Unofficial Portkey Archive

A/N: So hi, everyone! I hope you all haven't started hating me for how long it's taken to update…I'm really really sorry! SO here's the next chapter (finally), and as per usual I appreciate any reviews you have to give me. I believe I have 9 more chapters planned for this story, and this will be hopping around for a few chapters. I have a long gap of time to cross, so we'll just be getting snapshots for a bit. Also, the chapter title is in reference to Shakespeare's line in Romeo and Juliet if you didn't realize.

Chapter 41: What's In A Name?

April 28, 2006 - 10:52 pm

Felicity Marisol positively despised working the graveyard shift at St. Mungo's. Generally she quite liked her position as a receptionist for the hospital's maternity ward, but not under the present circumstances when she was covering the shift for a friend. At eleven o'clock. On a Friday night.

Felicity buried her face into her hands as she simmered on the cruel fate her friend had bestowed upon her. But a deal was a deal…Celeste had taken her shift, after all. But those tickets to the Weird Sisters concert were beginning to feel like inadequate compensation for this agony of boredom.

However, before she could contemplate more on the subject, a door slammed open nearby, and a moment later an attractive and heavily pregnant red-haired woman rounded the corner, followed closely by an equally attractive tall, dark-haired man with glasses. The woman was breathing heavily and seemed quite agitated, while the man appeared more nervous than anything.

As the couple neared her and their features became more distinguishable, Felicity was surprised to note that she recognized the man. Not that there was anything surprising about recognizing a man accompanying a woman in a maternity ward, of course. No, Felicity was surprised because every time she had previously seen this man, he had been accompanied by a different woman. A curly-haired brunette woman, if she remembered correctly. And she figured she did remember correctly since that brunette woman and the raven-haired man had been through the ward over half a dozen times in the past few months. What was the woman's name...Weesler? Wheston?

The red-haired woman was quietly bickering with the man, whose name Felicity realized she had never caught, and he placed a conciliatory hand on the woman's arm as they reached the desk.

"My wife's in labor," the man said.

Weasley, that was it. She didn't even try to recall the brunette's first name…she knew it was something rather unusual.

"Alright," Felicity said. "Name?"

"Potter," the red-haired woman said through her labored breathing. "Ginny Potter."

Felicity reined in the startled expression that attempted to appear on her face to an innocently perplexed raise of her eyebrows. Two different names, two different women, and both escorted by who she now realized was Harry Potter. Very curious, she thought as she quickly filled out some paperwork.

The red-haired woman, Ginny, was now continuing the conversation that her husband had interrupted.

"I really - hee hoo - don't understand - hee hoo - why - hee hoo - you're so opposed to it," she puffed in an undertone.

"Really, you want to continue with this now of all times?" Harry Potter responded just as quietly.

"Birthday?" Felicity asked.

"August 11, 1981," Ginny wheezed. "What - hee hoo -better time?"

"When you're not in labor, maybe?"

"No! We have James - hee hoo - and we're about to have - hee hoo - another child. How can you - hee hoo - not think this would be better?"

"And you've had a baby here before?" Felicity continued, starting to feel embarrassed.

"Yes," Harry answered. "And because never once in my life have I wanted to just sit behind a desk for the rest of my career! Yes, I understand that it's not the safest job in the world, but someone has to do it!"

"But it doesn't have - hee hoo -to be you!"

"When did the contractions start?" Felicity said as casually as she could.

"Around nine," Ginny replied through gritted teeth as she clutched her stomach.

"I'm good at my job, Ginny, and I enjoy doing it. I can't believe you'd ask me to do this."

"I think - hee hoo - that I'm perfectly in the right - hee hoo - to expect my husband - hee hoo - to be around to see his children grow up!"

"Room 2 is available," Felicity said meekly.

"Excellent," Harry and Ginny said together, and they made their way to the room without waiting for Felicity's assistance.

Felicity sat back heavily in her chair and ran a hand through her short sandy hair. Maybe the night shift wasn't a complete bore after all.

**********

"Albus Severus? You really just named your child Albus Severus?" Hermione said incredulously.

Harry had arrived at her house a few minutes previously, looking haggard from a sleepless night, and he and Hermione were now settled comfortably on the sofa, cups of tea clutched in their hands.

"Why not?" Harry said with a small smile. "My dad, Sirius, Dumbledore, Snape…they were all people who affected my life so much, who died for me…the least I can do is help their names live on a bit longer. Granted, Snape was still an ass, but maybe Al can give it a more positive spin than Snape managed."

