Chapter 8: April

Chapter Seven

Hermione Granger pulled out the letter from her father again. She was alone in her wardrobe room off the First Year Boys Dorm Room. That was not the usual state of things, but Harry had Quidditch practice, and with the way she was waddling now, well she'd prefer to cut back on as much stair climbing as possible. As it was the second of April, she had now been pregnant for over five months.

She found her hand resting on her swollen belly, under her shirt. Hermione felt her baby move. Feeling the baby that way felt right. It was one of the things she did to reassure herself that everything was going okay. That and re-read her parents' letters.

"My Little Princess

"I guess I really need to stop calling you little. You really haven't been little for quite some time. I find it hard to admit that you're not my little girl anymore. I remember the first time I saw you in your mother's arms. You were so small.

"I still have this image of you in that pink princess dress, looking up at me and asking me to dance. Then there was your first day of school. You packed your book bag full of your favorite books, and wouldn't take any of them out in order to fit your lunch. You were always so determined.

"I worry about the changes you're going through. You're my little girl, but now, you can't be a child anymore. I suppose it's been a long time since I took you to swing in the park, even before you left for boarding school. That's probably more my fault than yours, but it's a time that is at its end now.

"You are way too young to become a mother, and I am way too young to become a grandfather. I curse the fact that your school has made you one through its negligence. I wanted to rush up North to take you out of there, but know that won't change your condition. I wanted to demolish the castle whose protection was not afforded to you, but I don't know where to begin.

"So, I must resign myself to the fact that you have grown up. I must contend with the pictures of you this Christmas, dressed up for an adult party, instead of looking back at the baby girl whose pleasure was not the presents but opening them. I must think of you some day soon holding your own baby in your arms, not letting my mind get stuck in the image of you as the baby in your mother's arms.

"Please pardon me, however, if I continue to see you as my baby girl.

"Your loving father."

Dad's letter always made her cry. Of course, a lot of things made her cry now. She was sure it was a pregnancy thing. Her emotions shifted so easily. Just the previous afternoon she'd gone from deliriously happy from an essay returned to crying uncontrollably, just because Harry had mentioned that he might have to see the Dursleys over Easter Break.

She wasn't looking forward to Easter Break. Harry would be going to Kingston-on-the-Thames again with Professor McGonagall to talk to Child Protective Services about his case and summer. Hermione wouldn't be going home. She was a bit upset about that, but she understood that her treatment for gestational hypertension wouldn't allow the travel. It was fortunate that the wizarding world had a treatment for it, even if it required that she remain in a high magic environment, like Hogwarts.

Hermione wiped her tears away with one of Harry's spare handkerchiefs. Professor McGonagall had insisted that he get some at Christmas, and he'd bought more than he really needed. Hermione was glad that McGonagall had taken Harry shopping for clothes at Christmas, even if Harry didn't often get them out. He considered most of the new clothes to be too good for daily wear. Someday, Hermione promised herself, she'd convince Harry to actually wear something new on something other than a special occasion.

She put aside her dad's letter and pulled out her mother's latest. It had arrived that morning, and she'd only been able to read it briefly after finishing her breakfast. Hermione had skimmed it for anything urgent and put it aside until now.

"Hermione,

"I'm sorry to hear that due to your treatment, you won't be coming home for Easter Break. That doesn't mean, however, that I've stopped my plans to at least meet Harry at King's Cross. Stop cringing, Hermione, it's bad for your posture, and no telling him either."

Hermione's mother had her pegged. At least the plan didn't involve her father meeting Harry. She had visions of Harry being punched out by her father protecting her virtue.

"Now, I have to admit that I did not have all the complications that you have had thus far in your pregnancy. You are, however, in a much higher risk category at your age, so it's not surprising. Madam Pomfrey assures me, though, that your complications were caught earlier this time, and that aside from the restrictions to magical locations, the treatment is quite mild, if a little long. She's also told me that you're continuing to carry that heavy bookbag.

"Hermione, you're accompanied everywhere by one to five young boys, boys that have been told to assist you. They will offer to carry your books, and you will let them. If I hear that you are not, I shall provide a public reminder on the scale of what you told me Mrs. Weasley sent to her twins after that prank on Professor Snape.

