The Quality of Mercy

Well, I was able to update a little faster this time. I'm hoping to get one more chapter done before November hits and I disappear to do NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month.) Thank you for your patience and reviews!

Nine: New Arrivals and Old Enemies

Of course the aftermath was awkwardness itself -- Hermione had stepped away, cheek hot with embarrassment and her hands shaking. She'd murmured something about having to leave, and Severus did nothing to stop her. He merely nodded and showed her to the door, his own features revealing no hint of what had just passed between them. Indeed, Hermione might have thought the entire exchange just a fevered dream, were it not that on the threshold he raised his hand to cup her cheek, his fingers brushing against her flushed skin. Then he said, "Who would have thought you would grow to be so beautiful?" just before he leaned down and kissed her once again, a hard, swift kiss that was immediately followed by the cottage door slamming shut behind her.

Feeling even more as if she'd been hit repeatedly in the head by a Bludger, Hermione couldn't do much more than stagger away from the house and then gather her wits just enough so she wouldn't end up Splinching herself into oblivion when she Disapparated. As she stumbled into her own dim, snow-dusted front yard, she blinked, straining through the darkness to more clearly determine exactly what she was seeing. On her doorstep sat not one, not two, but three owls, all of them shifting from foot to foot in the agitated manner she'd learned over the years meant they had been waiting for some time.

The afterglow of Severus Snape's kiss abruptly evaporated. At once she hurried over to the three birds and reached out to the one closest to her, a large barn owl she didn't recall ever seeing before. When she unwrapped the parchment from its leg, she immediately recognized the writing the note contained -- Harry's untidy scrawl.

Where the bloody hell are you?

Polite as ever, Hermione thought, but despite the sense of shaky indignation that one brief sentence had aroused in her, she stepped toward the owl she did recognize, the Weasleys' ancient Errol. He seemed the least agitated of the trio, although perhaps he was just glad of the rest her lengthy absence had afforded him. With an air of weary relief he allowed her to remove the parchment he carried, then ruffled his feathers ever so slightly and sank back down on the doormat.

Hermione unrolled the parchment and felt a sudden onrush of guilt and worry as she read the brief note in Molly's clear, round hand. Ginny is in St. Mungo's. We checked at the Ministry, but you'd already gone home. Come as soon as you can.

"Ginny in St. Mungo's" could only mean one thing. Although she was several weeks early, Ginny was over in London about to give birth to her first child -- while Hermione had been off in the wilds of Yorkshire kissing Severus Snape.

The heat flamed in Hermione's cheeks once again, but she knew she didn't have time to stop for self-recriminations. All she could do was Disapparate once again, this time to St. Mungo's...and hope she wouldn't be too late.

***

After she had Apparated in a safe alley a few blocks away from the hospital and then made her way past the grotty red-brick exterior and "welcoming witch" in the main reception area who was anything but, Hermione found herself surrounded by a group of very worried Weasleys. They were all here, it seemed, right down to little Victoire.

The explosion of redheaded Weasleys around her was somewhat overwhelming after the quiet intensity of Severus' cottage in Yorkshire. Hermione blinked at their exclamations, then focused on Harry, who paused long enough in his anxious pacing to snap, "Took you long enough," before he jammed his hands back in his pockets and stared moodily down the corridor he had been facing.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione managed. "I was out -- erm, walking. I've done quite a bit of that lately. Helps clear my head."

If anyone thought taking a pleasure stroll on a freezing January evening was a bit barmy, they decided to forgo mentioning the fact. Molly gave her a quick hug and said, "Well, the important thing is you're here now. Ginny's still with the Healers -- this one looks as if he's going to take his time."

"How do you know eet is going to be a he?" inquired Fleur, shifting a fidgety Victoire from one arm to another.

"Grandmothers just know these things," Molly replied airily. Fleur rolled her eyes but appeared to decide the subject wasn't worth arguing.

Hermione merely smiled to herself. Although the two had declared an uneasy truce, it was still clear -- at least to her -- that they would keep picking at one another until one of them was in the grave. Perhaps even after, if Molly decided to emulate Mrs. Black and have a highly vocal portrait placed in Bill and Fleur's home.

George appeared to be keeping his father and brothers occupied with some brightly spinning widget that seemed to have no real use except to provide a minor diversion for those who were easily bored in class -- or hospital waiting rooms, Hermione supposed. She stepped over to Harry and said, "I really am sorry. Time just got away from me."

