Chapter 3 – Turquoise
A/n: Song Rec: Slow Grenade – Ellie Goulding, Lauv
The new tea shop was named Heartsease and it sat right at the Diagon and Knockturn intersection.
Prime location.
That's why Hermione was a little surprised when she pushed open the green painted wooden door and found the place only half full. It was 8 am but the morning crowd seemed nowhere in sight.
The shop was tastefully decorated, with sage green and light violet accents that gave it an almost whimsical atmosphere. Heavenly scents wafted from the direction of the door at the back, no doubt leading to the kitchen.
Hermione would have never imagined Draco Malfoy patronising such a place. There was a subtle but discernible feminine touch to the small oval portraits on the wall and the pretty cutlery arranged on the round tables.
She associated Malfoy with everything intense and masculine.
Stepping inside, she instantly caught sight of Malfoy's ethereal hair. It was never hard to pick him out in a crowd, let alone a small space. He always towered over most people and the shade of his hair approximated a beacon of light.
He was sitting at a table by the window, his long limbs making everything around him look dainty in comparison. He was already watching her with an indiscernible expression as she moved towards him.
She frowned when she realised the window overlooked the main street.
Yesterday the crowded cafeteria and now right beside a busy street. He clearly did not care who saw her with him. Judging by the way he cavalierly showed off his many dates to press photographers at each party or event, it seemed Malfoy didn't give a damn what was written about his romantic life.
He hadn't retaliated against any of the papers frequently labelling him a "Witch Magnet", a "Wealthy Libertine" and a — and this one had made Hermione snort with amusement— "Dark Debaucher", even though he could have them stop with just one threatening word to the right ears.
"You don't need to worry about spectators," Malfoy assuaged her as soon as she sat down, as if sensing the direction of her thoughts. "The place is charmed to attract customers only till half-capacity."
The lack of the usual morning crowd made sense.
"Why?" she asked, trying not to gape at how the sunlight filtering through the window made his hair glimmer like white-gold.
"Owner's preferences." There was no inflection in his voice and no expression on his face.
His Occlumency was back and working full-time then.
At that moment a witch appeared at their table out of nowhere, startling Hermione a little.
"Can I get you something?" she asked in a lilting voice, like tinkling wind chimes.
When Hermione made to look at the woman, her sub-conscious resisted the action. At the back of her head she realised a notice-me-not charm was at work if she was suddenly feeling the urge to admire her nails instead. Which were clipped short and nothing marvellous to look at, so this witch clearly did not want her customers to see her.
Understandable. Hermione also made plenty use of the notice-me-not charm in libraries.
Hermione ordered an Earl Grey. Malfoy asked for a blueberry muffin. The witch came back with their order in record time, levitating a tray with the tea and the plate of muffin to their table before leaving.
Hermione hadn't even added sugar to her tea before Malfoy calmly pushed the muffin towards her. She looked at him in confusion, but he was sipping his own cup like he hadn't just ordered for her without asking.
Her traitorous stomach tumbled in hunger right when she made to push it back. She usually had a bad habit of skipping breakfast. Of course her body was going to react now that she had food right in front of her. She rolled her eyes.
"How did you know I liked blueberry muffins?"
"I didn't." He blinked at her. "Who doesn't like blueberry muffins?"
Fair enough.
It smelled so divine she couldn't help but take a big bite, holding back a moan at the perfect taste. She tuned everything out as she scarfed down the muffin with a vigour which surprised even her.
Just as she popped in the last bite, Malfoy pushed another muffin under her nose. She saw the witch with the soothing voice leaving out of the corner of her eyes. Merlin, he had ordered for her again and she hadn't even noticed.
Whatever. She was eating for two.
While Hermione worked on demolishing the second muffin Malfoy politely kept his gaze out the window, watching the morning crowd rush to their work places and shopkeepers line their wares on display stands.
He turned back when she was brushing the crumbs off her shirt.
When he met her eyes she acknowledged something that had been bothering her ever since she had entered the tea shop. She had noticed one of their Hogwarts junior sitting at one of the back tables.
She felt compelled to point it out.
Discreetly nodding towards the dark haired man, she asked, "Why is Dennis Creevey staring at you like you murdered his owl?"
Creevey had been steadily glowering at Malfoy's back for a good ten minutes now.
