Chapter 15

Chapter 15

At the whisper of wings overhead, Hermione looked up from her perusal of the most recent records of the Wizengamot.

An owl was an unusual sight inside the Ministry of Magic after the development of inter-departmental memos. Or so Lucius had told Hermione. However, since the news of the addendum to the law had been leaked, owls were an increasingly common sight.

Hermione could only guess as to the contents. There were no red envelopes to be seen, or explosions heard. According to Lucius, the Ministry had wards to repel Howlers, which explained the lack. Unless the rest of the population of wizarding Britain was not as bothered by the addendum as the Prophet assumed with its inflammatory headlines? As Lucius had said before they'd married, it was a given that marriage resulted in children.

But to have the authorities dictate on when those children were to be conceived? To placidly, passively allow themselves to be treated as nothing but a means to an end, and not as people...

Her thoughts were interrupted when the owl swooped down to land right in front of her, proffering its front leg. She eyed the attached envelope in much the same way as she had Blast-Ended Skrewts.

"Are you going to take it?" Lucius asked, from his seat across the table. "Or shall I, so that there's no risk of your hexing the messenger?"

"If it has any sense, it'll leave if it's carrying bad news." Hermione relieved the owl of its burden. It immediately took off. She watched it go with a sinking feeling. Bad news, then?

She tore open the envelope and removed the slip of parchment.

"Well?"

Hermione scrunched up the parchment and resisted the urge to set it alight with her wand for good measure. After all, she was in a library. "It explains the flocks of owls... I have an appointment at St Mungo's tomorrow." She sighed. "I had hoped that it would take longer than seven days for them to get to 'G'."

"At that rate I can expect my own notification within a week."

"And Severus a week after that." That would be three weeks out of four before the addendum was enforced, presuming that the Wizengamot didn't change their minds and decide to enforce it after everyone in each union had been through a fertility check.

She thumped the table, ignoring the affronted glower from the librarian. "We're running out of time."

"I know you hope to find a solution, my dear, but I'm afraid it's verging on the impossible." Lucius gestured at the cavernous room they were in, lined with shelves upon shelves of Ministerial records. "Certainly impossible within a month, even concentrating on the paperwork of the addendum itself."

"I can't give up!"

The librarian hissed a shush at Hermione's raised voice.

Hermione lowered her voice. It wouldn't help her cause to be thrown out of the archives. "Reproduction is not something the powers that be should dictate. Everyone should be able to decide for themselves when to have children, and not have the number or gender dictated."

"I wasn't suggesting that you should give up," Lucius interjected mildly. "I'm still here, assisting you, am I not? And I do agree that interference in wizarding private life is not on, but you must see the Wizengamot's point."

"I do," Hermione muttered. "There is a problem with there being not enough witches and a population bottleneck. That doesn't mean I agree with their methods in 'solving' that problem. There has to be another way."

Lucius picked up the crumpled appointment notice. "May I?"

"Go ahead," Hermione said absently, her thoughts elsewhere. Apart from anything else, if she didn't find a solution within three weeks, she would be forced to have children long before she was ready.

Oh, she did want to have a child or two, but not yet. Maybe in a decade or so, but not now. She was only nineteen! As for Severus, she didn't know if he even wanted kids. They hadn't talked about it, unsurprising since they'd only been romantically involved for a little over a month. This was something they should be allowed to decide eventually, not to have it decided for them by the bloody government.

Hermione glared down at the now all too familiar stipulations of the addendum. The edges of the scroll started to smoulder. She took a deep breath, reigning in her temper. While it would be cathartic to see it burn, it wouldn't do the same to the actual law-to-be. And she suspected the librarian might burn her if she did do it.

Once the addendum was law, it would be all the harder to retract. Even if she did find a viable alternative, the Wizengamot would be unwilling to ditch something that was in place and was proven to work.

It would work, too. The Wizengamot had made sure of that, stipulating the usage of fertility potions to guarantee conception, and sexual congress with the father-to-be at least every two days during the first trimester to help ensure that the foetus would not be rejected.

The Wizengamot had also contracted Severus to concoct a potion to ensure that all foetuses were female by eliminating Y chromosomal spermatozoa. After the required two girls per witch were born, the wizards would be provided with an antidote.

Lucius's voice dragged her away from her thoughts. "...unless I'm much mistaken, Hermione, you didn't read the back of this." He held up the smoothed out parchment, twisting his hand to reveal something printed on the reverse. It was in block capitals, large enough for her to see from across the table.

'THIS IS MANDATORY. WE WARN THAT MISSED APPOINTMENTS ARE AN ARRESTABLE OFFENCE, PUNISHED BY A FINE AND/OR AN OVERNIGHT STAY IN AZKABAN.'

Her jaw dropped. "Surely they can't do that! Something like that should be where it can't be missed, and to send it out the day before..."