Hermione nodded as she moved to take a sip of her tea. She completely understood where Harry was coming from. For someone like him, who had never gotten to truly know these people, naming his children after them was both a tribute to their lives and a way to keep a bit of their legacy alive.

"At least he's already shown a more pleasant disposition…how long did the labor last again?" she asked, setting down her cup.

"We got to the hospital a bit before eleven and he was out and cleaned up before midnight."

"Figures," Hermione huffed, placing a hand on her swollen stomach. "Do you think this one will be as easy?"

"Let's see…given our own dispositions, I'd say it's a safe bet to say that the baby could set up camp in there for weeks if it wanted to."

"Are you calling me stubborn?" Hermione asked, putting on an aghast air.

"I'm calling us both stubborn," Harry corrected, lacing his hand with hers. "If the baby doesn't think it's ready, then the baby will stay in there until he or she is."

It didn't escape Hermione the peculiarity of so casually discussing the birth of Harry's child with another woman when she was on the verge of giving birth herself. The casualness in itself caused a sense of worry to gnaw at the pit of stomach. It had been weeks since they had had a conversation even remotely skirting around the issue of how they would break the news to Ron and Ginny, and Harry seemed rather content to continue the streak. Not that Hermione was attempting to bring it up either…for the moment they were alone in an isolated bubble of secrecy, both together and sheltered from the imminent pain that would be caused by telling their spouses.

"For my sake I hope the baby's ready," Hermione said after a moment, smiling weakly.

"Everything will be fine, I promise," Harry said. "Are you worried?"

Hermione thought that maybe in a different situation, if perhaps this was Ron's baby, she might have been. But right now, she didn't think she had any worry to waste on the act of giving birth. She needed courage to deal with what would come afterward, which is what she was truly concerned about.

"Not really," she said truthfully. "You're going to be there, right? No dangerous missions in the near future?"

"Of course I'm going to be there," Harry said. "I had Wahler reschedule the dangerous stuff in a few weeks. Told him to save it just for me, of course."

"Of course," Hermione said. "Can't let someone else have all the fun."
"Exactly," he said as he rested his head against the back of the sofa. His eyes closed, but he continued to hold Hermione's hand.

"Maybe you should go home and get some sleep," Hermione said, squeezing his hand.

"I won't be able to sleep at home," Harry intoned, his eyes still closed.

"Has Albus been fussy? Or James?"

"Not exactly," Harry said. "And I'm just resting my eyes…"

"Which is why you're a few seconds away from snoring," she said. She was curious about the slight bitterness in his tone but let it slide.

"I don't snore," he protested lightly.

"Sure you don't," she said, patting his arm.

"Not nearly as badly as Ron, at any rate," he said, opening his eyes and sitting up. "But you're probably right, I should go."

"Okay. I'm sure Ron and I will be over later to see Albus," she said, disappointed that he was leaving even though she suggested it.

"Sounds good," he said. He was still holding her hand, and leaned in to kiss her lightly, but just as his lips neared hers, the doorknob rattled. Hermione's heart leapt to her throat, but Harry simply extricated his hand from hers with a gentle tug, and she felt the pull of air on her lips as he Apparated from the living room with a quiet pop.

The sudden shift of weight on the couch caused the cup of tea Harry had balanced precariously on the armrest to fall to the ground and shatter. Hermione's heart beat rapidly against her chest as the Ron entered the room, adrenaline pumping in her veins; bitterness coursed through her as well as guilt.

"Woah, careful," Ron said as Hermione leapt to her feet to clean up the mess. He leaned in to kiss her just as Harry had less than a minute before, and before she could rein in the unfounded resentment flooding her mind, a sharp crack split the air as his lips met hers.

Ron leapt back with a howl, clutching his mouth.

"What was that?" he groaned, his eyes watering.

"What was what?" Hermione asked tentatively, feeling the leftover tea from Harry's shattered cup beginning to seep into her socks.

"You shocked me!" he whined, still clutching his mouth.

"Must've been static electricity from the couch," Hermione answered nervously.

Ron didn't even bother to ask what static electricity was as he moved away towards the kitchen, still moaning.

As soon as he had left, she cast a quick Reparo on the broken teacup and cleaned up the tea with another wave of her wand, feeling both a sense of shame at her emotions and pride at the amazing child she was about to meet.