"After much discussion, your father and I have come to the conclusion that the circular crib you suggested is indeed the best choice for your room. I had not realized how many bookshelves you had managed to get crammed into your room. Speaking of those bookshelves, your father is currently in the process of making them match, and I'm afraid that your father probably got your organization messed up. Please don't be too hard on him when you return home from school."

Hermione knew that her father had been long planning to do something like that. Her last set of bookcases had been originally planned as replacements. Unfortunately for her father, she'd been short shelf space before he bought them.

"You wanted my opinion of your name choices. I understand the wish to carry on the tradition in Harry's mother's side of the family for girls to be named after flowers, but I also see why Harry has mixed feelings on it. To put it in two words: Aunt Petunia. While he may accept naming a girl after his mother, telling him to look at a flower name, it's going to lead to him seeing that name. I think, however, that your suggestion of James for a boy will be well received.

"Now, according to your last letter, you've developed a waddle, and are, and I quote, 'bulging out like I swallowed a melon.' This is to be expected, and if you are anything like I was, and virtually every woman who has ever gotten pregnant, you're feeling like you're fat and ugly. No matter how many times your father told me otherwise, I never believed him when he told me I wasn't, so I'm pretty sure that sight unseen, you won't believe me if I was to say otherwise.

"I just ask that if someone compliments you, take it. Believe it. I know you see yourself as a bushy-haired buck-teethed bookworm. Next time you think that you can't be any more than that, look at the pictures of you before the parties this past Christmas. Look at the pictures that Professor McGonagall took from your Valentine's Day Dinner. To use your father's term, 'you clean up well.' You may feel ugly at the moment, but that feeling is a transient state. I am sure, that even today, with a little help from your friends, you can still be the beautiful young woman that your father was afraid you'd turn into.

"Now for my good news. It looks like you're finally going to be a big sister, like you have been asking to be since you were four. The doctor is estimating that I'll be due around the second week of October. Your father can not get rid of the grin that's been on his face since I told him. I, on the other hand, have decided that I underplayed morning sickness with you. Your father has taken over most of the first hour's appointments at our practice."

Hermione didn't get to read the next couple paragraphs, as the boys had just returned from quidditch practice. She could hear them tramping up the steps. Standing up, carefully, she exited the wardrobe in order to meet them as they came in. "Good practice Harry?" she asked.

"I swear, Wood is trying to kill me," Harry replied, dropping his broom on top of his trunk. "He had four bludgers out today, and I think one of them was spelled to go after me. It's a good thing they were on practice settings, or I'd be dead."

"So, full of danger that would have scared me into early labor," Hermione concluded.

"Yes, so I guess it was a good practice," Harry said, running his hands through his damp hair. It appeared that this time he'd remembered to shower in the Quidditch locker rooms.

Hermione looked at the other four boys, who seemed to have windswept hair, and looked to have been sweating. "So, did they let the rest of you join the team for practice?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "I got to play the opposition keeper, and they got to be the opposition chasers in a mock game at the end." Neville, Seamus, and Dean shared the look of his messy and sweaty clothes. It looked like Neville had a developing bruise on his left cheek. "We're not as good as the starters, but I think Bell has learnt that Neville is just plain dangerous on a broom."

"Hey, I stayed on it, and I scored three times on Wood," Neville said. "It's not my fault that the school brooms need replacing. I'll be so glad when I can bring my own next year."

"You know, Neville, if you'd said that after our first flying lesson, I would have detected some sarcasm," Harry replied.

"Oh, you're never going to let me live that down, are you," Neville moaned.

Hermione noticed that Dean and Seamus appeared to be a lot muddier than the others. Dean had his football on him, and was bouncing it off his head. "Were you two playing football on the pitch too?" she asked.

"When have I missed an chance to play the beautiful game?" Dean remarked. "Ron's as good of a goalie as he is a keeper, maybe better."

"I think it helps me keep," Ron said. "The football goal is a lot wider than the quidditch rings, and without the broom you're more limited with the blocking, but most of the techniques are the same."

"Well, you four need a shower, now, before I increase your need," Hermione said, gesturing them towards the bath's door. "Clean up and I might decide to tell you where you made that error in your Transfiguration essay, Dean."

