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Ministry Provisions
It was little shy of a year since the Ministry had so graciously issued those inexpensive, golden wedding bands, and the things were already beginning to turn the girls fingers green. Most of them, having been privy to the much more disturbing parts of life, simply shrugged and ran those same hands that bore those same rings over their swollen stomachs. Others, however sighed, perhaps they saw that greenish tint as a branding mark as Madam Poppy Pomfrey did.
It might as well have been the same...
The Matron observed that little Hannah Abbott's band was much too big as the girl stepped through the doors of the Infirmary. The pale loop of discoloration was clearly visible and Poppy sighed- if Hannah had thought returning to Hogwarts for her seventh year would have kept her from falling pregnant, she had been sorely misinformed. The Ministry made provisions for its couples, after all.
Hannah was hovering near the office door- very quiet and unmoving. If she hadn't been standing right there in front of Madam Pomfrey, the only indication that she was even still breathing would have been the rapid blinking of her honey coloured eyes.
"Good evening, Miss. Abbott." The Matron greeted pleasantly. "Are you feeling quite well?"
"Quite." Muttered Hannah.
Her chin was quivering dangerously, almost animatedly, as she pushed her ring back into its place with a shaking hand. It was a familiar sight, and yet, Poppy had to suppress mild surprise with a sweet smile. Unlike most of the others, Hannah did not bother to correct the Matron. She did not tell Madam Pomfrey that she was called Hannah Flint those days, because, perhaps, hearing her true last name made her feel less pathetic and because of that, she let the woman just go on pretending that she had forgotten Hannah was married at all.
"I- I think I may be pregnant." She finally managed, looking purposefully to the floor. The students always looked to the floor when they were feeling ashamed and Poppy felt a pang in her heart. "Could you-"
"-Of course, my dear."
There was no need to listen to the rest, for Madam Pomfrey had delivered four babies and tended to thirteen expectant mothers in the past year alone, and so, naturally, was very accustomed to conversations of the sort.
She led Hannah by the arm to a curtained off bed where she could perform the charm without any potential onlookers watching over her shoulder- the Hospital Wing seemed to be rather a tourist attraction, after all. Now, the test to be performed was a simple one, and the results were crystal clear.
"Positive."
Hannah's watery eyes dropped to the floor again. If Pomfrey wasn't such a good listener by trade, she would have missed the quiet "Fuck" that escaped from the girl's lips. It wasn't worth a reprimand, for Hannah would be long gone away from Hogwarts by the quickly approaching middle of June and, at any rate, Poppy felt it brought some solace which could be quite therapeutic.
The Matron took a seat on the edge of the bed beside Hannah and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. In a way, the girl was fortunate to be just going into her pregnancy. At the very least, she would have an education, which could come in handy if the Ministry ever got around to changing its outrageous law as the community was lobbying it to do. Poppy told her as much.
"But I'm still pregnant, aren't I?" Hannah said cynically.
Madam Pomfrey nodded with sympathy- indeed, she was.
"And if, by some miracle, I do manage to get a divorce, I'll still be tied to him as the father of my child. But then, that's the point, isn't it?"
Of course, that was the intention- to abolish any prejudices of blood so that no further combat and destruction would ensue- but Poppy found, perhaps, hatred in a different sort of way and therefore, felt the Ministry had missed the point entirely.
"I hate him, you know?"
"I know." She said, because with a grieving girl right there beside her, it seemed the correct response.
In reality, there was little she could say or do for Hannah Abbott now, except offer her a shoulder to cry on and gift her with prenatal potions. The Matron promised to pass her information to the healers at St. Mungos and sent the girl on her way, knowing good and well that she would, in all likelihood, never see her again.
With another heavy sigh, Poppy resumed her daily work, only to be interrupted a few minutes later by another girl at her door.
"Miss. Granger. Are you ill?"
"No, Madam." Hermione brushed any concern with the wave of her hand. "Quite the opposite, in fact, I was just hoping that you could perform a pregnancy charm. I would have done it myself, but I read it's not good for the mother or the baby..."
Madam Pomfrey's jaw narrowly avoided falling off its hinge. She knew, of course, that Hermione was above the age the Ministry required marriage, but the girl did not wear a wedding band, and did not mope through the corridors, so Poppy assumed, that as a war hero, she had been exempted.
"I didn't know you had gotten married." Said Pomfrey as if she were very offended at her own lack of knowledge and Hermione's own lack of disclosure.
