Room of Requirement

He held her close and comforted her. “Shhh.... it’s okay, love, it’s okay,” he was concerned for her welfare, and felt guilty for his own inward twinges of pleasure. A baby- two, perhaps. Of course, he detested other people’s children when he was obligated to teach them, but he’d always secretly desired a few children of his own. To be honest, he was delighted. He’d begun to think that perhaps this would never happen. He also felt guilty at the possessive feelings Hermione’s condition caused in him.

His. She was his. He’d gotten her with child, they were engaged, and now the chances of some younger wizard (the Boy Who Lived came to mind, all too frequently, for his tastes) coming and stealing her heart were even slimmer. Her turned his head and smiled into her hair, inhaling the clean, citrusy scent of her thick, dark waves.


Hermione began to calm down. At least he seemed to be taking it well. She shuddered to think of how all this reflected on her. Head Girl, loads of O.W.L.s, and too sex mad to think at all about birth control. Truth be told, the idea crossed her mind several times, but she was far too embarrassed to broach the subject with Madam Pomfrey. The unwanted speculation brought the further risk of exposing their relationship.

She sniffled. Exposing their relationship, indeed. What effect do you think two screaming infants will have on your image as the responsible, respectable Head Girl, Granger? And university, you daft cow. Do you really think any decent wizarding university will allow you to attend classes, double stroller in tow? A wave of tears began afresh.

“Hermione, love, don’t worry. I’ll take care you, I promise, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Don’t you think you’ve taken pretty good care of me already?” she laughed, but cuddled closer to him. “I just have no idea where to go from here. I feel so stupid!”

“It’s happened to many bright and sensible witches in the past. Look at Molly Weasley. Do you really think that army was planned?”

“Well, I’m quite sure I don’t want to spend all of my life knitting woolly jumpers and crying with worry!” She meant no offense to Molly Weasley at all- the n wan was a second mother to her. Hermione just felt acutely sorry for her and all the anxiety she’d suffered, especially since her children had become so closely acquainted with Harry Potter.

“If it’s university you’re worried about, my mother has been begging me for grandchildren since I’ve left Hogwarts and she has an army of house-elves to assist her. You can still go wherever you’d like. That doesn’t have to change. I fell in love with an intelligent, academic woman and I will not let that be altered because I was too foolish to brew a Contraceptus Potion.”

“Severus, I will totally understand if you want to avail yourself of this entire situation.” She felt that she needed to offer him an out, to know he would not stay out of obligation.

“And I can brew a potion for you that will terminate the issue and no one will know but you and I.” He extended her an exit, as well, hoping with every fiber of his being that she would decline. Yes, he’d been a Death Eater, committed atrocities on orders from Voldemort, and watched the torture of Muggles, but the thought of being party to the demise of his unborn child or children seemed unbearable. He shuddered.

“Never, I could never...” he released her and they looked at each other. Hermione had never known fear like this. She thought that the idea of facing Voldemort again was slightly less terrifying than this. “This does change things a bit, though. What should we do about Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall?”

“Hmmm... well, we should go for confirmation first. I know of a very good medi-witch- do you think you’ll be able to go with me to Diagon Alley on Saturday? It’s a Hogmeade weekend, so you should be able to sneak off easily enough.”

“That should be fine. There’s just the small matter...”

“What, love?”

“Well, do you really think it wise that you Apparate with me, in public, and we go into a place like that together? It will certainly draw suspicions, won’t it?” He looked thoughtful.

“I do have a fairly decent supply of polyjuice potion, shall we do it that way?”

“I suppose I can steal a hair off Ron or Harry that morning-“

“Weasley, please. All we need is Potter accompanying you for this type of thing- it would undoubtedly be headline material for the Daily Prophet.”


The days leading up to Saturday passed in a slow, torturous haze. Hermione found herself strangely disappointed by the idea of finding out that she’d misinterpreted the room’s intention. Maybe it was just a suggestion. The suspense was killing her.

Saturday morning finally dawned after a night of tossing and turning. She woke and dressed, absolutely ravenous. Her heart sank when she realized that she’d have to feign nausea at breakfast to avoid Hogsmeade.

She sat next to Harry, Ron and Ginny opposite her. She picked at a croissant, while everyone made plans for the day.

“Actually, I think I’m going to have to stay back today, guys.”

“’Mione, why?” Ginny looked affronted, as if to say ‘You can’t expect me to go alone with these gits!’