******************

May 1, 2006 - 11:13 am

"Do we really have to go see this guy again?" Harry said, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat back in the uncomfortable waiting room chairs at St. Mungo's.

"Not really," Hermione replied, placing her hands calmly over her enormous stomach. "But I have a few questions I want to ask him before the baby comes. Is there a problem with that?"

"No, of course not. I just don't like the guy."

Hermione laughed, plucking a worn magazine from the table next to her and propping it open on her stomach, a habit she had picked up over the last couple months. "Of course you don't. You glare at him every time we come here."

"That's because he gives me funny looks every time we come here! And that receptionist over there has been looking at me like I've grown another head."

"And that's because you insist on coming to every one of these appointments. I think that's reason enough to give any person suspicions."

"What, a male friend can't accompany his pregnant female friend to the Healer without raising suspicions?"

"Of course he can," Hermione said, thumbing through a few pages. "Once, maybe twice, but to every single appointment without once being accompanied by the husband of said pregnant female friend? No, I'm fairly certain that's impossible."

"I personally find that offensive," Harry said before rubbing at the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Even if he is rightfully suspicious."

"Well take it up with Derrick," Hermione said.

"And that's another thing," Harry continued. "Since when did you start calling him by his first name? I say we just stick with some professionalism and call him by his last name."

"Fine, take it up with Clayworth then."

"You're only suggesting that because I can't."

Hermione smiled as she reached over and patted one of Harry's hands. "You might be on to something there. Besides, this should be our last visit, and then after the baby comes you won't have to deal with him anymore. Though I still think he's a perfectly sweet man."

"`Perfectly sweet'?" Harry repeated distastefully. "I take it you'll be wanting to name the baby after him next."

"Why not?" Hermione said, less because she liked the name than that she found Harry's reaction amusing. "Derrick's a nice name. Besides, it's not as though you or I have come up with anything better."

Which was entirely true. Rarely did she or Harry suggest names to each other, and when they did the choices were usually quickly dismissed. Additionally, given the fact that the only two names suggested by Ron had been Ronald Jr. and Dragomir (chosen from one of the Chudley Cannons' Chasers and suggested with such seriousness that it disturbed Hermione), the pickings were rather scarce.

"I'll definitely come up with something to stop that from happening," Harry said.

"Don't get too caught up with it though," Hermione said. "If the baby turns out to be a girl you'll have worked yourself up for nothing."

Before Harry could respond, the short-haired blonde receptionist at the nearby desk called over to them, her eyebrows raised.

"Hermione Weasley, Healer Clayworth will see you now."

Hermione set the magazine she was still holding aside, and Harry helped her to her feet. Both went immediately to the correct room without being directed, having been there so many times, and settled into their usual chairs. Clayworth entered the room a moment later.

"Hermione," he said warmly, walking forward to shake her hand.

"Healer Clayworth," Hermione said in return, smiling. "I hope you've been well."

"Excellent," Clayworth replied, and then turned to Harry.

"Me again," Harry said, grasping the Healer's hand. "Sorry, her -"

"-husband couldn't make it, yes," Clayworth said with a smile.

"Right," Harry muttered, removing his hand from the Healer's grip.

"So," the Healer said, getting straight to business as he turned towards Hermione. "How are things progressing?"

"Everything's been fine," Hermione answered as the Healer performed a few basic spells to test her blood pressure and health. "I've haven't been feeling sick or anything like that."

"Excellent," Clayworth said. "And your vitals are within range, which is also excellent. And by the positioning of the baby, I'd say it'll only be a few more days to go. Have there been any more, er, incidents?"

"They're less often now, but more powerful. Shattered china, set some curtains on fire, nearly electrocuted my husband, the usual."

Clayworth nodded with a smile, considering the information. "It's possible that the farther along you've gotten the better the baby has been able to differentiate between the neurotransmitters released by your emotions and its own brain activity."

"But I'm less concerned about these last few days than what will happen after the birth. Will these magical outbursts last while she's an infant?"

"That's hard to say," Clayworth said. "As I told you, this situation, while not unprecedented, is incredibly rare and unpredictable. It's possible. However, given the tests we've performed and the way things have progressed, I'd say that there's a very good chance that you won't have to worry much about that. The child's magic was able to tap into your own when you, and thus the baby, became agitated. The mixture of magical signals, especially with one as unstable and volatile as an infant, allowed for the random bursts of uncontrolled magic. Theoretically speaking, the baby directed and caused the magic, but it was still channeled through you. So, away from an adept magical core, I'd say that magical outbursts should be relatively limited. Perhaps more often than the average young witch or wizard, and perhaps at a younger age, and perhaps more powerful, but it might not be exceptionally different from many other children."

