The Joys of Motherhood

Hermione had fervently hoped not to be pregnant. She had convinced herself that the odds were slim given that Snape had only visited her bed twice since her arrival in his home. Even when she had awoken the previous week feeling ill and with still no sign of her menses, she had attributed the symptoms to stress and the rich foods that the house-elf delighted in serving at dinner time. But as she leaned over the toilet bowl for the third time that morning, she could no longer ignore her condition.

She stood up slowly and waited for a wave of dizziness to pass before proceeding to the armoire to retrieve her robes. She wasn't certain how much longer she could keep her pregnancy hidden from Snape or if there was any reason to, save the news would likely make the wizard more vigilant of her activities. Any day, a Ministry mediwitch would show up for Hermione's monthly exam, and then her secret would be discovered.

"Fritzlee," Hermione called out.

The elf appeared, excitedly jumping from one foot to the other. "Miss be wanting her breakfast now?" she asked.

Her stomach rebelled against the suggestion, but Hermione tried to impart some cheer into her voice. "Not right now, Fritzlee; I'm not very hungry. Is Snape home today?"

The house-elf shook her head. "Master Snape not be home for two whole days."

"Good," Hermione murmured, slipping on her robes.

After dismissing the elf, Hermione made her way to the portraits-room. The hand of the clock on the painting pointed to the number six. If Hermione were to remove the portrait from the wall and lay it flat on the floor, like a compass, the needle would be pointing in the direction from which she had come. Hermione ignored the old woman who sat on the rocking chair scowling at her and walked in the direction the needle indicated.

There waiting for her, like every other time, was the door to Snape's laboratory. Hermione had no idea how to open it, and the elf had steadfastly refused to Apparate Hermione inside every time she had asked. Hermione knew that this time she had to at least try to figure out a way to get inside.

She took a hesitant step closer, and several of the snakes on the door began to hiss softly. Another step and the others joined in. Hermione continued to walk until she was standing directly in front of the door, closer than she had ever been before – the hissing continued, but it didn't change in volume or pitch. Hermione waited, but she could detect no change on the door or any of her surroundings. Perhaps her thinking was too complicated. Maybe Snape's wards were something more subtle and benign, like a door that simply would not budge without the appropriate password – except that the snakes had not asked her for a password.

"Do I need a password?" she asked the snakes.

The hissing didn't change, and the snakes even seemed unaware of her presence as they slowly slithered through the tree branches.

Hermione reached a trembling hand toward the doorknob, expecting at any moment to be attacked by the snakes or dismembered by a flash of light. Her fingers curled around the cool, metal knob, and nothing happened. She applied a little pressure, and the knob turned slightly; she kept turning it slowly until she finally heard a soft click, and the door gave. She carefully pushed the door open with her foot – the one limb she felt she could afford to lose – until the door was ajar. As Hermione stepped into the room, all she could think was that it had been too easy.

The room was unremarkable in every aspect except its dimensions. There were three cauldrons in the room – all cold – but the laboratory could have easily accommodated a double Potions class. The ceiling was two stories high, and Hermione was surprised to discover that the entrance door continued past the second floor's ceiling on to another identical door directly above a stone ledge and a narrow flight of stairs. There had to be a third floor to the house, one of which she had been previously unaware, Hermione concluded. Hermione also noticed a massive brick fireplace, its ashes white and cold.

Everything looked like one would expect a well-stocked Potions laboratory to look. Hermione wasn't sure what she had expected to find: body parts dangling from the ceiling, a giant sign that read Dark Arts Be Here? Or maybe evidence that Snape was not the traitor they all thought. She strolled slowly around the room, still cautious but more relaxed. She studied the contents of the many jars that filled the shelves, read the spines of the books neatly stacked on a work bench – all practical potions' books, some with titles of which Hermione had never even heard. She wondered if Snape would notice if she took one to her room to read and quickly decided that he would.

