Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters within this story.
***
There was one thing about pregnancy that really stood out to Hermione. It wasn’t the fact that she had grown an abnormally large stomach. It wasn’t the fact that she would quite often wake up (or, more often than not, wake Draco up) at three o’clock in the morning to go and get some bizarre food combination which generally ended being pickles and peanut butter. It wasn’t the fact that she could feel the baby kicking, which, although it was astounding, was not something that she particularly enjoyed, especially when it shocked her whilst carrying a cup of tea, causing her to drop the tea and smash another cup.
What really stood out to Hermione was the maternity leave, and it was this particular thing that Hermione had grown to enjoy.
On this particular morning, into her third week of maternity leave, Hermione woke up, reaching out to find Draco, her eyes snapping open when she realized the bed was empty of his presence. With a frown she sat up carefully in bed, her eyes drawn to the old grandfather clock in the corner which informed her that it was in fact ten o’clock in the morning, and the only way Draco would still be home was if he was running extremely late for work on that Wednesday morning. Confused at how she had managed to sleep so late, but happy at the long rest nonetheless, Hermione padded to the bathroom quietly, shedding her pajamas along the way.
Turning on the taps in the bath, she turned to face the mirror as the room slowly fogged up with steam emitting from the hot water. She placed her hands on her breasts, swollen from the pregnancy, before moving them down to rest on her large stomach. At her touch she felt the baby kick, and she smiled softly as the mirror covered in steam, leaving her reflection a vague outline against the hazy glass. She slowly climbed into the full bathtub, enjoying the feeling of her body being immersed in the warm water.
Hermione trailed her fingers over her stomach, her mind consumed with thoughts of the baby, until the water began to grow cold, at which point she returned to the bedroom wrapped in a fluffy towel. Glancing at the clock she noticed it was nearly midday, and the memory of Ginny arriving with James at noon drifted to the front of her mind and she gasped. After drying herself off quickly and pulling on her favourite maternity dress, she moved towards the main room of the house to get a quick cup of tea before Ginny’s arrival.
Reaching the kitchen, there was a knock on the front door and Hermione frowned. There was still twenty minutes until Ginny was supposed to arrive, and Hermione wasn’t expecting any other visitors before then. Nevertheless, she moved to open the front door which, upon opening, revealed no visitors but merely a bunch of flowers on the doorstep. Confused but still pleased, she picked up the flowers which, following a closer inspection appeared to be roses, and found a note which was written in an elaborate cursive:
Dearest Hermione,
I am so awfully pleased to hear about your recent marriage to my dear old friend Draco, as well as the wonderful news of your pregnancy. Please accept these flowers as a belated congratulatory present, and I wish you all the best in your marriage and with your pregnancy and the new baby.
Sincerely,
An old acquaintance
P.S. Be wary of the thorns.
Still confused but rather pleased with the flowers, she summoned a vase to the kitchen and filled it with water before carefully unwrapping the flowers from the delicate tissue paper they had been sheathed in. She cut the ends of the flowers off, always wary of the thorns, before placing them one by one into the vase until she felt a pain in her finger and saw that it had been pierced by the thorn.
“Ouch,” she muttered, reaching for a tissue to wrap around the bleeding area before she got blood anywhere. She stepped back to lean against the counter, and as she did so the room began to spin, and bile burnt at the back of her throat.
Hermione opened her mouth to gasp for air as she stumbled towards the sofa before she fell over and harmed the baby, but she didn’t feel like she was moving anywhere. Her feet seemed to drag, and the room became foggier, more distant. Somewhere nearby there was a loud pop, but the sound was heavily muffled to Hermione’s ears. She reached out, desperate to grasp onto something that she could steady herself with, but there was nothing, and then she could feel the blackness creeping up on her, grasping her and trying to pull her into a state of utter nothingness.
“Reducto,” she heard a cry, and then what sounded like a sort of explosion, and then she was floating.
***
Everything was hurting.
Hermione’s eyes opened slowly to reveal a room devoid of human life, and she recognized that she was in a room at St. Mungo’s, the thought registering slowly before her eyes closed again, her body too weary to hold them open any longer. She could hear sounds from outside, people taking in hushed tones, and she could not force herself to distinguish one word from another.
Just as she felt the blissful feeling of sleep begin to claim her, she heard a voice louder than all the rest, the only voice that could coax her out of her slumber.
