Chapter Text
Alpha will be so pleased!
Despite her inner Omega preening and purring at the two blue lines on the pregnancy test, Hermione felt like she was going to throw up—again.
This couldn't be happening.
This shouldn't be happening.
She was on the bloody pill! She'd been religious about taking it, like it was communion and her soul's route to heaven depended on taking that little pink pill every day at seven pm. But there was absolutely no denying the results staring her in the face.
Not when this was the third test to come up with those same bloody blue lines.
Pregnant.
She was fucking pregnant.
Twenty-four-years-old, barely making ends meet, and now she was about to be saddled with a baby because her birth control had failed her. Oh, and that didn't even begin to cover the problem of said spawn currently growing in her womb's decidedly unknown paternity, because if matters weren't complicated enough already, there was the fact she was actively dating (and shagging) two men.
A soft knock at the door startled her out of her dumbfounded shock and she jumped, sending the pregnant test clattering to the floor.
"Shit!"
"You alright, love?" Remus' dulcet tones dripped with concern.
She could see his face in her mind's eye: heavy set brow, lips slightly downturned, those adorable little wrinkles trisecting his forehead. God, had she not just confirmed that her mysterious illness was indeed a parasite in the form of a fetus, she might have kissed him once she made it out of the loo.
"Yeah! Just fine!" It wasn't technically a lie, right?
"Okay. Sirius just got back with the soup. We'll be in the kitchen waiting."
"Thank you. I'll be out in just a minute."
Hermione waited until the shuffle of his footsteps faded before rising from the toilet. She yanked up her knickers and leggings and gathered the evidence of her discovery. Her hands trembled as she shoved everything into the Tesco bag.
When she looked in the mirror she realised that even if she wanted to lie and tell them nothing was wrong, they'd never believe her. Her face was nearly gaunt, ashen without any colour in her cheeks, and her normally semi-contained curls were a mess on the top of her head.
For the past week she'd felt like utter shit.
Not the normal, 'oh I am just staying up too late' kind of sick, no. It was the 'vomiting her brains out and having to use the loo more times a day than she cared to admit' kind of sick. At first she'd thought she might have caught a bug. She had picked up a couple side gigs delivering groceries since her copy editing work had slowed down because Harry and her landlord did not accept IOUs as a form of currency.
With her increased exposure to the dreaded public, it was only logical to assume she'd fallen ill.
But then it hadn't gone away. She was nauseous all the time and nothing seemed to provide relief.
Then this morning she'd woken up with a new ailment, one she absolutely could not pretend was a symptom of an airborne virus.
Her breasts hurt. A lot. It had actually been the pain that woke her up from a dead sleep. Sirius had been fondling her in his sleep, as he often did—a habit that normally led to very welcome consequences—but this morning she'd almost cried from the pain.
Of course, she hadn't connected the dots to put her oh so obvious list of symptoms together. No, she had been living in blissful ignorance until Harry had sent her that bloody text.
Harry: Are you pregnant?
Ugh, she could kill him now. Not that this was his fault.
He certainly hadn't knocked her up, nor had he forced her to have copious amounts of sex with her two boyfriends over the past two months. But, in this moment, she could still blame him for ruining what was supposed to be a nice weekend with the two men who had steadily secured a place in her life.
Things with Sirius and Remus had been going amazing. For the first time in her life, she felt like things were on track—at least in the romantic part of her life. She was happy. Sure, there were days she still grappled with the guilt over ruining their marriage. And, yes, she still made a point to remind them that anytime they wanted to end their arrangements, she would bow out without hesitation.
Her growing feelings aside, there was a Remus and Sirius well before there was a Remus-Hermione-Sirius sandwich, and she refused to get in the way of their marriage.
Now, though, in light of everything… it felt like that might be bloody impossible.
A bitter laughter bubbled up her throat, and before she could help it, hot tears collected in the corners of her eyes. She set the plastic bag on the counter, wiping trembling fingers under her eyes and brushing away the tears as they began to fall. She hurried to turn the sink on so the sound of the water could mask her quiet sob.
She had so many plans for her future.
So many places she wanted to visit.
So many things left on her list she wanted to do.
And having a baby…
Well, that wasn't exactly in her five year plan.
It had taken her an additional fifteen minutes to finally pull herself together enough to form a plan and make her way out of the washroom.
