The room was too crowded, too dark, simply too much. Her insides felt like they were trying to become her outsides. Sweat was pouring out of her body and onto the once pristine bed. She was urged to walk but she couldn't see herself standing, let alone walking. Persephone was in the corner, the paraffin light making her face and hair glow. Hermione was clutching her hand, asking if she needed anything. Galatea was telling her not to make such a fuss, it wasn't as though she was the only person in the world to give birth. Portia decided then, as she laid on her bed in her sweat soaked camisole, that she hated Harry Potter with the white hot passion of a thousand suns.

"Where is he?!" asked Portia again, channeling her inner demon. Hermione looked startled. Persephone looked fascinated. Galatea just looked annoyed.

"What part of 'I don't know' do you not understand, Portia?" asked Galatea. She wondered if she put up such a fuss when Timmy was born. She was very, very out of it then and when she came to there was a fey child sleeping in the grass next to her.

"I thought you knew everything." Said Portia kicking the bed post as another wave of pain shot from body. The midwife was trying to prop her up now.

"Between the five of us we know everything. Harry knows his whereabouts as only he would be expected to." Said Galatea. Hermione wondered how she could be so detached watching her cousin and dear friend go through this agony.

"Lady Potter, you've got to stand up. As it is that little baby's fighting you and gravity trying to get out." Said the midwife. Portia tried to kick her and failed miserably. Persephone failed to surpass a giggle. Galatea failed to suppress a sign. Hermione failed not to look worried.

"I wish I had a camera." Said Persephone. There was just something intrinsically funny about Portia with her camisole up to her waist kicking at the one person who could help her. Galatea glared at her younger sister.

"I fail to see what is so amusing." Said Galatea crossly. Galatea did not worry, she knew that Pietro Pineapple Potter would come into the world safety and in the usual way, but she also found no amusement in seeing Portia give birth, even if she wasn't exactly doing it with lady-like grace.

"Yes, but that's usually the case with you, isn't it sister?" asked Persephone. Hermione tried to ignore them as she went over everything she knew about child birth. The head was visible. That was good. The mother was conscious. The midwife did not look worried. Yes, everything would most certainly be fine.

"Both of you stop it! And you, you old crone, I will stand up when I am good and ready to!" screamed Portia. She didn't want to stand up and squat down. She didn't want to sit at the edge of the bed to that the baby could be caught. She did not want to lay in a warm bath and wait for the baby to emerge. No, she wanted to go home to her mum and wear ribbons in her hair and play adventures/explores with Galatea, Persephone, and Harry and Harry would be her brother again and her father would be there to give those sad looks of his and her mother would argue with Auntie Margaretta who would be the one and only Auntie Margaretta and everything would be wonderful and there would be no talk of war or overthrowing the government or breaking the statute of secrecy or half fey children and she would not be lying there in that undignified position pushing a person out of herself.

"Portia, it's almost over. The head is coming out." Said Hermione squeezing Portia's hand. This was not at all how she thought she would be spending her summer holiday. Portia squeezed her hand back and looked her in the eye.

"I want my mum." Said Portia squeezing Hermione's hand with strength she did not know she had. Her mum was supposed to be there, to help her through this. Her mum was supposed to be with her. She was not supposed to be a mum.

"We're here for you." Said Hermione because there really wasn't anything else which she could say.

"Most of us, anyway." Said Persephone because there wasn't really anything else which needed saying more than that. Harry should have been there instead of going off to wallow in his own self-pity. He was probably off drowning his sorrows in dragon whiskey or gillyweed while his sister/cousin/wife was giving birth to his first born son.

"Come off it, Persephone. Now." Said Galatea slowly in that tone mothers were found of using before a punishment was delivered.

"I will not. Portia has someone and he should be here with her. If you ask me Harry is being phenomenally selfish right now." Said Persephone with all the conviction the thirteen year old could muster. Unfortunately it wasn't enough to sway her sixteen year old sister who had in her possession an extra three years of conviction.

