Hunter and Prey

Hermione did not believe in karma but when she woke in agony she was tempted to reconsider. It felt like her lower body was being twisted in a vice; a dread tearing stabbing pain she couldn’t escape. She screamed.

“Put her out! Merlin’s sake, put her out!” A male voice shouted. Someone squeezed her hand reassuringly. Hermione could not breathe to scream again as a contraction cramped through her. Her vision tunnelled with shock. She saw a person with a wand approach her and she lashed out catching them on the chin with a clenched fist.

“Leave me alone!” Hermione croaked. She pitched forward, grabbing her knees not sure whether she should push or clamp her legs shut. The bed was soaking wet. Her water had broken. How long had she been asleep? Was it too soon? Were they too small?

“It’s alright, darling.” Louise said, settling in behind her so she could support her. She rubbed her daughter’s back and glared at the Healers. Martin and she had pushed for Hermione to be moved to a proper hospital but no one had listened to them. They didn’t even have a proper epidural! “Short breaths, Hermione. Thirty-four weeks. It’s alright.”

“Mum!” Hermione shrieked then the Mediwitch she had punched got off the floor and cast a Numbing Charm so she could think again. The fierce cramping faded to an ache; like in the dream. How long had she been in labour? Where were the god damned forceps? Couldn’t someone Accio baby? Who was holding her hand?

“You’re fully dilated, whatever that means.” Draco remarked, his fingers white in hers. Hermione eased her grip and caught her breath.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She asked, regretting the obscenity but the occasion called for it.

“I’ve asked myself the same question.” He admitted. “Several times.” Draco gave her a sip of water to wet her mouth. Hermione licked her lips and gritted her teeth as another contraction started. She felt something move. She was having a baby!

The first, a boy, slid into the world as the sun set. He was wrinkly and blessedly pink and cried loudly at being evicted from his warm if crowded home. Blood as scarlet as sin followed him. A Mediwitch quickly cast a charm. The flow slowed but did not abate. Hermione grabbed her mother’s shoulder as Louise coached her. She had done Lamaze classes with her younger sister and had brushed up again for her daughter.

Draco had gone pale. He did not move however. Martin Granger made himself useful mopping Hermione’s face or feeding her ice or fetching tea. He and Draco shared a look as Hermione birthed a second child. There was a great deal of blood. It had saturated the bed. Martin spared a glance for his granddaughter before cheering his little girl on. But there were drops of red on the floor now.

The Mediwitches fed Hermione potion after potion yet she paled until there were blue shadows under her eyes. Her pulse became thready under his fingers and Draco yelled at the Healers to do something.

Everything was white for Hermione. She laughed softly, aware enough to know she was disorientated. So funny that she was dying in childbirth. She said the wizarding world was stuck in the Middle Ages. Was she dying? She was floating. It didn’t feel too bad. Even the contractions now didn’t bother her. Push, push, push...

Someone was screaming. Was it her? She didn’t think it was her. So much noise. Mum looks worried, Hermione thought as she felt something leave her. That was three, wasn’t it? She’d lost count. There was an odd taste in her mouth and she choked. Hermione swallowed. Agrimony? Yarrow? The bitter taste made her grimace.

Then she was drifting away again. Hermione saw herself lying on the bloody bed in the centre of frenetic activity. Healers used spell after spell, casting so quickly there was almost a scent of magic in the room. She watched abstractedly; divorced from the frantic scene around her. There was nothing she could do and she did not like that.

She had tortured Fenrir. Hermione looked at that thought and did not like it either. She had wanted to hurt him. To give back all the hurt he had given her. Would he have an epiphany? Probably not. She had likely just made the situation worse. But she was angry. And she was allowed to be angry. The scorned woman.

Kicking and screaming and covered in blood was how she had entered the world. It would be poetic to leave that way. A grand tragedy, complete with mourning parents and her enemy at her side. Draco had not said why he was there. He certainly was not enjoying it. He looked as wan as she did. Where was Harry? At least Ron wasn’t there.

Hermione drifted over to the babies squalling in cots at the side of the room. They did not look cute. Poor little things did not deserve the hard road they had been given. She did not love them, not yet, but she could care. And what she had done to their father had evened the score. Cybele bloody to the elbows had once been worshipped.

She was delirious, Hermione realised. Exsanguination would do that. Wafting back to her body, she looked down at herself. She wasn’t going to go quietly. She wasn’t going to be beaten. Or give up. Or leave undone everything she wanted to change. Or leave the ones she loved to cope without her. Hermione stepped back into her body.

Everything went black.