The Joining of the Three

Chapter 2

"Licorice twist," Harry muttered, stepping aside as the secret entrance to Professor Dumbledore's office swung open. He'd spent all night flying around the grounds on his old Firebolt, thoughts and ideas running through his head like renegade bludgers. How could this have happened? How could she have let it happen? Because you didn't give her any reason to be on guard, you great prat, Harry berated himself. That'll teach you to go against your instincts.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said as he stepped in front of the Headmaster's desk. "What can I do for you so early in the morning?"

"We have a problem," Harry said, then took a seat. "Hermione's pregnant. I just found out last night. I'd have come here straight away but I had some…er…thinking to do."

"I can imagine," Dumbledore said quietly, his eyes lowered. "How is Hermione?"

"Thrilled beyond measure, but probably ready to pitch me headfirst off the Astronomy Tower after my reaction."

"Didn't do backflips, eh?" Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling behind the half moon glasses. Harry didn't know how he could still be humorous after hearing the dire news.

"Kind of hard to jump when your feet have turned to lead. You know what this means, Headmaster. The timing is right."

"Harry," Professor Dumbledore sighed. "I still think you're making too much out of this. In fact, the more I hear from the Ministry about the scroll, the more I'm sure the whole thing is an elaborate hoax. "

"But Headmaster," Harry began, but Dumbledore raised a hand to stop him.

"Now, Harry. I will admit that the news of Hermione's pregnancy gives me pause. But I think we needn't worry until we have just cause."

"And what would you consider just cause, Albus?" Harry stood to pace the office, completely unaware that he'd just used Dumbledore's first name for the first time.

"Harry, sit down," Dumbledore said quietly and waited until Harry acquiesced. "Now then. The scroll that you received has been translated for the most part, and it does foretell many dark and dangerous happenings. But it is far too detailed and specific to be taken at face value. Let's find out if it's authentic before we start manning the battlements, shall we? In the meantime, I'd say you have some bridges to mend with your wife."

"But…"

Dumbledore interrupted. "Since you were an infant, the eyes of the wizarding world have followed you. And maybe we looked to you more than we should have. I daresay it's made you a bit more prone to look for the bad in every situation. For now, try and let it go. Let the Ministry worry about portents of doom while you enjoy this wonderful gift with your wife. I'd say you've earned a break. And if you need to break your silence about the scroll to Hermione, then do it. Keeping panic out of the wizarding world is one thing, marital harmony is another."

Harry muddled over Dumbledore's words all the way to the staff tower. Maybe he was right, maybe the whole thing was a hoax. Harry hoped that was true. He prayed it was. But if it wasn't? Down, Potter, Harry scolded himself, we're going to have a baby. Reckon you could concentrate on that for a while? For the first time since Hermione told him, Harry allowed himself a slight smile.

As he reached the landing and approached their quarters, he grew nervous. There was no question that Hermione would be mad at him. The question was how mad? And would she still be speaking to him?

And more importantly, would he still be able to speak after she'd transfigured him into a rat for Crookshanks to play with?

^*^*^*

While Harry was talking to Dumbledore, Hermione was tossing and turning in bed. She'd spent the night springing to her feet at every sound, waiting for Harry's return. But he hadn't come back. As dawn's fingers threaded their way through the window, Hermione realized she'd be getting no more than the few fragments of slumber she'd managed. She threw the covers off in disgust, dislodging an extremely angry Crookshanks.

Tentatively, she flattened her hands over the small rise in her abdomen. How could she have not known? Smart as she was, how could she have overlooked the signs? Despite the sadness in her heart, she smiled. Obsessive Hermione strikes again, she thought. Work on the AK rebound and her new duties as part time instructor for Muggle Studies had kept her so busy...

But now she knew. Knew she was pregnant. With Harry's child. The thought delighted her. Enthralled her. Scared her. Poppy had told her she was about three months along. That gave her six months to read up on babies, parenthood and so on. She just hoped that Harry would want to learn about these things with her -- but his skulking out of their apartment last night hadn't left her very optimistic.

She was still alternating between anger, worry and sadness over Harry's reaction but the feelings were less intense than they'd been the night before. Hermione was sure that he'd just been shocked. That once he let the news of his impending fatherhood sink in, he'd be as overjoyed as she was. And if he isn't? A horrid little voice whispered in the back of her mind. If he wasn't, well…she'd deal with that, too.