"Come on, guys," Dean said. "I need a good score on that essay. I'm only a point out of fifteenth."

The four boys headed into the bathroom, already starting to remove their shirts. Hermione shook her head before turning to Harry. To her great surprise, he took her into his arms, and hugged her tightly. She found herself unable to move, enjoying the feeling of his arms around her, with his body pressed up against her pregnant belly. This kind of touch was something she knew that Harry would have never accepted, let alone initiated back in September.

"Come on, Hermione," Harry said as he released the hug. "I want to see if I can feel the baby move before they get out of the showers."

The Hogwarts Express was generally emptier on the trips back and forth for Easter Break than Christmas Break. That was especially true this year, with only three passenger cars hooked up. Harry Potter was among those on this ride. In fact, he was the only Gryffindor in his year to be on this ride. He had ended up in a compartment with two Slytherins and a professor, mainly due to the professor. As he looked out at the countryside, he had to shake his head. He hadn't expected to be on the Express for either break. It was certain that his relatives didn't want to see him any time soon.

He was on the Express for much the same reason as he had been on the Express for Christmas Break. Child Protective Services wanted to chat again. Unlike last time, he was going to be the only student talking to them. Victoria had given birth to her little boy, Patrick Draco. There was no accounting for her choices of name, in Harry's opinion.

The door opened revealing the aforementioned Victoria, carrying her little boy against her breast. "It wasn't that gross, Draco," she said. Victoria had insisted that Draco accompany her when she took her baby to be changed.

"Yes it was," Draco said as he slid into his seat on the Slytherin side of the compartment, next to the door. "I don't know how something that small can make so much of a mess, and why you just don't use a charm to clean it up."

"Mr. Malfoy, the charm in question is a OWL level charm," Professor McGonagall said. "While I have no doubt that Miss Price has a strong desire to learn such a charm, practice on your half nephew's bowel movements is not recommended."

Harry looked back out at the passing countryside. They were in England now, with a good hour before they reached King's Cross station. He was worried about arriving at King's Cross Station. Hermione had let slip that her mother was supposed to meet them there. He didn't know Hermione's mother. He had never met Hermione's mother. In fact he'd only had one letter from her, and that was mostly a list of things he was supposed to make sure Hermione didn't do.

Harry wasn't very successful at stopping Hermione from doing things. Or maybe it was that he wasn't very successful at realizing that Hermione was going to do something. He didn't want to order her not to do something. It felt wrong. He knew he could, and there were probably a few times that he should, but he tried not to.

"... perhaps Mister Potter might wish to try?" Professor McGonagall's statement interrupted Harry's musing. "After all, in a few months he'll have to hold his own."

Harry looked up to see Victoria moving towards him. "You'll have to support his head," she said as he seemingly automatically adjusted his arms. The baby was placed softly in Harry's arms, still wrapped a bit in his blanket. "There, you've got him."

For the first time, Harry had a tiny baby boy, only a month old in his arms. It looked so small and fragile. He had the Malfoy blond hair, and as the baby looked up at Harry, it seemed like the baby was practicing the Malfoy smirk too. The little boy couldn't keep it up, though, and soon his thumb found his mouth. The baby yawned and his eyes closed.

Harry had no idea how long he held the baby. The train had just stopped when Victoria bent down to take her baby back into her arms.

"Mister Potter, I shall take care of our luggage," McGonagall said, pointing out the window at a woman with curly hair the same shade as Hermione's. "I believe that Miss Granger's mother is waiting for you."

He wasn't quite sure how he got off the train, but suddenly he found himself standing in front of the woman with the same hair as his Hermione. "Ma'am," he said, unable to get another word out.

"You must be Harry Potter," the woman said. "Hermione described you well. I'm her mother, Wendy Granger."

Professor Minerva McGonagall did not often eat out. When she did, it was most often at the Three Broomsticks, though last spring she'd ended up at Madam Puddlifoot's with Albus as a result of a lost bet on his part. This place was entirely out of her experience. According to Mrs. Granger, it was an Italian restaurant of some note.

