Chapter 2: An Imbroglio

"We must dance

for cunning fate

brought us to its ball."

The waiting room was brim with people, particularly individuals with raging hormones. Hermione Granger was pretending to flip through a magazine, but through the corner of her eyes, she was studying the people in her environs, as she was one wont to observing her surroundings. There were large posters on the walls regarding female health, and her nose curled up at one of them: A smelly vagina? It began. Hastily, Hermione ripped her notice from there, and brown eyes suddenly fell on grey.

Narcissa Malfoy.

Almost reflexively, Hermione lifted the magazine in an attempt to hide her face, but she was halted in her attempt to cover herself when she noticed the blonde nipping on her burgundy lips; her slender hands were clasped in a tight hold. Was Narcissa Malfoy… tense? She had never seen her in an uneasy state before. Hermione noticed a vacant seat beside the witch, and considered sitting there, but she rapidly changed her mind, as she was of the belief that they were not friends and never would be, for they came from entirely different upbringings and were far too dissimilar to have a decent conversation.

However, it seemed she was destined to sit there, as when she was once more attempting to hide her face, she heard a woman say: "Excuse me, but I was sitting there." She gazed upwards at a reddened face of a heavily pregnant female, and decided it would be in her best interest to remove herself from the seat.

"Mrs. Malfoy?" said Hermione after languidly walking towards her and the vacant seat beside her. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

Startled by her sight, Narcissa Malfoy attempted to compose herself. "Mrs. Weasley? Yes, of course. You may sit here."

"Thank you," answered Hermione, grateful that she did not have to stand. A few minutes of silence transpired, but since they were acquaintances, Hermione found the quietude fairly uncomfortable. "How are you doing, Mrs. Malfoy?"

The pureblood responded with a gentle nod. "I'm well, Mrs. Weasley," she replied, but Hermione's intuition, which usually was rather sensitive, could not come to believe her. The witch was behaving in a peculiar manner; in fact, she seemed rather afraid. If Hermione had been in her shoes, she was certain she would have been much more jubilant.

"Are you also with-child?" asked the aristocrat.

Hermione shook her head. "No, but I'd like to be … in the near future, that is."

"Oh, good luck," said Narcissa.

"Thank you," answered Hermione.

It was rather evident that they were the type of individuals who found small talk terribly irksome. Narcissa removed a book from a small pouch that stored much more than what it appeared to be able to hold: Macbeth, it read.

Hermione's eyes widened at the sight and her eyes glimmered. "You read Shakespeare?" she asked.

The blonde lifted an elegant brow. "Yes. Do you take me for a philistine, Mrs. Weasley?"

Her cheeks reddened. "No—no that's not what I meant," she began and hastily explained, "I mean—it's Muggle literature. I didn't think you'd read his work."

The pureblood felt taxed by her company. "It may be Muggle literature, but Shakespeare was most definitely not a Muggle, Mrs. Weasley," she said stiffly. "It just so happens that he found himself more welcomed in the Muggle world than ours, as he often portrayed us witches as unsightly hags in his plays."

Much to her chagrin, Hermione had not known this piece of information. "Oh, I didn't know that, Mrs. Malfoy," she replied.

"You'll find that you know less as you age, Mrs. Weasley," Narcissa remarked frostily. Her piercing grey eyes caught ahold of her brown. "Do you know how the terms bloodtraitor and mudblood have come about, Mrs. Weasley? They have arisen from a history of wizards and witches- often Muggleborns like Shakespeare- exploiting our people. And worse, assisting Muggles in our extermination."

Hermione tensed and realized that sitting next to Narcissa might have not been a great idea. Perhaps, she should have come here another day. She was about to excuse herself and lie about needing to go to the lavatory (but in actuality flee St. Mungo's and return home) when a secretary called after the two. "Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Malfoy. Healer Finnegan would like to see the both of you. If you would like, you can come individually… or together."

Why were they both being seen simultaneously? Hermione gazed to her right at Narcissa and noticed she too appeared quite perplexed.

"I would like to go individually," said Narcissa. Hermione was not startled by her decision. Naturally, the pureblood preferred secrecy and privacy in order to not risk being unmasked.

"Alright. Would you like to go first?" asked Hermione, but as she had put forward her query, she noticed that the witch appeared quite unwell. "Are you alright-"

"You may go first," Narcissa quickly said in a strained voice. Her slender hand had covered her lips and she had arisen from her seat. Hermione suddenly realized that she was most likely indeed nauseous when she recalled that the woman was in her first trimester.

"Oh, yes - yes Mrs. Malfoy. Yes, of course," she stammered, startled.