Not bothering with her dressing gown, Hermione rose from the bed and walked to the full-length mirror outside of the bathroom. Still awed by the idea of Harry's baby growing within her, she couldn't seem to stop looking for signs of it. She pulled the fabric of her nightgown taut across her stomach and saw that their child was already making itself known. Not by much, she thought, but I can tell.

Harry walked in at that moment. Apparently, he could tell as well. His eyes immediately flew to the change in her shape, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Where did you go?" Hermione asked quietly, knowing that this conversation was more important than any they'd ever had.

"Quidditch pitch," Harry said in a monotone. "Then I stopped to talk to Dumbledore for a few minutes."

They stared at each other. Harry's green eyes, full of remorse and love, met Hermione's cinnamon ones, full of worry and love. The love won out and he sank to the bed, covering his face with his hands. "I'm sorry, Mione. That was a rotten thing I said last night. It just came as a bit of a shock…we've never even talked about children. Forgive me?" His voice carried a hint of the boy he'd been, locked in a cupboard and denied nearly everything.

Hermione was at his side in a flash. "Of course I forgive you. But I reserve the right to throw it in your face for the next fifty or sixty years. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough," he agreed solemnly.

She crouched in front of him, taking his hands away from his face, desperate to see acceptance in his green eyes and a little frightened when she didn't. "It's normal to feel a little scared, Harry. This is a big step, for both of us. But we've got at least six months before the baby arrives. That gives us loads of time to prepare."

"It's not just that, Mione. There's something you don't know," Harry said softly and stood to pace again, running trembling fingers through his hair. "About five months ago, a scroll was sent to me anonymously. It was very old, tattered and nearly illegible. Translators at the Ministry have been working on it ever since and have discovered that it contains a prophecy. It foretells Voldemort's rise and fall, as well as the next evil to cross the wizarding world. A child born dark, a Daemonica."

"Daemonica?" Hermione's brow furrowed. "I've never heard of it."

"No one has, but that was one of the first words translated. According to the scroll, this child will be born five years after Voldemort's final downfall. And that happened nearly five years ago, Hermione."

Hermione was stunned. She'd expected Harry to tell her he was nervous, not about an ancient prophecy. Especially one that said she may be carrying a demon child. Her hands immediately clutched her stomach protectively.

"What does Dumbledore think?"

"He's sure the whole thing is a hoax, says it's too specific to be a true prophecy."

Hermione, who hadn't taken her hands away from her stomach, raised watery brown eyes to his. "And what do you think?"

"I…" he began, then made his decision right then and there. He may still harbor fears that the prophecy was true. He may worry for the remaining six months of Hermione's pregnancy, but right at this moment, Hermione needed reassurance. She needed to believe that it was nothing. "I think he's right."

Exhaling in great relief, Hermione flung her arms around Harry's neck. They lay back on the bed, Harry cradling her in his arms. Instinctively, his hand sought out her stomach. When he felt the slight rise, his breath caught in his throat. "A baby," he breathed.

"Our baby," she smiled and turned into his kiss.

^*^*^*^*^

Ron stared at the letter in front of him, wondering at exactly which point his life had begun to spiral out of control. Had it been when he'd kissed Mariah? Or did it go all the way back to fighting off that bloody troll with Harry? When it came down to brass tacks, he supposed it had all begun with his sitting with a rather shy, black haired, green eyed boy on the train to Hogwarts.

If he'd just crammed into the crowded compartment with his brothers, he wouldn't have the myriad of problems coursing through his brain right now. Okay, maybe that wasn't quite true. But in a brief moment of inner child tantrum, he wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe that had he made different friends at Hogwarts, he wouldn't have turned into the current dumping ground for the troubles of his closest friends. Unfortunately, he believed in fate just enough to accept that he, Harry and Hermione would have become close no matter where he'd sat that September morning.

That didn't alleviate the confusion and worry battling for prominence in his thoughts, though. Just to keep it straight in his own head, he ticked off the current load of troubles he was contending with.

Mariah was hidden in his apartment upstairs, still battered and weak, just beginning to recover from her abduction -- the same abduction that had left her without a voice. Not to mention that he was Bonded to her, whatever the bloody hell that meant, and that he was almost positive she was lying to him about something.

Harry had just left from telling him that Hermione was pregnant. News he'd imparted with all the enthusiasm of a man talking about an upcoming confinement at Azkaban. The whole time he'd spoken, he'd kept fiddling with his glasses and Ron knew that Harry was keeping something from him, or lying to him, as well.