At the moment, McGonagall was nibbling on a bread stick, her main dish of fettuccini having been consumed. She would have to talk to the house elves at Hogwarts about adding a few dishes to the menu. Mrs. Granger had arranged for the use of the private room, which McGonagall felt was decorated with a bit too much Italian pride. Then again, she had to admit that her own office showed a bit too much Scottish pride by the same standards.

"So, now that you've updated me on how Hermione is, Harry," Mrs. Granger began, "I'd like to know a little about you. Favorite classes, favorite color, what you like to do in your spare time..."

McGonagall saw Harry look to her. She nodded and he took a deep breath.

"I like Potions, Transfiguration, and Charms," Harry said. "I've never really thought about which one I like the best. There is Potions, which was a little rough when I had Professor Snape, but since the Headmaster took over our class, I've really enjoyed it. It's just like cooking."

"You like to cook, Harry?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"Yes. It's the one chore I really enjoyed at the Dursleys." At his relative's name, a brief expression passed over his face that McGonagall could not quite classify. Harry had been a rather closed off child, emotionally, until Hermione had moved in. McGonagall had seen positive emotions from him, but this wasn't. It was gone quickly. "Did Hermione tell you about the cherry pie I made for everyone for the Valentine's Day Dinner? Percy showed me where the kitchens were. I never cooked in a real wood burning oven before."

"Hermione could not say enough about how good that pie was," Mrs. Granger replied. Professor McGonagall hadn't heard about the pie before, or that Harry knew where the kitchens were. It was a good thing that he wasn't a prankster like his father.

"I only got to eat two fork-fulls," Harry said. "Hermione stole the rest of my piece. Someday I'm going to make one just for me."

"I'll make sure there are enough ingredients in the house when you come home for the Summer," Mrs. Granger said.

"Come home?" Harry asked. McGonagall had seen that expression on Harry only once before, when she had promised him that by accepting Hermione he'd never have to go to the Dursley's again.

"Monty and I have been approved to foster you this summer, at the very least," Mrs. Granger said.

It was not often that Professor Minerva McGonagall got to see one of her little Gryffindor boys cry with tears of joy.

Hedwig had once sat in the rafters of the friar's chapel during one of the Fat Friar's Masses. She'd been told that every owl at Hogwarts did so at least once. It was considered to be showing a sign of respect to the Hogwarts ghost. Besides, the Friar did very good, thought provoking homily.

So, she wasn't heading for the Great Hall. Instead she circled around the castle towards the courtyard where she often had found Hermione between classes. Hedwig knew that it offered one of the straightest shots up towards Gryffindor Tower's portrait entrance. The Friar's Chapel also opened to the courtyard, and as Hedwig descended, she spotted Seamus Finnigan, dressed in his Sunday best, carrying a palm frond, crossing the court yard. It seemed that he was ignoring the passed out Divination Professor . She circled down around him.

As Seamus raised his arm for Hedwig to land on, he said, "Good Morning Hedwig. Letters from Harry?"

Hedwig looked up at Seamus. It was not as if anyone else would be using her to deliver letters. She was Harry's owl, after all.

"Yeah, that's a stupid question," Seamus said. "I guess you want a ride to the tower."

Hedwig settled down on Seamus's arm. She was perfectly capable of flying up to the tower and Harry's room, but Hedwig wasn't above a little laziness on a Sunday Morning. It was, after all, a day of rest. Besides, Seamus often sung a few hymns from Mass on his way back, and like most of those who spent time in the First Year Gryffindor Boys Dorm, Hedwig liked to listen to Seamus sing. Parvati wasn't that bad either. There wasn't a bad singer in the whole group, actually.

Hedwig had her personal favorites. Oh, his version of Ave Maria by was good, but Hedwig found the song to be a bit overdone. If you asked the right owls, you could always find someone singing that one, somewhere. There was quite a network on what church you could listen to the best music among the owls. No, Hedwig's favorite had to be when Seamus pulled from Gabriel Faure's Requiem. Seamus had said that once his voice broke, he probably wouldn't be able to sing it right any more, but until then to Hedwig there was nothing like when Seamus sung Pie Jesu.

Hedwig was lucky today, Seamus started to softly sing it.

