April 1, 2004
Theo was waiting in the hospital lobby when Cho got off her overnight shift. She gave him a hug, and he took comfort in the familiar scent of shampoo in her still-damp hair as he loosely wrapped his arms around her shoulders.
"How're you?" he asked. "How was work?"
"I'm quite well. It was a busy shift, but no serious trauma. One young woman came in seriously hurt from an automobile crash, but we managed to stabilize her." Cho's smile was bright as she related that success.
"That's wonderful to hear," Theo said, truly delighted that the latest adjustment to her antidepressants seemed to have worked. For the last few days, he felt like he had the real Cho, the woman he loved, back in his life.
He gave a light caress on her baby bump. "And how's Drusilla Mei?" They had decided to name the baby after his mother, who had died when he was young, and Cho's only living grandparent.
"Since I was on my feet almost the whole night, Dru was quiet, but she started kicking just now when I was in the shower." He was glad she had changed to regular Muggle clothing in the facilities Royal Free provided for its physicians, knowing that her blue hospital scrubs would draw some funny looks at their early morning appointment at St. Mungo's.
"I wish I could feel her kicking," Theo said with a wistful expression.
"Any day now," Cho reassured him. "Penelope and the midwife both said I have an anterior placenta and that's why you haven't felt her yet."
"That's not a complication, is it?" he asked worriedly. He had never realized just how many things could go wrong with a pregnancy, and he knew Cho wasn't having the easiest time of it.
"Not at all," she said quickly, slightly allaying his concern.
"It looks like a beautiful morning," she observed, as they exited the hospital. "What do you say to walking towards Hampstead Heath and taking the Silverlink? At this time of the morning, it probably will be faster than a taxi. And certainly more economical!"
"And then you can spend the savings on something frilly and pink for Drusilla," Theo predicted with a fond smile. His wife was a practical dresser herself and had no objection to wearing her comfortable hospital scrubs most of the time, but she was finding miniature clothing for their baby girl too adorable to resist.
"You've discovered my weakness," Cho admitted cheerfully. "Do you have a busy day at the office?"
"Moderately, but nothing too pressing," Theo answered. "Draco has an appointment late in the day, so we may grab a pint before I'm home for dinner."
"Does he have legal troubles?" Cho asked, not even trying to hide her hopefulness that the sly blond was neck-deep in them.
Theo's lips quirked in amusement. "Don't you wish!" he said. "You know I need to maintain my clients' confidentiality. But generally speaking, Draco asks me to find legal loopholes that enable him to stay out of trouble."
"Typical!" Cho snorted. She linked her arm in Theo's, turning her face up to the weak early morning sunshine as they walked north to the right path to the rail station. "I love spring. I truly appreciate the sunlight after such a dark and gloomy winter."
Knowing that she wasn't just speaking of the weather, Theo wholeheartedly concurred.
(x) (x) (x)
For the first time, there was a brief wait at St. Mungo's. The receptionist apologetically informed them that Healer Clearwater had been attending a birth overnight and would be ready to see them in ten minutes.
Cho shrugged it off. Even in the best-run hospitals and medical practices, some delays were inevitable, and the Healer had an excellent reason for running late. If Cho had learned anything during her own obstetrics rotation, it was that labor and delivery were unpredictable and babies arrived in their own good time. She took a seat and began flipping through the selection of dog-eared magazines in the reception area.
Theo, however, was pacing nervously.
"Theo, relax," she urged. "It's just a routine appointment. We've been here twice already for the same thing."
"I know, I know," he said, glancing at his watch.
"I can meet with Penelope on my own if you can't stay," Cho offered. She had become extremely comfortable with the Healer over a surprisingly brief period of time. And without Theo in the examination room, she would have a chance to ask about the curse Malfoy had placed her under and whether the Healer could lift it.
"No, of course I can stay," Theo answered. His pale blue eyes darted to the door leading to the main corridor. "What are you doing here?" he demanded in a suddenly harsh tone.
Cho looked in the same direction and blanched at the sight of the grey-haired man in wizarding robes. He was short and barrel-chested where Theo was tall and lean, but the ice-blue eyes were the same.
"I wanted to make sure everything is going well," the older man said in a conciliatory way, with a sidelong glance towards Cho, "but you haven't responded to my owls, Theo." There was a reproachful note in that last statement.
At the sound of his voice, she began shaking uncontrollably. Theo crossed to her, encircling the nape of her neck with a warm hand in an effort to calm her. "This is not the time nor the place," he warned the man.
"I just wish to speak with you for a few minutes," the man with grey hair cajoled.