"Nobody asked you." Said Portia trying to sit up fully. Now she was ready to walk, if only to walk over to Persephone and shut her up the muggle way.

"What, you feel differently?" asked Persephone feeling her swollen stomach. All this excitement had Claudine awake. She assumed that when the baby was born she would be nocturnal, more-so than babies usually were.

"I don't blame Harry for not wanting to watch this." Said Galatea. Anyone who said that childbirth was beautiful would be hung up by their ankles above a crowd of the walking dead when the new world came.

"But I do blame him for not being here." Said Persephone with a smirk on her thin lips. Galatea resisted the urge to reach over and give her sister a good smack.

"Out. Now." Said Portia through gritted teeth.

"You don't want to go through this alone." Said Galatea

"I want you and Persephone out…and you too you-you-oh I can't think of a proper insult just leave!" said Portia pointing to the door. The midwife looked to Galatea who gave a quick nod. Fine, let Portia labor alone if that was the way she wanted to be.

"Fine, I'm sorry. Happy?" asked Persephone. It wasn't that she wanted to watch this disgusting display of nature's wonder it was just that she wanted to know what she was in for exactly…and also she cared for Portia.

"Out!" said Portia having had enough of her sourness and the darkness which followed her physically and metaphorically.

"Come along, sister." Said Galatea taking Persephone's arm and leading her out the door. Hermione began to leave when a hand reached over and clutched her arm.

"Stay, Hermione. Stay here." Said Portia sounding smaller than she ever had before. The truth was she wanted Harry to be there with her, to see his son being born, to do all the things a husband was supposed to because no matter how hard she wished it, they could never go back to the way things were before.

"I…yes Portia." Said Hermione. The truth of the matter was that child birth was disgusting. There was much to learn, especially since she herself wanted to have children someday, but the sights and sounds and smells were a bit much for her. Still she stayed because Portia needed her.

"Open the curtains and the windows." Said Portia rolling over and laying on her side, her sodden chemise riding up to her waist.

"Yes Portia." Said Hermione sounding like one of the servants. She moved the heavy curtains from the windows and opened the ones which could. She put out the lamps and rejoined Portia.

"Help me out of this, yes?" asked Portia tugging on her chemise. The white garment was meant to give her some sort of modesty but modesty was no longer a concern of hers. Galatea had labored in Avalon fully dressed except for her drawers and her mother always either wore a chemise or one of her nightgowns.

"Alright." Said Hermione as she helped pull the garment over Portia's head. Once it was off Portia tossed it across the room and clasped Hermione's hand in hers, knuckles turning white from the force she applied.

"Tell me of your life, your muggle life." Said Portia trying to sit up and scoot to the end of the bed. Gravity was her friend in this situation.

"My-my parents are dentists. We live in a detached house with a big yard. I never really played in it, my interest was always in books." Said Hermione as she helped Portia sit up. She wasn't sure where to look, honestly. Sure she shared a room back at Hogwarts but the other girls in her year weren't keen to lazing away hours in the nude, no matter what the boys thought. Portia was pudgy, none of her bones visible through her skin. Her hair was naturally brown and she did not shave her legs or underarms or anything else. There was a smattering of moles across her body and small scars on her knees.

"Galatea too. I was more of an outdoors sort of child. Keep going." Gasped out Portia throwing her arms around Hermione as something tore. Hermione said nothing as Portia's nails dug into her arm.

"I got my Hogwarts letter when I was eleven. I was so very happy to have an explanation for all of the things which I could do. My research in the library had pointed to some sort of ESP like abilities or the work of God." Said Hermione as Portia pulled herself closer.

"I got a Hogwarts letter too but mum and dad weren't sure if it was the right place for me, what with all of daddy's troubles and all. For the short amount of time I was there it was alright. Much better than Spellwick's that's for sure." Said Portia with a tone of forced levity.