Hermione nodded, drinking in the information just as she knew Harry was, relieved that it was unlikely for their child to experience any adverse effects from the premature magic.

"Is that all you were concerned about?" Clayworth asked, correctly evaluating their comforted expressions.

"Yes, that was pretty much it," Hermione replied, squeezing Harry's hand.

"In that case, I'm glad I could be of assistance," Clayworth said. He placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder and smiled. "I look forward to seeing you in a few days."

Hermione beamed happily at the man and then at Harry, who was also grinning broadly. If his smile and her own ecstatic expression were any indication, they were looking forward to being there in a few days as well.

******************

May 4, 2006 - 6:26 pm

It was rather saddening to Hermione that her entire career's work could be packaged neatly into a pair of small cardboard boxes. Granted, her entire career had thus far amounted to less than ten years, but it was nonetheless disheartening as she arranged her meager belongings into the boxes: a small assortment of files, a handful of worn quills, a half used bottle of ink, a paperweight given to her by Victoire, a framed Muggle photograph of herself, Ron, and Harry, a daily planner, a tiny (and rather wilted) potted plant that she had received from her mother when she had started at the Ministry, a decorative snow globe from some Christmas long past, a light sweater tucked away and forgotten in the back of her bottom desk drawer since early winter, and a package of what she suspected were incredibly stale cookies located directly under the sweater.

In fact, all of these items fit rather nicely into just one of the cardboard boxes she had brought, and the other was filled with a variety of cakes and going-away gifts from other people in her department, or rather what used to be her department. Although she had not been officially rescinded of her position, Hermione hadn't actually put in a day's work for about a month now, and had put off clearing out her office until the new head of the Beings Division had been chosen. If she was being honest with herself, she knew she was feeling rather resentful of this new division leader, this untried successor who would be sitting in her desk within the walls of her office. Although she would only be two floors away from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures when she returned to the Ministry, it was still a bittersweet feeling to leave the only job she'd ever had and to start a new chapter in her life.

Or rather two new chapters, she thought in amusement as she felt a sharp kick within her swollen belly.

After checking each desk drawer once more and casting one last glance over her barren office, Hermione balanced one box on top of the other and clutched them as close to herself as she was able. Once she felt she had a relatively good grip on them, she backed out of the room, pushing the door open with her heel. She spun around just in time to avoid backing into Cecilia Vintreem, although she almost dropped her boxes in her haste to come to a halt.

"Hermione, I'm so glad I caught you before you left! And really, dear, you shouldn't be hauling around heavy boxes when you're so close to giving birth…Would you like me to shrink them for you?"

"Oh, right, shrinking," Hermione said. "Slipped my mind for some reason. Would you mind?"

"Not at all," Cecilia said, and shrank the top box, and then the lower one, in quick succession. Once they were tucked away safely in Hermione's bag, Cecilia resumed speaking.

"I'm very sorry to bother you so late in the day, but would you mind terribly if I asked you to give our new head an overview of some of the more prominent projects on our agenda before you go?"

"Of course I wouldn't mind, but is it really all that practical given the fact that I haven't been involved for so long?"

"Well, dear, given the fact the you, in fact, set into motion most of the existing projects, it's only logical that you give your side of things as well. It won't be only you, of course, other people from the division are here as well. You really might not have to say much at all if the other officials explain things well enough. I just want the transition to go as smoothly as possibly, especially given the problems other divisions have been having. It took so long to find a suitable replacement for Sanders after he quit so suddenly from the Spirit division. Placed everyone in a bit of a pickle, and of course as you know when one division is in chaos, we all tend to feel it in some manner."

"I understand," Hermione said, withholding a tired sigh. "In your office?"

"Yes, and it should only take a moment," Cecilia said, and quickly ushered Hermione towards their destination.

Besides the man who would be replacing Hermione, three other officials from her division were in Cecilia's office, as well as Dirk Cresswell, head of the Goblin Liaison Office, and Gregory Hathord, head of the Centaur Liaison Office. Hermione sat heavily among them.

Once introductions had been made, Hathord launched in an explanation of the steps that had been taken thus far to finally place centaurs in the Beings division, and Hermione listened politely, despite having achieved the most crucial aspects of the proposal.

