Thank you all those who have reviewed, favourite-ed and followed me/this story. It really is uplifting to see that people are still interested in TBQ even with the long stretches between updates.

To the Guest reviewer who posted regarding the lack of 'non-white' wives - When I listed his wives (and subsequent chapters), the only wives that I identified as Caucasian were Daphne, Luna, Fleur and Tonks (as far as I can remember). Out of these, the latter three were portrayed as Caucasian in the books and films so that's just me following canon appearances as far as skin colour goes. In my mind, colour was and will never be an issue. When I read or write about something, I don't identify with a character based on their skin colour, I identify with their feelings, their thoughts, their struggles.

Your comment made me pause to reread my story but other than identifying Daphne's father as a bigot (and bordering as a MCP), pureblood snob, it never occurred to me that it should be an offense for me to include or not include the colour of a character's skin. So I did a bit of digging for non-white characters in HPverse. Lo and behold, only 4 in a batch of about 34 identified students (Harry's yearmates) were identified as non-white. My uncle was studying in the UK during the period HP was set, he observed that there was a big influx of foreign immigrants setting down roots then - are you about to write an angry letter to JKR about her unrealistic percentage of non-white students per year too?

Going back to my story, only Blaise Zabini and Aurora Weasley (nee Sinistra) are the only two characters so far who are of colour that I have used from JKR and perhaps it may not be realistic. But that's the joy of fanfiction (and fiction) isn't it? And let's face it, none of the Golden trio for HP were non-white. In the Fault In Our Stars, Hazel and Augustus are white. In Archie Comics (of which I've written and posted a piece here), the main gang (Archie, Betty, Veronica, Jughead and Reggie) are all white. Even the Help (a book about coloured woman in America), the person who got the idea of writing a book about coloured demestic workers was a white woman. People tend to write about white characters more so than those who aren't. In which case, wouldn't that make my story more realistic (as far as stories go)?

When she and Tracey had undertaken the task of educating and filling the gaps of Hermione's society manners and knowledge, they had a rough plan to reintroduce the muggleborn witch to society at the next gala Harry or his council would host. What they did not take into account was that the next big event would be Harry's birthday, leaving the two Slytherin witches three days to cram as much etiquette rules and guidelines as well as procuring a suitable outfit for Hermione. Admittedly it would be easier to wait for the next festivity but given the next big event would only be in October (and a sombre one at that), the three women had agreed that their deadline would have to be Harry's birthday feast.

The etiquette lessons went rather smoothly, much to Daphne's surprise. She later concluded that while Hermione had her issues with Harry's policies and methods, she was not averse to learning about wizarding traditions and culture.

Tracey, bless her, had to run through the different forms of address, greetings and actions that were part of wizarding society while Daphne addressed the matter of appropriate attire. Daphne's dress - a beautiful creation of cobalt blue silk; had been ordered and made a month in advance as her family's seamstress was very much in demand with many pureblood ladies. If they had a week or two, there might have been a chance for the seamstress to take time out of her busy schedule to make a suitable dress.

With that in mind, Daphne turned to another one of her contacts, going nearly as close to begging to convince the witch in question to accept a new client with an extremely tight deadline. Thankfully once the fact that the publicity an outfit could garner at an event of such magnitude as Harry's birthday celebration had sunk in, it was incentive enough for the other party to accept the deal and if the acceptance was more sullen than enthusiastic, Daphne pretended not to notice.

They had made their way to Hermione's study where Tracey and Hermione had been sequestered since that morning.

"Bulstrode!" Hermione exclaimed, her surprise evident.

Millicent Bulstrode gave a jerky nod towards the muggleborn witch. Daphne was just relieved that no spells were thrown and set about introducing the two witches properly.

"Hermione, meet Miss Millicent Bulstrode. Millie, meet Miss Hermione Granger."

It was an on-the-spur idea but it made for a good test. Hermione's jaw locked itself for a moment before she bent her knees in a slight curtsey, her eyes looking straight at Millicent – a standard greeting for a social equal. As Millicent Bulstrode was neither heiress nor was her father the Lord Bulstrode, Hermione's choice of greeting was the right one.

There was a slight hint of grudging respect as Millie curtsied back to Hermione. Tracey quickly moved to assist Millie in setting up a mini dressing area while Daphne moved to join Hermione.

"You asked Millicent Bulstrode to take charge of making my dress?" Hermione whispered incredulously.

Once again Daphne had to resist the urge to heave a large sigh of annoyance at Hermione's unwitting ignorance. Since her grandparents' time, Dumbledore had singlehandedly condemned muggleborns and muggle-raised witches and wizards from ever learning and embracing wizarding society.