"I remember you, back then. You were so blonde." Said Hermione matching Portia's tone.

"And your hair, what was that? It was like you had some sort of bush growing on your head." Laughed Portia as she felt something move inside of her.

"Better than Harry's at least. His hair was always standing up in all directions, and it was as blonde as yours too." Said Hermione before realizing who she had mentioned.

"He'd better be off getting me presents, lots and lots of presents." Said Portia darkly. She got up on shaky legs and used Hermione for support. Something in that primal part of her brain knew what to do and for that she was grateful.

"I'm sure he's just held up, wherever he is." Said Hermione helping to support a very naked Portia Pettigrew-Potter as she brought her first born son into the world not knowing that in just a few years their roles in this scenario would be reversed.

"Hermione, see how much of the baby is out." Said Portia well past any modesty at this point. Hermione obliged her and decided to block this out later.

"I can see the tops of its ears." Said Hermione. Portia screamed and grabbed the bed post for support. Voice could be heard on the other side of the door.

"He! He's a he and his name is Pietro Pineapple Potter." Said Portia gripping the bedpost for dear life and contemplating laying down again. No. she didn't want this lasting any longer than it had to even though the prospect of laying down sounded truly wonderful.

"What if-what if it's a girl?" asked Hermione as she watched the entire ear immerge. She kneeled there ready to catch the baby when it decided to come out and join its mum.

"The girl's coming next year. Her name is Harriette and she will be such a little doll. Harriette Harpsicord Potter…or some other H word I like." Said Portia resting her head on the cool wood of the bedpost. Again. She'd have to go through this again and again. She wondered how her mum dealt with it. Dad was there. Right.

"How do you know?" asked Hermione grasping onto anything, anything which could take her mind off of her current predicament.

"I've met them! I've my children, most of them. Pietro, Harriette, Roderick, Cassandra….I've met them or seen them all." Said Portia. Some cold gripped Hermione's heart.

"But if-if you've gone forward in time and met all of them then you-then they might not-" stuttered Hermione, not even noticing how much more of Pietro emerged.

"Galatea says that it will be fine. We used the phoenix gate that time, not that platinum pocket watch she made…or maybe stole...who knows with her sometime…." Said Portia, her mind mired in a sort of calm. She could feel how much of Pietro was free. Her body seemed to have transcended pain and fear giving her a sort of calm one-ness with the world…or maybe it was just blood loss and exhaustion.

"Portia, the head's free!" said Hermione as crying filled the air. After the head the rest of him began to come quickly.

"I can hear him…I can hear my son…isn't that just…" said Portia as her son came into the world filthy, terrified, and cold much like all people. She sank to her knees before laying on her side. At the sound of the baby and the thump her body made Galatea and Persephone rushed into the room, the midwife having been dismissed. They knew how this would turn out.

Harry had left his home that morning in search of answers and perhaps a little vengeance if he should happen to find the means of enacting it. As the birth of his child grew closer and closer, and Portia grew larger and larger, he thought of another child he had fathered. He had not done so willingly and that was what kept him up and night, what drove him to tears in those quiet alone hours of the day, what drove him from his own marriage bed and his incredibly irked wife.

He wanted to know why, why she had done it. Why had Ginny, a girl he didn't even know, violated him like that? He didn't remember, not really, just glimpses but he still felt used and filthy and just awful. There were days when he pretend, and even better days when he could forget, but they never lasted. Nobody understood, not really. Persephone told him that it didn't matter because he never had to see her again. Portia told him it didn't matter because things like that happened all the time and he had her now. Galatea told him that he barely remembered and to stop whining. Well, she hadn't used the word whining but he knew what she meant.

It wasn't the act itself he was opposed to. He had been with people before but he had always wanted to. Being with Ginny wasn't like being with Galatea or Portia or anyone else. True, Galatea had been domineering and a bit forceful at times but he had always wanted to be with her. He had wanted everything which had transpired, he had even let his mind wander to what it might have been like to be her husband…to be a father to Timothy…but Galatea did not want or need a proper husband.

