She was nearly forty-one weeks pregnant and positive she could not endure being pregnant for another day when she finally had a contraction. Then another. They came at irregular intervals for two days before gradually occurring every eight to ten minutes and staying there.
Topsy lingered, bobbing excitedly on her toes as she eyed Hermione knowingly. Ginny handed James off to a house-elf and provided everyone tea. Hermione tried to read and not feel hopeful that the contractions were going to ever stop being eight minutes apart. They were just intense enough that she couldn't ignore them.
Draco appeared ready to die from chronic stress. He'd tense every time Hermione shifted or drew a sharp breath when a contraction peaked. His eyes never left her.
Hermione or Ginny cast diagnostics every hour to see if she'd even effaced fully and kept finding that she somehow hadn't.
Finally, Hermione stood up with a despairing sigh. Ginny and Draco shot to their feet.
She pulled her cloak on and slipped her feet into her boots before casting a spell to lace them up. “I'm going to take another walk. Maybe it will make the labour actually start. If that doesn't work—” she eyed Draco but didn't mention the other options she was considering.
Ginny nodded, her mouth quirking. “I'll go see how James is. You can send word when you want me to come back.”
Draco opened his mouth but then shut it soundlessly.
He gave Hermione his arm and let her lead him up as many staircases as she wanted.
She stood at the top of a bridge, gripping his hand while she tried to suppress a moan and breathe through a contraction.
“Granger — I could go get a midwife.”
“Absolutely not,” Hermione said through her teeth as she doubled over. “Ginny and I can manage. I'm not having you risk it — and I'm not having you bring anyone here and then kill them afterwards in order to cover your tracks.”
Draco was guiltily silent.
Hermione released a low breath. “We're not doing that anymore. We're safe. We're safe here. Don't you dare.”
“I hate this.”
“I know.”
“It hurts.”
“Yes.”
“I'm tired. I've been pushing for hours.”
“I know.”
“Stop agreeing with me.”
Draco was silent for a very long time after that.
Hermione wasn't sure whether she were breaking his hand, or he were breaking hers.
Ginny was between Hermione's legs beside Topsy. “Hermione, are you sure don't want a mirror so you can see?”
“I do not,” Hermione said in a flat voice as she caught her breath before another contraction rolled through her. She curled forcefully forward with a groan.
“Good job. Head's out. One more to get the shoulders through.” Ginny looked up at Draco. “Do you want to catch her?”
Draco just stared at Ginny until she looked back down between Hermione's legs again.
Hermione gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. She bore down again, focusing her entire body and mind on getting the baby out.
“That's it. That's it. Yes! Shoulders are out, just breathe now. Don't push.”
There was a mewling wail and suddenly a wet, squirming bundle was deposited upon Hermione's bare chest.
Hermione gave a small gasp as her daughter's tiny, scrunched up face nuzzled against her sternum. The baby's head matted with dark wet curls.
Her exhaustion was instantly forgotten. Hermione's hands were shaking as she wrapped her arms around the baby's vernix smeared body and rested her fingers on the sodden head. The baby looked up towards Hermione's face, her mouth twisting as a vibrating wail emerged forcefully from her mouth.
Hermione felt speechless. Ginny and Topsy were both speaking, but Hermione paid no attention. The baby furrowed her feather light eyebrows and widened her eyes briefly.
They were as bright silver as a lighting storm.
Hermione gave a sob and held her tighter. “Draco — she has your eyes.”
Chapter End Notes
Illustrations by Avendell, follow her on tumblr and instagram.
Additional Illustrations:
Watching Hermione read by keerthi_draws
Free, away from the war by thegirlthatreadsfantasybooks.
Hermione sat in bed counting her daughter's fingers, looking at the tiny pink fingernails and tracing her fingers along the squashed profile. The baby had been weighed, checked all over with diagnostic spells, and then Topsy had swaddled her expertly. The matted brown hair was beginning to dry and stand in little tufts about her head.
“I think she's going to end up with my hair, poor thing. Although maybe she'll go platinum at six months,” Hermione said. She glanced up, smiling, and found that Draco was standing near the wall, looking as though he were on the verge of apparating out of the room.
Hermione stilled and stared at him in confusion. He'd been right beside her through the labour to the moment she'd been handed the baby. She wasn't sure when he'd backed away.
Ginny and Topsy both slipped unobtrusively out of the room.