A/N: Last one until the birth! After that there're about 3 more chapters, so this is almost over. *sniff* I hope you've enjoyed the one shots and drabbles so far and I hope the next few chapters will be just as enjoyable. As always, my eternal gratitude to my betas Pips and Satch and to you the readers and reviewers.
It was a sad day when Hermione Granger, soon to be Potter in little less than five months, couldn't concentrate on a book. She'd been able to concentrate while being attacked by a three headed dog, Binn's History of Magic class, even Umbridge's awful and awfully long winded speech eight years ago. But today and actually for a week now, her mind was wandering just as far afield as it usually did when Ginny, Harry, Ron and the rest of the Weasley boys started carrying on about Quidditch scores, statistics and analysis of their favorite team's upcoming season.
She would have been having the time of her life if it weren't for her lack of concentration; she had her favorite book clutched in her hands, she was snuggled in her favorite chair, and even Crookshanks, who had been kicked off her lap by her eight month protruding belly, had found a perch on the back of the chair. The house was quiet and cool despite the humidity outside. Harry was out for the afternoon attempting to coax Ron down from the roof of his house. Ronnie Jr., born two months previously, had a bad case of colic that no potion Hermione, Molly, or the healer's of St. Mungo's could cure. The reassurance that he only had about a month longer of the incessant crying was what had sent him to the roof in the first place. In hindsight, Hermione realized that maybe she should've kept her mouth shut. Luna on the other hand took the colic as a good sign that Ronnie would be free of whatever bizarre creature The Quibbler had featured on their front page last month. Hermione couldn't even remember what it'd been called.
She sighed and closed the book. That had been the third time she'd lost her concentration in half an hour so she decided it was a lost cause. The thing that rubbed her wrong was that she knew what was causing her lack of concentration. She couldn't stand, couldn't sit, couldn't sleep without fidgeting, going to the bathroom, getting hungry or just being in plain discomfort. As much as she loved being pregnant, she didn't want to be anymore. She was tired and frustrated and more than anything just wanted to get the baby out and off her kidneys.
Hermione glanced up at the clock and sighed. There was no telling when Harry would be back. Usually, once he'd coaxed Ron off the roof they would forget time existed and spend hours playing chess, listening to Quidditch on the Wireless or making faces at the baby. Grumbling to herself, Hermione eased out of the chair and waddled over to the bookshelves that lined two walls of the flat to replace her book. A whole shelf had been devoted to baby books; How To Care For An Infant; Illnesses Common Amongst Infants; Advice Guides; New Parenting Books; Dos and Don'ts; books of every size and thickness filled that shelf beginning with newborns and ending with toddlers. She'd read every single book at least twice, highlighted, cross referenced and had a thick easy to reference notebook for her efforts. Hermione was nothing if not overly prepared.
And yet . . . and yet she still felt wholly inadequate. What if she forgot to bathe the baby? What if she dropped the baby? What if it got ill? What if she fed it the wrong formula? Or if she didn't breast feed it enough? She and Harry promised never to speak baby talk to the baby, but what if the classic Winnie-the-Pooh theme they'd decorated the nursery was too childish and stunted the baby's higher brain processes?
Hermione scooted into the kitchen groping for a paper bag. She'd taken to leaving them around in case either she or Harry had a panic attack and they'd been ok until now. She found a bag and shoved it over her mouth, taking deep breaths. She had to calm herself down, there was no use panicking when she had three weeks left of pregnancy.
Her panic died down to a manageable level after a few minutes of breathing into the bag. She was going to be an ok mother, maybe not great and maybe not perfect, but until she could become perfect being ok was something she could live with. Motherhood was a whole different level than N.E.W.T's or O.W.L's and perhaps she'd need to change the way she looked at it. After all, whoever developed the first charms, hexes, curses, and potions had to start somewhere and, as loathed as she was to admit it, perhaps trial and error wasn't such a bad thing.
"I hope," she muttered to herself.
She was fine, really, honestly, she was ok and going to be ok. She just couldn't think much about her impending motherhood, so she marched past the living room with the shelf of baby books, past the nursery and into her bedroom. What she needed was a nap. A nice long, stress free, (albeit uncomfortable) nap. She took one step into her bedroom, spied her wedding notebook which caused a whole host of other fears that threatened to overwhelm her and marched right out. "Malfoy Manor!" she called out tossing a handful of floo powder into the fireplace.