"Please, Theo, go and talk to him," Cho chattered between clenched teeth. Anything to get him out of the room, away from her.
The other man looked at her directly and nodded his head in a formal acknowledgement. "Thank you, daughter-in-law. I appreciate your courtesy."
"Alright, love," Theo brushed his lips against her temple. "I'll be right back, since he only needs a few minutes to say his piece."
Cho managed a nod in response, repressing a shudder until Theo and his father - who terrified her, who made her want to crawl under the chair and hide, who she wanted to slice open from neck to navel with her scalpel - left the room. Then she picked up a magazine with shaky hands and stared at it with blind eyes, willing herself to take deep breaths and think of something else. Anything else.
Cho decided that speculation as to why Hermione had yet to contact her, despite having had enough time to read Hogwarts: A History cover to cover at least twice, was an excellent diversion from her panicked fight or flight response to Theo's father. She had been sure Hermione would be unable to resist any book, let alone one that contained the answers to many of the questions they had posed to each other, including why Harry Potter was a hero and why so many had died on May 2, 1998.
She worried that Malfoy might have taken and destroyed the book before it ever reached Hermione. If Katie had given it to Mark to take into to office and pass along to his boss, or if Hermione had shown it to her boyfriend, or if she had left it on the coffee table before getting to the very last few chapters . . .
Cho shook her head. Rather than fretting about what might have happened to the book, she would call Hermione, or perhaps send an email to avoid the lingering effects of Malfoy's curse, to verify she had received it. Decision made, she looked to the tired gossip magazine in her hands for further distraction from what Theo might be discussing with his father.
Cho's eyes widened as she took in the familiar scowling blond and his beautiful but unhappy brunette wife, depicted on the cover of Witch Weekly. "Malfoy Marriage on the Rocks?" queried the headline. With hasty fingers, she skimmed the accompanying article and then secreted the magazine in her bag. A satisfied smile danced across her face. On second thought, she would pay Hermione a visit in person. Cho would like see the sneaky bastard try and explain his way out of this one.
(x) (x) (x)
From a tiny crack on the wall of the examination room, a beetle with iridescent green wings watched Healer Clearwater draw her wand over Cho Chang's pregnant belly.
Madam Nott, Rita Skeeter mentally corrected herself. It was important to get her title just right to draw in the pureblood readers. Theodore Nott, Sr. had paid a hefty amount for the Prophet to run a sympathetic story about his daughter-in-law, hefty enough to risk the wrath of the St. Mungo's administration for a gross breach of patient confidentiality.
The Animagus listened carefully to the conversation between Cho and the Healer, wishing for her Quick Quills Quote. Skeeter knew the Muggleborn witch had trained as a Healer before her exile and now had qualified as the Muggle equivalent, so she wasn't that surprised at all of the medical jargon. Still, there were useful human-interest snippets here and there. After a few more minutes, Healer Clearwater concluded Cho's treatment and Rita scuttled away, mentally composing her article.
(x) (x) (x)
Hannah Longbottom had bought the Leaky Cauldron from old Tom just a couple of months before, and she was still glowing with pride at what she and Neville had done with their new acquisition. With help in the form of a loan from her formidable grandmother-in-law, the stained, scarred bar had been sanded to expose the honey-colored wood, the walls were bright with a fresh coat of paint, and the formerly tarnished and greasy tin tiles on the ceiling now gleamed a bright silver.
As a result, the pub was now attracting a better class of customer, so Hannah was not too surprised when the aristocratic Greengrass sisters walked in. She was a bit surprised, however, when they took their seats at the bar rather than demanding table service.
"Good morning, ladies," Hannah greeted them. She had been in same Hogwarts class as Daphne, but had never exchanged more than a handful of words with the so-called Ice Queen of Slytherin during school. Astoria was something else altogether, a vicious little cat who had taken a sick enjoyment in tormenting her classmates, much to the Carrows' pride. Hannah had been victimized by her on more than a few occasions.
"What can I bring you?" she asked courteously. She had a pub to run, and she would run it right out of business if she didn't serve pureblood bitches like these with a fake smile plastered across her face. Never mind that their father and the men they had married were Death Eaters and Death Eaters had killed Hannah's mother - that was the price of peace in a society that had endured two civil wars in as many generations.
"I'll have a gillywater," Daphne requested. "Please," she added in a clear afterthought.
"A vodka tonic," Astoria replied, not bothering with the courtesies where a half-blood was concerned.
As Hannah moved away to get their drinks, she could hear the sisters squabbling.