"It's really quite exciting," Hathord was saying. "We're extremely close to selecting an ambassador among the centaurs, the first that this division has ever had, and we are strongly hoping…"

What they were strongly hoping, Hermione didn't quite catch, because all of a sudden a sharp pain erupted through her, a pain that spread from her stomach to her lower back and took her breath away with its intensity. She clasped her eye shut against the pain, but after a moment the pain receded slightly, leaving a dull ache. When she opened her eyes, everyone in the room was staring at her.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said a bit breathlessly. "Please continue."

"Are you sure?" Cecilia said, looking worried. "You can leave if you aren't feeling well."

"No, I think I'm fine for now. I'll let you know if I need to leave."

Once Cecilia had nodded, Hathord continued for a few more minutes, leaving Hermione to wonder if that first pain had been a fluke.

"…Of course, we have to wait for a final ruling from the Wizengamot, but we're feeling very confident that things will go well," he concluded.

"Yes," Cresswell interrupted, "and we're also in the midst of negotiations with the goblins in regards to some of the propositions we have for employees of Gringotts. Although it isn't strictly your division, you'll work closely with us to…"

The second pain that shot through her was if anything more painful than the last, and when Hermione, gasping, finally un-gritted her teeth and opened her watery eyes, she looked to Cecilia apologetically.

"Sorry, I think I need to leave now."

******************

May 4, 2006 - 7:18 pm

It was only when Harry had reached the maternity ward of St. Mungo's that he realized Hermione's note was still crumpled tightly in his clenched fist. The message written hastily on the slip of parchment was short and to the point:

Baby coming. Already sent Ron note. See you soon.

Love, Hermione

After he was quickly referred to the correct room by the familiar blonde receptionist, he all but ran down the corridor and burst through the door.

Hermione was lying in the bed, already dressed in a hospital gown with a thin sheet covering her from the waist down, and a single thin wire clamped to the end of her finger led to a small machine next to the bed. She looked up in a slightly bemused fashion as Harry closed the door behind him.

"Wow, that was fast," Hermione said. "I sent that owl from the Ministry less than twenty-five minutes ago."

"I would have been faster, but I sent a quick owl to Ginny. Besides, I was already at the Ministry," Harry replied, moving forward and placing a kiss on Hermione's temple before sitting in one of the chairs by her bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine right now. Temporarily between contractions, and Healer Clayworth said he could give me a numbing potion soon. And what were you doing at the Ministry on your afternoon off?"

"It's not important," Harry said hastily. "Just some things I had to discuss with Wahler."

Hermione peered curiously into his face, and Harry glanced away, feigning interest in the bland nature prints on the hospital wall. The small amount of motion in them made the pictures appear Muggle at first glance.

"It's more than that. Does this have something to do with why you and Ginny are -" She paused and screwed her face up in pain, gripping Harry's hand in a viselike grip when he wrapped his fingers around hers, causing him to wince as well. After a moment her grip loosened and she let out a pent-up breath. "-fighting?"

"Hermione, this really isn't important right now. Just focus on having this baby, alright?"

Hermione raised her eyebrow. "I'm focusing just fine on this, thank you. I really want to know."

Harry sighed. "It's nothing, really. I was just putting in my request to stop field work, it's not a big deal."

Hermione dropped his hand abruptly, and Harry noted the frown that appeared on her face. "Ginny asked you to stop, didn't she?"

Harry rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, wishing he wasn't having this conversation. "She might have suggested it, yeah. She just thinks it's the safer move right now."

"Of course it's the safer move. Hiding away in Grimmauld Place is a safe move as well, but that doesn't mean you're going to do it," Hermione replied, agitation evident in her voice, as well as a certain hint of distress that Harry couldn't quite understand.

"It's really not a big deal, Hermione. It'll be higher pay, and -"

"-and you'll be bored out of your mind."

Harry shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "Sure, it'll take some getting used to, but it's -"

"-`not a big deal,'" Hermione recited, and again Harry heard the distress in her voice.

"What do you want from me?" Harry said. "It's just a small career change - you just made one, too. Why are you upset?"

Hermione bit her lip and fixed him with a calculated stare. This time Harry didn't look away, intent on acquiring some clue about what was going on in her head, and after a moment it was Hermione who averted her eyes, swallowing loudly.

"I'm upset because -" she began, but before she could say anything more, the hospital door opened once more.

"Hermione!" Ron said, hurrying forward and giving her a quick kiss. "I came as soon as I got your owl."