"Ginny!"
"Hermione!" Ginny came bustling into the large entrance hall, glowing and beautiful and thin looking compared to her and Hermione wanted to hate her. Ginny was just nearly six months pregnant and she was barely even showing. "To what do I owe the - are you ok?"
"I'm fine," Hermione frowned slightly.
"You're also crying so I'm going to ask again, are you ok?" Ginny asked with soft concern, taking Hermione's arm and steering her upstairs. Mafoy Manor was large enough that the downstairs was mainly for guests and meals while upstairs was a series of suites that had been opened up and converted into a spacious yet cozy apartment for the Malfoy family, relatives, and close friends. It was here Ginny steered her. In the background Hermione could hear the faint sounds of Weasley children playing in the playroom.
Hermione tried her hardest to staunch the tears, but no matter how much will she exerted or how great her desire was to stop, she found the tears flowing unabashedly down her face. "I'm sorry to take you away from the kids, Gin, but I can't - "
"Shh, it's ok. They're too busy playing Gobstones and Exploding Snap to even notice I'm gone. Let's sit you down and get you some tea and you can tell me everything ok?"
Hermione nodded and sat on a comfortable couch while Gin spoke to a house elf about tea and biscuits.
"Din will be along shortly," Gin murmured sitting next to Hermione and wrapping an arm around her as best she could. She silently pressed a handkerchief in Hermione's hands and waited patiently until Hermione could compose herself.
"It's so embarrassing," Hermione murmured with a sniff. "But I can't keep thinking that I'm going to be a failure of a mother. I don't feel . . . prepared!"
"Every woman who's expecting their first child thinks that way," Ginny murmured soothingly. "I felt that way, Luna felt that way, even my mother felt that way."
Hermione looked over at her best friend with a confused frown. She accepted the tea offered to her by Din with a small nod of thanks. "But I don't think I'm cut out to be a mum. I don't feel the least bit maternal and I'm practically about to give birth!"
"Not every -"
"Aunt Ginny!" Fred's little boy Gideon came rushing into the room holding his hand out. As soon as he saw Hermione he changed directions and rushed immediately toward her. "Aunt Hermy!"
Hermione winced at the name, but didn't correct the boy. He was only four after all and still couldn't wrap his mouth around `Hermione.' "What happened Gideon?" she asked leaning down and cupping the little boy's hand.
"I was playing with Etin an' he said somefin' in French an' then he wouldn't let me play with his crayons and then I played with my Qi'ditch toys an' he wanted to play with them, but I wouldn't let him and then I pinched my finger," he said holding up his tiny index finger. There was a small red mark on the pad.
Hermione stifled a grin over Gideon's rambling story that seemed completely unrelated to how he hurt himself. She set down her untouched tea, picked the toddler up as best she could and snuggled him eliciting a grin. "Let me see the finger."
Gideon held up his finger with a wobbly lower lip and Hermione kissed it. "Does it still hurt?"
"Yeah," he sniffed.
Hermione knew Gideon was playing up the injury, but obliged him anyway. She kissed his finger again and gave him a hug. "Better?"
"Yeah. Thanks Aunt Hermy." Gideon gave her cheek a kiss in thanks and squirmed off her lap to run back to the play room.
Ginny was smirking when Hermione turned back to her. "What?"
Ginny merely rolled her eyes. "And you say you're afraid of motherhood? What do you call that just then?" When Hermione didn't reply, Ginny smiled. "Trust me; it isn't as bad as your imagination is making it. And speaking of which, it sounds like motherhood's calling me." Alaric was waking from his nap hungry, and beginning to cry in his room.
Hermione stood to leave Ginny to feed her son. "Thank you. I think I can do this now."
Ginny smiled and squeezed her hand. "Above all don't forget you're not alone. You have Harry as well as me, Luna, my mum, your mum, Tonks, Angelina, Fleur -"
"Ok, ok," Hermione laughed softly. "I get it. I won't forget next time."
"Be sure you don't," Ginny teased with a grin. "Tell Harry hello for me."
"I will. See you later."
The house was quiet when Hermione returned, but it felt fuller than when she'd left. Harry was home.
"In the kitchen!" he called out. "Everything all right?" he asked when she made her way over to him standing in front of the stove.
"Perfect," she grinned giving him a kiss.
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