DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's note: This is the third of three planned stories, it is highly recommended you read the first two The Lost Wizard and The Lost Witch for this to make sense.
Hermione Jane Potter lay on the slab under the harsh light of the examination room; only a flimsy paper shroud covered her body. Harry waited beyond the doors as the doctor worked on her. Through the doors he heard various discussions between the medical personal, and at one point he heard a light groan and a whimper as the doctor continued his examination. Since their wedding, they had been together constantly, never further away from each other for more than a few minutes. This was the longest they've been apart since well before the wedding, since their days at school when they had separate classes. He tried to imagine what they were doing to her in there; his thoughts ran wild. What could make a woman that faced Voldemort whimper?
After a brief eternity, the doors opened and he was allowed to see his young wife. She lay curled up on the table clutching her knees with a look that he'd never be able to erase, at the end chrome rods protruded from the examination table with stirrups at the ends, on the table next to her, a tray loosely covered with a towel showed the outline of objects he had never seen, nor could he imagine their use. His first thoughts were these resembled medieval torture devices. He closed the distance to her and took her hand, to give her any comfort he could.
"What did they do? I thought I heard…" He asked, but was cut off quickly.
"Sod off Potter," she hissed in Parseltongue. "Next time we have to face an evil megalomaniac, YOU tell him you're the one pregnant and I'll watch them shove one of those 'things' where the sun don't shine."
"I… really don't know what to say, Mione."
"I've never felt so humiliated in my life," she finally spat out. "They made me put my heels in those things," she pointed to the end of the table, "and they… they put, it was so cold and uncomfortable. He said all I'd feel is a slight pressure but it felt like I was being ripped open."
"At least it's over, you shouldn't have to go through that again, right?"
"I hope not. I thought I knew what to expect, I read about the procedure, but it sounded so clinical. That was so… invasive."
"It's only been a few months; I think we should keep trying."
"Let's just see what these doctors say, alright Harry?" She sat there, unsure whether to dress or not. He stayed there and pulled his arm around her waist. Her free hand reached to her scar on her chest and lightly rubbed it through the paper gown as if she were working on a knotted muscle.
"The doctor will see you both now, please follow me." The nurse instructed the young couple as they made their way through the clinic's hallways. They were led to an examination room, and instructed to wait for the doctor's results.
The young man held his wife's hand gently with a compassion that radiated from them both. The nurse noticed his complete devotion to her, and sighed, wondering why she couldn't find a guy that attentive to her and her needs. Most men that came into this clinic were more terrified then accepting of the reason for being there. These two were more comfortable with each other than couples, the nurse noted, unusual given their young age of twenty-two. She deposited the growing medical history in the pocket on the door and left them alone.
No words were passed between the couple in the sterile room; they were not needed. A firm squeeze of his hand told him she was nervous, and she felt an icy cold in her palm, a signal from their shared past that he too was nervous. The clock on the wall behind then gave a distinctive tick, tick; tick, as time passed slowly. She pulled a heart shaped locket from beneath her blouse, clutched it in her hand, and held it tightly.
She slipped it back inside her blouse, and her hand lingered on a scar on her chest. She lightly traced it a finger; it was still tender after all these years. He noticed as it had become a nervous habit for her, like twisting a strand of hair in her fingers. It had started a few years ago when they waited for the doctor in the first clinic they visited. He knew what it reminded her of. He knew what they had lost that day. He knew what he'd failed to do. He knew what she longed for every time she saw their dear friend's young children playing. They were waiting for the doctor to tell them there was still hope.
They heard a soft knock on the stark white door as it silently opened. The man standing before them was concentrating on the details in a thick folder, as he walked into the room. He laid the folder on the counter and pulled a chair from the corner to sit with them.
"Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter, I have reviewed all the tests and I've had the lab re-run them twice. Mr. Potter, there's absolutely nothing wrong with you. But, Mrs. Potter, on the physical exam and the vaginal ultrasound, we found evidence of a viral infection that seems to have caused scarring on certain key areas within your reproductive structures, namely, your fallopian tubes. The condition is called Tubal infertility."