Once the secretary had ushered her into the Healer's office, she noticed that the Mediwizard's cheeks were awfully red and that his forehead was glistening with sweat. He appeared quite uncomfortable and stiff. His hands were clasped and placed above his mahogany table. "Healer Finnegan?" said Hermione. "Are you okay?" she asked nervously as she traipsed into his office.

"Please, sit down," said the healer, pointing to the chair before him. "Is Mrs. Malfoy with you?" he asked.

"No. She wishes to come here on her own," she answered. "What is it? Why have you called the both of us here?"

"I'm glad you decided to visit me today, Mrs. Weasley. I was about to send you an owl. You see," he sighed. "I don't know how to begin really. I wish I knew how to say this, but-" he took in an even deeper sigh, "Mrs. Weasley, you might be having a child."

A child?

Hermione thought of a baby with bright brown eyes and red hair. She imagined years of memories that could be created with a child of her own. She thought of Ron and how merry he would be if he were to hear this news. A small smile crept on her face. Had she heard him right? Had her wishes finally been granted? Was fate at last her friend? Merlin's beard. "I'm sorry?" said Hermione. "But you just called earlier today and said that I - " and then she stopped herself as a thought occurred to her: "Wait. Why might I might be having a child?"

"Well, you see," said the Healer slowly. "It's quite a long story. Uh," he cleared his throat. "Please, sit down."

When she had seated herself, the Mediwizard began, "You can't have another treatment Mrs. Weasley as your egg is... no longer available."

Hermione raised a brow. "What? It wasn't fertilized?"

"No, no. It..." he paused and more perspiration seemed to lather on his forehead. "The problem is it has been, but not in the right way."

Utterly perplexed, Hermione leaned forwards. "What do you mean?"

"I... uh. Well, you see right after your visit, a couple came in. And I... wasn't paying attention. I took this woman's egg and yours and added the potion..."

Oh no.

Hermione had the sudden hunch that Mrs. Malfoy was somehow involved in this predicament.

"Are you saying that a chromosome from my egg and another egg were joined and then this fertilized egg was then put into..." she trailed off.

"Yes," the mediwizard said, nodding sadly. "I am so sorry, but I would like to inform you that the woman your egg was inserted into is with-child, but you see... this is private information, of course, and I should not share it, but seeing how this is a most peculiar and delicate situation, you may wish to talk to her about it..." He gulped. "This woman... "

"You mean Mrs. Malfoy?" said Hermione, who had become terribly exasperated and angered by the mediwizard, petrified of what had occurred and what was to occur, and entirely flummoxed by the situation.

"How did you know?" asked the mediwizard, surprised.

Hermione wondered how this man had been capable of becoming a Healer as his critical faculties were quite feeble. "You called the both of us in," she said. "Remember?"

"Ah yes," he frowned. "Yes. Now, Mrs. Malfoy is not keen on keeping this child. She has come here today to see if she can abort it. Of course, as you might already know, abortion is not permissible yet in the Wizarding world, but I am to give her resources so she can go through with the procedure in a Muggle clinic. "

"And what am I to do?" asked Hermione while lifting a brow. "I am not the one carrying the child."

"Well, you are a biological parent, so perhaps you might be interested in the future of this child. You might wish to discuss the matter with Mrs. Malfoy. I simply wished to inform you of the circumstance."

Hermione let out a great breath, one even deeper than the one the Healer had let out a moment before. She brushed her hair with her hand and lifted her gaze to the ceiling, and although she began to stare intently at the asbestos, she could only see Narcissa's silver eyes and her bushy hair on a little girl...

This had to be a bloody joke.

Her attention was taken by the sudden sound of someone sniffling. Hermione swiftly turned her notice to the door, and there she saw a slim hand releasing its grasp from the door frame, and the shadow of a lean yet curvaceous figure.

"Mrs. Malfoy?" asked Hermione. "Is that you?" And she found it tremendously satirical that they were not even on a first name basis, but they had a child in the making.

Her answer came through the sound of heels thumping against the ground. Instantly, she rose from her chair and started to storm after her, as she came to realize they were both deeply intertwined in this imbroglio.

The gods had answered her wish, but they had mocked her.

I have mid terms and exams, but instead I'm writing this. Ah, I'm such a procrastinator!

Anyhow, your reviews are greatly appreciated! Your thoughts help me see my strengths and weaknesses. Do let me know if you think the characters are becoming slightly OOC. I would like to stick to their original personalities and not change them too much. Presently, I believe that Narcissa (or anyone for that matter) would have reacted in a similar fashion to this predicament. I don't think it's a sign of frailty. Narcissa is in a very troubling situation: 1. She isn't sure if she wants to keep this child. 2. This child is not even her husband's, so she feels even more violated.

I hope you are enjoying this so far :)! Remember, if you have anything to say, feel free to do so!