The Joining of the Three

Chapter 11

"Draco Malfoy," Ginny hissed through gritted teeth, "if you don't get out of my face, and quickly, you're going to be singing soprano for the rest of your bloody life."

Draco sighed. Never, even in his wildest imaginings, had he thought that the act of giving birth turned certain witches into...well, witches. From the moment she'd started having regular contractions, his normally smiling wife had turned into a sneering, snarling, vicious beast that would have scared a blast-ended skrewt. Longingly, he shot a gaze over to Harry and Hermione. Once again, Potter gets all the luck, he thought as he watched Hermione quietly breathe through another contraction.

"Malfoy, get your arse over here," Ginny hissed contradictorily, and Draco sighed again. Every time he moved away, she called him back. And then she'd turn around and order him away again. But he knew she was enduring unbelievable pain in order to bring their child into the world, so he did as she ordered and tried his best to be supportive.

He would have laughed, however, if he'd known that across the hospital wing, Harry was having the same envious thoughts about him.

Harry could hear Ginny quite clearly as she panted and yelled. And somehow, that seemed more...right to him. Hermione's quiet whimpers and harsh breathing had him worried.

Just then, the oak door of the hospital wing flew open and in stormed Molly Weasley.

"Poppy," Molly said determinedly, tossing her robes to the side and rolling up her sleeves. "Don't even think you're going to ban me from the room this time."

Madam Pomfrey sighed in deep relief. "On the contrary, Molly, I am overjoyed to see you. Which do you want?"

"Mum?" Ginny said softly as another pain ebbed. Molly was at her side next second, taking a basin and sending Draco to fill it with lake water.

"Lake water?" he asked, brow knitting. He still wasn't on the best terms with his in-laws and couldn't help but see this as a ploy to get him away from their daughter. Not bloody likely. "If it's all the same to you, Mrs. Weasley, I'd rather not leave Gin right now."

"It's not all the same to me, Draco," Molly smiled what was probably the first genuine one she'd bestowed upon him. Then she turned her head towards Harry. "Harry, go with Draco and collect some water for me."

"Molly..." Harry began, but Molly cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"You both look as gray as a Hogwarts ghost. Labor will take a while, you know. It's not as if you're going to miss anything. Go outside and get some air. I won't have either of you passing out when the time comes. Now go. We can handle this."

Harry and Draco glanced at each other and then down to their wives. Both women gratefully waved their husbands off, each for her own reasons. With a great reluctance, they walked towards the heavy oak door.

Ron and Mariah were still sitting on the benches outside the hospital wing, Rianne gurgling in her Grandpa's arms. Ron saw the basins and grinned.

"Going for lake water? At least I went out the back way when Mariah was in labor...didn't want you guys thinking I couldn't take it."

"Shut it." Harry and Draco responded simultaneously, their voices too full of worry to show much disdain.

Draco's eyes lingered for the briefest of moments on his father-in-law. Would the man bestow the same affection on the child he and Ginny had made? After all, their child would carry the Malfoy surname. Would Arthur Weasley put aside a lifetime of animosity for a grandchild? A brief image of Ginny holding a baby and running after her father flitted through his mind's eye and Draco scowled.

He will if I have anything to say about it.

Draco took one step towards the older man. Just then, another of Ginny's heart wrenching screams made its way into the waiting area and tore straight through his soul. He immediately changed directions, back towards the hospital wing. Ron stopped him.

"It won't work, mate," Ron said with surprising gentleness. "I tried. She'll just kick you out again. Get some air; you look like you just saw McGonagall kissing Snape."

Batting that mental image aside, and still a bit staggered that Ron had called him mate, Draco nodded once and followed Harry down the corridor. He cast a baleful eye at the basin. He knew it was just a ruse to get expectant fathers out of the labor room. But if getting lake water was part of the ritual, then lake water he'd get.

He'd figure out how to mend the breach between him and his father-in-law later.

