The Dark Lord's Playbook of Nefarious Misdeeds

Circle of Life

A/N: This was a tough chapter to write, so I hope you don't judge too harshly. But it is a long one!

Trigger warning of childbirth, just in case anyone has had a traumatic experience with it.

Circle of Life

My eyes widen, and I sensed there was a lot more to this than he was letting on. I discretely bunched my knickers in one hand and swiftly moved around locating my bag. I promptly stuffed them in the deep recess, hopefully unnoticed. I yanked the top drawer to our chest open and picked out vials of what I thought she would need. Mathais's agitation was creating a tense atmosphere, and I found my hands trembling. A couple of times, the glass slipped through my fingers as I tried to lift them from the drawer, making them harshly clink together.

I felt Tom's hands cover mine stilling them. "Take a deep breath, Hermione, you're panicking unnecessarily. You won't be able to help if your mind is not clear". I relaxed slightly in his arms, taking a deep calming breath. He was right; I just needed to assess the situation, then work out what to do. It was simple, and it was the logical course of action.

I squeezed my eyes shut, taking another breath to calm my thoughts, but I couldn't stop the intermittent tremors in my hands. My magic was going haywire underneath my skin, rolling and pushing against that invisible barrier containing it.

"Herminny", Mathais' voice sounding hopelessly desperate again drew me back to the present. I pulled everything into my bag mentally checking off my list, but knowing if I needed anything Tom would be there and the wagon was only seconds away.

Following Malia's pregnancy, I had been reading a couple of biology textbooks I had kept with me during Hogwarts. At first, I was amazed and still am at magic, but I was stunned at their lack of health education. It is absurd having a school filled with mostly a bunch of teenagers and not having a health education class. There where a few girls I remember who panicked when they got their periods and were confused about their bodily functions. I was lucky, having very health conscience parents.

However, reading about topics in textbooks is one thing but suddenly turning it into a practical experience is daunting. Tom's words from earlier echoed in my mind, 'there's a difference between knowing and doing'. I was certainly feeling the full weight of those words upon my shoulders.

Approaching the steps of Malia's wagon, I could hear the commotion inside- women crying, groaning sounds and a host of mixed and rapid languages being shoehorned together in distress.

I ignore Mathais and Tom. I didn't want to question and doubt; I needed to focus. I gently pushed open the door almost afraid, this wasn't just some random person- this was my friend, and an image of Ron flashed in my mind when I accidentally splinched him after we were nearly caught by Yaxley. I still felt guilty over that.

I take in the chaos that is in front of me- first and foremost, there are bloodied towels and torn cloth strewn around the floor. Malia is not on a bed but a table instead, propped up by pillows. I am assuming for ease of movement around her rather than the awkwardness on the wagons bed positions. The women have surrounded her so I can't make much out from my place in the doorway. I feel like I am intruding on a private moment and in some respects, I am.

Malia's mother in law spots me and ushers me over. My first impression of her is that she is pale and looks tired. Silent tears are flowing freely down her cheeks. I hesitantly step over the bloodied cloth and clutch my bag strap tighter, the magnitude of what is happening starts to dawn on me. Something must be very wrong. She says something to one of the women next to her, and they move a little further down to make room for me. I pause, and my eyes go wide when Malia is revealed. Her hair is matted and damp from sweat; it clings to her forehead and cheeks. She is pale, almost ghost-like, and that worries me. I turn my head and look down at her canted legs, the midwife wiping more blood seeping from between her legs, smears it on her inner thigh, and I swallow down the lump in my throat. She had her eyes closed, and her breathing was erratic- we were losing her.