Then, just a moment ago, he'd gotten an owl from his sister, wanting him to meet her at her favorite London café. The same sister whom no one in the family had set eyes on in months. And Ginny's letter gave him strict instructions to not reveal her whereabouts to anyone.

Bollocks, with all the secrets he was expected to keep these days it was a wonder his head didn't explode.

"Lissanne?" Ron called from his office. "I've got to leave for a bit. Can you handle things for the rest of the day?"

"No problems I hope, Mr. Weasley?" she asked as she walked up to him.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," Ron said with a self-depreciating sigh.

He Apparated just inside the Leaky Cauldron a moment later, and immediately walked through the door leading to the Muggle London streets. He didn't much like London, but the café Ginny had found was the one exception. CrossRoads was run by a wizard and his Muggle wife and attracted mostly the younger generation of both the wizarding world and the Muggle one. An added bonus, in Ron's mind anyway, was that they accepted wizard gold. Not having to deal with the exorbitant Gringott's exchange rates was always a plus.

Walking quickly, he made his way through the crowds of people on the sidewalks, scanning the people sitting out front as he drew nearer. Her flame red hair was impossible to miss, especially when she was standing and waving at him like a groupie at a Quidditch match.

"Ron!" She called to him, her face beaming with happiness.

His face, however, was twisted in exasperation. "Where the bloody hell have you been?" he asked without preamble.

"I'm fine, Ron. How are you?" Ginny asked, some of the light leaving her eyes.

"Sorry," Ron felt immediately contrite. "Had a Mum moment there. How have you been? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's wonderful," Ginny beamed back, her face so filled with joy even her freckles appeared to be dancing. "Just wonderful."

"Glad to hear someone's life's going according to plan," Ron muttered, then signaled a passing waiter for coffee. He'd have liked something stronger, but couldn't risk the loosening of his tongue, not with all he had hidden in his head.

"Why do you say that?" Ginny asked, sipping her tea.

"Nothing, just muttering to myself. So what's all the secrecy about, Gin? Where have you been? While the letters are nice, Mum's getting a little concerned that you haven't been to see them."

"I've been…er…busy with something."

"Care to elaborate?" Ron was growing weary with the secrets and deception surrounding him these days.

"Let me ask you something first. Have you ever met someone and felt a, I don't know, a bond with them right from the start?"

Ron nearly knocked over the coffee the waiter had just placed before him. Mentally shaking his head at his sister's use of the word "bond", Ron placidly picked up his coffee cup and studied her over the rim.

Ginny was always an exuberant person, except when she'd been around Harry those first few years at Hogwarts. But there was something different about her, something…more. He guessed that whatever was making her so happy was doing so from the inside out.

"Can't say that I have," he said finally, ignoring the image of Mariah's face that sprang into his head, "except with Harry and Hermione. I am assuming that you have?"

"Yes. That's where I've been. With him."

"But why does your being with him prevent you from seeing your family?"

"It doesn't, Ron. I'm here with you now, aren't I? I just…well, I got an owl from Mum yesterday. She's hinting that she's going to come and find me if I don't show up soon. And I'm not ready to bring this man into the family chaos yet -- it's still too new. I just want more time for us before the rest of the Weasley clan gets a chance at him. Do you understand?"

Ron did. If his mum got news that Ginny was bringing a man home to meet them, she'd have Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George and him there, ready to size him up. The same thing had happened to Iain when she'd first started dating him. The poor bloke never went to the Burrow again, if memory served. Ron supposed that having six older brothers had its drawbacks when it came to dating.

"And you want me to tell Mum that we've had coffee today, that you're fine and not to go chasing after you, right?" Ron guessed.

"Yes," she sighed out her great relief.

"I trust I'll get to meet this man eventually, though? Someone's got to find out if his intentions are honorable," he grinned at his sister, then the grin faded as she frowned slightly.

"You will, Ron," she stated a little too forcefully. "I need to find the right time. I mean, I know our relationship isn't going to always go smoothly. I know there are going to be problems in the future, but I also know that with him beside me they'll all seem trivial."

Ron watched her as she left the café a few minutes later. Her words were echoing around in his head. He suddenly felt very bad about the way he'd been acting towards Mariah. Ever since they'd talked, he'd been avoiding her. Well, not so much avoiding her as…yeah, he'd been avoiding her. And he got a sick feeling in his stomach because of it.

He stood, placed some money on the table and began to walk slowly towards the Leaky Cauldron. Once he got back, he'd spend more time with Mariah. Talk to her, try and find out more…he almost tripped when the sick feeling came back again. Only this time it felt more like pain.

