Scattered

Hermione waved her wand over the empty glass, filling it with ice chips, and set a cooling charm on the cloth in her other hand. She tucked her wand in her pocket and hurried back to Penny. Madame Pomfrey stood at the foot of the bed, with Percy on the near side. Hermione moved around to Penny's other side and offered her the cup of ice chips. "Here you go," she said soothingly, and then gently wiped the sweat from the other girl's forehead with the cool cloth.

"Thank you," Penny managed. Percy took the cup from her and fed her a few slivers of ice at a time, moistening her parched lips.

Madame Pomfrey frowned. She hadn't necessarily wanted Hermione in the room for the birth, she knew, but hadn't been able to countermand the young mother-to-be's wishes.

"Are you sure Molly wouldn't be better?" Hermione herself had asked. "She's done this herself often enough, and she is Percy's mum, and..."

"I love Molly," Penny had interrupted, massaging her belly. "She's wonderful. But she's a bit, well, pushy sometimes. I know she means well. I'm just saying... I think I'd rather that Percy and I had our first baby without Molly Weasley in charge. It's my childbirth, you know? I get the pain, I get to be running the show."

Hermione had smiled. "I understand."

"But it would be nice to have a friend there, you know, in case Percy gets upset or flustered, or I do, and I trust you, Hermione," Penny had said, squeezing her hand as a contraction began. "If you don't mind, I mean, we'd appreciate it."

That had been several hours ago, when Penny's labor had just begun. Her sister-in-law was now in considerably more pain and Hermione wished she could do something to help. For the time being, though, there was nothing anyone could do.

Penny herself had explained magical births to Hermione. Mediwizards had long ago determined that it was unwise to interfere, magically, during the first several stages of labor; pain-reducing potions had produced nasty birth defects and were absolutely avoided. Hermione had reflected once or twice before that magical medicine was uselessly stubborn in its refusal to employ any Muggle techniques; Penny had concurred that it was a shame witches and wizards wouldn't dream of considering something as simple as an epidural.

In the final stage of labor, however, magic could lend a hand. Once the baby had reached the birth canal, magic was used expand and stretch muscles and skin, allowing the baby to be delivered with little to no struggle. Penny had also mentioned that magical cesarean births, while rare, involved little to no recovery time, a boon to new mothers.

Hermione had agreed to be there, of course, and though it made her nervous to see Penny in pain, she did her best to be of help. Percy, unfortunately, was too worried and panicked to be able to form a coherent thought; he stayed by Penny's side and coached her through her breathing exercises (They'll use Lamaze - oh, by another name, of course - but not perfectly useful Muggle drugs, Hermione thought, annoyed), but his own eyes were bright and his own breathing consisted of anxious gulps of air. Hermione eyed him critically and, coming to a decision, stood. "I'll be back in just a moment, Pen. Promise," she said, patting her hand.

She slipped out and walked briskly down the hall to her own rooms. Leaving the door open behind her, she headed for the small cabinet Charlie had given them as a wedding present.

"Has the baby come, then?" Ron asked from the sofa, folding up the Quidditch magazine he'd been reading, the one with the Cannons on the cover, from three years ago. It was dog-eared and ratty, the pages held together only by magic at this point, but Ron never seemed to get tired of it.

"No, though I think we're almost there," she answered, kneeling down and moving aside the crystal goblets (from Kingsley) and the bottle of champagne, a parting gift from her mother ("For your one month anniversary, dear, or some other special occasion."), and finally found, in the back, the bottle of firewhiskey Hamish McFusty had given to Ron on the night of their engagement. We have a staggering number of thank-you notes to write, she thought as she stood and turned to leave. "I'll let everyone know as soon as the baby's born, I promise."

"Wait," Ron said, standing and rounding the sofa to snake his arm around her waist. "What's the firewhiskey for? Penny--"

"It's not for Penny," she said, reaching up to kiss him lightly on the cheek. "It's for your brother. I don't think I've ever seen anymore more in need of a drink."

Ron's eyes widened and he laughed. "That bad? Poor sod. Of course, Percy always was something of a Nervous Nelly."

"Don't laugh at your brother, you insensitive lout," she said with some asperity, feeling it wasn't quite fair to pick on poor Percy. True, there was nothing to be concerned about, really; Madame Pomfrey was very confident and said that Penny was doing just fine, progressing as she should and that there appeared to be no problems. Molly had reassured Penny many times over the past few months that magical births seemed difficult first, but that the pain ended before it got too bad. Hermione knew Penny was nervous, though, because she knew that this wasn't quite the case with Muggle births. And Percy was nervous because Penny was, just as simple as that. Hermione thought he was doing fine, considering, and had gone to fetch him a little 'Irish courage', as her dad used to say. "He's doing his best to support Penny and that's all that matters. As if you'd be doing much better, in his shoes."

