Saturday morning found Hermione and Mallory in St. Mungo's maternity ward. Mallory hadn't looked up from her lap since the moment she'd sat down in the uncomfortable seating, as though ashamed of being there in the first place. Hermione sat beside her, waiting to be called in.
"Hermione Granger Weasley," the receptionist said loudly.
Hermione stood and Mallory looked at her curiously. She merely motioned for Mallory to come with her as the receptionist directed her to a patient room.
They made their way down the corridor toward the exam room. "I thought...I didn't know you'd made an appointment as well," Mallory said.
"It's for you, not me," Hermione told her, finding the room and going in. Mallory paced the room nervously as they waited yet again.
It wasn't long before there was a knock at the door. "Healer Vivian!"
"Come in," Hermione returned.
The young woman entered the room swiftly and immediately set about with her clipboard and quill. "I wasn't expecting to see you so soon, Hermione, Fr—" She looked around in surprise, her eyes landing on Mallory. "Well, you're not Mr. Weasley," she noted.
"This is my friend Mallory," Hermione introduced. "Mallory, this is Healer Vivian."
"Vivian is just fine."
Hermione nodded. "This is Vivian," she amended.
"Nice to meet you," Mallory said politely.
"Likewise," Vivian returned. She looked at her clipboard. "It says here that this appointment is for you, Hermione," she said. "Is that correct?"
Hermione shook her head. "I was hoping you'd be Mallory's healer as well," she said.
Vivian paused. "Well, I suppose I could take on another patient," she said. "Best not tell the other healers though."
"I just wanted to be sure we could speak with you," Hermione said. "I was hoping you could help Mallory." Her meaningful look gave implication to the real request.
Vivian looked unsure a moment. "When were you married?" she asked Mallory.
"Four days ago," she replied softly.
The healer seemed to evaluate the girl before her, taking in the way stood with her head tipped down and her fingers nervously pulling at the hem of her blouse. She nodded slowly and then walked to the door, opening it and stopping the first passing intern. "Healer Vivian," she introduced. "I need a file for a Mallory..."
"Walters," Hermione supplied.
"Mallory Walters," Vivian said. "Quickly please." The intern hurried away and Vivian eased the door shut. "Why don't you take a seat," she suggested. "Would it help if it were just me and you?"
Mallory shook her head. "I'd like Hermione to stay," she said. "If that's alright."
Hermione nodded and sat in the chair Fred usually took, pulling it closer to the patient table, which Mallory perched on hesitantly.
"Can you tell me what's happened?" Vivian asked.
Mallory went over the events again and Hermione sat silently, the fury resurfacing within her as she listened to it all once more. Mallory was not descriptive, though the scenario was clear. Her cheeks remained dry though her voice both shook and dropped in volume as she spoke.
Vivian nodded as Mallory told her how Hermione had noticed something wrong at work and let her stay at her flat. "You have bruises?" Vivian asked gently.
Mallory pushed her sleeves up gingerly to show the purple flesh of her forearms and wrists. Vivian took her hand and turned it over to get a better look. Mallory swallowed thickly. "My thighs and chest as well," she added. Hermione felt a wave of guilt. She hadn't even thought to ask.
Vivian handed over a hospital gown. "If you'll put that on, we'll start running tests," she said.
Mallory wasn't pregnant. And the rest of her health was just fine as well. Hermione couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief in unison with her at the news. Even Vivian seemed visibly relieved.
With Mallory's file lying open on the counter, Vivian wrote her results down. "Okay," she said, fixing them a serious look. "Now, I need you both to understand that this doesn't leave this room."
They nodded and Mallory gave Hermione a worried look.
"Mallory, you need to make a choice," Vivian began. "I can pronounce you infertile, and you'd be exempt from the law. Your marriage annulled."
The girl's eyes lit and glistened with tears. "Really?" she asked. "You'd do that?" She looked back to Hermione in excitement. Hermione smiled back widely.
"I would," Vivian confirmed. "But it would make you ineligible for another pairing and it would mean that you could never have children."
Mallory's expression fell slowly. "I'll never be able to have children?" she asked.
Vivian sighed. "Well, technically, no. You're perfectly able to have children. But if I report you infertile and you become pregnant, we're both in for Azkaban."
Mallory nodded in understanding, if a little dolefully, feeling the weight of the situation. "Okay," she said.