“Honestly, Potter, I know we’re friends and you’re and Auror and all, but if you even try and think about stopping me, I will not hesitate in cursing you to the next century, so get the hell out of my way and let me see my wife!”
At Draco’s voice she opened her eyes once more in time to see him pushing Ron out of the way of the doorframe, and rushing to her side.
“Hermione,” he whispered, his voice heartbreakingly sad as he crouched beside her bed, grasping her hand in his.
“It hurts, Draco,” she croaked, surprised that she could even make a sound.
“I know, love, I know,” he murmured, and Hermione could see his eyes were wet.
“The baby…” she began, her voice fading and diminishing with each word she spoke.
“Is fine, I promise,” he calmed her, and she felt relief course through her body.
“I’m so tired, Draco,” she mumbled after a moment.
“Sleep, love. I’ll be here when you wake,” he said assured her, bending down and pressing his lips to her forehead as the darkness claimed her once more.
***
“Is she-“
“No.”
“Oh.”
Her eyes opened and the room slowly became focused. There were two figures standing by the door, neither of whom had noticed she was awake yet. With difficulty she pushed herself into a sitting position, her muscles weak and sore. She let out an involuntary groan of pain, and the man with his back to her turned sharply and looked at her, his piercing gray eyes lighting up when he saw she was awake.
“Hermione,” Draco gasped, reaching her in two long strides. “You’re awake.”
“How long have I been asleep?” she asked, her voice surprisingly strong.
“You haven’t been asleep, so to speak. You went into a coma of sorts,” Draco muttered, his eyes darkening and losing the light that had been in them since she had woken. “Harry,” he called, and the other man stepped into the room, his face flooding with colour and relief when he saw Hermione’s state.
“Coma? What…what happened to me?” Hermione asked, confusion filling her. Draco and Harry looked at one another, apparently debating whether or not to tell her. “Somebody just come out with it! I’m pretty damn sure I deserve to know,” Hermione snapped, sitting up straighter until Draco carefully put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back into the pillows.
“You were poisoned. Someone was trying to hurt you and our baby. They sent you roses which had been laced with poison, so when you pricked your finger on the thorn, the poison was injected into you. It was designed to kill you,” Draco explained, his voice cracking on the last word and he released her hand and buried his face in his own hands, moving to sit down in a chair in the corner as his body shook with silent tears.
“How am I alive, then?” Hermione asked, looking at Harry.
“Ginny saved you. She arrived early with James, and when you wouldn’t answer the door she looked through the front window and saw you falling. She blasted the door open and levitated you to a sofa before you hit the ground and then brought you here. It was lucky she got there early. The Healers said that if you hadn’t been found then, you wouldn’t have made it,” Harry said, jaw clenched.
“Why would anyone be trying to poison me?”
Harry paused thoughtfully before answering her. “There are still collections of dark wizards out there, Hermione, and I’m certain that your marriage into one of the last pureblood lines would have angered them. They might have wanted to tidy up the family trees or something along those lines.”
Hermione turned away from Harry, revulsion clawing at her as the thought that someone would want to kill someone else because of crap like blood status flooded her mind. Instead she looked at Draco, who was now watching her with a look which combined fear and adoration. He looked tired, and she wondered just how long she had been in the hospital, and she voiced this question.
“Two weeks,” Draco croaked, standing up and returning to her side. “I was so worried.”
“I would never leave you,” she whispered, raising a hand to place on his cheek. He leant into the warmth of her touch, and bent down and kissed her lips sweetly, placing one hand on her stomach. At his touch the baby kicked, and Hermione placed her hand on top of his. “I love you.”
“I know,” he replied, sitting down on the bed beside her. Hermione moved over slightly, and he kicked off his shoes and lay down beside her.
“Just think, in two more months we’re going to have a baby,” she mused, and he smiled.
“That’s incredible,” he murmured as the baby kicked again. “To be honest, I’m completely terrified.”
“Aren’t you meant to be? No one’s ever fully ready for their first baby,” she smiled.
“I know, but I think I’ve reached new levels of fear for a new parent,” he joked, pulling her closer and kissing her temple.
“If I fall asleep, will you stay with me?” she asked, turning her head to face him.
“I promise.”
And so she slept, and so he stayed.
***
No comments:
Post a Comment