"Well, we'll find out someday, I guess, won't we?" he asked, and she felt her annoyance melt away. He smiled softly and pulled her close, his lips sliding over hers intoxicatingly. She resisted at first, knowing she needed to get back to Penny and Percy, finally only giving in for just a moment, tipping her head back and clutching his shoulder with her free hand. She felt his lips smile around their kiss and one of his hands came up between them to cup her breast, lovingly. She sighed and pulled away.

"I have to get back," she whispered.

"Can't spare a minute... or two?"

"I thought you were going to play Quidditch with Harry," she said with a frown, remembering his earlier plans.

Ron shrugged. "Harry said he couldn't go. Something about needing to talk to Remus, I dunno."

She ran her fingers through his hair, lightly. She could tell he was bothered by Harry's preoccupation over the past few weeks, since their wedding, really. She wondered if Harry was trying, in his own way, to give them space to be alone together -- something they didn't especially need or want him to do, not after all of the months they'd spent alone already, without him. She'd have a talk with Harry about it, she resolved, later.

"Go find your parents, then," she said, "and Ginny. There should be news soon and then we'll all celebrate together."

He nodded, gave her a final squeeze and let go. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Even when I'm an insensitive lout?"

"Even then."

* * * * *

"Whoo-HOO!" Charlie yelled, grabbing his mum and lifting her off her feet. "I can't believe it. A girl?!"

"Yes," Molly said. "But set me down right now, Charles, right now!"

Hermione smiled, watching them. She felt rather exuberant herself, even if she wasn't showing it the way Charlie was. The delivery had gone just as Madame Pomfrey had promised. When a Muggle doctor would have told Penny to start pushing, instead she'd flicked her wand and the baby was out in the blink of an eye. The shock had been written all over Penny's face; she told Hermione, later, that it had felt extremely strange but hadn't hurt at all.

"I'm not sure I want to know exactly how that spell works," Percy had said. "You are feeling, um, back to normal now, aren't you?" he'd asked, glancing at Pomfrey, his ears as red as Ron's had ever been. The nurse had sighed and informed him that the stretching spell was completely temporary, of course, and that he had nothing to be stammering on about.

Penny may have been shocked about the birthing process, but Percy (and the rest of the Weasleys, once they'd known) had been far more shocked to discover that the baby was a girl -- a squalling, blue-eyed (for now), redheaded girl who had settled down very contentedly in her mother's arms. Ginny had been the first Weasley girl in generations; no one had expected another one so soon.

"You're not disappointed, are you?" Penny had asked her husband.

He had scowled at her, looking, Hermione thought, like Ron again. "Are you mad? I'm thrilled. I'm... I'm overwhelmed. I'm happier than I've ever been in my life. Disappointed, don't be ridiculous." Penny had smiled at him. "We didn't really pick any girl names, though."

"I did," Penny said. "Well, I have one in mind."

Percy had beamed. "Whatever it is, it's fine with me. Well," he'd said, pausing to reflect. "within reason. I mean to say, I don't entirely fancy having a daughter named Esmeralda, for example." He'd stopped and blanched. "Oh no, Esmeralda's your favorite name or something, isn't it, and I've just offended you and ruined the baby's name and..."

"It's not Esmeralda," Penny had told him calmly, shifting the baby a bit. "It's Jane."

"After your mother? That's very nice."

"Yes. After my mother... and after you, Hermione Jane. Because you're not just my sister now, after all," she'd said. "You're my best friend, too, and I think any little girl would be proud to be named after someone like that."

Hermione's eyes misted up a bit, even now, thinking about it. She couldn't begin to express how touched she'd been by Penny's words, and by the gesture. When she'd told Ron about it he'd hugged her hard, kissing her warmly on her forehead, knowing how moved she was.

Hermione had hardly been able to contain the huge grin from her face as she'd trailed into the common room behind Percy to announce the news. After shouts of congratulations and surprise, he'd taken his parents back with him to see the baby, and Penny. When Molly and Arthur had returned, the other Weasleys had gone in turns, so as not to overwhelm the new mother and baby all at once. Charlie, who'd been out of the castle, was just returning now and the last to hear the exciting news.