If the Wizarding Culture class still existed, Hermione would have learnt of the beauty, power and awe of belonging to families so old and so blessed by Magic that they had their own traditions, legends and myths. Daphne's family, for instance, were known to have a good head for numbers and its members usually picked careers such as spell-crafting, finance (although the wizard folk have long ceded their banking to the goblins) and business. The Potters were known for their innate ability to wield magic without a focus that opened career options like Warding, Battle Magics and Enchanting – all of which were notoriously difficult to gain a Mastery, requiring years of dedication and hard work.

The Bulstrodes were not a prominent House but it was well-known that each generation churned out two or three talented tailors or dressmakers, most tended to stay behind the scenes and taking handful of well-connected Houses as their clients but there were a few who were hungry for the fame and fortune that awaited a famous and popular clothier. Olive Malkin, formerly of the Bulstrode family, was one of those who had attained mainstream success. Everyone, from incoming muggleborns to the Malfoys (only for day robes and school uniforms and robes in their case), did their clothes shopping at Madam Malkin's.

It was not widely known during their Hogwarts years but Millicent already had an eye and talent for fabrics and making beautiful creations from them. It was a shame that the girl was built like a troll because even though her clothes had been fashioned by her wand, nobody would pay attention to its fine details when it was paired with an intimidating glare and a heavy-set build.

Daphne had gone to her former classmate for the occasional day robe or dress but in Hermione's case, Millie would get her chance to showcase her creation in the spotlight. It was not an opportunity that Millie would turn down, even if there was unresolved bad blood between the two.

"I know she's not your favourite person in the world," That was an understatement, Daphne thought, as Hermione sniffed contemptuously, "But she's a good dressmaker and you want to make a good impression, don't you?"

Biting her lip (another habit that Tracey would have to drum out of that girl), Hermione nodded. It was easier to persuade the muggleborn witch when it was her personal interest at stake, Daphne mused.

It was a little awkward at the beginning but it was obvious that Hermione was trying to put aside her personal feelings and eventually the mood lightened when it came to inspecting and choosing the right fabric and colour.

Daphne had tensed a little when Hermione had declared she favoured a colour similar to Daphne's own gown but thankfully Millie had coaxed the other witch with a bolt of some pinkish coral fabric. After that Hermione had stoically endured a couple of hours being pinned and tucked with an occasional suggestion from her or Tracey about her footwear and a long discussion about jewellery, make up and haircare.

"I think it should be ready for your final fitting in two days," Millie told Hermione as they carefully eased the muggleborn witch out of the incomplete gown.

"It's so beautiful now, I can't wait to see it when it's done," Hermione declared, beaming genuinely at Millie.

It was a very becoming dress, Daphne would have to admit. On the day of Harry's birthday celebration, Millie had Flooed in with her creation. A few last minute alterations and Tracey seeing to Hermione's make up and taming and teasing the muggleborn witch's hair into a simple up do, the final result was extremely satisfying.

Millie nodded approvingly as she took a couple of snaps with the clunky camera she had brought along before bustling forward to make another inspection of the dress. As Daphne would make her appearance with her family, it had fallen to Tracey to accompany Hermione to the invitation-only event but Daphne promised she would find them before the public toast happened.

With Hermione settled, Daphne turned her attention to her own appearance. By all accounts, she should have retired to wait out her confinement period but she had been determined to make one last appearance before she obeyed her mother and the midwife's advice.

Her mother had even made one last appeal as they stood side by side, waiting to be announced into the ballroom but Daphne shook her head. On that note, Daphne brushed a non-existent wrinkle from the skirt of her gown before allowing her father to lead her and her mother into the ballroom.

Barely resisting to wince or gasp out as the cramping feeling washed over her once more, Daphne wished that despite her necessary continued appearance in society, she had agreed to her mother's suggestion and skipped the event.

The large ballroom was bedecked with tasteful streamers and the odd fairy lights but Daphne paid no attention to it, sweeping across the room to take a short respite in the Harem Corner. She winced again as a sharp pain skittered up her spine, prompting to her to hurry into the Harem Corner.

The Harem Corner was manned by a house elf at all times, its main duty was to keep the area neat and to provide refreshments for the Corner's occupants. The runt-sized house elf looked concerned as it watched her gently settle into an armchair. "Can Jinksy brings anything for you, mistress?"

"Just a cold glass of pumpkin juice," Daphne suppressed the urge to wince against as her belly tightened at the latest tingle of pain.

The elf nodded and popped away, leaving Daphne alone. Belatedly Daphne realised she should have asked the house elf to summon her midwife.

While Lady Andromeda was the official Potter Healer and although she had previously worked in St Mungo's, she was no expert in childbirth procedures. Hence a midwife had been engaged for each of the pregnant wives once they entered their last months of their respective pregnancies. Despite the list of recommended midwives her Court friends had given, Daphne was rather fortunate that her mother had taken charge of this matter, having interviewed several midwives before introducing Daphne to the midwife Lady Margaret had eventually chosen.