There was no hiding this secret, not when their weekend plans had consisted of wine tasting and eating soft cheeses—both of which would be very much out of the question per her frantic Google search after the first positive test.
She shuffled through the living room and into the kitchen, dingy off-white socks sliding across the polished wooden planks. Still wrapped in Sirius' hoodie, she rubbed the sleeves across her mating glands, trying to soothe the wild call to flee or spontaneously combust.
She'd barely made it beyond the threshold of the kitchen when the sharp clatter of metal hitting porcelain echoed and she looked up to see Sirius rise from the table.
"Omega."
He rarely used her designation outside of the bedroom, and usually had impeccable control over his Alpha impulses, but she could tell he sensed her distress. She didn't need to be an Alpha to know the pheromones her body was excreting provided a clear picture of her feelings.
Anxious. Upset. Terrified.
Alpha. Alpha. Alpha.
Her inner Omega lunged forward in her mind, practically begging her to run across the room and throw herself in his arms. But she fought the urge. Her feet felt as if they were laden with lead weights.
Sirius' eyes darkened. Protective pheromones rippled off his body in intoxicating waves, and masked the scent of the steamy soup that sat on the kitchen table. He moved closer and opened his arms, but Hermione shook her head, fingers pressing against her lips as she warred with another wave of tears that crept up.
"Hermione, what's wrong?" Remus stayed at the table, body taut, perched on the edge of the chair. From the way he gripped the arms, he was fighting against his own instinct to run and take care of her. And that loving, nurturing, caring nature that she was so infatuated with made this news all the worse in her mind.
Sirius and Remus loved one another.
She was just a bonus in their lives until they grew bored of her presence, and then…
Well, then she'd move on and they would still be happily married.
But what would this baby mean? Would they hate it? Would they hate her?
They'd been together for nearly two decades and had never had children. Yes, biologically speaking they couldn't have children together, but they could have easily hired a surrogate or adopted. Omega Birthing Services were popular—and abundant. If they'd wanted children before…
Black thoughts plagued her mind. Ill-begotten 'what-ifs' reinforced the notion that this budding life would ruin the world around her. Dread forced a tight band across her chest. It was impossible to take a full breath.
"I… I can't."
Sirius stood just an arm's length away, thick wrinkles of worry creasing his forehead. He was warring with himself. As he pulled his lips into a frown, she could see the Alpha inside trying to claw to the surface, demanding he intervene.
She took a step back.
Their brownstone, which was normally perfect, now felt stifling, like the furnace was on full blast. Sweat trickled down her spine and she gasped, bending at the waist and pressing her palms against her knees as she took shallow gulps of air.
"Hermione, just breathe."
Distantly, she could hear a chair scraping across the kitchen floor, but everything suddenly sounded like she was metres below a water's surface. Her nails dug into her leggings, trying to induce some sort of pain to focus on instead of the undercurrent of anxiety that was dragging her down.
"Omega?"
She couldn't breathe.
No matter how hard she tried, her lungs simply wouldn't fill.
That overwhelming need for fresh air short-circuited her pain.
She needed to get outside. Now.
The cool, fall air would help. It would ease the burning flush of her skin, it would be the reminder that this mounting pressure and despair she suddenly found herself suffocating from wasn't real, that it was just a trick of her mind.
She rose to her full height, intending to push past the two men hovering in front of her, but as soon as her spine straightened, the world spun off its axis. There was barely a moment to react, not nearly enough time to prepare herself for the way her legs gave out. She briefly felt the sharp smack of her knee against the polished wood, but the rapid thump of her pulse drowned out all noise as she landed on the kitchen floor.
Her world narrowed, vision reduced to two tiny pinpoints before everything faded to black.
The heavy scent of pine was what finally woke her. It wasn't just pine, though. No. Pine, antiseptic, and a pungent punch of bleach. It was overwhelming. Her inner Omega wailed from the violent churning in her stomach.
This wasn't the Brownstone. This certainly wasn't her flat.
Wherever she was, it absolutely was not home.
Her nose wrinkled, face scrunching up into a grimace as she shifted on a bed that felt more akin to a rock than the plush mattress she was used to.
Where the fuck was she?
"While we understand you cannot release any information due to privacy laws—"
"Fuck the laws. She's… she's my-she's our ma—"
"She' our girlfriend, Sirius. In the eyes of the United Kingdom, that doesn't grant us access to her medical information, and there's nothing we can do to change that right now."