Still grinning, Hermione helped Winky unload a tray of butterbeers onto the table, taking one for herself and one for Ron. She brought it over to where he stood talking to his dad and Bill. He slid his arm around her and flashed her a grin of thanks, but then got drawn into conversation again, leaving her to her thoughts.

From their very first year at Hogwarts, Hermione -- and Harry -- had always been made to feel very welcomed by the Weasley family. Mr. Weasley was always kind, and Mrs. Weasley always warm and motherly... barring that time fourth year, of course, when she'd thought Hermione was breaking Harry's heart. Hermione smiled, thinking of it now, and remembered fondly how kind and embarrassed Mrs. Weasley had been after she'd learned of her mistake.

Bill, Charlie, even the twins in their own wild way, and certainly Ginny, who'd been her first real female friend, in many ways... they'd all gone out of their way to make Hermione feel involved, included. And she truly had always felt that way. She hadn't imagined, in fact, that marrying Ron would make any difference at all, not as far as the Weasley family was concerned. And it hadn't. It was her own feelings that had changed, surprising her. She'd always been fond of them, and she'd always appreciated their affection and caring. But she realized, now, that she'd held herself apart from them, just a little. She'd always maintained that tiny amount of distance that prevented her from becoming "practically a member of the family".

When she was younger, she supposed, it had everything to do with Ron. As much as she cherished her relationship with Harry, she'd never wanted Ron to think of her as a sister. It had always been her secret suspicion, the fear she was deep-down resigned to facing, that he'd see her the way he saw Ginny and nothing more. Thankfully, she mused, that had never been the case, but she hadn't known that then, and her young, insecure self had spent many anxious moments trying hard not to seem like just another sibling.

Recently though... it had more to do with her parents. If there was any cloud in her sky, bright as it was these days, it was that her parents seemed farther and farther away all the time. Oh, she was incredibly grateful to have had the time with them at the safehouse, and then before the wedding. She'd needed her parents there; she wouldn't have dreamed of walking down that aisle without her father at her side, or without her mother there to help her with her dress. They'd both been a little surprised about the wedding, she knew, though not the engagement itself, not after what they'd talked about over the summer. She suspected they'd expected that, but not for the actual ceremony to take place so soon. They hadn't disagreed, though, not once they were sure it was what Hermione and Ron both wanted.

She loved her parents, and she missed them all the more because with each passing day at Liath Cuan, she felt more and more removed from her old life, both as a Muggle and her parents' daughter, and as the bright young witch who'd been at Hogwarts. She, like Harry and Ron and everyone in the Order, would fight to defeat Voldemort and his regime because it was the right thing to do. A cruel tyrant could not be allowed to massacre innocent people and terrorize those who still lived under his control; he had to be stopped. They would stop him, somehow, she knew it. And then... then, they could leave the island, and go back to school, or to jobs, or wherever they wished. They would be able, all of them, to live their lives as free wizards and witches. They would work together to rebuild, to turn what Voldemort had sullied into something good and right again.

But -- she loved the island. She loved the life she and Ron were building there together, and their family and friends. She wanted her freedom; she didn't want to hide here on Liath Cuan forever. She wanted to be able to get a job, and to Apparate into work like any normal witch. And she wanted Ron to be able to do the same, to pursue becoming a Quidditch coach, maybe, as he'd told her he wanted to, late one night. She thought he'd be brilliant at that, that it would put his gift at planning and strategy to use. Or maybe a flying instructor, he'd said, and she'd kissed him soundly, thinking how good he was with little Christopher and knowing he'd be amazing at that job, too, if he wanted it.

She wanted to get their lives back -- but not the lives they'd had. They were too old, now, for school uniforms and the pursuits of their childhood. They were adults, and she wanted them to have the chance to pursue adult lives in the magical world as it should be. But she also wanted, and she knew Ron wanted, for Liath Cuan to be their home.

She'd always known that choosing a magical life meant separation from her parents, not so much a physical separation but a cultural one. That was the choice she'd already made, but accepting the Weasleys as her "family" had felt like a final step, almost a betrayal, as if she'd turned her back on her mum and dad. She'd resisted it, but now she knew there was room in her heart for both, for the mother and father who had always loved her unconditionally, and for the boisterous, fiercely loyal Weasleys who had accepted her as one of their own in just the same way.

I'm Hermione Weasley now, she thought. That doesn't make me any less my parents' daughter. It just makes me lucky enough to be part of two wonderful families.