*^*

"Now then, Hermione," Poppy said soothingly, using a cooling charm on the younger witch's forehead. "I want you to stop holding back. It hurts; I know it does. But you can't keep it bottled up any longer."

"I can and I will, Poppy," Hermione said breathlessly. "I won't have Harry knowing I'm in pain. It would devastate him."

Molly overheard this last statement and appeared at Hermione's side. "It always does, Hermione. They spend the entire labor period swearing they'll never touch you again, that they'll never put you through this again. Judging by the size of my family, you can tell that it's an empty threat. Let it out, Hermione. Harry will forget the moment the baby is placed in his arms."

"There are spells I can use..." Poppy suggested.

"No. I've read that there are sometimes side effects. I can do this."

"Of course you can, Hermione."

But just as she said it, it became harder to do. Hermione felt another spasm slam into her. All the breathing in the world wasn't going to soothe this pain, despite what the books said. But Harry wasn't here; he wouldn't be able to hear her from down by the lake. As the contraction hit its acme, Hermione let go.

Later, Poppy would remember being astonished that the ceiling hadn't dropped on their heads from the force of that scream.

*^*^*^*^

Ron and Mariah recoiled as Hermione's scream pierced the silence of the corridor. Arthur Weasley, having been down this road six times already, didn't even seem to notice. Mariah's eyes lingered on the oldest and youngest Weasley momentarily before cutting her attention back to her fiancé.

Ron, you've got to talk to him.

The look on Draco's face had not escaped either of their notice.

And what, exactly, do you want me to say, angel? "Dad, you really should stop scowling and shooting daggers at Ginny's husband? I know he's a Malfoy, but he's not all that bad?"

Sure, you could say either of those things if you want to waste your breath,

Mariah rolled her eyes. But it would probably be much more effective if you reminded him that a woman choosing between her love and her family will most likely choose love. You can tell him he's on the verge of losing his only daughter.

Ron was just about to respond when a large tawny owl swooped down the corridor and dropped a small rolled parchment into Mariah's lap. Ron couldn't see what was written there, but he could see her face. And he could feel the shock.

What is it?

Nothing.

Bollocks to that, Mariah. I can read the look on your face...

Mariah cut him off without a word, without even a glance. She simply stood and walked down the corridor. It's all right, Ron, he heard her as he watched the back of her grow smaller as she slipped from sight. I love you.

Ron sighed. Trust her to cut his concerns away with two simple phrases. If she said it was all right, then it was all right. She would tell him when she could. For now, there were more pressing matters at hand than the secrets of the Diviners.

"Dad," Ron said quietly. He repeated himself a few times, getting louder with every attempt. Arthur's attention remained on his granddaughter. "Dad!"

"Mmmm?" Arthur responded absently. Ron remembered the sound clearly. It was shorthand for I hear your voice, but I have no idea what you just said. And he'd had quite enough of that.

With deft movements and a touch of stealth, Ron managed to retake his daughter. He conjured a pile of blankets and set the baby securely among them. Making sure her back was to his father, Ron sent a few trails of glitter from his wand spinning slowly over Rianne's head. She gurgled in baby ecstasy.

Once he knew she was secure and content, Ron turned towards Arthur.

"Now then," Arthur said with a smile. "What is so important that you had to take my granddaughter away from me?"

"Draco," Ron said simply. He still had a hard time believing he was about to stand up for Draco Malfoy...to his father. Would wonders never cease? But Mariah was right. When he'd looked over and seen the longing on Draco's face as he'd watched Rianne and her grandfather...and when he'd seen the longing switch to pain... well, he knew he had to do something. He just wasn't sure how effective that something would be.

"Ron..." his father began awkwardly.

The conflicting emotions running through Arthur's mind transferred to his face. He was the last holdout. Even Fred and George had made a grudging attempt to welcome Draco into the family. But Ron knew it was hard for his father to let go of such long held hatred. Because the man was a Malfoy. In Arthur Weasley's book, that said it all.