He appeared fidgety and nervous, but a huge grin spread across his face - the perfect image of a first-time father - and Harry felt a hard ball of guilt and jealousy form in the pit of his stomach. He stood up, and Ron immediately took his vacated seat.

"Thanks for filling in, mate," he said, taking Hermione's hand. "I can take it from here."

Harry nodded mutely at his words, trying to meet Hermione's eyes. However, she wasn't paying much attention to him, merely continuing to bite her lip with a furrowed expression, obviously deep in thought. Her expression soon contorted into one of pain, and she clenched Ron's hand as well as a fistful of the blanket covering her, hissing through her teeth. Ron blanched at the ferocity of Hermione's grip, a barely audible yelp escaping him before he reined it in.

Clayworth walked in just as this particular contraction wore off, and walked forward to shake Ron's hand as soon as he was able to pry it from Hermione's.

"Mr. Weasley, I presume?" he said.

"You would presume correctly," Ron replied, gingerly clasping Clayworth's hand.

"Pleasure to finally meet you," the Healer responded, his eyes glancing towards Harry and back to Ron. "And how are you feeling?" he asked Hermione.

"Okay," she said, wiping the back of her hand across her brow.

"Pain potion still holding?"

"As well as can be expected," she said.

"Excellent," Clayworth said. He passed his wand over the machine next to Hermione's bed, surveyed the results the slid out on a small slip of parchment, then passed his wand over Hermione in a series of diagnostic spells. Once this was done, he looked apologetically to Harry.

"I'm afraid I need to ask you to leave now, Mr. Potter. There are a few more things that need to be done, and only one visitor is allowed at the moment. Things could progress very quickly."

Harry would have liked nothing more than to refuse, to blatantly tell the Healer that he had more right than Ron to be in the room, that he was the father, that this was his baby being born, but what could he do? Hermione sat silently in the bed, staring at her hands clasped over her stomach, and he jerked his head in acknowledgment. He glanced back in time to see Hermione staring after him, her brow again burrowed.

"Good luck," he said.

She gazed at him a moment, her eyes sad, and then nodded.

"Yes," she murmured. "See you after."

"Yeah, see you," Harry replied, the emotions in the pit of his stomach making their way up to his throat. He had barely shut the door behind him when Ginny rushed up.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, adjusting the strap of her purse more securely. "Mum just got to the house to watch the babies."

"Everything's fine so far. I don't think we can go back in there until after," he said, pointing his thumb behind him.

"Oh, okay," Ginny said, disappointment lacing her tone. "Hopefully this goes by quickly, then."

Harry nodded in agreement, although a part of him felt he needed all the time he could possibly get before the moment of truth came.

"Guess all we can do is wait."

******************

May 5, 2006 - 4:33 am

The more time that passed, the more Harry hated that he couldn't be in there, hated that Ron was in there instead, hated this corridor, hated its pallid blue walls, hated the stubbornly still door of her room, hated the ticking of the clock that broke the silence.

He had long ago lost track of how many times he had paced the hall, passing again and again and again by the chair where Ginny had dozed off hours ago. He rubbed tiredly at his eyes, knowing that they must be bloodshot. Blinking frequently to ward off his exhaustion, he continued to walk, much more slowly then when he had begun.

The first streaks of dawn were just beginning to lighten the sky when, finally, a rattle came from the doorknob. Ginny jerked awake at the sound and Harry bolted to the door just as Clayworth stepped out.

"Everything went fairly smoothly," he said.

"On what planet is a nine-hour labor smooth?" Ginny asked, yawning as she stood from her chair.

Clayworth smiled. "Sometimes it just takes a while. But I'll just leave you two to visit," he said, and strode away down the corridor.

Just as he was out of sight, the door opened again and Ron poked his head out. There were bags under his eyes, and his hair looked something akin to Harry's, but the grin on his face was the widest that Harry had ever seen.

"It's a girl!" he pronounced happily, opening the door wider.

Harry felt light-headed at his words. A girl, he thought. His first baby girl, his first daughter. He was simultaneously giddy and terrified at the thought. But those feelings were nothing compared to what erupted in his chest as Ron ushered them into the room.

It amazed him that, even though he'd done this twice already, he could still experience such an intense thrill at seeing his newborn child for the first time. The perfect little face, the knowledge that he had somehow leant to this image of perfection. His heart seemed to swell in his chest as he took in the sight.