Malfoy didn't seem too bothered about it though. He didn't even glance back to confirm Hermione's observation for himself, like he was well aware that Creevey was boring holes in his back with his eyes.
"Close. His elder brother was killed by a Death Eater at the Battle of Hogwarts, if you remember. He hates me," Malfoy informed her in a mild tone one would use to describe the weather.
"Right." Hermione said, hesitantly. She did not want to talk about the past with him. She had done enough of that yesterday. "Speaking of owls, yours is named Merlin. How original."
Apparently, when she didn't want to engage with him about the ghosts of their shared past, she wanted to argue with him about inane things instead.
He gave her a frown. If she squinted, she could almost imagine him looking a little put out at the jibe.
"I named him when I was eleven," was all he said.
Hermione sniggered, imagining the little insufferable git that Malfoy was at eleven patting himself on the back for coming up with the name Merlin for his new owl.
"You say that as if you're a fountain of creativity now." Hermione really didn't care one way or another, she just wanted to get a reaction out of him. To break his perfect composure once more like she had been able to yesterday.
Refusing to rise to the bait, he gave her a look that said he found her attempts at insulting him cute. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, like he was privy to something that Hermione wasn't.
Hermione straightened her back, something about him putting her on edge. "I mean—"
"How far along are you Granger?" he cut her off. It seemed like his patience had run out. He leaned forward and his grey eyes —silver in the sunlight— narrowed with focus.
The abrupt change of subject almost gave her whiplash but she calmly gulped her tea anyway, praying that this meeting would not go like yesterday's.
"Close to two months."
Malfoy frowned, tilting his head to the side and appraising her. "I'm not an expert, Granger, but I thought one gets to know if they're pregnant earlier than that."
"It is unusual," she agreed easily. This was something she had also been curious about. "I didn't have any symptoms in the first month at all. My cycle has always been irregular. I only developed nausea a week ago and scheduled an appointment at St Mungo's when my own remedies failed. I got quite a shock when Healer Abbott told me."
"Hannah Abbott?"
"Yeah, she's a healer now." She waved her hand dismissively. "Anyways, she told me that it was not uncommon to begin showing symptoms late into the first trimester rather than earlier."
He nodded then opened his mouth, quickly closing it like he wasn't sure he should say whatever he was about to.
Hermione could guess what he wanted to know.
It seemed she was right when his jaw hardened and he asked her in a clipped tone, "Are you sure it's mine?"
Hermione didn't begrudge him the question. She would have asked the same if she was in his position. Not counting the fact that they had only ever been forcibly civil to each other for years now, they had a sordid history which couldn't be overlooked. She wouldn't trust Malfoy as far as she could throw him and it looked like the feeling was reciprocated.
"Yes,"she answered matter-of-factly. "Ron and I haven't had sex-"
"Yeah, okay," he interrupted with a slight grimace. She was reminded of Ginny last night when she had tried to say the same thing to her. "I believe you."
Hermione was surprised how quickly he was willing to accept her word for it. She had fully prepared to fight him over it. In fact, various scenarios of him accusing her of trapping him or having the ridiculous notion of her being after his money had played in her head all throughout last night.
"Really?" Her tone belied her disbelief. "You wouldn't want a healer to confirm it?"
"Of course you would be the one to have a problem with me believing you." A smirk tugged at Malfoy's lips and she wanted to slap it off.
Or kiss it off.
Hermione inwardly shook off the stray thought.
"I don't have a problem with anything," she sniffed, pulling her gaze away from his distracting lips and to her tea. "I just thought you would want to be more cautious than that."
He waited till she met his eyes again. It was difficult though, sometimes it felt like those smoky depths missed nothing. As if she was an open book and Malfoy could read all her innermost yearnings if he wanted.
"You may be many things, Granger, but a liar, especially when it comes to something so consequential, you're not."
Hermione's breath stuttered at his admission, a strange mix of emotions making her bite her lip to hide any of them that might show on her face. She didn't even know how she felt and how to respond to that.
She'd never thought he even gave her enough mind to form any kind of opinion about her beyond her blood status.
"I wonder what those many things are," she breathed.
"Not careless, for one," he supplied promptly, swiftly moving the conversation forward like he hadn't just upended her stream of thoughts with a few choice words. "I remember you using the contraceptive charm."
