"Ginny, honey, do we really need to do this?" Harry asked, as his wife dragged him into St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies.
"Harry, we've been trying to get pregnant for a year. I think we should make sure nothing's wrong."
Harry sighed, "Okay."
Ginny walked into the elevator and went up to the topmost floor, where the fertility testing was done. They stepped out into a marble floor way (or, at least it seemed to be marble).
"Hello. Do you have an appointment?" the witch receptionist asked.
Ginny walked up to the counter, "Yes we do. We're the Potters."
"Potter, Potter," the witch muttered, scrolling through the appointment book, "Ah, yes. Healer Damek will see you in a moment. Please take a seat."
They took two seats against a wall and settled down to wait. Harry still seemed ill at ease.
"What's wrong Harry?"
"Well, everyone in this waiting room takes one look at you and assumes that I'm the problem."
"That's not true, Harry."
"It is! You're drop dead gorgeous and I'm…"
"You are the most wonderful man I've ever met. Since when do you care what strangers think?"
"Never, but…"
"How is this different from what you read in the gossip column everyday?"
"It's a lot different, Gin, here they're…" he blushed.
Ginny smiled, "They're what, Harry?"
"Questioning my…"
"Virility?"
Harry blushed even deeper, "Yeah! It's not like when they were asking about how right in the head I was…"
"Now they're wondering how right in the head you are?"
"Yeah, they're…" he realized what she had said and covered his eyes with his hands, "Oh, Lord."
"Mr. And Mrs. Potter? The doctor will see you now…"