She was about to leave the room, disappointed but a tad relieved, when a single vial standing on a low shelf caught her eye. It was a small, round bottle with a black stopper, its bright red surface almost iridescent. The bottle was familiar, but the contents couldn't be what Hermione thought. She carefully removed the stopper, and the distinct smell of Bloodroot assailed her nostrils. She tipped the bottle slightly and frowned at the drop of clear, viscous fluid that splashed on the floor. Hermione could feel her heartbeat accelerate until it was pounding against her ribcage.

She remembered well the first time she had encountered this particular potion. It had been the summer before her fifth year at Hogwarts, and she had traveled to Diagon Alley with her parents to purchase her school supplies. She had wandered on her own until she found a small, out-of-the-way Apothecary. An old woman that Hermione had been convinced at the time was at least part Hag sat behind the front counter, and judging by the shady appearance of the few clients in the store, the place was most likely just this side of legal, but Hermione had been fascinated by the large array of never before seen potions. One in particular had caught her attention – a small, red, ornate vial just like the one she held in her hand.

Hermione had barely had a chance to read the label – Emmenagogue Potion – when the woman rushed from behind the counter and snatched the vial out of her hand. The Hag had unceremoniously jostled Hermione out of the store while muttering the entire while about 'snot-nosed girls meddling in women's business.' Hermione had been forced to wait until a month after the start of the school year, when she had finally managed to sneak into the Forbidden Section of the library without either Harry or Ron in tow, to find out the prescribed use of the potion.

The bottle in Snape's lab was unlabeled, but Hermione was certain it was the same potion. Hermione wondered why Snape would have something as risky as a potion used to induce abortion in his laboratory. She discovered several other identical bottles, all stacked inside a small wooden box which also contained several familiar blue vials of a common contraceptive.

There was no reasonable explanation for Snape to be in possession of these potions. The potions had been illegal ever since Voldemort had taken control of the wizarding world – the manufacture of a single vial was punishable by death, and this batch was clearly intended for distribution. Hermione wasn't sure what her discovery could mean. Was Snape trafficking in illegal potions, and if so, why? Certainly not because he needed the money. Whatever his motives, Snape was doing something – something illegal and dangerous – and she held the proof in her hand. She wasn't supposed to be snooping in his laboratory, but he wasn't supposed to be brewing these potions either – they were both illegal, so neither could tell on the other. There was a strange feeling of delight in the knowledge.

There was another box on the shelf, and Hermione reached towards it with trembling fingers, already anticipating what she would find inside. The contents of this box were less interesting – an assortment of common and legal potions used to treat a variety of medical ailments – except for the ten clearly marked bottles of Wolfsbane. Hermione quickly did the calculation in her head – it was exactly five days before the full moon.

A soft noise startled her, and Hermione whirled around; her robes brushed against a stirring rod that sat on one of the shelves and sent it crashing to the floor with a loud clatter. The fireplace was rattling, and a sprinkle of green, shimmering soot fell from inside the chimney. Hermione swore softly under her breath – the fireplace was connected to the Floo! It explained why Fritzlee heard voices coming from the laboratory but had never seen anyone come or go from the house!

With no more time to think, Hermione quickly shoved the red vial into the pocket of her robes and bent down to retrieve the fallen rod, the vial almost tumbling out of her pocket in the haste. She managed to secure the vial, return the rod to the shelf, and run out of the room, closing the door behind her just as the fireplace began to fill with green smoke.

"Fritzlee!" she whispered urgently just outside the door.

The elf appeared immediately, large, questioning eyes staring up at her.

"Fritzlee, Snape is here! Take me to my room!"

Fritzlee tilted her head. "Master Snape not be home, miss."

"Fritzlee, my room – now!"

Fritzlee took Hermione's arm and whisked her away to the safety of Hermione's bedroom.

Hermione felt her stomach protest the fast traveling, and she sat on the edge of her bed. Fritzlee was studying her with questioning eyes.

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked her.

"Fritzlee not know why miss be so upset; Master Snape not be home."

"He is now. There's a fireplace connected to the Floo in the laboratory; he was coming back when I ran out."

Fritzlee shook her head adamantly. "Fritzlee would know if Master Snape be home – Master Snape not be home," the elf insisted.