At first glance, it was impossible to imagine Lorena Ward as a midwife. Even Daphne had the vaguest impression that midwives were matronly looking with their no-nonsense attitudes. But Lorena looked tanned, fit and ready to play Quidditch as opposed to being cooped up in the paediatrics ward at St Mungo's or in someone's confinement suite. In any case, she was a popular choice as a midwife and despite her mother's insistence and using Harry's name as an enticement, Lorena had declined to leave her previous employer until the end of the employer's confinement. It had cut a fine line with Daphne's own pregnancy timeline but Lady Margaret had assured Daphne that Lorena would be worth it.

When the older witch had moved into her temporary lodgings in Potter Castle, she had quickly caught up with her client before insisting on a thorough check up. Lorena had briefly explained about the odd contraction that Daphne had felt earlier that week as Braxton Hicks contractions. Daphne inwardly snorted when she found out that the bit of information was from a muggle but was taught in Healing and midwifery Apprenticeships. If the traditional purebloods had caught wind of this, there would surely be a big hullabaloo over using a muggle's name as a Healing terminology.

Another explosion of pain rippled through her, eliciting a pained gasp from her. Was this labour? Daphne blinked away the sudden onslaught of tears as she fumbled to remove her wand from her gown.

There was a shadow hanging about outside the Corner's veil and Daphne impatiently waved her wand, neatly parting them.

"Lady Daphne, I must thank you once again…" Hermione's exuberant face appeared in Daphne's view but the expression had changed to alarm and concern, "Shall I call for Lady Andromeda?"

The contractions were beginning to roll in like waves now and Daphne did not waste any words. "Get my midwife, if not my mother, Tracey or Lady Andromeda."

Apparently the unexpected onset of labour had bowled the muggleborn witch over as she nodded and ran out to find the four people that Daphne had requested for. Daphne's wand laid forgotten as she focused her attention on the source of her pain.

"Already one for dramatic entrances, just like your father," she murmured to her belly, "But I'm not planning to give birth in such a public setting, little one."

Time ticked on, or stopped, Daphne was not sure before a slightly ruffled Lorena arrived and with her, Daphne's house elf Plippy and the Harem Corner's elf. There was a slight blur and a pop and they were in Daphne's bedroom.

"Daphne, you obviously know by now that you're in labour," Lorena told her calmly.

Clamping down on her rising panic, Daphne shook her head stubbornly and looked at Lorena hopefully. "It's just pre-labour contractions right? You said it will come and go."

The midwife had already changed into a standard Healer's robe (layered with all sorts of charms and spelled to be impervious against all sorts of liquids) by then before ushering Daphne towards her own walk-in wardrobe and assisting the younger witch in removing her gown before redressing Daphne in a plain nightgown.

"It's still early. The baby's not due for a few more weeks!" Daphne tried to hide the fear in her voice but it was evident in the shrilly voice that was emitted instead of her usual modulated tones.

"I'm afraid the baby has other plans, my lady."

Lorena guided her back to the bed as her thoughts whirled around her. She could vaguely hear Lorena giving instructions to both the elves who promptly disappeared. Propping herself on the bed, Daphne winced as Lorena took her measurement.

"Five fingers, Lady Daphne. We should have the little one with us by breakfast tomorrow." Lorena told her cheerfully.

She could hear people bustling around outside her bedroom before Lady Andromeda and Tracey entered. Tracey had quickly gone over to her side, helping her up. The kind, motherly aura that Lady Andromeda usually exuded was gone and her face and mannerism professional as she listened to Lorena's update before summoning an elf and giving quiet instructions to it.

Her contractions are tolerable now. The consistent twinges reminded her that labour is upon her but they were minor enough that Daphne was able to collect her thoughts and observe the other people in her bedroom.

A Potter elf was coaxing a small fire to stay alive in the fireplace as it was instructed and Lady Andromeda had briefly stepped outside the room – she could make out two other voices but Daphne could not recognise them.

As the pain had subsided to a tolerable level for the time being, Daphne, with Tracey by her side and Lorena hovering behind her, slowly made her way to her balcony. The cold wind was a welcome relief to the stuffiness inside her room and she took a deep, cleansing breath of the crisp air.

When they first moved in, Daphne had discreetly checked out the other rooms on this floor before claiming her current apartment as hers. Although Susan's apartment was the biggest, Daphne loved the wide expanse of garden and the beginning of a lake that her apartment overlooked. It was further compounded on her first night when she had sat outside and watched dawn break the night's hold over the sky.

Her contractions were beginning to rocket above her pain threshold and Daphne reluctantly allowed Lorena and Tracey to escort her in but demanded they leave the glass doors of the balcony open despite Lorena's protests of a chill.