"There has to be another way," Hermione cut in. "Mallory, did you want children?"
"Someday," she replied. "But..."
"Can't Damien be the sterile one?" Hermione asked. "I mean, if Mallory's infertile, all that does is save her. What about the next girl Damien is passed to? What happens to her?"
Mallory looked up at that, eyes wide and fearful. "I can't help everyone," Vivian said regretfully. "I'd like to, I would, but there are only a few of us who are even trying to help and we can't get to everyone."
"But if we can make Damien the one exempt, you can help more than just Mallory," Hermione pointed out.
"I can't make him sterile," Vivian told her. "And I certainly can't trust that he won't impregnate a woman and expose all of this. If the ministry comes snooping through here...well, I can't help anyone from a cell in Azkaban."
Hermione frowned, thinking of the possibilities. She shook her head. "You can't make him sterile," she said, "but what if I could?"
Vivian looked bemused. "Then...I'd be pleasantly surprised when I signed his form," she said. "Can you?"
Hermione took a deep breath, wondering the same thing. "I can try."
"You'll need to get him in for testing," Vivian said.
Hermione nodded. "Give me a few days," she said. "I'll…figure something out."
"Okay," Vivian agreed. "If not," she turned to Mallory, "come back to see me. And until then you stay with Hermione."
"Yes ma'am," Mallory said with a smile. "Thank you so much."
"Don't mention it," Vivian said. "Really." And they both knew exactly what she meant.
"Mallory?" Fred stopped her, turning to look over his shoulder from his place on the couch as she crossed the way from the loo to the spare bedroom, dressed in Hermione's pyjamas once again.
"Yes?" she asked. She didn't move any closer, merely paused expectantly where she was. It had taken him a while to pick up on how jumpy she was around him. He understood why. When Hermione was around she wasn't nearly so skittish, but in the rare moment it was just the two of them, as it was now since Hermione was in the bedroom changing, she seemed to be a bundle of frightened nerves.
He decided he'd make this quick. "Here." He extended his arm across the back of the couch, offering her a small container.
She reached to take it from him. "What's this?"
"Bruise removal paste," he replied. "Hermione mentioned...well, thought you might need it." He watched as she gripped the hem of her shirt sleeve, hiding her wrists. "It's a bit of a mess," he continued, "but it works."
She nodded. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." He smiled at her and she blushed. His smile broadened as he stood. "I'm making tea, you'll have a cup?"
"Yes, please."
"Hermione?" Fred called. "Love, I'm making tea, do you want a cup?"
Hermione exited the bedroom with a laugh. "You don't like tea," she said.
"I didn't say I was making tea for me," he told her.
"I'll make the tea," Hermione said. "You go clean up."
"Are you sure?" he asked. "I don't mind."
"Positive," she assured. She nudged him toward the loo as she went to put the kettle on. "Go on."
On Sunday Hermione offered to go to Mallory's flat to pick up some of her things. Mallory said she could go herself but Hermione's answer was a firm no. Fred insisted that he go with her and she didn't argue. Damien was out, which made things much easier, and though both Hermione and Fred were dying to do damage to his possessions, they refrained. Hermione was still planning and she couldn't risk ruining anything by having Damien suspicious and paranoid. They were back at home before Fred's lunch break had ended.
"What are you getting Angie for Christmas?" he asked. George slid over the counter, despite the easy access of going around it. He winked at the young girl stepping up to the counter, who was giggling at his little stunt. The shop was slowly growing busier as it neared late afternoon and had been even busier than usual as the holidays approached. Fred helped the girl as he waited on George's answer.
"Well?" he prodded, returning the girl's wave as the shop's bell tinkled on her way out.
George chuckled. "Earrings," he said, "and lingerie."
"You still do that?" Fred asked. "Seriously?"
"Well, it was only a joke the first time," George said. "But she really loves it. And I'm definitely not complaining."
Fred laughed. "Yeah, well, I don't think that's Hermione's style." He shut the register.
"At all?" George asked.
Fred shrugged. "I never saw the point in lingerie, anyway," he began. "I mean—" There was a cough and they looked up to see a teenager shuffling awkwardly in front of the register. They simultaneously raised their eyebrows in prompt.
"Oh." The boy held up a pair of extendable ears.
"Twelve sickles nine knuts," George recited.