"They should leave more notice, yes. Be sure to attend your appointment. Even without Dementors, I do not recommend Azkaban." Lucius reached over to rest his hand on top of hers. "Nor do I want to see you there, even for a single night."

"Much as I despise the purpose of these check ups, rest assured that I won't miss it." Hermione gave him an uncomfortable smile as she gently extracted her hand from under his, ostensibly to turn the page. While his concern was touching, Lucius's means of expressing it reminded her too much of his flirtatious and charming behaviour toward her over the past week.

At first, Hermione had thought that he was doing it to annoy Severus. Why else do it in such a way that Severus was the one who noticed, like the day they learned of the addendum? But since then, Lucius had ramped up the charm, even when Severus was not around. As such, the concern Severus had expressed about Lucius's behaviour did not seem entirely unwarranted.

It was a little worrying that Lucius seemed inclined to break his word about marriage in name only. He seemed unconcerned by the consequences of antagonising Severus; in fact, unless Hermione was mistaken, Lucius delighted in it.

But Severus was overreacting. After all, he had nothing to worry about. She wasn't interested. No matter how charming Lucius was, she was not about to jump into bed with him. Only... if the addendum couldn't be revoked, Hermione would be required to have Lucius's daughter, something that would involve sleeping with him repeatedly.

Hermione shuddered. The thought of being forced to accept Lucius's attentions again dredged up the memory of the night she'd fallen apart, something she would rather stayed buried forever.

She turned her attention back to the records in front of her. There had to be a something, some means to escape the demands of the addendum. So far, the only way Hermione could think of was to sterilise herself and Severus. And that was not an option. She'd rather bed Lucius again than do anything that might permanently take away her hopes for the future.

Examining the list of stipulations was perhaps not the best use of her time – considering that she virtually knew them by heart – but Hermione couldn't help but hope that yet another read through would reveal something that she had missed.

She half-heartedly took a blank piece of parchment and an Ever Inking Quill. Lists had served her well in the past, and freeing the stipulations from the web of legal jargon in the actual document might help.

No contraceptive, magic or Muggle. That was no surprise, as something that they'd known about ever since the Prophet leaked it. What was a little surprising was that the Wizengamot had taken the time to learn of Muggle methods.

Mandatory check ups at St Mungo's every month for witches. Hermione scowled. That might have the innocuous reason to follow the progress of the pregnancies, but it also had the ulterior motive of ensuring that no one was breaking the first stipulation. Although with the usage of fertility potions, it would be painfully obvious what was happening if a witch failed to get pregnant.

Only penetrative vaginal sex permitted, and only with the father-to-be. No other methods of congress. Quite how the Ministry was going to enforce that, Hermione did not know. Nor did she care to imagine. At least there was a subsection in that part where women could do as they pleased with whichever husband after the first trimester was up. As long as it didn't endanger the precious pregnancy, anyway.

But if part of the aim of the law was to avoid wizards fighting over witches, why add a stipulation which temporarily banned one of the men from exercising his conjugal rights? It had to be something to do with the required regular exposure to the father's DNA during the first three months. Was it also to reduce the potential for squibs? She would have to do some research there...

Fertility potions will be provided in order to guarantee conception. Attached to that stipulation was what had made Hermione think – and almost immediately discard – the idea of sterilisation. The potions would not work on the sterile. As could be expected for a law concerned with reproduction, those with untreatable infertility were exempt. Those marriages would also be dissolved. Hermione hoped that the Ministry wouldn't waste valuable time by annulling marriages where all involved were sterile, though. It wouldn't be fair, damn it. Not that anything to do with this law was...

Some people might be desperate enough to sterilise themselves. Particularly if couples – or even threesomes – were genuinely in love, and one of them was naturally infertile. But if the authorities suspected that was the case, surely it would be simple for them to prove if magic could pick up things like contraceptive usage and even what sort of sex people were having. The law was clear what the consequences for such attempted escape was: Azkaban.

There had to be a solution. But what?

Hermione stared down at the list, a blot of ink spreading like a bloodstain where her quill rested.

'Who am I kidding? It's hopeless!'

Hermione rolled up the scroll and tossed it aside. As soon as it was clear of the table, it was spelled away by the reshelving enchantments. The librarian was only there to keep an eye on people using the archives.

She sighed heavily, burying her face in her hands. The solution – if there was one, which she increasingly doubted – would not be found in the addendum. For once, the Wizengamot had made it without loopholes. Fertile unions could not escape their duty to procreate.

Her appointment tomorrow would be the first stage of the process that would result in a baby around nine months hence. And another after a year of recovery time between pregnancies. Long before she was ready... Furthermore, what was to stop the Wizengamot from drafting yet another addendum, requiring more children? After all, the primary objective of the marriage law was for the wizarding population to recover. The current two children might not be that unreasonable, but there had to be a gender balance. That put the total up to four.

The Wizengamot had already started down the slippery slope of encroaching on the liberty of the public. Where would it end? With the decimated population of witches required to have pregnancy after pregnancy until their menopause?