And this time, he swore he heard Mariah's voice along with it. Ron didn't run so much as walk very quickly back to the Leaky Cauldron, Apparating to his apartment within seconds of the pub door closing behind him.

"Mariah?" he called as soon as he was back in the apartment.

What? What's wrong?

"That's my line," he panted, opening the door to her room. "I was in London with Ginny and I felt…sick. I got the feeling it had something to do with you." Saying it out loud, he felt like a foolish prat. Probably the same way Harry had felt after taking the second task's song seriously.

My stomach was a little upset just now, but it's nothing. Ron watched her lower her eyes, and felt like a prat all over again, but for different reasons this time.

"Mariah," he said, then paused. "I want to apologize. I've acted like an idiot ever since you told me what happened. It's not your fault you were abducted. It's not your fault you ran out on me…twice."

She cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Well, okay, maybe that was your fault." They both smiled, and Ron's chest suddenly felt lighter.

I'm sorry for all of that, Ron. For putting you in this position. I didn't know where else to go.

"I'm glad you came to me, Mariah." Tentatively, he moved to the side of her bed and sat on the edge. "Really. And let's make a deal, you and I, okay? From this point on, no more apologizing."

Mariah looked up at him, blue eyes shimmering. Deal.

"I'm getting hungry," Ron placed a hand on his stomach and checked his watch. "Definitely dinner time. So what's say I go out and bring something home from the Three Broomsticks?"

I'd say that sounds wonderful, she smiled. Ron thought the smile actually reached her eyes this time. For the first time since she'd Apparated here, she looked like the Mariah he'd known in America.

An hour later, they were surrounded by the remains of their dinner, still talking. He'd never been a sharing kind of man, but found himself spilling out all the problems that had been lain at his feet. Hermione's pregnancy and Harry's odd reaction to it. Ginny's disappearing act to wherever she was now and whomever she was with. As he talked, he began to feel much better. As if, by just by talking to her, he'd become less encumbered, less stressed. Maybe, he thought, having Mariah here wasn't such a burden after all.

I don't get Harry's reaction, though. I wonder why he didn't sound too pleased about Hermione being pregnant. Doesn't he want children?

"I dunno. That's not the kind of thing wizards usually talk about. We're men, we talk about Quidditch, and…Quidditch." Ron grinned and Mariah followed.

Do you?

"What? Want children?" She nodded. "I've never really thought about it. I mean, my two older brothers have kids, and I love playing with my niece and nephews. Yeah, I'd have to say I would like children some day. Then again, knowing my luck I'd end up with Weasley Twins." He shuddered.

What would be so wrong with twins? A friend of mine had them and they were wonderful. She said it was difficult at first, but…

She stopped as Ron raised a hand, his face breaking out in a wide smile. "I said Weasley Twins, Mariah. There's a difference. Trust me." He thought fleetingly of Fred and George and the mischief their mum had handled through the years. "I'd better clear up this mess, though, before it starts to congeal or something."

He gathered up the used plates and containers and carried them to the trashcan in the kitchen. His stomach was still a little on the empty side, so he decided to run down to Honeydukes for dessert. Not knowing Mariah's candy preference, he walked back into the bedroom without knocking.

"Mariah, how'd you feel about dessert? There's a great sweet shop just down the…"

The words stuck in his throat. His hand gripped the doorknob and his knuckles turned white as his brain struggled to comprehend the sight before him.

Mariah was out of bed, standing at the dresser, a drawer open in front of her. It was the first time he'd seen her on her feet since the wedding reception. Ever since she'd been here, she had remained huddled beneath blankets. And now he knew why.

Mariah was pregnant.

^*^*^*^*

"This can't be," he said with quiet desperation, flinging the paper in his hands across the room. The young woman across the table from him to dropped her fork with a clatter.

"What is it, milord?" she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. Over the course of their -- association, for lack of a better word - Renae had learned to keep her mouth shut when his voice dropped. The angrier he was, the quieter he got. And he hadn't spoken above a whisper for days.

"We must act," he spat out, pushing his chair back and pacing the length of the large, empty dining hall. "There has been nothing here," he indicated the stack of newsprint spread before him. "Nothing at all about the scroll."

"Did you expect there to be?"

"Yes. While she was here, I didn't care much. But the plan demands that they take that scroll seriously. There are leaks all through the Ministry. They shouldn't be able to keep it this quiet. Unless they don't believe…no, that's not possible."

"Perhaps a prod in the right direction, Milord?"