Hermione cleared her throat, mentally shoving aside the bubbling emotions inside her. They were likely a result of her body experiencing hormonal changes anyway. "I did but Abbott told me that they're not always foolproof. Kind of like condoms."
Malfoy stared at her. "Is that a muggle contraceptive?"
"Yeah."
He scoffed wryly. "Maybe I should invest in some."
A surprised burst of laughter escaped her. Had Malfoy just made a joke? She'd seen him share laughs plenty of times with his friends, Theo and Blaise Zabini. Even with Pansy Parkinson who sometimes accompanied him to events when he was no doubt bored with whoever he was going out with that week.
"You're looking at me like you've never heard a joke before, Granger,"he drawled, a small smile on his face.
"Not from you," she replied.
"Well," he intoned, his smile turning mocking. "I'm sorry I don't manage to sneak in a few punch lines between your suspicious glares and constant comments about my nefarious intentions. I will try harder next time."
How was it that he was able to make her feel a rollercoaster of feelings in a mere span of seconds. The earlier floaty sensation from his words about her sincerity dissipated, only to be replaced by guilt.
Misplaced guilt. He was glib. Of course he would make her feel bad for her very reasonable doubts about him.
She scowled. "I don't-"
"Never mind that. I was joking. See, I'm already getting better." He cut her off with a wave off his hand and a tendency to change subjects before she could even properly process what had happened.
His right hand disappeared in the front pocket of his dark coat, pulling something out before placing it on the table.
All thoughts fled her mind as the sight of the small emerald green box registered in her mind. She went still, eyes widening comically.
Malfoy reached forward to pull the box open, letting the early morning sunshine bathe the sparkling engagement ring tucked in the pale cream cushion inside.
The large oval diamond positively gleamed as if it was a sentient thing with magic of its own. It was flanked by three small emeralds on each side set in a thin platinum band.
Hermione stopped breathing.
The ring was so beautiful she couldn't take her eyes off it. She wasn't a materialistic person by any stretch of the imagination, but she could appreciate a fine piece of craftsmanship when she saw it. The emeralds looked delicate next to the luxuriant diamond which, from Hermione's limited knowledge, looked to be about 4 carats. But it somehow still looked refined instead of ostentatious.
Trust Malfoy to be tasteful with his exorbitance.
Malfoy's solemn voice snapped her out of her trance. "I will do right by you."
Hermione gaped at the blond wizard, wondering if he was trying for a joke again. But she had never seen him look more serious.
Maybe he was a good actor.
Hermione tried a nervous laugh. "What is this, Malfoy?"
He frowned, then looked at her like she was the barmy one. "An engagement ring, Granger."
She bristled. "Why? Why are you giving it to me?"
Malfoy raised a sardonic brow. "I believe an engagement ring is given to express an intention to marry the other person," he deadpanned.
"You know what I mean," she snapped. "You don't want me to marry you."
He sighed, appearing for all the world like she was the one being absurd right now. The nerve!
"It's not about what I want. It's about doing what's right. I believe you have experience with that."
Hermione flinched, her words at the cafeteria yesterday coming flooding back to her. She grit her teeth. "Is this your way to throw back my testimony at me-"
"No," he bit out. "It is the fact that you are pregnant with my child and therefore we need to get married."
Even though his face remained blank, his eyes told her that he was beginning to get annoyed. Good. Because she was beyond pissed right now. It also wasn't lost on her that this was the second time she was being publicly proposed in so many months now. The papers were going to have a field day with this tomorrow. And here she thought that the constant murmurs behind her back were finally dying down.
"No we don't," she declared, her voice resolute.
Malfoy blinked at her. "Should I get a bigger diamond?"
"It's big enough!" she blurted then shook her head as Malfoy smirked. "No, I mean, I don't care. I'm not marrying you."
She pushed the green velvet box towards him and snatched back her hand, banging her elbow on the back of the chair. She winced, her ulnar nerve tingling in that funny feeling one gets when they hit their elbow hard.
Malfoy's jaw twitched and he almost looked angry. He reached forward and took her wrist in one hand, extending her arm over the table.
Hermione forgot to breathe for a second, his cold touch left tingles all over her skin and her entire point of being narrowed to where his large hand circled her slender wrist. He made her feel delicate.
It was mental. She had already had sex with him and one innocent touch had her questioning how she had survived that when just his hand on her wrist made her shiver with sensation.