'Broodmares, in other words.'

She was screwed. Just like everyone else.

* * *

Healer Artemis Hipworth was in a bad mood. The great-something-or-other-granddaughter of Glover Hipworth, inventor of Pepper-Up Potion, her natural environment was working on research in a laboratory. Not on the front line in St Mungo's. Yet here she was, thanks to the latest wheeze of the Wizengamot.

"Next," Artemis called, dumping the medical notes of the last patient into her out-tray and retrieving the notes for her next patient from the tray above it.

The young woman who stepped inside her makeshift office looked familiar. Somewhat like the famous Harry Potter's female friend, come to think of it. A glance at the name on the medical notes confirmed that the resemblance was no coincidence.

Unfortunate girl. Artemis had been among the last witches to fall ill with the plague; Hermione Granger had been one of the first. The marriage law – and subsequent addendum – must be insult to injury. At least Artemis herself was exempt, as she was just past her menopause.

Not that she was entirely unaffected, as she would still be expected to do her duty by marrying similarly affected men in order to 'maintain the peace', or so the Ministry propaganda had said. Her workload had also increased and changed for the worse. Artemis was not a people person, hence the reason why she had been a researcher.

"Sit," she said, pointing at the seat in front of her desk. Perhaps she should have added 'please', as courtesy was rumoured to cost nothing. But it did cost time, which Artemis was severely lacking.

The Wizengamot had not provided St Mungo's much time for these required check ups, and had even gone to the ridiculous measure of dictating that one alphabetical set of surnames would be seen each day. Idiots. The census at the Ministry made it clear that there were some letters far more populated than others. Like 'G', for instance.

Ms Granger sat, her muscles taut. Whether her apparent discomfort was to do with the situation or Artemis's brusqueness was a mystery. By the end of the appointment, Ms Granger was sure to be even more uncomfortable. The spells might not be as physically invasive as a Muggle speculum, but... they did violate an unwilling patient's privacy. In this situation, what patient was willing?

That was another aspect of this law that any self-respecting medical practitioner would resent. Apart from overworking them, it also overrode confidentiality, the sacred bond between Healer and patient.

Much as Artemis hated the entire process, she still had patients left to see if she wanted to go home at all that day. She picked up her wand, ready to begin the examination. As a laboratory creature, her skills as an active Healer were a bit rusty, but she had practiced on enough patients in the past week to be familiar with the spells.

'Contraceptus Revelio.' That briefly outlined Ms Granger in a faint red corona. That had been brighter in most witches Artemis had seen so far; those on contraceptives lasting for a month or more.

"Be sure to stop taking your daily contraception before the addendum comes into action, Ms Granger."

At that point, it would be illegal to use contraception, although most offenders should escape Azkaban as no method of contraception was one hundred percent effective.

The next step was one of the most invasive, to Artemis's disgust. But the sexual health of the patients must be checked.

Ms Granger gasped, a quite restrained response considering that the spell made it feel as if the reproductive organs had been touched all over by icy hands.

"Clean," Artemis muttered, touching her ragged Quick Quotes Quill with her wand to activate it. Ms Granger was completely free of sexually transmitted diseases, a bonus to one of the more complex and expensive daily contraceptives. Probably brewed by one of the husbands, Snape, as it was well within his reputed brewing capabilities. "And sexually active five hours and thirty five minutes ago."

'Oops.' Judging by the way Ms Granger stiffened, she had heard that. How embarrassing... Artemis was prone to forgetting that one of her experiments had permanently affected her hearing, which meant that what she thought was mumbled under her breath was perfectly audible to others. It really didn't help her reputation as the Healer with the worst bedside manner in the history of St Mungo's.

At least there was only one more spell to perform in this whole horrible experience for her poor patient.

'Gravida Typicalis.'

Artemis thought that she must have performed the spell wrong. She was about to recast when the ghostly projection of Ms Granger's typical pregnancy appeared. Interesting, the delay must correlate to the ease of conception. Which would make sense, considering the fact that Ms Granger was currently using contraception.

The ghostly embryo fast became a foetus as a simulated day passed every second, growing until it was about the size of Artemis's hand, from palm to fingertips. It was recognisably human, and had just moved for the first time when the projection faded.

Artemis blinked. That was something different... If it meant what she thought it did... But better make sure she was right, first. She Summoned the thick textbook on fertility spells from across the room, flicking through it.

'Ah.' It did mean exactly what she thought. How to break it to the patient, though? Interacting with patients really wasn't her strong point...

When Artemis looked up, Ms Granger was still staring at where the ghostly foetus had been, her face almost as pale as the whitewashed walls of the room. Perhaps she suspected the truth. She was reportedly intelligent, after all. Still, Artemis had to say something.

Artemis cleared her throat. "I don't know whether to offer my commiserations or to congratulate you."

AN: Many thanks to septentrion and JunoMagic for betaing, and to Kribu for alpha reading.