Hermione conceded that it was possible Snape had returned briefly and left again the same way he came. The only other possibility was that someone else had entered the laboratory using the fireplace, and Hermione couldn't venture a guess as to whom.

"That will be all, Fritzlee," she said to the elf.

As soon as the elf vanished, Hermione searched her pockets. She retrieved the red vial and reached inside again. Panic seized her. She searched the pockets frantically until she was convinced they were empty – the bit of parchment with the word Hope written on it, the one that Dumbledore had given her, was gone!

~*~

Hermione' legs trembled as she once again stood in front of the door to Snape's laboratory. She was certain she had put the note in her pocket that morning, like she did everyday, and had searched everywhere else for it. The only conclusion left was that she had dropped it while in the lab, most likely when she was shoving the vial of potion into her pocket.

She listened carefully for any noises that would alert her to someone else's presence. All was silent except for the low hissing of the snakes, but when she tried to approach the door something stopped her. She tried again and winced as she walked into an invisible barrier. The snakes' hissing increased in intensity the more Hermione pushed against the barrier. It didn't make sense; the barrier had not been there that morning. But it was there now, barring access to the door. Her agitation grew, and after several minutes, she slammed her fists against the barrier in frustration.

The blast that resulted sent Hermione careening through the air. She landed on her back in the middle of the portraits-room.

"What did you do that for?" a cackling voice exclaimed.

Hermione looked in the direction of the voice, her vision blurred. The old woman in the rocking chair was looking down at her, her small, dark eyes wide with alarm.

"I need to get back into that room," Hermione explained as she climbed to her feet, one arm cradling her sore ribs.

"You can't!" the portrait answered. "Not unless he allows you."

"But you don't understand, I have to!"

Hermione felt tired, sick and scared. Tears began to well in her eyes as she looked imploringly at the woman on the portrait. Maybe she could tell her how.

As she studied the woman in the portrait, Hermione noticed for the first time the woman's dark eyes, angular features and beaked nose.

"Who are you?" Hermione asked softly.

The woman squared her shoulders, and her eyes narrowed into an all-too-familiar glare.

"My name is Eileen Prince."

Hermione recognized her then, even though the woman's hair was streaked with gray and her face lined with deep furrows. Hermione threw caution to the wind; if she couldn't get back into the room and retrieve the piece of parchment before Snape found it, then it wouldn't matter what his mother's portrait told him.

"I was in there before, this morning. I just need to go back in for a moment."

Eileen shrugged and relaxed into her rocking chair. "I already told you, you can't unless he lets you. You can keep trying, but all you'll succeed in doing is break your stupid little neck."

A gentle breeze swept into the room and the portrait began to fade.

"No, wait!" Hermione was left standing in a broom-closet, surrounded by empty buckets and tattered mops.

~*~

Snape exploded into her bedroom two days later. Hermione was sitting on the bed, clipping a news article from the latest issue of the Daily Prophet, when the door slammed open, and she looked up to see Snape standing just inside the doorway, his face a mask of rage.

"How dare you?" he hissed through gritted teeth.

Hermione instinctively jumped to her feet and assumed a defensive stance. "I was curious. I thought..."

Snape was advancing threateningly towards her, and Hermione found herself backed against a wall. She raised her hands in a placating gesture. "Please listen. I was just trying to find out..."

Snape wasn't listening. He lunged at her, and Hermione jumped on the bed, scrambling to get away from him as he grabbed her by the ankles and dragged her towards him. He flung Hermione onto her back, pinning her legs against the side of the bed with his weight and holding both her wrists against her chest with one hand. His face hovered above hers, frozen in an almost feral expression, and Hermione smelled alcohol on his breath. For the first time since her arrival at Snape's house, Hermione was truly afraid of what he was going to do to her.

"I can explain," she tried again.

Snape reached into his pocket with his free hand for what Hermione assumed was his wand. Instead, he pressed something small between her fingers – it was the bit of parchment with the word Hope written on in, now crumpled into a small ball.