The growl that followed made her pulse race, and it was only then that she realised the shrill beep acting as some sort of metronome to her boyfriends' row was ticking in time with her heartbeat. Her eyes cracked open, and the fluorescent lights blurred her vision.
"Unfortunately, Mr Lupin is correct. Legally, my hands are tied. I cannot release any information about Ms Granger's condition."
A middle-aged man in a white coat stood at the end of the bed. A tablet was tucked under his left arm, and wire-rimmed glasses were perched on the middle of his Grecian nose. He didn't seem phased by the way Sirius paced the side of her bed, his body rigid, every muscle preparing for a fight. No, he didn't seem bothered at all by the prowling Alpha.
In fact, if anything, he seemed totally and utterly unamused.
"Bollocks! She fainted in our bloody flat! We rode in the ambulance with her! I signed all her paperwork. You have to be able to tell me something!"
Remus winced when Sirius punctuated his point with a kick that sent the metal rubbish bin tumbling across the room. He flashed a sympathetic smile at the physician before uttering a hushed apology.
"Because neither of you are her next of kin, there is very little I can say." The physician pulled his tablet from under his arm and tapped the white stylus across the screen. "However, due to your designation, as well as Ms Granger's, the law does allow me to report that the fetus seems unharmed by her medical event."
Had she been more coherent, and less 'just woke up from fainting' foggy, she might have spoken up. She might have announced that she was no longer asleep, or even tried to hurry to change the subject. Instead, Hermione lay still, not daring to move a single muscle, not even allowing herself to breathe as she watched the scene unfold.
It was like watching a slow motion car crash. She could see it coming, the impact of the news, but she was unable to prevent it from happening.
Sirius' stalking slowed until he was frozen at the foot of the bed, eyes going wide as he looked at the thin cotton throw that covered her legs. Flexing his hands at his sides was the only indication that he was actually alive instead of some piece of carved granite.
"I'm… I'm sorry." Remus cleared his throat, blinking through his stupor. "I think I misheard. Did you say fetus? As in…" He couldn't even finish the sentence, as if verbalising her 'condition' would somehow make it more real.
"As in with child, yes. Ms Granger appears to be about six to eight weeks along according to her current hCG levels." The physician didn't even look up, stylus sliding across what she could only assume was her chart at a rapid speed. "Though, my estimate could be off. It is difficult to know for certain with Demi-humans, due the construction of the glycoprotein."
"Oh," Remus uttered the single syllable word, his eyes falling from the physician. The little colour in his cheeks drained as he claimed a small space on the bed near her feet, rubbing his hands together between his knees.
Her heart sank, watching as the two men she'd come to care for seem to process this news. She didn't expect them to be happy—hell, she wasn't happy. She'd expected them to be pissed, to be outraged, to even deny it, but this? This devoid of any sort of emotion reaction almost seemed worse.
She couldn't read either of them.
Remus was normally so easy to gauge, he wore his heart on his sleeve and his emotions danced in his eyes. And she could always scent Sirius.
But here in the room that smelled too much like pine soaked clinical sterility, she couldn't make out a damn thing.
As if the universe were conspiring against her, the machines beside her head suddenly wailed to life. Shrill beeps screamed from the machine as three sets of eyes snapped towards her.
"It would do well to actually breathe, Ms Granger." The physician slid his pen into his tablet case and tucked it under his arm as he walked around Sirius, who hadn't moved a centimetre except to lift his head and look at her.
Hermione gulped down the large lump that had formed in her throat under the weight of Remus and Sirius' dual gaze. Taking in a slow, deep breath, she ignored the doctor who was fiddling with the machines at her bedside.
Her oxygen deprived brain seemed to settle from the influx of fresh air, and the staccato of her heart's rhythm returned to normal. She didn't know what to say or what to do. It wasn't like leaving the room was an option, not with an IV bag hanging from her bedside, and she very much doubted anyone currently in the room would allow her to put even a toe on the ground.
Instead, Hermione did the one thing she seemed to excel at in life. She put her foot in her mouth.
"Surprise?"
Thankfully, Remus was the first to react. A breathy slip of laughter rumbled from his chest and he shook his head as he rubbed his hands over his face. "Jesus Christ, Hermione." He pinched the skin between his eyes, taking a slow breath. "What the bloody hell are we going to do with you?"