Once again Harry halted his restless pacing. "Must've been some walk."

"What do you mean?"

Those bright green eyes suddenly seemed far too penetrating. "I don't know -- you look sort of...glowing. Your cheeks are pink."

"Just that bracing January air," Hermione replied, hoping she wouldn't betray herself by blushing any more deeply. Of course she hadn't bothered to stop and check her appearance in a mirror before she had rushed over here. Was it really that obvious? Was her mouth still swollen from Severus Snape's importunate kisses?

He called me beautiful, she thought then, and despite the fact that Harry kept staring down at her as if she had just turned a particularly interesting shade of purple, Hermione couldn't quell the rush of improbable joy which rushed through her at the realization. Severus Snape, who had probably handed out only three or four compliments during the whole of his existence, had thought she was beautiful.

"Hmpf," said Harry, but it seemed he was too preoccupied at the moment to question her any further. He took a few steps away from her, and then turned back, the strain clear on his face. "Does it always take this long?" he demanded suddenly.

"Erm," Hermione said, feeling at an unaccustomed loss. She usually regarded herself as an expert on most subjects, but pregnancy and childbirth were not matters she had spent a good deal of time researching. She'd always thought she would have plenty of time for that sort of thing later. "How long have you been here?"

"Almost three hours."

Well, she was no authority, but Hermione knew that wasn't a significant amount of time, especially for a first child. "That's nothing," she replied. "My mum was in labor almost twenty hours with me."

Harry looked aghast. "Twenty hours?"

This was probably not the time to reveal that, after all those hours of labor, Hermione had finally come into this world via C-section. Despite his Muggle upbringing, Harry shared the wizarding world's horror of "modern medicine," and very likely the thought of someone slicing into Ginny's abdomen to deliver the child would do nothing to improve his state of mind.

"Didn't you and Ginny discuss this at all?" Hermione asked, hoping she didn't sound too desperate.

"Well, of course we did. But she said her mum never had a hard time, and Ginny was out in less than two hours."

No doubt, Hermione thought. By the time number seven came along, Molly probably could have delivered Ginny in between rounds of laundry. But she knew better than to say such a thing out loud, so Hermione only answered, "Then there you go. I'm sure Ginny will do splendidly. I've heard easy childbirths tend to run in families."

As a matter of fact, she hadn't heard any such a thing, since domestic matters in general tended to bore her, but the statement had the desired effect. Some of the tension went out of Harry's shoulders, and he even managed a wan smile. "That's good," he said. "Molly keeps trying to reassure me, but I don't know how much of it is actually true and how much is just her trying to keep me from tearing my hair out."

Hermione had no way of knowing, either, but she cast a surreptitious glance over her shoulder at Molly, who had settled herself down into one of the waiting room's chairs and had produced an enormous ball of shocking-orange yarn. Repressing a shudder, Hermione could only hope that whatever the shapeless mass of knitting in Molly's lap might be, it wasn't intended for her. Orange had never been a color Hermione particularly cared for. More important than the knitting, however, was the fact that Molly looked rather serene, given the circumstances. Surely if Ginny were in any danger, Molly Weasley wouldn't be sitting there working away at her knitting with an air of placid determination. And even though this wasn't Molly's first grandchild, Ginny was her only daughter, and if there were a problem, she would no doubt have let everyone around her know how worried she was. Molly had never been particularly good at keeping things in.

"I would think Molly knows what she's talking about," Hermione said. "After all, she has been through this seven times."

"True," Harry allowed. "It's just -- you build up to this, and you're off to hospital -- and then it's just more waiting. I've never been very good at waiting."

"Do tell," replied Hermione, in tones dry enough for Severus Snape. Perhaps a little of him had rubbed off in that last encounter.

Her old friend gave her a lopsided grin and said, "That bad, huh?"

"Are you sure you really want me to answer that?"

"Probably not." He hitched his shoulders under the dark robes he wore and added, "I'm glad you made it -- I was starting to worry about you."

"Nothing to worry about," Hermione said, even though once again she could feel the heat begin to burn along her cheekbones. Thank God Harry had never been taught Legilimency! The last thing she needed was for him to pick up the impure thoughts she was having about Severus Snape, even now.... "It's quiet there, in that little woods just down the road from Rosedell. I like to walk there when I get home sometimes. Clears out the cobwebs."