For his part, Malfoy seemed completely unaffected and Hermione inwardly cursed his Occlumency walls again. Gently, as if he was handling fine china, he barely grazed his long, graceful fingers over the skin of her elbow.
The pain immediately disappeared, leaving Hermione stunned.
He released her wrist and sat back with a questioning look. "Better?"
"Did you just cast a wandless, non-verbal Episkey on me?" she asked, amazed. Healing charms were notoriously difficult to cast non-verbally, let alone wandlessly. Her inner curiosity reared forward to know how he had achieved it.
It seemed like he was in no mood to entertain any academic questions from her today.
He made an impatient sound and gestured for her to speak. "I know you want to ask me a ton of questions about my proposal and yell at me even more than that. Let's get on with it. The sooner you're past feeling offended, the closer we are to you wearing the ring"
His confident conviction brought her out of her impressed daze, anger replacing it instead. "I'm not putting it on. You can forget about it."
Malfoy's jaw twitched but he was calm when he asked, "You will have our child be called a bastard then?"
Irritation flared inside her at his ridiculousness. As well as a flutter of butterflies in her stomach at his use of "our child".
She mentally squished the butterflies with a big fly swatter.
"What century do you think we're living in, Malfoy?" she snapped.
"You know as well as I do that the wizarding society doesn't change pace as fast as the muggle one," Malfoy enunciated, like she was a first year muggle-born at Hogwarts clueless about the wizarding world again. "How many unwed witches do you know who are also single mothers? List them for me, Granger."
Hermione opened her mouth to do just that, but promptly shut it back up when her usually reliable memory failed her and her mind drew a blank. She clenched her hands into fists.
It didn't matter. Just because Hermione couldn't recall any right now didn't necessarily need to mean that they didn't exist.
"I can't recall off the top of my head," she admitted, keeping her tone obstinate.
Malfoy rolled his eyes at her tenacity. "You would have been able to if they were common-place—"
"Just because I can't list them does not mean they don't exist," she hissed.
"We're still a close-knit society, Granger, our population hardly reaches 6 digits. You know the child will be called all kinds of names if we don't marry," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "More than that, your standing will suffer."
Hermione shook her head, frustrated at his outdated logic. "That's not enough. I don't even know if I'm going to keep it yet."
Malfoy went completely still, his eyes dulling to a chilling grey as his expression shuttered.
"Are you?" he asked softly after a few seconds. "Are you going to keep it?"
Hermione swallowed her suddenly dry mouth. She had contemplated getting an abortion at first but quickly discarded the thought. She was completely in favour of women getting to choose what happened to their own bodies. And Hermione had chosen. She had known, in her subconscious, that she wanted to keep the baby the minute she had learned that she was pregnant.
"Yes I am," she answered at length, not being capable of lying to him even if it was to make him give up his daft plan to marry just because she was pregnant with his child.
There was an almost indiscernible fall to his shoulders. He was relieved at her decision, she realised.
"They don't perform abortions at St Mungo's anyway, you would have had to go to a muggle hospital," he muttered.
"I know."
"Then you know what that means."
Hermione nodded. She was aware that the wizarding world didn't even acknowledge that there had to be a choice in the first place.
A tense silence hung between them.
He broke it with a sigh, running a hand through his thick white-gold hair as he switched gears. "I thought you were an ambitious witch, do you want to give up your career before it has even begun?"
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
Malfoy gave her a look that said he was surprised she wasn't thinking in this direction. It ruffled her feathers and she fidgeted a little.
"Once the ministry finds out you are about to become an unmarried mother, do you really think they're going to continue to entertain your legislative proposal?" he forewarned. "You can say goodbye to ever replacing Hornby. They'll likely demote you."
Hermione heart stuttered at his words, a smidgen of dread rising up before she quashed it and firmly stated. "They'll do no such thing."
Malfoy nodded, like he had expected her mulishness. "I'll suggest something then. You're an expert researcher, Granger. Why don't you find out the numbers. How many unwed mothers in the Ministry? Which positions do they occupy?"
With that he tossed a few galleons on the table, much more than what their tea and two muffins cost.
Hermione looked up at him with her jaw set stubbornly as he got up, unfolding his long limbs with a grace that such a tall man ideally shouldn't possess.