"Dad. I know what you're feeling. Exactly. Maybe even more, because I knew and hated Draco himself, not his father. Believe me, Dad. He is not Lucius. Trust Ginny at least that far."

Ron saw his father open his mouth to protest and decided that this was the time for the big guns. "Can't you see that through your continued hatred of a dead man, you could lose her?"

"Ahem."

Draco's harsh cough stunned both Weasleys. Their red heads popped up in unison to face the man in question.

"I don't need you fighting my battles, Ron."

Draco went back through the heavy oak door without another word.

^*^*^*^*

"Okay, Ginny. We're almost there now." Molly used her wand to move the privacy screens more securely around her laboring daughter and muttered a silencing charm to keep Harry and Hermione from hearing the worst of labor's final stages. They'd know soon enough.

"You said that," Ginny panted, "hours ago."

Draco watched his mother-in-law, feeling an intense wave of gratitude that she was there with them. He had never felt so utterly helpless in his life. But Molly kept him from going insane by sending him off on useless errands and managing simple tasks. He knew that Molly could have summoned the towels, and that Ginny could have cared less if her hair was brushed...but the activity kept him from dwelling on his wife's pain. Draco supposed that was the point.

"Draco?" Molly said as the latest pain ebbed. "This is it. Are you ready to meet your baby?"

For the first time in what felt like days, Draco smiled.

"Now then," Molly began issuing orders. "I want you to sit behind Ginny. That's it. Legs on either side of her. Now, when I tell you, help her to sit forward. You'll do the counting. Count out loud to ten, pause for ten and then count aloud again. Understand?"

A wave of fear, excitement and apprehension filled his throat to the point that all he could do was nod.

"Ginny?" Molly said quietly, taking her daughter's hand. "You ready?"

"I've been ready for hours, Mum. You're the one that keeps telling me to wait. If you say 'not yet' one more time, I'll have your arse on a plate."

Molly only chuckled. "Then let's have a baby, shall we?"

In retrospect, it took a lot less time than he thought it would. Just as he got the hang of counting and supporting his wife, Ginny whimpered one last time, collapsed onto Draco's chest...and the lusty cry of a newborn filled the air.

"It's a boy."

He was still pondering those three little words when he saw his son for the first time. Only the truly farsighted could have called him anything other than red, wrinkled and...well...pruny. But he had never felt a feeling as intense as the love running through him at that moment.

Ginny sighed and Draco placed a kiss to her sweaty brow. "Little Lucius."

Even in her semi-exhausted state, Ginny found the strength to giggle. Molly, Draco noted, only drew in a deep breath of shock.

"Relax, Mum," Ginny yawned, her eyes fixed on their son, "he's kidding."

Mother-in-law and son-in-law met head on, eyes studying each other over the woman they both loved. Draco smiled. Molly smiled back. And another barrier went tumbling down.

Feeling just this side of invincible, Draco headed out towards the waiting area and his father-in-law. Not sure what to expect, he walked up to Arthur Weasley and nearly stepped back when the man stood.

"Draco? Is Ginny all right? And the baby?"

Draco tried his level best to keep his jaw from becoming unhinged at Arthur's use of his first name. "They're both fine, Mr. Weasley. We have a boy..." Draco's voice trailed off as those words truly hit him. As their full meaning crept through him. "I have a son...." He muttered, more to himself than to Arthur. And for that son, he thought, he would bury his pride.

A grudging smile tugged on the corners of Arthur's mouth, but he stopped the smile before the other man saw it. It was one thing to commiserate with a new father, but quite another when the new father was a Malfoy.

"Mr. Weasley?" Draco's voice was only a whisper, but it still rang in Arthur's ears.

"Yes?"

"I have a favor to ask you." The younger man raised his eyes. "I know you don't think much of me...of anyone with the surname Malfoy. But I'm asking you, for Ginny's sake, could you try and not let that show? Could you forget that when you're with her? We both love her, Mr. Weasley. And I'm asking you to please not make her choose."