"Will everyone please raises their glasses?" Remus said, breaking into her reverie. "I'd like to make a toast." He smiled at Molly and Arthur. "To my two good friends, on the birth of their first grandchild: Molly, you don't look nearly old enough, and Arthur, well, cheers." Everyone laughed. "Congratulations to you, to all of the Weasleys, and especially to Percy and Penny and to little Janie Weasley."

Ron clinked his bottle to hers as everyone applauded. Arthur was laughing and thumping Remus on the shoulder, while Molly was talking animatedly with Rolanda Hooch. Hermione laughed in surprise as Charlie swept up to them, grabbing her in a hug and stealing her butterbeer for a sip.

"I'll get you another one," he promised, winking.

She waved him off. "No, I'm fine, you finish it." Over his shoulder, though, she spotted Amos Diggory entering the room. At first she thought he was hesitant about interrupting a family party and she stepped towards him, planning on encouraging him to join them. She realized, however, that he was anything but reluctant and instead was making a beeline for Arthur. She watched as Diggory reached her father-in-law and leaned up slightly to say something in his ear. Arthur instantly sobered and his head shot up, looking for his wife in the crowd. Molly and Arthur found each other and, with a nod, both headed toward the door, following Amos.

Hermione saw Harry across the room and knew he had observed the entire scene as well. No one else, she realized, seemed to have noticed. Extricating herself from Charlie and Ron's exuberant conversation, she crossed over to him, worried.

"Do you think something's wrong?" she asked him quietly.

Harry smiled slightly. "I don't think so, 'Mione. Mr. Weasley didn't look upset. I was watching his face and he seemed more excited than worried."

"Then what's going on?"

"We'll find out," he said with a shrug. "Wait and see."

Hermione grimaced, but didn't say anything.

"Penny and the baby are doing okay?" Harry asked.

She frowned. "Didn't you go in to see them?"

He shook his head. "No, no. I don't want to intrude. I'll pay a visit in a few days, though, I promise." He smiled at her again. "Tonight they should just be with family."

Hermione squeezed his arm briefly. She understood, he knew, as no one else did. "Harry, have you been avoiding Ron lately?" she asked quietly. "Ron and me, I mean. You're not trying give us 'space' or something daft like that, are you?"

"Well, I didn't think it would hurt to give you two newlyweds some time alone," he teased.

She huffed, rolling her eyes. "Harry, we get plenty of 'alone time', never fear." He laughed and took a sip of his butterbeer. Hermione watched him carefully, suddenly not as convinced of his intentions. "That's not it, though, is it," she said, and his eyes flicked away from hers, confirming her suspicions. "There's something else going on."

He sighed. "I've just been busy."

"Busy doing what?"

"Hermione--"

"Harry, give up. Do you really think you can hide anything from me?" she asked, scowling.

He chuckled. "No, I don't. Hence the avoiding."

"Well, that's gone on long enough. I want you to..."

Hermione trailed off, seeing Amos Diggory come into the room once again, entering this time from the stairs that led to the Bringing Room, below. "Harry--"

"I see him," Harry replied.

Amos turned and helped a young woman into the room; Hermione was shocked to see that it was Parvati Patil. She rushed forward, taking the other girl's arm and leading her to a chair. "Oh my goodness, Parvati! Are you alright?" she asked.

"I think so." She was so much thinner than Hermione remembered, her eyes sunken and her voice a rough whisper, as if she had gone a long time without using it. "Are we safe here?" she asked, urgently. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes, we are," Hermione reassured her. "Completely, believe me."

Parvati smiled, a ghost of her former self showing through. "I do. If you say it, it has to be true. Hermione Granger is never wrong about anything."

"Oh, I'm wrong all the time, I am, but not about this," Hermione reassured her. "Can you stand? I want to take you to the Infirmary. Madame Pomfrey is here, she can look at you. And I can go get Padma."

"Padma's here?!" Parvati asked, gripping her arms almost painfully. "She's okay?"

Hermione nodded. "She's fine."

Parvati released her and sank back, drained. "Fred said she was, but I... I was afraid to believe him."

"Fred?" Hermione asked, confused. Suddenly she realized there was a buzz of activity around her; she'd tuned it out, worried about her old roommate. She stood and swung around, looking for Ron, and spotted him coming up the stairs with his arm around Fred, their father on the other side. Molly was trailing behind them, her face all at once anxious and relieved.

Hermione watched as they lowered Fred into a chair. He was unconscious, she saw, his face streaked with dirt and blood. She turned to Parvati. "Did he find George? Was he with you?" she asked, her heart racing, daring to hope.

But Parvati shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. I don't know where George is."