Our Constellation--Dramione

Chapter One

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, plotlines, characters, places, events (etc.) all belong to J.K. Rowling, she is the rightful owner. When a character is created by me, you'll know right away ;)

A/N: Short chapter, but it has a part two.

--

16 December, 1997

"Hermione, psst!"

Hermione stirred awake at the repetitive tapping on her back from her green-eyed friend. "Harry, what is it? Is Ron all right?"

"Ron's fine, but I was wondering if you could take his turn tonight and take the locket. You and I both know he's not doing too well with the pain and aggression inflicted on him by the necklace."

"I know," she sighed. "Sure, Harry, I'll take the locket, you go on and get some sleep."

"Thanks, 'Mione." He pressed a chaste kiss on her forehead before bolting up the stairs to the room he'd claimed as his own.

For the past two months, they'd been navigating abandoned villages to hide out in, temporarily staking the houses as homes until a nearby attack occurred, in which they'd have to run off again to find another place. Stealth was essential to escape any place affected by the dark lord's nightmarish reign over Great Britain.

Hermione held her breath as she lowered the heavy locket over her head and let it dangle from the worn chain. She hated the necklace with so much passion, it made her angry. But all that dislike for the inanimate object was mostly amplified greatly because of the power it had over her.

However, the moment her hands left the pendant and chain from around her neck, the muscles in her back gave in and seized. Roaring pain zipped through her body like a dangerous mix of fire and ice, and her breath hitched. She let out a strangled yelp and leaned in to clutch her abdomen. It hurt most in her lower back and her intestines felt as if they were tearing.

Tears pooled in her eyes and she bit down on her tongue. Suddenly her eyes fluttered open on discovering something unusual--rather feeling something that wasn't pleasant. Her jaw unhinged at the sight of clear bodily fluids trickling down her jeans and pattering to a small puddle on the floor.

"No, no!"

She took the first step toward the stairwell in a hurry, momentarily forgetting the pain until it rang through her body a second time. This time, however, it wasn't a mystery as to why it was happening. Hermione's correct instincts told her to get to her room, and quickly!

So hobbling as best she could up the stairs, her labored breathing grew louder as those familiar waves of discomfort ripped at her body like a dagger caught in her internal organs. This was not fun, and truthfully, she didn't think that things would progress so rapidly!

At last, Hermione entered her designated bedroom and hastily locked the door, so as not to have one of her best friends walk in on her. And extracting her wand that Harry had returned to her, she cast a silencing spell so she did not wake them.

She stood with her head pressed against the door, just trying to capture the breath leaving her lungs. She was scared, Merlin, she was terrified! Too soon, too soon! She wasn't ready, hell, she didn't want to be ready.

Life runs on its own time, darling, you can't expect it to wait for you or skip the days to give you what you want.

She wanted to verbally curse her mother. At the time, that piece of advice might've been helpful, but now, the only thing she wanted for her body was peace. Peace to her limbs, racing heart and tearing insides, and peace to her mind. The anxiety skipping through her head like a prancing doe seemed eager to intensify.

The small purple clutch resting on the nightstand appealed to her as she remembered the book she had stolen from the ghost town that had become Diagon Alley. She fished through her little beaded bag that had an illegal--but undetectable--extension charm placed over it.

Haha, like Mary Poppins! She thought. "Not helpful!" she cried.

Exasperated, she retrieved the thick book she kept at all times on female reproductive health--The Pureblood Witch's Guide to the Female Anatomy, written by an expert healer, Lamia Limerick. Flipping through the pages, she came across the page she was most itching to find.

If the amniotic sac has ruptured naturally [the fluid-filled sac that protects and carries the foetus] you may see and feel warm bodily fluids rush down your legs. That is normal, however, it is a sign that your child is on its way! You are now in active labour, so expect to deliver your child within twelve to twenty-four hours--

"What?!" she cried, amidst another painful contraction.

--although the time of active labour varies from witch to witch. Hermione felt about as relieved as her aching body would allow. When your water breaks, it is a sign to head to St. Mungo's or alert the mediwitch assisting your labour and delivery or whichever method follows the birth plan you have devised [see pages 101-120 for more details].

"That's it?!" Hermione roared, appalled that such little information was presented. What was she to do? She couldn't simply apparate to St. Mungo's and schedule an appointment, that would be suicide!

Surely, there would be a page dedicated to home birth, only there wasn't. It was expected that a pureblood witch would deliver with pristine medical assistance and attention. Hermione was neither pureblood nor privileged.

Hermione limped to the bed and discreetly pulled her pants down and threw it across the room, desperate to get an understanding of her progression.

She wasn't disgusted in the least that she was touching her genitals because she could easily trick herself into believing that she was feeling for her unborn child's head. Her finger entered only a little way inside herself before she touched a slippery head of hair.

"Dammit!"

She hadn't anticipated being this far along in her labor, however, it made sense because the weight of the locket made things several times worse, right? In Hermione's experience, it drained her happiness quicker than one of the dementors of Azkaban. She couldn't bear her child and carry the locket around her neck, so seizing the manipulative piece of jewelry, she snapped the chain and pitched it across the room. She didn't even hear it land, she was too busy focusing her energy on the baby soon on its way.

Regardless of the pressure enhanced by the locket, the child would undoubtedly be born under horrible circumstances.

Please vote and comment!