"I know you don't believe me, but I'm hoping you'll believe hard facts and logic," he said, his eyes roving over her seated form, like he was cataloguing every inch of her.
"You don't have to answer right now. Think it over." With those parting words he left, the bell above the entry door tinkling with his departure.
It was a full minute later when Hermione realised that he had left the engagement ring on the table.
~.~.~
Hermione stared at the swirling turquoise of the nausea-calming potion atop her desk. She sat in her office chair unblinking, her mind in such a jumble of emotions she couldn't grasp one thought long enough to fixate on it.
There was outrage that Malfoy would suggest such a thing. There was confusion. She had thought Malfoy disliked her, even though his contempt had simmered to a civil tolerance of her presence rather than the sneers and insults of his youth. And most of all, there was worry. He couldn't be right, surely.
Hermione was well aware that the wizarding world was decades behind the muggle one in terms of rules of propriety and how much agency women had over their own lives. She had been witness to arranged marriages and hasty weddings between some of her schoolmates after the war that resulted in a baby not even seven months later, leaving no-one surprised. But she had thought it was only a notion prevalent among the pureblood circles who still clung to tradition.
She scowled at the bag she had placed on the side table beside the door, as far away from her as possible.
The presumptuous arsehole had left without the ring. It was like he was sure she would ultimately don it anyway. Or he was so rich he didn't care what happened to it. A display of immense conceitedness in her opinion.
Malfoy had also clearly cast a disillusionment charm on the velvet box that had somehow made it visible to only her and him. There were no new hushed whispers and invasive questions following her after she had left the tea shop.
She was going to toss the ring in his face the next time she came across him.
By chance of course. She had no plans of ever seeking him out again or accepting innocent seeming invitations to pretty little tea shops.
This was what she got for all her honesty. She should try and be less virtuous from now on, it only ever served to shove her down a rabbit hole of unwanted choices.
She wasn't going to say yes or no to his absurd proposal, she was simply going to ignore the beautiful bastard.
There was a faint niggling at the back of her mind though, a curiosity un-sated. He had asked her to name all the unmarried single witches she knew.
Hermione frowned, shifting through her memories for something. Anything. There must be someone she knew.
Then it clicked.
She sat up as a triumphant smile spread on her face, a relieved breath escaping her.
Turns out, she did know just such a witch. Ginny had only made a passing mention of her at a Sunday brunch last month, but she was sure she had heard her correctly.
Hermione sprang up from her chair, dashing out of her office in a rush. Some of the employees outside gave her curious glances, but otherwise did not stop her.
She quickly snagged a lift and made the short descent to the newly inserted level two for the Department for Magical Education, between level one for the Ministry for Magic and the support staff and DMLE which was on level three now.
Hermione, Harry, Ron and many others- who had fought and won a war which would have never occurred if not for the Ministry's incompetence and complacency towards entrenched prejudice- had fiercely advocated for a new department to work towards establishing a curriculum which would foster inclusion from the very beginning. That included a revised study plan for not just first year onwards, but also the establishment of a pre-Hogwarts elementary witchcraft and wizardry school where learning magic would take the backseat to learning to live with differences in your fellow classmates.
The old sods occupying the Wizengamot seats couldn't deny the Golden Trio's demand for a Department for Magical Education, not without looking like the fossilised bigots many of them were.
Hermione's big smile was still in place as she practically flew inside the main hall of the new space, nodding at the faces which recognised and greeted her.
She came to a stop before the smiling receptionist. The woman had a mini sculpture of Hogwarts on her table, miniature wizards on brooms flying around the turrets of the old castle.
Hermione let her gaze linger on it fondly for a second before speaking. "Good morning. I'm here to see Padma Patil."
The woman's smile faded immediately, and she gave Hermione an apprehensive look. "You might find her in office number seven, Miss Granger. If Miss Patil hasn't left yet that is."
"Left?" Hermione frowned. It was barely ten in the morning. "For a work assignment I'm presuming?"
The receptionist gave Hermione a strained smile, shrugging one shoulder.
Confused, but still giddy that she was going to prove Malfoy wrong, she stalked towards office number seven.
Knocking twice on the closed door, she entered when there was a grunt of acknowledgement from inside.
Padma's office was similar to Hermione's in size but her heart lurched when she realised that's where the similarities ended.