He was a proper husband now. He had a wife and a home and a child on the way. He's help run the tea and cotton empire Portia's family had be running for generations. He'd fight against the dark lord with Galatea and Portia and Hermione and Persephone. He'd burn the statute of secrecy and help Galatea rise from the ashes. He raise his children, the children he wanted to make, in a world they deserved. They'd all live in a world where magic and science were married together to create a golden age of humanity.

On good days, days where what happened wasn't looming over him he'd be so sure of his plan…not like now…now he just…couldn't. He couldn't see himself doing all of that. He couldn't see himself living that life. All he could see was a stone wall with a broom next to it and a halo of red hair falling across his face.

That was what brought him, in disguise, to St. Mungo's. Ginny was here, in the mad person's ward because she was mad. She heard voices in her head, voices that told her to do terrible things and dark magic. He didn't know what he was going to do when he saw her. Was he going to yell and scream? Hit her? Curse her? Burn this hospital to the ground and go into hiding for the rest of his life. Maybe he could go up north and wait for Timmy in his kingdom of ice and snow.

"Don't do anything stupid." Said a man, no a boy, next to him. His hair was brown, light like Portia's. His eyes were green. He was pudgy. He was…

"Pietro?" asked Harry. He had seen this boy before so many times, even interacted with him, but never this closely.

"I stopped you before and I'll do it again. I know Al's a pain the arse but that's no reason to cripple his mum." Said Pietro looking his father in the eye, man to man.

"Crippling…?" asked Harry moving off to some un-obstructive corner of the hallway. This was the mad people's ward. It was quiet. Too quiet as the cliché went. Harry knew he was a target and even in this state of mind knew he had to play it cool as it were.

"She's mad, that one. Been carrying around a piece of Riddle's soul for too long. She tries to either kiss or…you know…you and curses fly. You cripple on of her legs and she blinds you in one eye. At least, according to Galatea, that's how it went before I stopped you…so here I am." Said Pietro fingering the platinum pocket watch nervously.

"To stop me? Again?" asked Harry trying to wrap his mind around this. So, wait, if all of this happened why didn't Galatea stop this herself? Why did she even let that happen to him?

"No, see in my time I already stopped you so I'm stopping you the first time. You get it?" asked Pietro. Harry nodded slowly, still taking in his son. He was taller than Harry. He was wearing robes too, evidently father and son had the same taste in disguises.

"Yeah, so please, dad, don't. Seriously…don't…or maybe you should…no don't." said Pietro playing with the watch in his pocket.

"I won't." said Harry. He didn't want to go in there and end up blind in one eye. He didn't want to cripple anyone even if they did deserve it.

"Right." Said Pietro heavily. He looked like he wanted to say something and Harry imagined it was one of the many questions running through his own mind.

"Why are you even here?" asked Pietro quietly.

"I…just want to know why she did what she did." Said Harry

"What'd she do, anyway? Mum always said that she-no, I'm telling you too much. This thing isn't like the phoenix gate." Said Pietro

"She-" started Harry before he was cut off.

"No! just…no, alright? I'll-I'll be fine. I've got to go now, Claudine's probably wondering where I am. Just remember, don't do it." Said Pietro before turning and entering a closet. Harry knows not to pursue him. The cry of a baby takes him from his thoughts. He wonders if that's the other baby. What had Pietro called him? Al? he wondered if that was Al. Morbid curiosity made him follow the cries. He was in disguise, he told himself. He wouldn't say or do anything, he just had to know. There, at the end of the hall behind a door was his other son. He looked through the little window and saw the red haired girl nursing him. Why was she allowed around him if she was mad? Ah, there, in the corner of the room was an older woman who Harry assumed was Ginny's mother. He said nothing, he did nothing. He simply went home.