"So many of us have… it's no wonder you weren't able to keep track of everybody."
Now that was different from the 'brightest witch' of the age- deliberately, and so obviously sidestepping the subject.
"Yes, a wonder, indeed." The Matron eyed her carefully. She didn't say that she wanted desperately to know who claimed Hermione's hand, or else, what type of adultery had been committed because it was too hard to ask those questions slyly. "Right, then. Up on the bed."
The girl hurried to lie down as Madam Pomfrey ran her wand over her abdomen. The tip of her wand glowed yellow and so Hermione Granger was pregnant- but she did not seem distraught in anyway like all of the others. In fact, the corners of her mouth turned slightly up in a smile.
"I… I suppose a congratulations in order, Miss. Granger." Poppy said dubiously.
"Oh, yes. Thank you."
Madam Pomfrey stared at her. Never had she expected a nineteen year old, this nineteen year old, to be quite so thrilled at such news. It was jarring, really, so much so, that Hermione was nearly out the door before Poppy regained the composure to stop her.
"Now, you just wait one moment." She called after the girl. "Professor Snape should be up here any minute with more prenatal potions and you need to take a few before you go. There's also the subject of your care during the-"
"-Professor Snape?" Hermione's voice went shrill and Poppy blinked. "He's coming? Up here?"
"Why, yes."
The girl fidgeted. She suddenly seemed to be very anxious to get anywhere as long as it wasn't the infirmary. She adjusted the school bag on her shoulder with determination.
"But I have to get to the library, Madam. N.E.W.T.'s are next week and if I don't-"
"-You're staying right where you are until Professor Snape arrives, young lady. No ifs, ands, or buts about it." Madam Pomfrey held up a hand with authority. She went over and lifted the bag from Hermione's shoulder. "And I hardly think those tests should be the first on your list of priorities as of now. Sit."
The girl sat, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's slight thrashing tastefully.
"Madam Pince will be wondering where I am, you know. I think she's not sure of the library without me." Hermione paused, as though debating whether or not to continue but, of course, there was more. There was always more when a student thought they were being cunning. "I told her once that I valued a book's life almost as much as a human's and she said she's been lobbying for new laws regarding their safekeeping. I think I've been her safe keeper ever since."
Poppy snorted with laughter, but immediately masked the sound and crossed her arms. Irrelevant conversation was not an escape tactic that she played easily into.
"Unfortunately, I find it difficult to sympathize with books, or Irma Pince for that matter, so you can just sit there quietly and pretend you're in the library. How about that?"
Again, Hermione squirmed, still attempting a calm resolve. The Matron, who far more experienced than that, was not at all fooled.
"If I don't do well on the tests, then I won't be able to find a good job and that will certainly affect the baby, won't it?"
"For a smart girl, you certainly misunderstand the meaning of quiet." Said Pomfrey duly. "You'll do absolutely fine on your N.E.W.T.s, Miss. Granger, even without this extra ten minutes of studying."
"You never know."
"I always know."
"Do you?"
Poppy looked at the girl over the brim of her glasses. It was quite unlike Hermione to be so testy, and just as equally unflattering. The hard gaze subdued Hermione for nearly another minute before she groaned, finally letting down all pretenses of calm.
"Please, Madam Pomfrey. I really need out of here."
Pomfrey smiled to herself, more than to Hermione. "Ah, now you sound like one of my patients, dear."
"Oh, it's not that! It's just that wanted to surprise my husband with the news." The girl implored, shaking her hands with urgency. "It won't be a surprise if I stay."
"Why on earth not, my girl?"
"Because!"
And then suddenly, in a lightning strike, it hit the old woman and, as one would do after being struck by lightning, she clutched her heart and turned a shade of gray, like the people in an old television set.
"You don't mean…"
"Severus? Yes, I do. And he'll be here any moment."
Madam Pomfrey continued to gawk. She wanted to tell Hermione that it was all wrong- that it was madness that they were married, unbelievable that they were having a baby, and absolutely impossible that they were happy about it, but she didn't. Instead, she fell into the seat beside Hermione and waved her out the door with, strangely, something like happiness rising up in her bones.
Because, when she really thought about it, they were something entirely possible. The Ministry had made at least one right provision, after all.
A/N: Thanks for reading. Any comments are greatly appreciated and I would love for you to check out my other stuff!