"So, how are you enjoying life as a divorced nonentity?" Astoria asked Daphne in a cutting tone.
"Much more than I ever enjoyed being married to my cold fish of an ex-husband," Daphne retorted. "I'd much rather be happy alone than miserable with someone else."
"To each her own," Astoria shrugged. "Personally, I've become accustomed to the prestige of being a Malfoy. One does get such excellent service." She flashed a mean smile at Hannah as she placed her drink in front of her.
"So, are you pregnant or have you just gotten fat?" the brunette asked.
"Tori!" Daphne admonished in an undertone. "Sorry, Hannah. It's a sensitive topic for her."
"So says the witch who was set aside because she couldn't produce an heir," Astoria sniped at her older sister. "I've suffered through five miscarriages trying to give Draco his heir, but you can't even conceive."
Hannah smiled at them, none too nicely. Children were a treasure, and the Greengrass sisters were paupers compared to her. "Yes, Madam Malfoy," she said with false servility. "Neville and I are expecting our second later this year."
"Boy or girl?" Astoria asked with unnerving intensity, cutting across Daphne's murmured congratulations.
Hannah's instincts for self-preservation kicked in as she recalled tabloid stories about psychotic women who attacked Muggle mothers-to-be and cut their babies out of their dying bodies.
"A girl," she said hastily. "We're having another little girl." Knowing how the old pureblood families were about male heirs, Hannah expected that would dampen Astoria's interest.
Instead, the dark-haired witch smiled a slow, cruel smile. "I don't believe you. I think you're having a little blond boy for the highest bidder, and that's how a barmaid like you managed to pay for this dump. You couldn't earn enough spreading your legs otherwise."
Hannah gasped in outrage as Astoria raised her wand, a mad look in her dark eyes. "Tell me the truth, you half-blood whore," she commanded. "Is that Draco's baby you're carrying?"
Silently blessing Augusta Longbottom and her iron-willed determination to never lose another loved one to Death Eaters and their ilk, Hannah ducked under the bar and hit the panic button her grandmother-in-law had insisted on. A shrill Caterwauling Charm split the air and Hannah hastily cast a shield charm on herself, praying it would hold until the Aurors arrived.
(x) (x) (x)
For the second time in a week, Dean Thomas was footsore and well and truly baffled, having been thwarted once again in his efforts to contact Hermione Granger.
It shouldn't have been difficult. He had her mobile number in the little notebook he used when posing as a Muggle policeman, but although he had called several times in the couple of weeks since the christening, she never picked up the phone or returned his voicemails. Since Hermione hadn't called him back, Dean had resolved to visit her flat. He had not made a note of the address, but he had a good sense of direction and knew the general vicinity. Plus, he had magic at his disposal.
On Monday, a reportedly Dark object for sale in an antique shop had taken him into the Muggle part of London to investigate. With that speedily wrapped up, he had made his way to Knightsbridge. Once there, he had spent more than three hours walking up and down the quiet, posh side streets in without ever finding Hermione's flat.
Today he had come prepared with a handy little gadget borrowed from Anthony Goldstein in the Department of Mysteries, who would be enjoying box seats for the remainder of the Holyhead Harpies' matches this season. The gadget counteracted Notice Me Not spells and enchantments that made a location Unplottable. With that gadget in hand, Dean again had ventured out into Muggle London. After an hour of walking around Knightsbridge - which reminded him why he became an Auror, rather than a beat cop in MLE - he found the terraced townhouse he had visited before.
No one answered the bell. Even from the outside, he could tell there was no way of getting into the flat without an express invitation or a team of skilled curse breakers. The wards were relatively new, but strong to the point of being impenetrable. To Dean, they felt malevolent. Blood wards.
The April sunshine disappeared behind a cloud and Dean shivered as a cold breeze whipped around him. He could not recall wards like this from his last visit to the flat, but it wasn't the sort of thing he would have overlooked or forgotten. Blood wards also made no sense. Without her memories as a witch, Hermione would be unable to set wards keyed to her own blood. But if Malfoy had set up the blood wards, something that Dean conceded was within the Death Eater's expertise, Hermione - not to mention her Muggle boyfriend - would be unable to access the flat.
He decided to mull it over as he walked back towards the Leaky Cauldron. Maybe Ginny would have some ideas. Or maybe he should pay a visit to Katie Bell, since she had been at the christening and would be a more reliable witness than Angelina. Dean's train of thought was interrupted on Charing Cross Road by a blaring alarm. Recognizing it as a Caterwauling Charm, Dean broke into a dead run for the Leaky Cauldron.