The pale cream walls were bare, the desk clear of any files or stationary that Hermione usually had strewn all over hers. The chairs were pushed in neatly and Padma stood with a small trunk in her hands in the middle of the room, her dark eyes wide with surprise.
"Hermione," she said in a hoarse voice which put Hermione on edge. Along with the rest of the empty room.
"Oh." Hermione gave her a tentative smile. 'Hello, Padma. I didn't know you were shifting offices. Is this a bad time?"
Padma glanced down at the trunk before depositing it on top of the table with a frown. She grasped the ends of her long black hair, fidgeting. "I'm not shifting offices."
Hermione walked forward, her brows pulling down as she noticed the distinct redness in Padma's eyes. Like she had been crying.
Padma immediately looked away.
Maybe the pregnancy hormones were making her emotional as well, Hermione thought. An unreasonable urge to bawl had hit her yesterday after Malfoy had walked out on her.
"What is it? What happened?" All thoughts of asking questions about Padma's pregnancy fled in the light of her friend's visible distress.
Padma pursed her lips at Hermione's concerned tone, her nose twitching with suppressed tears. "I'm guessing Ginny told you that I'm pregnant. Is that why you're here? To check on me?"
Hermione's face flushed with guilt. She should have visited Padma sooner, and not because of her own agenda. "Was Ginny not supposed to tell me? I'm sorry if I-"
Padma waved her hand dismissively. "No, Ginny had asked. I told her she could."
Hermione gave her a subtle once over. She wasn't showing much but she was also wearing a navy shapeless A-line dress. No one would suspect Padma was pregnant at first glance.
A thought formed in her head. Padma was taking an early leave then. Hermione would never contemplate doing such a thing herself, she intended to work right up until delivery, but she respected Padma's choice.
"So you're taking an early pregnancy leave then?" Hermione voiced her thoughts.
Padma burst out laughing. It wasn't a pleasant sound. Not one of genuine mirth at a humorous joke.
And Hermione knew she had gotten it wrong.
All her optimism and triumph of a few minutes ago came crashing down in a heap of flames with the next words out of Padma's mouth.
"I wish, Hermione," Padma huffed, her laughter dying into an ugly hiccupping sound that told her that the Ravenclaw was barely holding her tears back. "I'm being demoted to the Ministry Staff offices."
"Why?" Hermione was bewildered. As far as she knew, Padma was a hard-working and diligent woman. "Did something happen?"
Padma settled her hands on her stomach. "Yes. This happened."
Hermione's confusion must have been clear on her face because Padma took her wand to cast a privacy and muffling charm before fixing her with a bitter look.
"The letter came straight from the top yesterday morning. It said that the Department of Magical Education required model witches and wizards to guide the next generation. It reflected poorly on the Ministry's values of fostering the ideal wizarding family unit if an unmarried, pregnant witch was at the helm of the new magical education reform projects."
Hermione saw red. "Merlin! How dare they?! Who do they think they are?!"
Padma's face told her she was long past the stage of outrage and in a state of resigned bitterness instead. "It was signed by my department head. When I went to him he told me he had received orders from the Undersecretary to Minister for Magic herself."
Hermione gaped at the information. Selma Shafiq was the Undersecretary and even though Hermione didn't like the overly rigid and stubborn woman, she didn't think of Selma as old fashioned per se. But that was the thing with the magical world, even the most progressive witch or wizard was decades behind the muggles.
Something stuck at the back of her mind and her eyes widened when it registered. How had she missed it before?
"Wait. Did you say yesterday? You received the letter yesterday?"
Padma gave her a perplexed look but nodded.
Hermione's jaw clenched.
Malfoy got to know about her pregnancy yesterday.
She wouldn't put it past him to do something so underhanded and evil as demoting the one person she could go to.
But then his words at the cafeteria came to her mind.
"You regret testifying for me then? Is that why you asked me to lunch? The important thing you wanted to tell me?"
He knew how distrustful she was of him. Maybe she should tone down her constant suspicion and think this through first.
"When exactly did you get the letter? Can you tell me the time?" she asked carefully.
Padma frowned. "As soon as I came to office yesterday morning. Why?"
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.
She had told Malfoy that she was pregnant in the afternoon at lunch. At that moment she had been the only one who knew about it. He couldn't possibly have anything to do with this.