The room felt incredibly warm with the fire merrily burning away. Daphne would have demanded they put out the fire but Lorena had hastily reassured her that it was for the good of her baby. With that sort of endorsement from her midwife, Daphne had to let the issue go.

Although when sweat began to trickle down her temples and her hair sticking to her face, Daphne wondered if her midwife was just a little bit mad. But that thought was immediately forgotten when she buckled after a wave of pain crashed into her, the latest contraction being the most excruciating one yet.

"It hurts!" Daphne yelped.

Lady Andromeda and Tracey had been watching from a distance but both hurried forward to assist Daphne back to her bed, which Daphne noticed has been stripped of its soft comforter and there were fewer pillows than before.

"It won't be a long labour," she heard Lorena comment after she checked on Daphne once more.

"Where's my mother?" Daphne suddenly asked, fear creeping up her spine.

There was a moment of silence as the other women realised that Margaret Greengrass was not among their number. A hurried order was given to the house elves to find Daphne's mother before the attention was back on Daphne.

"I want my mother here," Daphne repeated as her contractions started up again.

A soft, cool hand clasped Daphne's right hand and another hand brushed her sticky hair from her face. "It's alright, Daphne. I'm here," her mother's soft spoken voice cooed at her.

Feeling calmer than before, Daphne turned her face to glance at her mother. "I'm not ready, mama," she whimpered.

Daphne, and Astoria and their mother, would deny it if it ever came out but despite Lady Margaret's aloofness towards her children in public, she was a devoted parent behind doors. The handful of times she had fallen sick or felt poorly, Lady Margaret had sat vigil by her bedside. Daphne could remember her mother crooning childhood songs or quietly reading aloud from Daphne's storybooks. At other times, Lady Margaret would comb her fingers through her daughter's hair while Daphne was laid up in bed, fighting off a trifling fever or cold. Once Daphne was better, their old routine would be re-established and Lady Margaret would return to her husband's side, never showing more affection than a short embrace or kiss on the forehead for her daughters.

But during those brief periods, Daphne had known how much her mother loved and cared for her and it was a very powerful feeling. Having her mother by her bed side again made her relax despite the pain, panic and anxiety that still threatened to overwhelm her.

"I'm right here, Daphne. It's going to hurt now but it'll be all worth it," Lady Margaret promised, allowing Daphne to squeeze her hand when the pain struck.

Daphne wasn't sure how much time had passed – time had lost meaning by now and she briefly wondered if someone had informed Harry about her impending delivery but all thoughts fled the next time another contraction started up. She alternated between feeling hot and cold and occasionally the cramping feeling would suddenly leave her gasping only to subside within seconds. It didn't help that the few times that Lorena had checked on her, only to come up and inform Daphne that it was not yet time.

Tracey had returned with a goblet of ice chips and Daphne gratefully chewed on a few, appreciating the cool liquid running down her throat. Lady Andromeda and Lorena were hovering around the bed, trying to be unobtrusive as Daphne rested between the contractions.

Daphne must have dozed off for a bit because when she tiredly opened her eyes the next time, her entire lower abdomen was tight with pain and she reflexively squeezed her mother's hand.

"Lorena, Lady Andromeda," Lady Margaret had called as she spoke quietly of inconsequential things to Daphne, trying to distract her daughter from the pain she was in.

Lorena looked the least flustered as she instructed the house elves and Lady Andromeda. Tracey took Daphne's other hand and squeezed lightly before Daphne squeezed it back, more out of pain than anything else.

Their words of comfort or encouragement just washed over Daphne as she wailed and screamed, her muscles taut with her efforts to expel the cause of her distress. Following her midwife's instructions, Daphne took deep breaths before pushing with the onset of each contraction. She was about to yell in frustration at the lack of progress when the words she had longed for was finally said.

"Another push, my lady, and it'll be all over," Lorena told her encouragingly.

Daphne didn't bother with a retort, her face screwed up in agony. Her mother's cool hand stroked the side of her face, cooling her overheated flesh. "Another big push okay, Daphne? Focus on that."

Daphne nodded at her mother's words. When the next contraction came, Daphne pushed with whatever energy she had left. There was a flurry of action between Lorena, Lady Andromeda and the house elves before they were rewarded with the sweet sound of a baby's squalling.

Tears blurred Daphne's sight as she sunk into her comfortable mattress, her aching body still shivering from her efforts. She had her baby. The labour was over and she had had her baby. Whatever happened next, Daphne would have this bundle of blessing to look forward to.

A/N: I started this chapter months ago and it was the worst struggle I've encountered to complete a chapter. I'm not familiar with about the intricacies of pregnancy or labour and I don't confess to know enough to describe it in clinical terms, much less in a story. What I wrote about it is my own extrapolation and inference from websites and books about this - please don't take offense if I have left something out or added false information (all that I know is from the Internet!).

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated! :)