Although Hermione worried that Harry would somehow be able to read the lie on her face, it seemed her fears were for naught. He nodded at once, and gave her a quick sympathetic pat on the arm. "It's been hard for you, I know." His mouth tightened, and he continued, "It's been tough for all of us, but at least Ginny and I had the baby to think about, and you -- "

And I had nothing, Hermione thought, just a void where Ron used to be, and an empty space in the bed beside me each night. She knew she shouldn't be thinking such things, that such paths inevitably led to a prolonged encounter with a box of tissues or her handkerchief, but for some reason she didn't feel the expected stinging of tears at the back of her eyes, or the usual hard little lump in her throat. Could her calm now somehow be the result of her last meeting with Severus Snape?

Well, that's rich, her mind mocked her. Just a few kisses from dear Professor Snape, and it's all better? Are you turning into one of those silly women who thinks she needs a man around to make her complete?

She wished it were that simple. She wished she could just deride the experience as arising from a foolish desire to find someone -- anyone -- to take Ron's place. But Hermione knew it was far more than that. Over the past six months she'd kept to herself and certainly not done anything to attract the attention of men, but lately she'd been surprised on occasion by an admiring glance given in passing in the corridors of the Ministry, or while she was shopping in Diagon Alley. If she'd wished to pursue any of the young men who had looked at her in such a way -- and Lord knows they were all far more suitable than Severus Snape -- she could have done so. No, there was something in Severus' soul that called out to her, some resonance she would never have guessed existed if it weren't for the time they had spend together over the past few weeks. Perhaps it sprang from their mutual isolation. Perhaps it was simply that, deep down, she knew she had a mind few could match, including Ron Weasley, no matter how much she loved him. In Severus, perhaps she had finally found her equal.

That thought felt disloyal in the extreme, and Hermione knew if she'd ever dared to voice such a thing out loud, she'd feel even more terrible for saying it. But now, in the privacy of her own mind, she allowed herself the freedom to acknowledge the fact that Ron, for all his qualities - his courage, his compassion, his humor, and his strength - couldn't begin to compare to her intellectually. This had never bothered her much, since she had known from an early age that very few people could measure up to her level of intelligence. She had dismissed her intellect to Harry once as "books and cleverness," but of course it was far more than that. Mere cleverness could only get one so far.

Severus, on the other hand - well, he had the book learning to match the quickness of mind that Hermione had seen all too often during Potions class. More than once she'd had to keep from smiling at the lightning-fast retorts and insults he doled out. Luckily she'd only been the target of Professor Snape's sharp tongue a few times, although Harry and Ron of course had not escaped so easily. And although she'd disapproved of their use, she couldn't argue with the brilliance of the spells Severus had invented while still at student at Hogwarts. Even now, when he could have been wasting his exile in brooding despair, instead he filled his days with concocting potions and conducting further research into the uses of various plants and extracts. While she still couldn't quite understand his need for isolation, Hermione couldn't say he hadn't been spending his time wisely.

"It's all right," she said at length, after realizing that Harry had been staring down at her with a worried little pucker between his brows. "Really. I mean, I've had six months to deal with this. I'm not saying it'll ever be fine, but at least I don't feel quite as overwhelmed as I did at the beginning."

"You've been doing really well," Harry said. "Everyone thinks so. And I heard about your promotion this morning. Congratulations -- I wanted to drop by and say so in person, but then Ginny..."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Hermione broke in. "You had a lot on your mind."

Harry nodded, then cast another one of those worried little glances down the corridor. Hermione supposed Ginny's room must be somewhere in that direction. "I went to see Ginny at lunch, and she said she was having some pains but tried to tell me that was normal. Well, I don't know what 'normal' is for these sorts of things, but I thought it better to get in touch with Molly, just in case. She told us to come over here at once, so we did - not without Ginny protesting the whole way, of course. It wasn't until one of the Healers told her she really was in labor that she believed it."

Well, that much Hermione could believe. Ginny had a stubborn streak, and she might have decided in her own mind that of course she couldn't be having labor pains, not almost three weeks before she was due.

"But everything's fine?" Hermione asked.