"Is it treatable?" she asked tentatively, this was the first time any abnormalities had been identified.
"If we had caught the infection in the early stages, I would have said it would be completely treatable, but this is the most advanced case I've seen. What I find disturbing, this is typically caused by sexually transmitted infections like chlamydeous or gonorrhoea. But there are no other symptoms of you ever having either infection."
She squeezed Harry's hand tighter with the disturbing news. He returned a comforting squeeze, letting her know he would support her.
"Is there anything that can be done?" Harry asked for them.
"As I said, if we caught this earlier, but from the pathology reports, you would have had to been infected at a very young age, we estimate the scars are at least ten and possibly fifteen years old. By all calculations, that would have you between seven and twelve years old. What I'm about to ask is extremely personal, and I understand if you can't or won't discuss it. Mrs. Potter, were you ever abused as a child?"
They both stared in disbelief at the question posed, they both knew this happened only four years ago, and she had never been molested or abused as the doctor implied.
"No, nothing of that nature ever occurred and I resent the implications. My father and I had a healthy relationship." Her tone became defensive when she began to refer to talk about her father. "Further, your prognosis is in error, I have never contracted any infection. If I had, wouldn't my husband also be infected? But he is not. Harry, I can't believe we came here for answers and this… doctor is making accusations and implication against my father and you."
"Please, Mrs. Potter, I never meant to offend you, but the data clearly shows…"
"That your testing or your procedures are flawed, I won't stand for this." She stood to leave, but Harry remained.
"Mione, wait, doctor, I can assure you that the possible causes you have implied are incorrect. We have been together for half of our lives and nothing you implied has ever happened."
"Please. Mrs. Potter, I never meant to offend, but I am required by law to investigate possible child molestation, and the evidence is there. I hope you understand I will have to contact the authorities to investigate any family members that…"
"My father was murdered four years ago." She hissed. "And I can assure you that any other man that was in my life then is beyond reproach."
"I'm terribly sorry, I had no idea. Please accept my apologies. But still, the cause of that form of scaring has never been documented at that stage in someone your age. It is typically found in woman twice your age. I hope you can understand why I had believed other causes."
"Doctor, given the fact that there is evidence of this scaring, is there anything that can be done?" Harry stood and put his hands on Hermione's shoulders to calm her, and he guided her back to their seats.
"Normally we wouldn't attempt to clear the tissue when it's at this stage, since it usually occurs in woman over forty and the preferred treatment is a hysterectomy. That is not what I would recommend in your case. We do have extreme measures that can be attempted, but the costs are also extreme and as I see you have no insurance to cover it I would recommend against such procedures."
"Cost is irrelevant. My family left us with means to deal with these expenses. What is our course of action?" Harry asked.
"First, we could try to remove as much of the scaring as possible using a high power laser to remove the damage. But since the chance of severing the tubes is great, we will only attempt that procedure on one side at a time. We will have to wait for at least three months before the next stage. This process could take in excess of a year and I have little hope of success, the damage is extensive."
"Then thank you doctor," she coldly replied, "If you have no hope of success, then we must find a doctor that is more optimistic. Come Harry, I can't listen to this."
He too stood to shake the doctor's hand and politely thanked him for his time then guided his wife from the clinic. They remained speechless until they found their way to the rented car in the parking lot. He opened the right side passenger door for her, as was his habit, and waited until she sat before he closed the door. He walked to the other side, entered and started the engine. Still in silence he left the car where it was, slipped across the front seat to her side, knowing she was as frustrated as he was. He knew she wanted a child, his child; she wanted to give him the only thing he never had, a proper family. He lifted her chin and turned her to face him, her eyes pooling, but she held her emotions in check.
"That was unnecessary; I don't understand why they think every one in this country was abused as a child. Why did we come here?" She exploded.