Pie Jesu Domine

Dona eis requiem

Dona eis requiem

He was still singing it when they reached the Gryffindor Common Room. While Hedwig was willing to go through the halls on someone's arm, she drew the line at delivering mail that way. She took off , beating her wings to ascend the steps up to the First Year Boys Dorm.

It did not take long for Hedwig to arrive in the dorm and find that one good perch at the end of her Harry's bed. She knew that it wouldn't be occupied by Harry, that was a given. She hadn't expected it to be filled with two of the Gryffindor girls, who appeared to be trying to stay asleep. Hedwig wasn't surprised that they were sleeping in. Hedwig had been used by Hermione to deliver notes between the two dorms before, and both Lavender and Sally-Anne liked to sleep in, or as Lavender called it, their beauty sleep.

That made Hedwig wonder were the remaining first year girl was. She rotated her head, and was nearly looking backward when she noticed that Parvati Patil was in Seamus's bed, and unlike the others, appeared to be awake and just lounging under the covers.

"Are you decent under there, Parvati?" Seamus asked. Suddenly the two on Harry's bed were not trying to sleep anymore.

"You weren't this morning," Parvati replied. "Why, want the bed back?"

"You can't say you weren't warned about how I sleep," Seamus shot back. "Madame Pomfrey said only one of you had to be up here with Hermione. And I've got to change out of my suit in the bath, first."

Hedwig couldn't understand why there was such a hang up about the boys' attire. True it wasn't as nice as Hedwig's feathers, and she was sure it wasn't as warm, no matter what Dean said about his warm jerseys. Then again, unlike humans, owls came equipped with plenty of natural covering.

"You can have the bed for a while longer," Seamus said as he turned to go into the bath. "Just don't leave your dirty knickers under the covers."

"That assumes that I have knickers," Parvati replied, sitting up and revealing that she was at least wearing a night shirt. As the door to the bath closed, she turned to the other two girls. "Remind me not to volunteer to sleep on the floor again. We've got to get a couple more mattresses up here if we're going to do this until Harry returns."

"I don't think Professor McGonagall or Madam Pomfrey expected all of you to stay," Hermione said as she emerged from the wardrobe. Hedwig's Harry's girl was really getting fat, now. Hedwig had been told that it was because a baby was growing in her. Hedwig thought humans were stupid not to lay eggs. "Good Morning, Hedwig. Harry sent you back with letters already?"

Hedwig offered her leg with the letters attached to the nonsensical question. It wasn't like her Harry would send her back without something, no matter how much he wanted a letter from Hermione.

"It looks like Harry's been busy," Hermione said. "Lavender, wake up Ron for me. Sally-Anne, here's one for you. Dean!" The black boy was already up. Hermione tossed his letter to him. Neville was rubbing his eyes, as Hermione continued. "It looks like Harry's got something for you too, Neville. Oh, and Parvati, this one looks like it's from McGonagall."

"Get off," Ron said as Lavender woke him up by pushing him and his bedding off of his bed. She followed him down to the floor. "Oh no, don't you dare Lavender Brown." Within seconds, Ron Weasley was completely and utterly limp with laughter. Hedwig watched the two with fascination. She figured it was some sort of mating ritual.

"Still think I'm helpless, Weasley?" Lavender said from her position on Ron's chest.

Somehow through the helpless laughter, Ron managed to articulate a simple, "no!"

Lavender stood up, and flounced back to Harry's bed, where she took a seat next to Sally-Anne. As she did so, Hermione handed her a letter.

"Here you go, Ron," Hermione said, handing Ron the second thickest letter. "I hope you know better than to say anything like last night again, now. We have your sister's letter on your weaknesses."

"Guys, what ever you do, don't let them find out about any sisters you may or may not have," Ron advised his fellow boys.

"It's too late for you, Dean," Sally-Anne said. "I've already contacted Sandra."

Dean groaned, as Hedwig decided it was time for her to head to the home of Hogwart's parliament of owls. She figured she could get at least four hours of shut eye before Hermione needed her to send a reply to Harry.

Ron didn't think that Harry expected to walk in on a room filled with half dressed students when he returned to Hogwarts. Then again, it was about an hour before lights out. He stood there as Parvati and Lavender exited the bath, both dressed in camisole tops that were barely long enough to reach their knickers. Ron had to admit that he'd stared at the two the first few days.