"Explain, Miss Granger, why you would betray my trust? Lie to me? Use one of my own potions against me? That would be a feat worthy of my praise," Snape said softly.

Hermione couldn't understand what he was saying; Snape had never truly trusted her, had he? And she had never actually lied to him –

"What... what potion?" she asked.

Snape squeezed her wrists until Hermione thought they would snap.

"Don't mock me, Miss Granger. I know what you took from my laboratory."

Understanding dawned on Hermione – Snape wasn't angry because she had been in his laboratory (although that was undoubtedly a part of it), but because he thought she had taken the abortive potion for her own use. Hermione shook her head violently.

"I didn't. I didn't take it to use it," she hastily explained.

Snape's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he lessened the pressure on her wrists. "Where is it?" he asked softly.

Hermione motioned with her head toward the armoire. "In there. I swear I didn't use any of it."

"Then why did you take it?" he asked, seemingly still not convinced.

"I wanted proof," Hermione answered honestly.

"Proof of what?" he ground out.

"Proof that you were doing something illegal, something against Voldemort."

"You were going to turn me in to the Ministry?" Snape asked with a tone of incredulity.

"No! I was only going to threaten to do it, if I had to, if you... if you were going to send me away," Hermione offered feebly.

Snape released her wrists and straightened. "Go get it," he ordered, pointing at the armoire.

Hermione placed the note inside her pocket and walked around the bed, massaging the circulation back into her hands. "Prick," she mumbled under her breath.

"Language, Miss Granger," Snape warned.

"Sorry, sir," Hermione apologized as she handed him the vial.

Snape held the vial up to the light and tilted it from side to side as he examined it. "The seal is broken," he commented.

"I had to make sure what it was."

Snape nodded and placed the vial in his pocket. "Now you will explain to me how you found your way to my laboratory."

Hermione elaborated on how she had used his time away from home to map most of the house by counting her steps, the way he had taught her, and how she had discovered clues along the way.

Snape raised an eyebrow when she had finished. "Very cunning – and impressive. And you didn't become lost, not even once?"

Hermione didn't want to lie, but neither did she want to give away Fritzlee's involvement.

"A few times, but I managed to find my way back," she said.

"I see; with help from the elf, you forgot to add."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "I take full responsibility for that. I convinced her to do it and ordered her not to tell you. Please don't punish her; she didn't have a choice!" Hermione's tone became frantic – she would never forgive herself if Snape hurt the elf because of her.

"I have already dealt with the elf, Miss Granger."

"What did you do to her?" Hermione asked in a tremulous voice.

"I gouged out her eyes, cut out her tongue and strung her by her little toes," Snape stated matter-of-factly.

Hermione's horror must have shown on her face.

Snape rolled his eyes in an exasperated gesture. "I did not hurt the creature. It was an oversight on my part not to make it clear to the elf that she was not to obey any orders from you that were contrary to my wishes, and that she was supposed to keep me informed of all your activities. I have now remedied that situation," Snape stated.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you for not hurting her."

"Like you pointed out, the elf had no choice but to follow your orders. You, on the other hand, Miss Granger, have proven to be unworthy of my trust, disobedient and deceitful. Your willful behavior cannot go ignored. From now on you will be confined to this room, even for your meals. If you need anything, you may call on the elf, but I should warn you, she will report to me any request you make, however trivial it may seem."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "But you can't!" she blurted out.

Snape tilted his head and his eyes narrowed. "I can't? Enlighten me, Miss Granger, because I can't think of a single reason why not."

"It's hypocrisy! What you're doing in your laboratory is illegal, more so than anything I have done. It's not fair that I should be punished for discovering your treachery," Hermione explained as calmly as she could. The truth was she was panicking – she feared she would go mad if she had to spend the next nine months confined within the four walls of her Spartan bedroom.

"Life is not fair, Miss Granger. If it were, neither one of us would be in this position."

Hermione didn't bother trying to open the door after Snape left the room – she knew that it would be locked and warded. She flopped down on the bed and stared at the ceiling, pondering Snape's cryptic parting words.