"We were told this was one of the best facilities for this form of treatment. There is another clinic, we can try them tomorrow."
"Harry, I feel like such a failure, why didn't I listen to you. If we waited then…"
He pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair. His touch was soothing to her when she became agitated, and since she had become obsessed with this failure, her moods had become sharper.
"Shhh… if we had waited then what? He might have waited for another time and place. I'm happy with you as my family. I am, really."
"Harry, I know you mean it, but why?" she pushed herself from him.
"Why what?"
"I know you want a family, and I can't give you that. Why do you stay?" she said softly, a note of distress in her voice.
"If you haven't figured that out, then maybe you aren't the brightest witch of the age. I love you Hermione, I always have, and you know that."
"I do, but still, Ginny and Draco just had twins, and Luna just had a son. I feel useless."
"If we hadn't worked together, then we would never have defeated him, I never could have done it without you. I never want to be without you, with or without children. You're all that's important to me, the only thing that's ever been important to me. If you want a child, then we'll find a way. I told you once that we always managed to beat the odds, and we will here too. If you're up to it, then we'll try this procedure."
"Do you think it would help?"
"All we can do is try. Now, shall we find another clinic? The muggle doctors have given us more hope then those in our world."
"No. I'm willing to try again with this one." She returned his embrace punctuated with a loving kiss and opened her door.
Together they returned to the reception area and requested another conference with the doctor. The nurse at the reception desk replied with a smile, "Most certainly, you're not the first ones to leave when the doctor couldn't give you the news you wanted to hear. I'm sure I can have him come back to see you. Please follow me."
She stood and led them back to the examination room they left only a few minutes ago. Harry sat in the spot he occupied earlier, while Hermione continued to pace in the small room, until a light knock was heard.
"Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter, have you reconsidered the procedure? I believe I may have an alternative procedure that could have a better chance at bring positive results; namely a viable pregnancy."
"What are these options?" she demanded.
"The first as I mentioned is the laser procedure, the draw backs to that is we will only attempt to clear one side at a time and the recover time is lengthy, and there's no guarantees of success. The concept of the next procedure is quite simple, we collect samples for you both and in the lab, and we cultivate these samples to produce a viable embryo to re-implant in the uterus."
"What 'samples' are you referring to?" she asked.
"From you, we induce ovulation augmenting your own hormonal production to stimulate increased follicular production. Then we collect living egg cells just before your cycle and from your husband we also collect…"
"I think we get the picture, isn't that somewhat extreme?" Harry interjected.
"It is a major step, but from the scaring, this may be the best if not the only possibility for the end result."
"You make it sound so, cold. We want a family, not some 'product' made from 'samples'."
"Mrs. Potter, I apologize if that's how it appears, but you must understand this is not fool proof. There is a 35 to 45% success rate in couples over 30, but we have very little data on couples under 25 with this procedure."
"So you really can't say if this will work."
"We'll know more after we complete the first cycle, but I will warn you that we can't risk more than three full cycles, the risks to her health and the risk of causing further injuries is great. If we are lucky, we may produce an average yield of viable embryos. Any we don't use can be stored cryogenically for use later. Also there is a possibility of surrogacy if there are complications."
"And what is that?" he asked, all these procedures had never been considered or suggested.
"A surrogate is another woman that is willing to carry the embryo to full term and delivery. The main complication in the past had been the reluctance of the surrogate to relinquish the child. You best chance is a family member that would be willing to act as a substitute that has already had a successful live birth. In one rare case, the woman's mother served to deliver her own grandchild."
Harry and Hermione looked at each other and each gave a squeeze of their hands, still intertwined, the both gave the same name. "Ginny."