He stopped pacing to stare at her. His eyes drilled into hers, but her gaze didn't waver.

"A prod," he said softly. "A warning. What a wonderful idea. That will erase any doubt. And then a little something to back it up." A gleam entered his eyes and he resumed his seat. "They should be gathering for their evening meal about now. You'd better prepare for travel while I work out what you are to say."

"As you please," Renae left the dining hall and went to her room. She dressed in a long flowing teal robe. Hoping, praying, that someone would interpret the message she was about to give correctly.

^*^*^*^*

Harry sat at the long head table, a forced smile plastered to his lips. Every teacher in the school, as well as all of the students, now knew Hermione was pregnant. The school grapevine had kicked into high gear, taking only three days to spread the news. And because Hermione had insisted on telling Sirius, Remus and Molly and Arthur, it was spreading to the wizarding world just as fast.

Congratulations kept coming from every direction, in person and by owl. But with every word of good luck, doubts began to creep back in. Harry had managed to keep his thoughts to himself, but every new fear started a swarm in his head like angry bees. Each new fear stung his brain until all he wanted to do was scream.

Deep in his heart, he missed his own father immensely. At the same time, he cursed him. His mum had gotten pregnant with him in the midst of Voldemort's reign. What had they been thinking? Had James Potter felt this sense of foreboding while his mum carried him? Was he repeating history? Would his own child be orphaned by evil, as he was, or would the child be evil reincarnated? The questions, doubt, and fear were festering under his guise of happiness.

He wanted to talk to Sirius about his fears. If anyone knew his father's thoughts before Harry had been born, it would be his godfather. But he didn't feel right putting these questions in a letter. And if he Apparated to him, Hermione would know he was still worrying. After his initial reaction, he was doing his level best to keep Hermione from sensing anything less than excitement from him.

Next to him at the table, Hermione and Minerva were laughing about something. The sound of her laughter both grated on his nerves and brought sadness to his heart. He wished he could be as happy about this as she was. Mostly, Harry wished he believed what he'd told Hermione days ago, that the prophecy was a hoax. But deep down, he didn't.

"Harry?" Hermione looked at his plate then at him questioningly.

"Not hungry," he said softly, pushing the uneaten dinner away. Movement caught his attention, and his eyes suddenly riveted to the rear doors of the Great Hall.

A tall, slender blond woman was walking towards them. Her bright teal robes swept the floor behind her as she approached. Her face was as blank as stone. All talking ceased as students at all four house tables gaped at the stranger walking towards the head table.

"Can I help you?" Professor Dumbledore asked, as if this sort of thing happened all the time.

"The time is ripe and the Daemonica comes. Guard yourselves now from the horror that awaits you, if you can. Five years evil has waited, and it will wait no more." She paused and took a deep breath. Placing her right hand tightly around her left wrist, she nearly whispered the rest. "He has come back to his country" the woman gasped as a look of searing pain slashed across her face, "protect the Triuna Crudus."

She turned and walked quickly back down the aisle. It took the teachers only a moment to get to their feet, but when they followed her to the entrance hall, there was no trace of her.

Ten minutes later, the Great Hall had been cleared and the students were safely tucked into their houses. The teachers gathered in the main staff room while Dumbledore checked with the prefects and ensured himself that no student was unaccounted for.

"Well," Dumbledore began, as soon as he entered the staff room. "That was unusual."

Dumbledore had cast furtive glances towards Harry and Hermione, but hadn't spoken to them directly yet. "I'm open to speculation." Silence descended. Everyone was still reeling from the woman's pronouncement.

"She was American," Hermione said quickly, then felt like a moron for stating the absolute obvious. Her mind was too occupied with alarm to control what her mouth was saying. "But she had a mark on her wrist, almost like a bracelet but it was tattooed on her skin. I saw it before she covered it up."

Once Hermione had broken the hush of the room, everyone began speaking simultaneously. Ideas, theories, suggestions. Dumbledore tried to corral the comments but they were flying too fast and furious. He finally took a seat and let the teachers talk themselves hoarse.

"First priority," he said when the voices had dwindled, "is to find out who this 'he' is, as well as who or what the Triuna Crudus is. Sybill," Dumbledore addressed the Divination teacher, who had been summoned from the North Tower. "I need to speak to you alone later."

"Of course," she cooed in her sleepy voice. "But if this is true, if the Triuna…"

"We will speak later, Sybill," Dumbledore interrupted and she sank back into the shadows.

