning quick motion, he leapt from his chair, pulled her out of hers and spun them around in circles. "I'm ecstatic! I can't believe it! I don't know what to say! I should…I can…I need to…"
"You need to stop spinning me around before I retch all over you!" Hermione exclaimed, squeezing her eyes shut and willing her stomach to stop swirling.
"Oh, right!" Harry replied and set her back in her chair. She couldn't help but laugh. She didn't think she'd ever seen Harry this happy. "Hermione," he said at a whisper. "There's no one else in the world I'd rather share this with."
Hermione smiled. "Well, I should think you'd like to share it with a few people. I wish I could make that happen for you." Harry nodded in silence. "If it's any consolation, I haven't told anyone besides Neville." Comprehension crossed Harry's face. "I'm sure my mum and dad would love to hear the news if you'd like to tell them."
With watery eyes, Harry pecked her on the cheek and leapt from the chair toward the phone. Hermione relished in his enthusiasm for the rest of the night. He phoned her parents first and spent the rest of the evening with his head in the fireplace. Hermione laughed as she saw Mrs. Weasley's arms erupt through their fireplace as she tried to hug him through the fire. After an hour of storytelling and well-wishing, he flopped next to her on the sofa and he ran his hand over her stomach.
"Tired?" she laughed.
"Exhausted. Did I actually eat dinner?" he answered.
"No."
Harry shrugged. "We could always use one of those reheating charms," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.
She slapped his shoulder and tried to push him off of her. "You're incorrigible."
"Now you sound like Filch."
"Well, you just lost any chance for getting me in the mood!" she responded as her face contorted in disgust.
They broke into laughter together and Harry curled his arms around her waist and laid his head on her stomach. "I love you, Hermione."
"I love you, too."
*
Hermione hoped in all of his excitement he would've forgotten about their deal. He didn't. She hoped it would've taken longer than 48 hours for him to act on it. It didn't. So here she was, being strapped to Harry on the front of his broomstick.
"Harry, is this really necessary? I'm not learning how to fly a broom!"
"No, but you are learning to fly. If you're going to be successful at it, you need to get over this fear you have of it."
"Fear! I'm a Gryffindor for heaven's sake. I'm not afraid!"
At that moment, Harry pulled the handle of his Firebolt up and Hermione screamed as they climbed into the air. She opened one eye and saw Morgenstern standing where they had been, grinning like an idiot. Harry leaned forward against her back and they flew circles around St. Mungo's courtyard. Hermione gripped the handle as hard as she could and closed her eyes.
"Loosen your grip, Hermione," Harry's voice echoed in her ear. "You're in control of the broom, not the other way around." She opened her eyes and felt his hand peel her fingers from the handle. "Do you trust me?"
"Implicitly," she replied, not entirely sure if that was the right thing to say at the moment.
"Then close your eyes," he directed.
"But, should I…"
"Trust me."
Hermione closed her eyes and forced herself to think only of his hand over hers and his chest pressed against her back.
"Imagine you're a bird…a nightingale." Hermione pictured the bird in her head. "When you fly, you're free. You can go anywhere…do anything." She felt his hand press hers to the left and right. She felt the wind in her face as they climbed higher and moved faster. "You try it."
His hand left hers and her eyes popped open. "Remember, you're the nightingale, Hermione." She looked down to see the rooftops of buildings and St. Mungo's courtyard nothing but a green square below.
"I'm the nightingale. I'm the nightingale," she repeated to herself, moving he broomstick from side to side. She had to admit it was liberating to be out of her chair. She didn't feel weighed down or smaller than everyone else. Up here she was an equal.
They flew together for several more minutes before returning to the ground to begin practicing the charms specific to her chair. Although she was still uncomfortable with the thought of flying her chair around, the idea was less foreign to her than it had been. With practice, Morgenstern assured her she would be flying like a chaser in no time. After two hours with the healer, Harry and Hermione left St. Mungo's and headed home.
"Why am I not surprised the 'birdman' chose to use a bird analogy up there."
"It seemed fitting. Besides, everything I said was true, don't you think?"
Hermione nodded. "Why a nightingale? Why couldn't I be an owl?"
"I got the chance to read while I was away. One of the things I read was a story about Florence Nightingale and the effect she had on her patients," Harry explained.
"Ah, the Nightingale effect. Morgenstern takes great pleasure in telling me he has the same effect on women."
"That's rather unfortunate for him," Harry laughed.
Hermione twisted in her chair and looked up at Harry. "So, you think I fell in love with you because you nursed me back to health?"
"No," Harry replied without delay. "But Madam Pomfrey thought to dedicate one of her infirmary beds to me for how often I stopped by there. And through all that, there is one person - one voice that I heard every time I was there…yours."
"Really?" Hermione whispered.
"You're clever enough to be an owl, but you'll always be my Nightingale."