Arthur wasn't sure which bothered him most, the impassioned plea from Lucius Malfoy's son, or the word "please" coming from a Malfoy to a Weasley. In that moment, he realized that the love between his daughter and her husband was as real, and as true, as the one he shared with Molly.

Deciding that words weren't necessary, and near to impossible due to the lump in his throat, Arthur clapped a hand onto Draco's shoulder, squeezed once, and walked past him into the hospital wing.

"Congratulations, Draco," Mariah said from behind him. Draco merely nodded, then slumped into a nearby chair. A thousand thoughts were running through him. Ginny, his son, his in-laws, his son, Ginny. There wasn't room for speech in a mind that crowded.

"What do you reckon's concerning him most?" Ron grinned, "fatherhood or Dad?"

They looked at the man in question again, then back at each other.

"Both," they replied in unison.

Still chuckling, they greeted Professor Dumbledore as he joined them. Ron moved towards him, intent on informing him of the progress so far. But the look on his former Headmaster's face froze his words.

"What is it?"

"We have a problem, Ron." Dumbledore said, his face grim but a twinkle lighting the blue eyes behind the spectacles.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Just as Molly had when Ginny reached the final stages of labor, Poppy placed silencing charms and privacy screens around them and gave Harry a number of busywork tasks to keep his mind off his wife.

They weren't working. Hermione could tell they weren't. As always, his eyes gave truth to his thoughts. Even when she hadn't remembered him, those eyes had stayed with her. And the sharp green of them mirrored the internal struggle within him.

"I'm okay, you know," Hermione panted out during a brief respite from the back to back contractions.

"You're not. You're in pain."

"The pain will go away, Harry. And we'll have our child to help us forget. Focus on that, Harry. Think about the baby."

She felt the telltale signs of another contraction, but was comforted somewhat by the relaxing of the creases on his forehead. "Poppy?" she panted, as she felt something different with this pain...something urgent.

Poppy placed her hand on Hermione's bulging stomach and smiled. "The pains have shifted?"

"Yes," she hissed through gritted teeth.

"Then let's meet your baby," Poppy smiled as she positioned herself to help the child into the world.

Hermione sat forward with Harry's help and strained with all the energy she could muster. A small part of her was afraid she didn't have the strength left to help her baby be born. She'd never guessed that labor could be so exhausting. How was she supposed to do this? There was nothing left...

"You can do it, Mione. I know you can."

Harry's voice, whispered in her ear, slid through her entire body like a phoenix tear. Where she had been empty, she felt full. Her exhaustion turned to pure energy. Her doubt turned to resolve. And with one final effort, the newest Potter arrived at Hogwarts.

Hands clasped and breathing labored, they watched Poppy's deft movements and waited. The baby was crying in outrage, but they couldn't see it yet. Harry had a flash of a remembered dream, of a scene in a graveyard. Suddenly, it became too much to bear.

"Well?" Harry said, slightly exasperated and slightly worried.

Poppy grinned wildly and passed Hermione a tightly wrapped bundle. Then she walked away, a stray tear escaping down her normally stern face.

With a gentleness just shy of reverence, Harry helped Hermione unwrap the baby. They counted fingers and toes, examined every inch of their baby and smiled.

"Hello, Jamie," Harry said quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of the baby's head. And then he pressed another to the top of Hermione's. She eased over on the bed, making room, and father, mother and child rested, secure in the bosom of a family newly formed.

^*^*^*^*^

"Reporters?" Poppy exclaimed in disbelief.

"Reporters, Poppy," Dumbledore sighed. "I'm not sure how they found out, but that makes little difference at this point. They began arriving at the gates an hour ago, and the tide shows no sign of ebbing. I've placed them in the Great Hall."

"But why...?"

"Think about it, Poppy," Ron said knowingly. "The Boy Who Lived has a baby. The Couple That Survived start a new generation. The headlines are being formed as we speak. And I know they expected this."