When Hermione had moved into the room, Ron had to admit that he wasn't really thinking about girls. Girls, in his mind, were like his sister, annoying little things who were always getting in his way. That had changed as he got to know Hermione, but still, seeing them as an object of attraction? He just didn't, but as Hermione developed, and as she brought Parvati, Lavender, and Sally-Anne into the circle of friends, that had started to change.

The first time he'd really noticed one of the girls for being, well, girls, was Valentine's Day, when Lavender had come down the girls stairs. It was then that he'd realized that he'd been set up for his first date. He wasn't quite sure what he'd mumbled to Lavender as he took her arm, but whatever it was, it had caused her to blush.

Since then, every once a while, he'd look at one of the girls, and the thought would pass through his head, she was cute. It was usually Lavender, the only one other than Hermione who had really started to develop. Parvati and Sally-Anne were still quite flat chested. He had to admit that his appreciation of the girls' figures had increased over the last week, but he was growing used to their presence instead of Harry. He was going to miss them now that Harry was back.

Not that he didn't want Harry back. "Harry, you're back early!" Ron announced. Sharing a room with four girls for the night was not easy, for many reasons.

"What is going on?" Harry asked, the sweep of his arm indicating the trio of girls obviously dressed for the night.

"They're here because Madam Pomfrey insisted that someone be here who could go in to the bath with Hermione," Ron said. "It's been an adventure since you left."

"Then Friday, Fred and George had an accident with potions," Sally-Anne said. "It busted through the wall, took down our ceiling and messed things up. Professor Trelawney is making them clean everything up. Boys, the bath is yours, unless Hermione has to go again."

"I'm good," Hermione said, moving over to hug Harry. "Welcome back Harry. Why are you back early though?"

"Professor McGonagall said she had to come back," Harry said. "She mumbled something about not letting someone named Sybil be in charge of her pride."

"Isn't Sybil Professor Trelawney's first name?" Lavender asked Parvati.

"I think so," Parvati responded. "I wonder what Professor McGonagall has against her."

"She's been in charge of Gryffindor since dragon pox broke out in Slytherin on Wednesday," Hermione said, still hugging Harry. "Madam Pomfrey didn't have the time and asked the Headmaster to have someone else step in as acting head."

"Professor McGonagall found out at lunch today," Harry said. "Suddenly she ordered me to pack and we caught some sort of bus back to Hogwarts. I don't want to ride that again. I ended up slamming into Professor Quirell by accident when the bus slammed to a stop to let a little old lady cross the road. I think he was out getting experience again this break. I smelled brimstone all the way back."

"Are you still thinking that Professor Quirell is after the stone?" Dean said from his bed, having just pulled his usual jersey top over his head. "Okay, where are my bottoms?"

"Just under your bed, Dean," Seamus said, heading for the bath. "You kicked them there when you went to help Sally-Anne put down her mattress. I still say that it has to be Snape."

"Professor Snape," Hermione interjected. She'd broken her hug with Harry, and turned to face Ron. Her right arm was still around Harry's back, and to Ron's surprise, Harry's left was still around her back. "I have to admit that Snape is a logical choice. That being said, there are merits behind Dean's position too."

"Oh you said their were merits behind Sally-Anne suggesting Professor Trelawney on Friday," Ron replied.

"Some merits, but very few," Hermione said, guiding Harry over to sit on the oppisite side of his bed from the entrance. "I mean, the symptoms of possession you reported, Sally-Anne, they can also be signs of prophesying. According to Hogwarts, a History, Profess Trelawney has a certified prophecy to her name. Besides, possession is not the only reason someone might be looking for that stone."

"Yes, but it's got to involve You-Know-Who," Ron said. "We've known that since Harry and I served that detention in the Forbidden Forrest."

"It's not like that really narrows anything down," Lavender said, running her brush through her long blond hair. "I mean, we found how much of Hogwarts was related to suspected Death Eaters?"

Hermione looked like she was about to say something, but Seamus spoke up first. "Well, I have my list," he began, breaking into song.