"As far as I know." Harry ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up more than ever. The contrast between his somber robes and disheveled hair was almost comical. "The Healer came out and spoke with us about five minutes before you got here, just to let us know that everything was all right but it might still be some time." He grinned then, and added, "I was in with Ginny for awhile, but after the last bout of contractions, when she started saying it was all my fault for her being in this situation and she was going to Bat-Bogey me into next week once she could concentrate, I thought it was probably better to wait out here."

The whole thing sounded so typically Ginny that Hermione laughed. "Yes, I suppose I can see that!"

Harry grinned, but somehow the smile never reached his eyes. Once again he glanced away from Hermione, his gaze straying toward the place where Ginny must be straining to bring his first child into the world.

Not knowing what else to do, Hermione decided perhaps she should try to distract him with an entirely different topic of conversation. "So guess who's my first investigation?"

"What?"

Harry looked as if he were paying about as much attention to their conversation as he had to their History of Magic classes, but Hermione pressed on anyway. "In the Improper Use of Magic office? My new position? Anyhow, I open the first file, and whose name is staring up at me? Draco Malfoy!"

For the first time Harry seemed to focus on her words. "Malfoy?"

"That's what I just said," she replied, not bothering to keep the testy note from her voice. "I was hoping you might have heard something."

"Me?" Harry shook his head. "No, nothing. As far as I can tell, the Malfoys have been trying to act as squeaky clean as possible lately. I don't think Lucius has even been seen in London for at least a year."

Well, that confirmed what Hermione had already guessed. "So no one in the Auror department has had to deal with them?"

Harry gave a short, humorless laugh. "Hardly. Believe me, that lot don't want to see any of us knocking on their door."

No doubt, which left Hermione with no reason why the Malfoys would be involved in something that resulted in a suspicious concentration of wounded Muggles in their vicinity. She explained what had brought the Ministry's attention to the Malfoys in the first place, and then added, "I know they probably have Muggle-repelling charms all around their estate, but those sorts of spells don't involve injuring people - they just give them an urgent reason to be someplace else. So what could it be?"

"I haven't a bloody idea. Not that I don't think Draco's capable of hurting a bunch of Muggles - I'm sure he'd probably enjoy it - but he's not stupid enough to want to attract that sort of attention."

Which Hermione had thought as well, thus bringing her neatly back to square one. So what exactly was going on at the Malfoys' estate in Wiltshire? Hermione opened her mouth to reply, and was interrupted by the sudden arrival of an older woman wearing the lime-green robes of St. Mungo's Healer staff. The woman smiled and said, "Mr. Potter, I have someone you'd like to meet."

For a second Harry just looked at her blankly. Then he stammered, "You mean - has she -- ?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter. You have a healthy baby boy."

Again he hesitated, as if her words hadn't quite sunk in. Then a blazing smile spread across his features, and he bolted down the corridor toward Ginny's room. Hermione watched him go, feeling a strange mixture of joy and sorrow war within herself. Of course she was happy for Harry and Ginny, glad that they were able to start the family Harry had always wanted so desperately, but seeing her friend's happiness just brought home to Hermione how alone she was.

Or was she? The memory of Severus Snape's mouth on hers, his arms around her, came back to her with sudden force. But had his embrace really meant anything, or was he just responding to his own loneliness and the desire he had seen in her thoughts?

Hermione didn't have time to dwell on the subject any longer, for a tide of Weasleys swirled up and around her as the news sank in. They carried her along to Ginny's room, where a pale but triumphant young woman proudly displayed the carefully bundled infant she held in her arms.

"He looks just like Harry, don't you think?" Ginny asked.

Frankly, Hermione didn't think the baby, who was red-faced and squalling away with a vigor that showed he had nothing wrong with his lungs, looked like much of anyone at all. However, he did have a healthy head of black hair, so in that he favored the Potter men more than the Weasleys, if nothing else.

Instead of giving a direct answer, she replied, "So what's his name?"

"James Sirius Potter," Harry answered immediately.

Hermione should have expected that - she had known "James" and "Lily" had been bandied about as possible names for the child, depending on its sex. The introduction of "Sirius" was something of a surprise, though. For some reason she had thought Harry might have included "Albus" in his son's name.

I hope he grows up to be a little more prudent than his namesake, she thought, but she only smiled and said, "He's a beautiful baby."

George flashed a wicked grin and interjected, "Beautiful? He looks like the wrong end of a Blast-Ended Skrewt!"