Fred took the money, and sorted it through the register. "Lingerie," he continued. The teenager sputtered out a thank you and headed towards the door slowly, seemingly very interested in the twins' conversation. "Nice and all," Fred said. "Very nice. But the point is to make me want to take it off, no?"
George shrugged and nodded, conceding.
"Well, Hermione could literally be wearing anything and I'd be more than happy to help her out of it," he said. "In fact, the towel she has does just fine." He shook his head.
George laughed. "Ah, those feminine wiles."
Fred sighed. "She doesn't even know she's doing it," he said. "I swear. As beguiling as I'm sure she can be, she's not even trying. It's just her."
George smirked. "You poor sod." He clapped his brother on the shoulder and scribbled down the last couple of sales in the book.
"Verity, can you take the register?" Fred asked, waving her over from across the shop, raising his voice over the din of the customers. He didn't bother waiting for her to make it to the counter, heading into the back room with George just behind him.
"Where is Hermione anyway?" George asked. "She usually comes round for lunch."
"She's with Mallory," Fred said. He'd partially explained Mallory's situation to his brother, partly because he wanted to ask someone's opinion on what were the right and wrong things to say and do in the circumstances (George hadn't been all that helpful though he had said not to ask too many questions), but mostly because he had to give some explanation to his twin when he wanted to know why there was a second girl coming and going from his flat. "Last I left her she was still researching."
"Researching?" George raised an eyebrow.
"How she'll deal with Damien," Fred replied.
"Oh Merlin, he's in for it, isn't he?"
"I don't know," Fred said unsurely. "She shot down the whole castrate him idea. Said it'd be too obvious."
George sniggered. "Ouch."
"Ha!" Hermione exclaimed. Mallory looked up from her book in surprise.
"What is it?" she asked.
"This." Hermione cleared enough space between the books spread on coffee table to slide to Mallory the volume she'd been reading from. "Right there."
"What am I reading?" Mallory squinted. "Sorry," she said. "That print's awfully small. Let me get my glasses." She went to stand from her place on the floor to retrieve her glasses case from the couch. Hermione reached back and grabbed the case from slipping between the couch cushions. She opened it and handed Mallory her thinly framed lenses.
"Middle of the page," she directed.
Mallory's eyes scanned down behind her spectacles and paused at the slightly larger heading. "Birth control," she read aloud. "Like the pills?"
Hermione shook her head. "Better," she said. "You know what a vasectomy is?" She waited for Mallory's nod. "Well it says there that wizards have had methods for it long before muggles. A potion. It basically targets and dissolves the tubes that connect...well." Mallory nodded quickly in understanding. "It's permanent," Hermione went on, "which is why they don't offer it anymore since they long ago found a reversible option that's just as effective. But this," she pointed, "this is a sure thing."
"It's illegal though, isn't it?" Mallory asked. "I don't want you to have to…"she trailed off worriedly.
Hermione shook her head firmly. "Look Mallory, I realized a long time ago that legal or illegal hardly matters when it comes down to right over wrong," she said. "And what he did was wrong. And what the ministry is forcing you into is wrong. Bullocks if you don't think that for once two wrongs do make a right." She reached across the table to tap the book's pages. "This is your right."
Mallory smiled at her friend's support and began to read over the text. "Do you think you can make this?" she asked hopefully.
Hermione nodded with a smile, the ideas forming rapidly now. "Absolutely."
And a week later she had. The concoction was undetectably mixed into a bottle of wine and delivered to Mallory's flat as a wedding present from 'neighbours' which Hermione then personally brought to Damien's attention.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, raising a hand to knock on the door. She had been hoping that he would answer, depended on it actually, but when the door swung open she was inexplicably surprised. She recognized him from the short while she'd seen him at the wedding. He wasn't overly tall, only a couple of inches taller than herself, but far stockier. He would have been attractive if she didn't know how ugly his actions were. He had dark hair, tanned skin and grey eyes that were currently narrowed at her in suspicion. She had to remind herself that she didn't look like herself, he couldn't possibly recognize her through all of the glamour charms. "Mr. Weiss," she said curtly. "This was on your doorstep." She handed him the bottle of wine, a red ribbon tied around its neck, the card she'd written out strung on to it.
"Who are you?" Damien asked bluntly, taking the wine from her with nod and reading the card disinterestedly.