“I was up all night last night- I think I’m getting a stomach flu.”

“You’re not preggers, are you ‘Mione?” Ron laughed through a mouthful of cookies. Hermione forced a laugh and waved her wand over a half a dozen muffins, shrinking and wrapping them. She stuffed them in her bag. She reached over and grabbed Ron’s cloak from an empty chair, where it sat with Ginny’s.

“I duplicated my Potions notes for you, Ron. I’m just gonna stuff them in here.” As she put it down, she palmed a thick, flaming red hair from the collar. I’m really sorry, Ron, she thought. But what was one more super-fertile Weasley in the world, really? She stuffed the hair in her pocket and left the Great Hall, apologizing.

“Feel better, Hermione!” Harry called after her, waving.


She met Severus straight away, so he could take the Potion and be ready for their 10 o’clock appointment. She dropped the hair into the vial and held it to his lips. He drank it down swiftly and grimaced.

The transformation was quick. The hair was right, but much longer, and a much more petite frame.

“Ginny!” Hermione erupted in peals of laughter. Ginny must have worn Ron\'s cloak to breakfast. Severus scowled.

“Very funny, darling. I suppose that we’re stuck with this- just as well, a young witch with a female friend will probably attract less attention, anyway.” They walked to the gate, off the grounds, held hands, and he Apparated them to Diagon Alley. They appeared outside of Florian Fortescue’s, and Hermione was struck with a sudden burning desire for a banana split.

Ten minutes late, and sticky, but no longer hungry, Hermione and Severus-as-Ginny arrived in the clinic for her appointment. A severe, cranky looking medi-witch welcomed them in.

“Name?” Hermione bristled. She didn’t have to leave a name when she called and realized that her marginal fame as the imagined girlfriend of Harry Potter left her exposed. She said the first name that came into her mind.

“Cho Chang.” Severus-as-Ginny snorted as the medi-witch took in Hermione’s complete lack of Asian attributes. Hermione stared back defiantly, daring the older witch to say something.

“Very well, Miss... Chang. Please follow me.” They walked down a corridor into a bright, clean room. “Lie on the bed please.” It occurred to Hermione that she had absolutely no idea how this sort of thing worked. Severus-as-Ginny held her hand as the medi-witch waved her wand to remove Hermione’s shirt. She waved her hand again, and muttered a spell that Hermione couldn’t hear. Hermione shook slightly with an odd sensation.

She looked down. It was very strange and somewhat intriguing. A few inches below her navel, two small pulses were visible through her skin. Severus reached down and placed his hand over the tiny, throbbing area. The older medi-witch looked scandalized.

“You are indeed pregnant, young lady. You’re expecting twins.” She looked at Hermione as if she were something infectuous. She shook something that looked like an egg-timer over Hermione’s belly and studied it. “Would you like a Viewing Charm, as well?”

“A viewing charm?”

“You must be muggle-born. Somewhat like a sommogram-thingy, but more detailed.”

“Yes, we’d like one.” Severus-as-Ginny piped up, further incensing the medi-witch. With a swish and flick, something like a flat screen TV appeared, and the medi-witch dimmed the lights.

It was like a movie. On the screen were two nebulous forms, each with a tiny pulse. The earlier charm hadn’t worn off, and Hermione could still feel the tiny thump-thump in her womb. The nurse, seemingly reading her mind, said, “That won’t wear off until tonight. Your due date is May 20th. You may dress.”

Hermione dressed behind a curtain as Severus paid the nurse. They ducked into a tiny alley and Disapparated. Sneaking into his office after the silent walk back, they hoped no one saw the extra Ginny Weasley floating around. Severus drank the counter-potion, and removed his cloak.

Intending to discuss how they would break the news and schedule the wedding, Severus looked at Hermione. In an instant, they were upon each other, tongues clashing wildly as they worked to disrobe one another. He gingerly lifted her around her hips and placed her, sitting, on the edge of the desk.

The intimacy of the day’s earlier events had proved too much of an aphrodisiac, and he stood beside her and gently thrust into her. They gazed at one another and he gently drove himself more deeply into her. In their haste and distraction, they did not notice the door was slightly ajar. Her soft moans concealed the creaking of the door opening further.

“Professor Snape? Are you...” walking further into the room, he swore and ran to attack the older man. “Get off her, you greasy git!”

“Harry, Harry, it’s alright! No, Harry, stop. It’s quite good, actually!”