"It's true that Professor Snape is the choice winning

And Quirinus Quirrell set your broom spinning

Carrows venomous, Avery is disarming

Lestrange, Macnair, Jugson - charming

Travers' crashing, Karkaroff neat

Dolohov's smashing, Yaxley beat

Bellatrix, Mulciber, Rosier, Nott

Criminal company, time and again

Draco and Vincent and Gregory are sorts

I'll agree are three jolly good sports

But do not forget, who is the top

It's You-Know-Who, and there we stop!

"Not bad, Seamus," Lavender asked. "How long did it take you to work in that Jolly Holiday verse?"

"He's been working on it since Saint Patrick's Day in the shower," Dean said. "Though, I have to ask, Hermione, how bad are the death eater connections?"

"Nine point six eight percent being immediate family of a Death Eater," Hermione recited. "Twenty-two point three two percent being no less than a first cousin of a Death Eater. By the time we got to fourth cousins, we had everyone but muggleborn like me on the list."

"If it wasn't for my stupid Great-Uncle Bishvajit," Parvati mumbled. "Way too high of an opinion of himself."

Ron had heard those words from Parvati before. He'd triggered a long involved story on how Great-Uncle Bishvajit embarked on his attempts to conquer the world. He'd tried so many different ways, that Ron was of the opinion that Bishvajit and his sidekick Gulabi had to do it every night.

"Harry, you smell like smoke," Hermione said, suddenly.

"I really should take my shower before going to bed tonight, assuming I have a bed," Harry said.

"You do," Ron said. "They opened the nursery room in Hermione's wardrobe and put extra beds in for the girls tonight. Feel lucky. Last week they were sleeping on mats on the floor or your bed."

Harry Potter dried his hair with a large bath towel. He wouldn't bother combing his hair before bed. It never helped. He had been glad to see Hermione. Even with just a week away, it was amazing how much he missed being around her. It was a feeling he hadn't expected, and hadn't really known before.

When Hermione had hugged him, something that seemed to be just so her, he'd felt the baby kick from within her swollen womb. He'd missed that before. The baby would always stop when Harry moved to feel, as if it was teasing him, but not this time. This time though, he'd felt the baby move, while Hermione's arms were around him. It felt right, somehow.

Harry knew that a lot of the time he acted by instinct, doing what felt right, especially when he had no idea what to do. It was part of the reason he was so successful in practicums. Coupled with the Gryffindor study group helping his written tests, he had actually passed Hermione for the month of March, as number one in his year. It was only by a single point, and he'd been worried about how Hermione would react to his end of month score.

She said she was proud of him. He'd thought that she would be upset to having dropped from number one, a position she'd held all but one week before. He'd thought she was, only to be told they were tears of happiness. Harry had hugged Hermione, holding her in his arms, following his ideal of what would Hermione do? It had felt right.

Harry hung up his towel, and picked up a pair of boxers. He didn't know how many times he'd felt that his actions or opinons were because it felt right. It was why he believed that it was Professor Quirrell who was going after the stone. It was why he'd stirred his potion right before break with a slight twist to his stirring rod, giving him the perfect powder blue shade in his batch of flattening potion. It was why he'd offered to bake that cherry pie.

Dressed for bed, he slipped out into the already darkened room. Ron's slight snore had already begun. In the moonlight from the window, he could tell that Hermione had turned down his covers for him, before she went to bed. He couldn't just go to bed, though.

Instead he stepped into the wardrobe. There was now a side door inside the wardrobe to the left that lead to another room, filled with three tightly arranged beds. Harry only spared the briefest of glances to that room. Instead he tip-toed over to Hermione's bed. With the book open over her belly, it was obvious that she had fallen asleep reading.

Harry carefully lifted the book off her. He marked her place, and put it on one of the many bookshelves. He then reached down and pulled up the warm blanket and quilt up to Hermione's neck.

"Harry?" Hermione said, opening her eyes and shifting to meet Harry's

"Yes Hermione," Harry replied softly, his eyes captured by Hermione's gaze.

"I'm glad you're back."

"So am I," Harry said, moving closer. For the first time he bent closer to Hermione, and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. Then he pulled away, taking in Hermione's smile as she shifted into a better position for the night. His eyes remained on her until she found a comfortable position on her side and closed her eyes.

Only then did Harry head for his own bed and the sweet dreams of family.