"Yes, they did," Mariah agreed. "Although I'm not sure they expected the vultures to descend quite so rapidly. They want to stay in the background as much as possible, so Ron is going to make the announcement. After their families have arrived."

A positively horrid thought crossed Ron's mind. "Rita Skeeter isn't here, is she?"

"Well, that depends on your definition of 'here'," Dumbledore chuckled. At the puzzled looks, he continued, "She is in Hogsmeade, I believe. But she has not been allowed access into the grounds. She will be scooped by every reporter in the wizarding world."

"Excellent," Ron grinned.

"Ron? Mariah?"

All heads turned toward Harry, standing at the entrance to the hospital wing, a goofy new father grin making his face radiate a light of its own.

Without another word, Mariah passed Rianne to her grandmother and joined Ron as they followed Harry to Hermione's bed. By mutual consent, Ron and Harry hung back to let Mariah reach the bedside first.

Her gaze lingered on the wrapped bundle. "And who have we here?"

"Our daughter, Jamie," Hermione beamed, pulling the swaddling blanket away from the sleeping baby's face.

"Oh Hermione," Mariah said around the tears of happiness, "she's just beautiful. And I love her name. What a wonderful way to carry on Harry's father's name."

Hermione's eyes met her husband's. He winked. "She's not named after my dad," Harry said, barely keeping the emotion from his voice as he moved to stand on Hermione's other side.

"She's not?" Mariah asked, confused.

"No," Hermione said. She took her friend's hand tightly. "Perhaps I should have properly introduced her. This is Jamison Potter."

The only sound that broke the silence was Mariah's sharp intake of breath. "Oh..." was all she could manage. Hermione passed the baby to her namesake and didn't even try to stem the tears spilling from her eyes like water from a sieve.

"We wanted to thank you..." Hermione began, but found herself unable to continue.

"It seemed fitting that she have your name..." Harry tried to continue for Hermione, but the lump in his throat made it difficult.

Both were gearing up for a second attempt when the sound of the heavy oak door being thrown open shook the room.

"Harry? Hermione?"

Sirius stood, dark and impressive, at the entrance, scanning the two groups. The odd mixture of Weasleys and Malfoys was on one side, while Harry and Hermione were on the other. Harry met him halfway and the two shared a bone jarring embrace. To those watching, it lasted only seconds. To the participants, it seemed to span a lifetime.

"Want to see your granddaughter?"

Years ago, he'd seen a similar smile on his godfather's face, Harry thought. But this time, it lasted longer than it had inside that tunnel. Because this time, there were no dementors waiting for them. This time, Sirius was truly a free man. And nothing haunted either of them any more.

Mariah graciously passed Jamie to her grandfather.

"I...," he started hoarsely. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I can still remember the day you were born. Remus and I Apparated straight to Godric's Hollow the moment James' owl arrived, and I...I saw you hours after you were born. She's you, Harry."

Silence shrouded the hospital wing as each occupant dealt with the emotion of that statement.

Slowly, the silence dwindled. Draco and Ginny broke it first, when they brought their son Morgan over to meet his cousin. The arrival of the Grangers added to the cacophony. By the time Ron had gone down to inform the press, the hospital wing sounded more like Platform 9 ¾ on September 1.

Over the next few hours, there were a few more tears, a lot more laughter...and a sense of family the likes of which Harry Potter had never known.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Two Months Later

"Did Ginny ever get back to you about that trip?" Harry asked over his daughter's head as he fed her a morning bottle.

"No, she said she'd be owling me the information this morning, though."

Jamie used her small tongue to push the bottle from her mouth and squirmed. With a knowledge born of habit, Harry cradled his daughter on his shoulder. She rewarded him with a resounding belch.

"Quite unladylike of you, love," Harry crooned into her ear before easing her back down into his arms to finish her breakfast.