And what was more, Hermione was holding her; Hermione Jean Granger, his best friend, his soul mate, her face shining with perspiration, her hair in disarray, but never looking more beautiful in Harry's eyes. He watched as she, with a small smile, angled their daughter towards Ginny, who fawned over the baby's tiny features as Ron stood nearby, his arms crossed proudly.

Harry didn't know how long he stood there, soaking in these feelings until they filled him to the brim, and only when he was broken from his reflections by Hermione's voice did he realize she had said virtually nothing since they had entered the room.

"Ron, could you go get me some ice, please?"

Ron seemed a bit surprised by this request, as though this mundane task had no place in the realm of such an extraordinary day, but he smiled and nodded nonetheless.

"Sure, of course." He bent down and kissed the crown of her hair, and then exited the room, assuring them he would return quickly.

The door had barely closed behind him when Hermione looked at Ginny apologetically.

"I actually meant to ask Ron to get me some pumpkin juice as well. Would you mind…" she trailed off somewhat bashfully.

"Oh." Ginny glanced between him and Hermione so quickly that at first Harry thought he'd imagined it. "Of course," she finally said after a moment, though there was a tone of reluctance in her voice that confused him. She looked as though she were going to say something more, but instead she flashed Hermione a overly bright smile before turning on the spot, her ginger ponytail swishing out of sight as the door clicked shut.

And just like that they were alone.

Harry shuffled his feet for a moment, unsure of what to say or do, uncertain if he should speak first or allow her to. She seemed nervous, shy almost, eyes darting this way and that before finally focusing on him.

"Are you going to come and hold her or not?"

She hadn't even completed her sentence before he was across the room, standing with eager anticipation by her bed. As he bent over to scoop the baby from her arms and into his own, he knew he must've been grinning like a madman.

His daughter had a thick head of fair hair, and she peered solemnly at him with almond shaped eyes, the irises the inscrutable blue typical of many newborns, just as they were with Albus. He wondered what color they would be in a few months.

So you're the person that was causing all the trouble, he thought to himself, still smiling.

The baby blinked innocently, and Harry ran a hand gently over her hair.

"She's perfect, isn't she?"

Harry nodded at Hermione's words, and glanced towards her.

"She is," he agreed. "Just like her mum."

Inexplicably, she frowned and her eyes darkened.

"I'm not perfect," she said. "I'm-I'm far from perfect."

Harry furrowed his brow at her denial and her clear agitation to his statement. He sat down next to her on the hospital bed, their arms pressed together as he continued to hold their daughter.

"Well, let me rephrase since you seem so opposed to that…" he said, turning his head slightly to meet Hermione's eyes. She too had her head angled towards him, and swallowed as she returned his gaze.

"You're perfect to me, at least, so as far as I'm concerned your opinion, for once, is completely wrong."

He leaned over slightly, just enough to close what little gap remained between them, and kissed her softly. He felt her respond hesitantly and then place a hand on the side of his face, cupping his jaw.

It was a small moment, a small piece of calmness and normalcy that he was grateful he was able to share with her.

Perhaps this is why he was so surprised to see her face shining with tears as he pulled away from her.

"What's wrong?" he said, startled.

Hermione shook her head, her damp curls bouncing listlessly. She still cradled his face with one hand, and the other she feverishly dragged across her eyes.

"Why do you have to make this so hard?" she said, and the tears she had just wiped away were immediately replaced with fresh ones. "I can't - I just can't do this."

Harry's heart immediately took residence somewhere in the pit of his stomach. He blinked as Hermione attempted to stem her flow of tears, and his daughter suddenly felt heavy in his arms, just as Hermione's hand on his cheek suddenly felt less than soft - at least in his mind it did, though at the moment he was sincerely doubting it was capable of any sort of coherent thought.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally cleared his (very dry) throat and asked the question that he already knew the answer to.

"Can't do what?" he managed to say, although it came out much more quietly than intended.

"Do I really have to say it?" she said, letting her hand fall from his face as he turned away from her.

Harry figured his lack of reply was response enough. He heard rather than saw her take a deep breath.

"I can't break things off with Ron…" she said quietly. "I can't…I can't tell him or Ginny or anyone else about her." She placed a hand softly on the blankets enveloping their baby. "I can't…"

"You can't be with me," Harry concluded for her. There was no bitterness in his voice, no anger. There was really no emotion in his voice at all as he said it, but there was an ache in his chest that he doubted was fleeting.

Hermione remained silent next to him, which was all the answer he needed.

