August 13th, 1998
Ginny Weasley
As I was pulled through St. Mungo's and into a room, I cried so loudly that I didn't even hear the exchange between my mother and the Healer. I could deduce what they were saying, though. Mum thought I was pregnant. Or rather, knew - seeing as Luna and I both thought so.
I managed to look up at the Healer as he ran his wand in front of me, casting some inaudible "pregnancy test" spell. He paused for a moment, and turned to my mum, this apologetic look on his face. Like he was the one who'd done something wrong.
"We can tell the sex, too, if you'd like; some young moth-"
"Please," I said, surprisingly coherent.
"Ginevra," my mother chided.
"It's a boy..." he said with a grimace he tried to hide from me. I nodded slowly, and the Healer cleared his throat before speaking again a couple moments later.
"It's hospital procedure to...inform the father, so if you could just give me his name and address..."
Who did this man think he was? I mean, it was his job, but I could have sworn people who take care of others for a living are supposed to compassionate. He seemed colder than Malfoy. I could see a black tattoo peeking out underneath his obnoxiously white lab coat. There was no way I could tell him-
"N-Neville Longbottom," I stammered. My mother's expression turned to pure shock. My stomach flipped, but I had to admit, no one would have seen that one coming. The Healer scribbled the name down onto the parchment on his clipboard, then looked back up at me, squinting.
"Longbottom...his- parents are-"
"In the mental health ward," I told him. He pursed his lips and abruptly left the room.
"Neville..." my mother whimpered. I nodded weakly, keeping my eyes trained to the floor.
There was a knock at the door and the Healer shoved it open seconds later. My heart nearly stopped when I realised that Neville was walking behind him.
"Your lucky day, boy," the Healer said condescendingly. If looks could kill, the look my mother gave him probably would have killed his grandchildren, and she stomped out of the room after him. True to my mother's character, I could tell she began yelling soon after slamming the door.
"What's going on, Ginny?" Neville inquired, concern covering his face and his gentle fingers running through my messy hair. As I opened my mouth to speak, the words simply would not come, and I cried silently into my sweaty palms for a couple minutes.
"You- you're the only one, I'm sorry-"
"The only one what, Ginny?"
"That I trust enough to handle this with me."
"What, Ginny?"
I found myself unable to look him in the eye or to stop crying; my head fell into my lap and the salty tears became sobs. Neville held me tightly, the only real comfort I still had. I slid off the hospital bed and leaned closer into him. He wrapped his arms around me, and I was shocked at how warm he felt, though the thought only made me cry more. Eventually I worked up the nerve to speak, but I didn't move so much as an inch.
"You know how I've been ill this summer?" I whispered.
"Yeah?"
"I haven't really been...ill...exactly..." I choked out, and the next couple of minutes were marked with an overwhelmingly silence until Neville spoke again.
"You're pregnant," he murmured, and I nodded solemnly.