"George!" cried Molly, Fleur, and Ginny all at once, and then the scene devolved into a vociferous argument as to whether newborns could ever be attractive, with Molly vigorously defending James Sirius's good looks and her sons asserting that he was far too red and crumpled to be anything close to attractive.

Feeling a little overwhelmed, Hermione inched her way back toward the door, where she planned to make her escape as soon as she could without looking horribly impolite. Not that Harry and Ginny would even notice her absence, given the crush of Weasleys all around the bed. She looked on as the group continued their lively chatter, wishing she possessed the inclination to join in, and wondering if she would ever truly feel part of the family again, now that Ron was gone...and now she knew she had begun to give her heart to another.

***

The next day Hermione found herself in Diagon Alley. Although she had already bought Ginny several baby presents, she had heard one of the other young women at the Ministry talking about something called Nolly's No-Nasty Nappies, a new type of diapers that apparently cleaned themselves, thus freeing new mothers from the drudgery of endless washing and grotty diaper pails. Purists disparaged the invention, saying it would lead to a generation of young women who couldn't even manage their own washing, but Hermione was of the opinion that if something magical made your life easier, why not avail yourself of it? Of course, the Nappies were quite expensive, but she thought Ginny would definitely appreciate a set.

After searching through several stores - Madam Malkin did not look very pleased when asked as to whether her shop carried the new item -- Hermione managed to scoop up the second-to-last package at Septimus' Sundries, a shop just past Twilfit & Tatting's where one could acquire all sorts of interesting and sometimes even useful items. She had just emerged from the doorway of Septimus' Sundries when she almost collided with another young woman who had left the dress shop next door at the same moment.

Stepping back, Hermione said, "Excuse me -- " and then broke off as she realized the person she was addressing was none other than Pansy Parkinson.

Pansy Malfoy, Hermione corrected herself, recalling the announcement she had read in the Daily Prophet about Pansy and Draco's Christmastime nuptials.

As she got a better glimpse of the other young woman, Hermione thought Pansy appeared to be anything but the glowing new bride. Although Pansy had grown into her looks, just as Hermione had - Harry's disparaging comments about pugs notwithstanding - her face was drawn and pale, shadows showing under her eyes despite a careful application of powder. The color on her lips looked stark and overdone in contrast.

As their eyes met, Hermione saw Pansy's nostrils flare in dislike. The erstwhile Slytherin pulled her fur-trimmed velvet robes a little bit more closely around herself, as if she had just approached a dirty vagrant instead of another young woman of similar station, although Hermione's robes of fine wool were nowhere near as sumptuous as Pansy's.

Hermione felt her own apologetic smile freeze on her lips, although she managed to say politely enough, "Hello, Pansy."

Pansy's eyes narrowed, but she replied, "Hermione," in tones chillier than the frosty January air and gave the smallest nod courtesy required. She clutched the parcel she carried more closely against her, then turned and stalked off down the street, the dragging train of her robes trailing through the slush that covered the uneven cobblestones.

Well, I wonder what that was about, Hermione thought, watching the other woman's departing figure until her mulberry-colored robes were swallowed up in the crowds. Certainly she hadn't expected Pansy to embrace her as a long-lost friend, but they were both adults now - one would have expected at least a modicum of courtesy.

Unless she knows what Draco's been up to and doesn't want to be within ten yards of someone from the Improper Use of Magic office, Hermione mused. That would explain a lot.

It didn't explain Pansy's odd pallor, or the fact that she appeared as if she'd spent one too many sleepless nights. Hermione knew that look too well from seeing it on her own face not to recognize it in someone else. Strange for someone who had just married the person she'd pursued all through school, however. One would think Pansy should be glowing with the joy of being Mrs. Draco Malfoy.

Perhaps they had to get married, Hermione thought suddenly. Ginny had looked awfully tired the first few months of her own pregnancy, drawn from bouts of morning sickness no potion seemed able to cure. She had perked up quickly enough after the third month, but for a while she had resembled the walking dead. If Pansy were pregnant, it could account for her drawn appearance. And perhaps things weren't all sunshine and flowers at Malfoy Manor because no one was overly thrilled with the situation.

Better that than some dark plot involving the entire Malfoy clan, Pansy included. Now if Hermione could only figure out what exactly was happening to all those Muggles...and why.