They sat in silence for several moments as Harry watched his daughter fall asleep.

"Why?" he asked. He knew there were reasons, plenty of them, but he was curious which of them had driven her to this decision. "Is this about what people would say to us?"

"No," she said quickly, "that's not it at all. It would have been so hard to tell Ron and Ginny, to hurt them like that, but…I could...I know I could deal with that. With the stares and the whispers and the gossip…I could even stand being hated if that's the way things turned out…"

"Then why?"

"Because we've been selfish for the past nine months. We were thinking about ourselves and our feelings and never more than a day ahead of us -"

"And why shouldn't we be able to do that?"

"I sort of thought that as well."

"When did that change?"

He finally glanced over at her again, and saw that she already had her head turned towards him, ready to meet his gaze steadfastly.

"About half an hour ago," she said, and both their eyes fell upon the bundle in Harry's arms.

He nodded, accepting.

"I just…after seeing her, I can't imagine doing something that would hurt her in any way possible…and if I asked you to do that to James and Al…I would never be able to forgive myself."

She laid a hand tentatively over his, and he made no move to remove it.

"And I don't think you would be able to forgive yourself, either. The fact that you were willing to give up a job you love for Ginny, today of all days…I think, on some level, you knew you needed to make things work with her for James and Al's sake."

"Hermione, I would walk out of here right now and tell them everything if that's what you wanted."

Hermione smiled sadly at his words. "I know you would, but that's just it - it's not about what I or you want anymore. It's about the obligations we've made…it's about James and Al and her. Besides…it's not as though we're unhappy with Ron and Ginny, right?"

He didn't know if she was trying to convince him or herself. Maybe both.

"Are we really willing to sacrifice the happiness of everyone around us just so we can be just a little happier?"

Harry felt inclined to petulantly respond in the affirmative, but he knew she was right. She was always right. Though he had never realized that is was possible to be so right and so wrong at the same time.

"So she'll never know?" Harry said, looking down once more at their daughter, who had fallen asleep. "She'll never know I'm her dad?"

Hermione started to silently cry again, and she gave a jerky nod.

"Not until she can handle it, at least…" she said, and he knew it was more for his benefit than the truth. By the time she could handle it, it would turn her entire world upside down, and both of them knew it.

Hermione placed a hand gently on the baby's soft hair.

"I want you to name her," she said.

Harry murmured in assent although he figured it would be incredibly difficult to focus on something like naming a child who would never truly be his.

But it somehow wasn't difficult. Almost as soon as he looked down at the baby with the purpose of deciphering a proper name, it came to his mind so effortlessly the name might as well have been imprinted across her forehead.

"Rose," he said quietly.

"Rose," Hermione repeated, as though tasting the word on her tongue.

Harry finally stood from the hospital bed, feeling significantly older than he had when he had sat down.

"You can pick whatever middle name you like. Maybe after your mum."

He knew it was slightly underhanded to continue a family tradition by naming his daughter (Hermione's daughter) after a flower, and he felt as though he were secretly staking a claim over her, a tiny reminder for himself every time she was praised or chastised. Not that he needed a reminder.

And so much sooner than Harry was ready for, Ron entered the room. In the small infinity that transpired as Ron crossed the room, Harry took the opportunity to look, really look, at his daughter for that last moment that she would truly be his daughter. What had been his daughter for nine months and the half hour since her birth was now Ron's daughter. Harry hungrily took in the sight of her, like a starving man, drinking in every feature he could possibly notice of the sleeping infant in his arms. He learned the curve of her tiny seashell ears, imprinted in his mind the shape of her constantly moving mouth, memorized the color and texture of the pale brown down on her head. He torturously found himself searching her features for some sign that could be interpreted as Ron, and in her sleep Rose clutched at his index finger while he conducted his broken, envious examination. As he had done with James and Al, he marveled that this tiny person, so new and indistinct, could so utterly secure the love and sanity of a fully-grown man. He could practically feel a bit of his soul crumble as he handed Ron the baby.

As he relinquished his hold on Rose, and stood back to fully take in the scene before him, Harry was suddenly forcibly reminded of something Dumbledore had mentioned long ago…a room locked at all times, containing a force at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than forces of nature.

Never before had Harry so accurately felt this force in all its variable forms, roiling throughout his body in unforgiving waves of torture as he met Hermione's sad gaze and watched his daughter being placed in her arms by someone that wasn't him.

Because despite out beautiful it can be, you can never quite escape the thorns.

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