Hermione changed the subject. "You're appealing the order right? Surely they can't get away with doing this to you," she enquired with hope.
"I was going to but," Padma heaved a tired sigh. "I checked the archives for a similar incident all day yesterday and it turns out all precedents are against me. They've done this before, Hermione. And gotten away with it."
It was like someone had pulled away the ground beneath her feet. For a second, Hermione couldn't see anything but the mental image of her, unemployed and pregnant, in the future.
Hermione shook her head. She was a pragmatic woman, yes, but also someone who did not roll over for anyone, not without a fight. "Let's take this straight to Kingsley. He's a reasonable person, he won't stand for it."
"I went to his office yesterday. I was turned away because the Minister didn't have time." Padma rolled her eyes. "They told me to go through the proper channels."
Hermione winced. Departmental complaints were handled by the Ministry's Grievance Redressal Office. A place notorious for its slow pace and unsatisfactory handling of disputes. It could take months before Padma's complaint would even reach the initial evidence filing stage.
"Padma." Hermione stepped forward, taking the Ravenclaw's hand. "I can talk to him for you."
The question was, what would she do when her own pregnancy became public knowledge. If she talked to Kingsley for Padma, he would doubt her intentions when he got to know that Hermione was pregnant too. Although, the whole business of talking to Kingsley itself left a bad taste in her mouth. She had already cashed in a favour from him when she had asked him to fast-track HEPA to make it DRCMC's main project. She didn't mind asking favours if it benefited others but with this, it would become clear that Hermione's motivations were selfish.
Padma squeezed her hand. There was a small smile on her face as she shook her head. "Thanks, Hermione but I've made my decision."
"You're letting them demote you?" Hermione gasped.
"No. I handed them my resignation."
Hermione just stood there, a little addled with all the information heaped on her, so Padma continued without pausing. "I made the decision to prioritise my and the baby's health. The work culture here isn't exactly friendly to a pregnant woman. I didn't mind late nights before but now..."
Hermione was nodding her head. If Padma didn't feel like working too much while pregnant she shouldn't have to.
"I'm also not fond of the constant gossip and ridicule behind my back," Padma finished with a roll of her eyes.
Hermione's thoughts came to an abrupt halt. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
Padma shrugged. "Someone leaked the news around the office after the letter came. I had to watch my own colleagues give me judgemental looks and pitying words of advice. Most of which consisted of suggestions to marry the first willing wizard available as soon as possible."
The words hit too close to home for Hermione and she almost flinched.
Padma didn't seem too surprised by her colleagues' behaviour. Hermione remembered that the Patil twins' family could also be considered one of the old wizarding families, although they didn't exactly run in the pure-blood, lofty circles with the likes of the Malfoys, Greengrasses, Notts etc.
"Do your parents know?" Hermione enquired.
Padma shook her head, there was a melancholic tinge to her voice. "Only my sister does. My parents will disown me. The father isn't in the picture, there's no-one available to bully into marrying me. They don't live in England anymore so the news isn't going to reach them till my baby is born. By that time, they wouldn't be able to do anything about it."
"By doing anything about it, you mean..." Hermione trailed off, not able to voice the terrible suspicion in her head.
The weary look on Padma's face was the only answer she received.
~.~.~
Hermione trudged back to her office with a heavy heart. She had wanted to question Padma more, give the Ravenclaw her own advice not to backdown in the face of the Ministry's unjust action and her peers' behaviour, but she couldn't force her friend to fight such a big battle if she didn't want to. Already, Hermione had noticed lines of stress and fatigue on Padma's face from the whole ordeal.
Hermione wondered if that was going to be her in a few months time.
How happy she'd been thinking she had bested Malfoy's ill-conceived notions about propriety. How thoroughly she had been forced to face reality. She could accept that there was truth to Malfoy's words, but that didn't mean that Hermione would accept all of it. She was stronger than that.
She pushed her office door open with the thought that she should start her own research to present her case if and when it came down to it.
She could have never imagined it would come down to it sooner rather than later.
Hornby was standing in the middle of the room, Hermione's nausea-calming potion clutched in her hand, its turquoise colour flashing ominously against Hornby's pale skin.
Her department head raised a brow with a probing expression.
"I used to take these when I was pregnant with my first. Is there something you need to tell me, Miss Granger?"