The first two months of parenthood had passed with a great deal of trial and error. They seemed to be getting the hang of it, though. These days there weren't nearly as many trials and even fewer errors. Neither had expected it to be easy, nor had they expected it to be this rewarding. The thrill of a smile, the joy of a full night's sleep, it all came down to the little things.

Not long after Jamie's arrival, they had taken a house on the fringes of Hogsmeade. As neither was a head of house, they were not required to live at Hogwarts. They both loved the castle, but at the same time, they wanted a home of their own. The little three bedroom cottage suited them perfectly. It was large enough to give Jamie room to play once she became mobile and small enough for two full time teachers to handle without undue stress.

Hermione stumbled into the kitchen, her hair a wild tangle of curls. "You look adorably mussed, love," Harry grinned.

"And whose fault is that?" she answered primly but with a wicked gleam in her eye.

She had just crossed to kiss her husband and daughter when a screech owl fluttered through the open window and dropped a rolled piece of paper in front of Harry before retreating the way it had come.

"Must be from Ginny." Hermione blew on her tea to cool it, reaching over to unroll it. It's paper, not parchment, though. The thought, from the inner recesses of her mind barely had time to register before the words written there shoved all other thoughts aside.

"Harry..." she trailed off.

"What?" he looked up sharply, the tone of her voice sending a shiver down his spine.

She didn't answer. Instead, Hermione turned the section of a Muggle newspaper towards Harry.

Family of four dies in Little Whinging Fire

Vernon Dursley, his wife Petunia, their son Dudley and his wife Druscilla, all of Number 4 Privet Drive, perished in an apparent electrical fire in the early hours of the morning... Fire Captain Horace Smatt had no comment. But sources inside the fire department...

Harry didn't get any further. The Dursleys were dead. All of them. True, he'd divorced himself from them long ago, but now they were gone. For good. Forever.

Numbness stole over him, broken only by Hermione's hand on his shoulder.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Hermione. They were dead to me a long time ago."

Hermione felt a ripple of fear shimmy down her spine. The words might be different, but the tone was the exact same as when he'd told her he was fine after seeing her with Draco. She needed to get him talking, and she needed to do it now.

"Love?"

Harry said nothing. His eyes remained fixed on the newspaper while his hands tightened on Jamie. Hermione took the baby and laid her in the nearby baby carrier. Then she took those still clenching hands in hers.

"Talk to me, Harry. Please."

She wasn't sure what she'd expected when his green eyes finally fixed on hers. But it wasn't pain.

"Why should I care?" Harry said in a low hiss. "Why does it hurt that their dead, Hermione? They never gave me anything except a roof over my head and food in my stomach. Hell, not even that, sometimes. Lies, abuse, neglect. That's all the Dursleys ever gave me. So why the hell do I give a rat's arse that they're dead?"

"Because, Harry, as horrible as they were, they were the only family you knew. You'd be made of stone if you didn't feel anything." She could see it, the confusion, and the grief, hovering near the corners of his eyes.

"But I shouldn't...I...It..." and the tears came. Just a few, tracing a lonely path down his cheeks and coming to rest on their joined hands. Next moment, Harry had her in his arms, screwing up his face against the tidal wave of emotion threatening to overtake him. Hermione sensed it...the sudden stiffness. He was trying to close off again. Damned if she'd let him.

"Let it out, Harry. Scream, rage, curse the sofa into a thousand pieces. Let it out love, and then you can let them go."

Harry was silent for quite some time. He remained in Hermione's arms. She could feel his tears on her shoulder. And she could feel his arms tighten and release as he dealt with his feelings. When he pulled back, she was almost afraid to look into his eyes. She was terrified she'd see that blank stare again.

But Harry Potter was smiling. A smile that reached his eyes and touched her to the depth of her soul.

As the morning wore on and Harry slowly accustomed himself to the news that his only living relatives were dead, one thought kept trying to break free. An issue that made no sense, but didn't quite make it to his conscious mind:

Who had sent the newspaper clipping?

~fin~