"But," the doctor continued, "This procedure is costly, at a minimum of $10,000 per cycle and an additional $5,000 to $7,500 for medication. The storage fee for any unused embryos is roughly $1000 per year. I can't begin unless our accounting office has approval from your insurance carriers or a personal guarantee…"
Harry reached into his jacket pocket, produced a chequebook, and proceeded to write a draft for $50,000. "Have this deposited and if more is required, I will provide what is needed."
"Are you certain? This is a large amount…"
"As I mentioned, my family left us the means and this is not an issue. We both have several weeks left of school and if this doesn't interfere we can start right away. We will be waiting for you to let us know when we can proceed." He stood and held his hand to Hermione and left the office.
"It's more up to your schedule and of course hers. The initial procedure shouldn't conflict with school but you should stay locally during the procedure, it is, of course, time sensitive. Once you start, timing will be critical."
Hermione accepted the stack of literature offered and planned to mentally prepare for every aspect before that start. She made a quick mental check and determined they would be able to return near the end of June.
They went back to the hotel room they leased as a temporary base while they pursued this endeavour. They planned to return home that afternoon; to meet with Ron for a final training session for the last class they shared. Hermione taken the daunting task of both Healer Training and Auror Training, but her plans to continue as a healer outweighed any thoughts of law enforcement. Both her two closest friends expected to continue to keep their world safe. After the war, the Auror ranks dwindled, many had been injured or killed, and many that had been injured chose to leave the ranks.
"Bugger that hurt. Why do they still use these brutal methods of administering medications?" She commented as she pulled her pants back around her bottom. She carefully placed a hand on the spot of her most recent injury. Her husband carefully placed the implement in a special container for disposal according to muggle laws.
"That was the last dose, and this is our last try. Mione, this time we let Ginny try to help, right? It may be our last chance." He finally said what they both though, as he applied an iced pouch on the recent injection site. Her skin had bruised severely with each new injection, a total of four in the morning and four more in the afternoon. Tomorrow they would repeat the 'harvest' and then begin the weeklong wait for results. They had talked to Draco and Ginny about this procedure and before being asked she offered her body to them.
The cool November air blew through the apartment balcony; they had stayed in the same apartment they lived in their first summer together, they returned here because they loved the view. The Clinic was a short hop by portkey, so staying in Ponce Inlet was not a problem, and they had become as familiar as Jake and Eileen. The older couple stayed there in the summer months but now they were both back in England teaching. The small town had long since been deserted by the summer residents and now the town was quite empty. Draco and Ginny stayed in the second room, and they too waited as she showed signs of extreme nervousness. They left their year old children in the care of family at home, as they only expected to be here for a fortnight at best.
The retrieval went as smoothly as the first two attempts, and Hermione cursed the doctor each time he probed in a new site, she wanted to become a mother, but now she felt like a pincushion. She lost count of the injections and probes and other more invasive measures she endured, while Harry's contribution had him leave for a private room for a half hour.
This yield had been less than their last attempt, only 6 viable embryos, since they now needed Ginny's body to catch up to accept the gifts, the six remained in a cryogenic tank, to be retrieved in only a couple weeks. Ginny knew the procedure she faced, she had been with her step-sister-in-law for every earlier procedure; Hermione needed the family support. Less then two weeks later, and three weeks into their stay at the beach apartment Ginny finally was ready, the clinic had been notified and prepared the embryos for re-implantation but the thawing process had not been as successful, two failed the process leaving four. Ginny suggested using them all, the possibility a multiple pregnancy didn't frighten her she had just survived twins. The procedure lasted only forty-five minutes, and she was required to remain bed-ridden for at least a week. And since the clinic needed her to remain in town, the four stayed in a local muggle hotel.
If Harry was merely nervous, Hermione was a complete physiological wreck. Ginny was getting Hermione's wish to carry Harry's child, even though it was hers as well. Ginny, too, was fulfilling a childhood dream shared by all young witches her age had at one time or another, to have The-Boy-Who-Lived's child. The surprise to them all was unlike Hermione's failures; this one was different. After an extended bed rest of nearly three weeks, Ginny carried a child.