"I'll tell you what we'll do." Sirius turned, grey eyes flickering between the physician and her, as if watching to make sure he didn't do a thing to harm her—protecting her. He took a decisive step closer to her, his heavy boots squeaking on the polished floor. "We're going to—"
"Arrange for proper prenatal care and make sure she begins the vitamins I ordered." The doctor cut Sirius off, clearing his throat to remind the Alpha that he was still in the room, and still very much in charge of her medical care. "Fainting spells aren't uncommon in Demi-human pregnancies, and based on your low iron count, I am not surprised. Typically, I would recommend an infusion, but due to your condition, I'm not comfortable proceeding. My specialty is not Obstetrics and certainly not Demi-human Obstetrics."
Hermione nodded, fingers curling into the scratchy cotton blanket, and she nodded. Her mind was reeling, trying to catalogue the information. "Should I be concerned… about the low iron?"
Protect Pup! Pup needs to be safe!
She fought past the snarling inner Omega, wishing now more than ever that the bitch would stay at bay.
The doctor paused, eyes lifting in thought as he moved across the room. "Were you not anemic before conceiving?"
Conceiving.
Christ, that word felt so formal. Like this was an intended result of their actions as opposed to the entirely accidental life growing inside her.
"Uh… not that I'm aware of."
"My gut reaction is to say no. Anemia is not uncommon with Demi-humans in general, and certainly would not be uncommon in the case of pregnancy. I would advise you to start the prenatals, as they do have iron, and again, see an Obstetrician who specialises in your designation." The doctor pulled his tablet from under his arm again and unclipped his stylus. "I do not feel it is needed to keep overnight, however, I would like to let the IV finish. You were slightly dehydrated when we admitted you, which I am going to guess is in part due to the morning sickness your…"
The doctor's voice trailed off. He looked between Remus and Sirius, as if trying to figure out what term would best apply in this situation.
"Boyfriends." Remus reached out and took a hold of her foot, giving it a fond squeeze through the blanket. "We're her boyfriends."
"Right. Boyfriends." The doctor hummed, eyes slowly returning to the screen. "I can also put in an order for an anti-nausea medication to help tide you over until you can see a specialist. In the meantime, sit tight. I'll have my nurse come check on you in a moment, and as soon as the bag is finished, we can discharge you."
"Okay." Hermione bit her bottom lip, eyes drifting down to look at her stomach. Though it was still flat(ish), she knew it was only a matter of time before it would round out with life. Anxiety tickled at the base of her spine, worry settling in until the beep of her heart rate increased.
"Any questions?"
"Nope," Sirius and Remus replied in unison, and for the first time, she was thankful they were speaking for her.
The doctor shuffled from the room, letting the door close with a heavy snap behind him.
The steady beep of her bedside machines seemed to be the only noise that filled the room. As the eerie pseudo-silence settled in, Hermione couldn't bring herself to look at either of them. She couldn't risk finding the hurt or anger she suspected would follow the news of her pregnancy.
"Omega?"
She shivered, the call to answer her Alpha practically making her lurch out of her own skin. But she didn't move. She was scared—no, scratch that, she was terrified.
Would this be the end of them? Would she have to face the prospect of handling this on her own? She could barely afford rent, how the hell was she going to have a bloody baby?
In her periphery she could see Sirius' black boots as he moved up the side of the bed. Soon, the press of his fingers and thumb curling around her chin followed. He tipped her head up with a gentle tap, and she was surprised to find a softness in his eyes. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen it before. Stroking her cheek with his thumb, his lips curled ever so slightly upward as he peered down at her.
"We'll figure this out. Together." The burden of her fear seemed to lessen as Sirius spoke, like his words were a light at the end of a very dark tunnel. "You're not alone."
"He's right," Remus added from the foot of the bed. Sliding his hand sliding up to curl around her ankle, he pressed his fingers into the pressure point at her heel. "We're here for you."
She wanted so badly to believe them.
She wanted to tell those dark voices in her head that this was going to be okay.
So, for now, she allowed herself to pretend like this was fine. Because if this was it for them—if this was going to break up their relationship—she wanted their last moments to be fond ones.
"I know." She leaned into Sirius' touch, eyes fluttering closed as a familiar warmth settled in her heart. "Thank you—both."