Dumbledore dismissed the rest of the staff to their quarters a few moments later, with instructions for Professors Snape, McGonagall, Sprout and Flitwick to check on their houses before turning in themselves. Most of the staff shot curious looks at Sybill Trelawney, but left silently.

"Harry, Hermione, I wonder if you'd stay a moment," Dumbledore said almost casually as they moved to leave the room. Sybill left with the rest, telling Dumbledore she'd be consulting the Orb.

Once they were alone, Dumbledore sat heavily at his desk. "Harry, you know my thoughts on the so-called prophecy. And based on what happened this evening, I am more certain than ever that the scroll is a hoax. But I need to know, how many of your classmates are you in touch with?"

"Several, Professor. Ron Weasley, Lavendar and Seamus Finnegan. Neville Longbottom…most of the Gryffindors, actually. Also Hannah and Ernie MacMillan, they send an owl every once in a while."

"You didn't mention Draco Malfoy," Dumbledore pointed out. "I seem to remember you two patching up a few differences at the end of your seventh year."

"I haven't spoken to him since then, Professor. The last time I spoke to him was at Hermione's funeral." Harry touched Hermione's shoulder and squeezed. "I thought he was somewhere in the Caribbean. That he left England right after Lucius died."

"That's the last I heard, as well. But the woman mentioned that whoever this man is, he's come back to his country."

"Do you think he's involved in this, Professor?" Hermione asked, shuddering at the mere mention of his name. Her return to Hogwarts this fall had brought back many memories, some she relished, some she didn't. And memories of Draco Malfoy were firmly in the "didn't" category.

"I was just wondering if you, or anyone you know, could tell us exactly where he is," Dumbledore stated in his brusque manner, clearly accepting no further discussion about why he wanted to know.

"We'll check around, but we weren't exactly friends with the same people."

"How about Professor Snape?" Hermione asked, remembering how close the two had been during their school days.

"I've already asked Severus, but he has no idea where Mr. Malfoy is, or what he's been up to for the past few years. He's looking into it as well. Now I am going to ask both of you to put this business out of your heads. I have a clearer idea of what is going on now, I believe. While I'm not of the opinion that evil is on the doorstep, there is something going on that bears investigating. For the time being, however, it serves no purpose dreading what might or might not happen."

"Easy words to say," Harry grumbled as they crossed the threshold of their apartment after the silent journey from the staff room.

"And easy to follow, when given by Professor Dumbledore. Besides, you don't believe the whole prophecy thing is true either, right?" Hermione paused and shot Harry a pointed look. "Or was that a lie?"

His silence was his answer, and Hermione merely sighed. The only time he ever lied was when he thought it was in someone's best interest. In this case, hers. She let it pass without comment, determined to rid him of the worry once and for all. "You once told me that you trusted Dumbledore above all others, Harry. Why can't you trust him on this?"

"Because I have a pit in my stomach the size of London. And the last time I felt like this was the day I lost you."

"Ever think it has more to do with becoming a father than the coming of a new evil?" Hermione laughed.

"You find this all a joke, do you?" Harry accused, the swarm of fear in his head rising to an almost deafening level.

"I'm not laughing at you, Harry." Hermione crossed over to him and took his hands in hers. "I'm just trying to see the best in all of this. You're taking normal first time parent worries and turning them into the four horsemen of the apocalypse."

They silently dressed for bed and settled in for the night. In the dark of the room, Harry felt Hermione beside him, but it was a cold comfort. How could she not see the danger in relaxing their guard? He'd lived the majority of his life with the shadow of Voldemort looming over him. Hermione had shared much of that shadow with him. Was her reaction because she truly didn't believe that there was cause for worry, or that she didn't want to believe it?

Harry still harbored a few lingering doubts over a prophecy of evil coming to light in such a manner, but he refused to back away from the possibility. He just wished Hermione shared his concerns.

"It's no more than I was expecting," Harry said quietly, knowing she didn't want to hear it but helpless to stop his own voice. "Ever since Voldemort's death, I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Well, of course, you were, Harry," Hermione spat in exasperation. "Can't be happy, can we? Always looking for the next dreadful event to threaten us, aren't you? Well, you go on then. Be the Hogwarts doomcrier for all I care. But I am not carrying a Daemonica, Harry. I am carrying our child. And I am going to enjoy every moment of this pregnancy, with or without your participation."

And for the first time since their wedding, Hermione fell asleep not curled in his arms, but with her back to him. One of those bumps in the road Seamus had told him about had just turned into a very large pothole.