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Chapter One – Grandmother Figg


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Relief swept over him in waves.  The decision, for better or for worse, had been made and he could think about something and someone else for a while.  Hermione had been reading him quietly all evening and sensed the change in him.  She rose and went to his chair, cradling his head in her arms.  “Thank you, Harry” she said, her eyes filling with tears.  She had never pressed him, never bothered him about it, but leaving the Ministry was the conclusion she had prayed he would reach.  And in that moment, waves of relief swept over her as well. 

She felt a tightness that had building in her for months ebb away.  The baby must have felt it too, and Hermione staggered with pain from a mighty contraction.  It was if the baby had been waiting for them to get their lives in order and now felt free to arrive. 

The pain was not like anything Hermione had ever imagined.  The contractions hadn’t built gradually at all, but swept instantly through her in ceaseless waves of pain.  They seemed to have no beginning and no end.  It was impossible to time them or to breathe through them.  She clutched the dining room table and gasped, “Harry..”

Harry was on his feet in an instant, sweeping her up and carrying her toward their room, calling for Dobby as he went.   The original plan for Hermione’s labor and delivery had been for Harry to retrieve Madam Pomfrey as soon as labor began in earnest, but now, when the moment had come, everything seemed to be happening at once. 

Her contractions were fierce and terrible, her water breaking with sudden force.  Harry couldn’t leave her, not now.  But Dobby could – and so, quick thinking as always, Harry sent Dobby for Madam Pomfrey and Winky for hot water and towels.

Hermione lay swathed in blankets in the middle of their bed - her swollen abdomen rock- hard in the grip of a contraction.  She writhed and cried out in pain.  Harry felt helpless.  He was one of the most powerful wizards in the world, a sorcerer in fact, but could do nothing.  Hermione had refused every charm he offered her for pain, concerned about the impact on the baby. 

“Damn Dobby!” Harry thought and gripped Hermione’s hand tightly as she was once again consumed in pain. 

“Oh!” she said, her eyes wide, for there was now a new sensation creeping over her.  A pressure, an urgent need to push that threatened to overpower her.  “Harry” she said, her voice ragged, “baby…its coming” 

Being able to push was an incredible relief.  It was the most natural feeling in the world and when timed with her contractions soon brought the baby within Harry’s reach.  He could see it now – a tiny mouth, a dark shock of hair.  Harry stared for a moment in wonder, then sprang to life, suctioning out the tiny nose and mouth - delivering the shoulders with ease.  His son had arrived and was crying fiercely.  Harry tied the umbilical cord tightly with the thread Winky had handed him, then used his wand to sever it neatly.

Wrapping his son in a clean warm towel, Harry laid him gently in Hermione’s arms. 

Hermione was drenched in sweat.  Her face was pale and her lips swollen from the baptism in pain.  But at that moment, Harry had never seen her look more beautiful, smiling down at their small son. 

A soft popping sound announced the arrival of Madam Pomfrey, who took charge immediately.  She was examining the baby when Hermione felt a sharp spasm of pain, and felt her stomach grow hard with another contraction.  “What in the world…?” Hermione gasped as blood suddenly blossomed over the sheets. 

Madam Pomfrey handed the baby to Harry and said sharply, “Get out, Harry.  I need you to leave us for a bit.”  Harry cradled his small son and refused to move.  “I mean it Harry, get out.” Madam Pomfrey said more urgently this time as Hermione’s eyes rolled with sudden shock and pain. 

Harry stood in the hallway outside the bedroom he shared with Hermione.  In his arms was a small miracle - a little boy with jet black hair and long black eyelashes.  He was pink all over and had tiny hand curled around Harry’s finger.  But Harry’s joy in his firstborn was marred by the sounds coming from within the bedroom.  Harry could hear Madam Pomfrey’s low mutterings and moans of pain from Hermione.  Something was wrong…he knew it.  And sinking to his knees, he began to weep. 

“Oh please, God,” he whispered, “don’t take her from me…from him” Harry concentrated fully on Hermione but there was no answering voice – no reassuring whisper inside his head.

Then came a sound - a sound to him that was at that moment more beautiful than phoenixsong – the cry of a baby.  Not from his arms, but from their bedroom.  Madam Pomfrey opened the door, looking weary and relieved.  In her arms, she held a second bundle.  Harry staggered to his feet, and expression of disbelief on his face.  “Twins?” he mouthed…Madam Pomfrey nodded and handed Harry his daughter.

Harry stole silently to Hermione’s side.  Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow.  She sensed him and slowly opened her eyes, turning to look at her husband and children.  Hermione reached for her daughter, “Let me see her…” she whispered.  Her features were delicate, her mouth a perfect bow – her hair a fine reddish brown in little curls all over her head. 

“She’s beautiful…” Harry whispered kissing Hermione and then the baby. 

But their small son was not to be forgotten and cried lustily for his first meal.  Hermione held him to her breast and he began to suckle contentedly.  Not for the last time that night, Harry felt tears in his eyes. 

Dobby and Winky were dispatched to Paravel and Penmarren almost immediately and before long the sitting room in Godric’s Hollow was buzzing in anticipation.  Catherine, Sirius, Arabella and Remus waited breathlessly for some word from Harry.  Sirius paced while Catherine clasped and unclasped her hands reflexively.  At last, they heard his tread on the stair.  A hush fell over the room as Harry stepped in, tired but triumphant, carrying not one baby, but two - two sets of rounded cheeks and chubby fingers, two upturned noses and two tiny mouths.  Two new souls, starting their own journey in the wizarding world. 

Arabella and Catherine were the first to receive the twins followed shortly by Sirius and Remus.  Sirius was positively beaming.  “Have you picked out names?” he asked Harry, slapping him hard on the back. 

Harry grinned, “Can’t you guess?”  There was silence, an unplanned moment of respect for the two who were absent, but who would live forever in the children and grandchildren of Godric’s Hollow.

And when the twins’ first birthday drew near, Harry began to feel an unnamed dread, that somehow the events of his past would be revived or relived.  But no specter of hate or evil cast a shadow at the door of Godric’s Hollow then, or ever again.  The children and grandchildren of the Hollow grew in peace and prosperity, nourished by Harry and Hermione’s unshakable love for one another. 

Harry and Hermione’s children (for there were many more) were clever, kind and quick- witted and were so universally courageous that in sorting ceremony after sorting ceremony, the old hat was often heard to say, “Ah, another Potter, I know just what to do with you….”  and it did. “Gryffindor!”



Finis
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