"Ms. Phalange. I work for the ministry," Hermione said, which was not even a lie, she told herself. Aside from the name, that is. "I've come to enquire as to whether or not you've been tested by a healer yet. For fertility of course."
Damien reached into his pocket and drew out a pocketknife. Hermione had to stop herself from taking an instinctive step backward. Her hand touched her wand through her cloak reassuringly. "Isn't that the girl's job?" he asked, flipping out a corkscrew from the compact tool and twisting it into the cork of the bottle. Hermione relaxed slightly.
"We ask that the men, especially those whose marriage was delayed, be tested as well. So as not to waste any time, you see," Hermione explained. "And where is your wife?" she asked, curious what kind of answer he'd provide.
"Out." Damien shrugged. "Not really her keeper, now am I?"
Hermione nodded, her now dark, dead straight hair falling into her face. "So, you haven't seen a healer then, I take it?"
He pulled the cork from the bottle with a loud pop. "Nope."
"As I'd thought." She pulled out a folder and opened it for show, consulting notes on a hippogriff owner. "Well, then you have an appointment scheduled for tomorrow morning, Mr. Weiss. Nine thirty," she informed. "And I trust you will attend? Otherwise I'd be forced to report you to the ministry and that's a whole mess of unnecessary paperwork, having to call both you and your wife in, going through thorough examination…" she listed. "You understand."
Damien looked her up and down. "Would I be seeing you there?" he asked.
She tried not to cringe. "Possibly," she replied, playing ignorant to his advance.
He took a whiff of the wine and held up the bottle. "Could I offer you a glass?"
Seriously? Hermione nearly laughed. What a gentleman, she thought sardonically. What she said was, "I really shouldn't."
"But will you?" he asked.
She considered it. It would ensure that he drank it, she supposed. "Only if you are," she replied.
He gave her a sly smile that had her feeling squeamish as he opened the door to let her inside and went into the kitchen to find the appropriate glasses. Hermione felt uneasy in the flat. Being there with Fred, she'd been fine, cool, collected and right to the business of gathering Mallory's things. But here with Damien, without Fred, she suddenly wondered if passing the threshold had been a good idea. It would probably be best to leave as soon as possible.
Damien poured two glasses, quite full Hermione noted. That had to be at least ten ounces. He handed her a glass and she accepted it with what she hoped was a convincingly polite smile. "Thank you."
"Cheers." They clinked glasses lightly and as he took a long sip from his own, Hermione turned as though just noticing something by the door, merely pretending to drink from the glass. She murmured a spell as her lips brushed the cool rim of it and a good amount of the liquid disappeared.
"Oh goodness," she said in feigned surprise, fighting a smile as she watched him down half of his own glass. "Is that the time? I have to go. I'm sorry. I have a meeting." She looked at the glass before placing it on the counter. "This really wasn't the best idea." She made for the door and Damien caught her wrist. She froze as her free hand went directly to her wand.
"Wait," he said. "Can I catch your name?"
She turned, eyeing his grip as it loosened. "Why?" she asked.
His hand left her and she straightened her robes, heading directly for the door. "You're gorgeous," he told her. "I think we could get along."
Slimy, she thought, you disgusting monster. "Don't forget your appointment tomorrow," she said, feeling sick at his words and glad she wasn't truly in her own skin.
"Sure," he said. "Nine thirty. I'll go if I can get your name."
Hermione sighed, looking at the half empty glass still in his hand. No matter what, this was a worthwhile visit, she reminded herself. "Er, Regina," she said. "Regina Phalange. Thank you for your time. And the wine was…satisfying."
Author's note: I think perhaps that all moved a little quickly but I also don't want to drag it out. Thank you for reading! Three things:
1) Did anyone catch the F.R.I.E.N.D.S. reference?
2) Any better title suggestions for this chapter?
and 3) This may sound strange but I'm looking for someone to be a guru of sorts for this story. Not exactly a beta as I don't intend to send chapters ahead of time for editing or anything. Just someone who keeps their PM enabled, who is really into this story, and who wouldn't mind the occasional request for their opinion on which direction I should take something, how something should be written, or whether or not I should include a scene/omit a scene. I would try not to spoil the story in any way, but the chapters may be slightly less surprising depending on whether or not I ask for an opinion before posting a chapter. If you're interested please let me know! I'm not in any way hurt if you aren't though, I promise.
Thanks again and please review!
Anyways,
Scarlett