Morgan le Fay's second pained, restrained moan did not last much longer than the first. The room was thick with the smell of blood, and the bed had been twisted and mangled out of shape by Morgan le Fay's struggles. When Hermione saw the baby's head slowly being squeezed out, she felt only a chill crawl over her skin; every trace of the joy of new life from before was gone.
Fleur suddenly pried Albert's arm away with her hand and hurriedly broke free from his embrace, saying anxiously in a low voice, "We can't keep hugging, Albert. We have to avoid this as much as we can... Otherwise, if later... it's very possible I might get pregnant... I'm not ready yet."
Hermione stood there woodenly, like an old tree struck by lightning. Now that she finally understood what Penelope had meant, she had never felt time drag so painfully. Beside Hermione, Penelope herself had no attention to spare for mocking her. Without a doubt, it was the first time either of them had seen a live birth—strictly speaking, it counted as Penelope's second.
Though the female Auror had been through storms of blood in battle, she had always been the one hurting others, and she had never really imagined those pains on herself. Now that she realized she might one day have to face such agony too, she felt a little afraid. All of a sudden, she felt her shoulder grow heavy. She turned her head and saw it was Hermione, her face deathly pale, her shoulders seeming to tremble faintly.
Hermione also abruptly realized they were standing too close together, and the two of them immediately separated a little. Hermione went straight to the other side, while Penelope patted the shoulder that had just touched Penelope, pursed her