dedicated to JustineLunaa for the cover! it's so cute :)

Ch. 3: Daunting Preparations

Song For Chapter: Find Me There - Storm Smith

Not many people were out as Hermione and I slowly walked down the streets of London, drawing closer and closer towards Diagon Alley and Saint Mungo's Hospital. Our trunks bumped behind us, awkward and chunky, standing out in the average pace of the city.

A red-bricked, condemned department store called Purge and Dowse, Ltd burned against two more modern buildings, a stain on the street. The windows were fogged over from years of clustered dust and, inside the department store, a few wooden mannequins still stood with empty faces and blank eyes.

I stopped beside the window first and took a slow, sweeping glance through the street. Luckily, this particular street didn't have much for customers to stop by, and there were no wandering pedestrians on the street.

Ushering me, Hermione stepped through the foggy window and I followed, immediately passing through the enchanted glass and into the main hall of St. Mungo's.

A young witch in scarlet robes shifted at the front desk, chewing casually on a wad of gum and writing with quick, determined strokes on a long scroll of parchment as she shuffled through files. Hermione and I approached the desk with patience in our steps.

"Name," the witch asked, voice flat and never lifting her eyes to address us.

"Elizabeth Granger," I informed her, pulling my trunk tighter to my side. The fact that Hermione had our school trunks made me feel uncomfortable despite the fact that no one else seemed to care one inkling. "Here for an appointment with the Healer, Tilula Dragon."

"Miss Dragon is out for lunch," she sighed, as if this was the millionth time she had to tell us this bit of knowledge, "you're welcome to wait in the Standing room. She will be back shortly."

There was the curt sound of heels against the laminate flooring as a cool voice sounded to the right of the front desk. "Perhaps too shortly, Matilda." Miss Dragon was wearing green, Healer robes and her blonde hair was tucked up tightly into the familiar bun. "I am glad you both are here, I have some matters to bring to your attention before the appointment is up -- if you do not mind?"

"Uh... sure, I guess." I shrugged, one hand still tightly gripping the trunk behind me.

The walk to her office was quiet and filled with only the sounds of shallow breathing and our footsteps. I could tell by the set way Miss Dragon's lips were, there was something heavy weighing on her mind.

Almost immediately when the door clicked shut behind her, Tilula let out a small sigh and motioned for Hermione and I to take our seats. "Alright, there is a pressing matter that needs to be addressed. I fear that you both already know what I may be referring to?"

I wasn't certain, so I glanced towards my sister, but still came back as empty as ever. "I don't think I follow?"

My healer glanced suspiciously towards her door, and then took a seat behind her big, oak desk. "As the both of you know, there as been a recent rise with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. This has led to," Miss Dragon paused, sliding her horn-rimmed glasses off the crook of her nose and setting them on her desk as she rubbed her tired eyes, "this has led to the rise in attacks on Muggleborns and their supporters. You must understand, girls, I care very deeply for each and every one of the patients under my care. I want to ensure that I am doing all that I can for you, no matter what may be happening in the world currently."

There was a flicker behind Hermione's eyes and she sat up straighter, smoothing the front of her cardigan. "Do you mean to tell me that healthcare for Muggleborns will be... well, withheld?"

"That's exactly what I predict will be happening very soon." Tilula Dragon's voice was sharp and held a tone of bitterness. "There are many things that I do not agree with in the coming times, and - with the way things are going - I am able to confidently suggest that the care for Muggleborns and Muggles alike in this hospital will be frozen. It's with a heavy heart that I say this, please be aware."

"What can be done at this point?" I asked, feeling as if there was more to the appointment than just what my healer was saying.

The healer smiled sweetly at me and unfolded her glasses, putting them back over her eyes as she reached for a thick file on her desk. The file was stamped with my name and the words 'to be eradicated'.

"Here is what I would like to do today," she said, pulling out a few sheets of paper and quickly skimming them as if to glean information from the pages.

"There has been some experimentations with taking the eggs from women with your disease and placing them under observation. It is simpler to remove some from your uterus and preserve them over time. With current steps in medicinal magic and ethers, we are able to keep the eggs for long periods of time, keeping them fertile and hopefully finding a cure for your problem."

Hermione interrupted when she saw a fit opportunity. "So, you think that if you take the eggs now that you can preserve them long enough for the whole war to blow over?"

"That's the hope," Miss Dragon admitted with a sigh. Her face sobered from the hopeful one that she had been showing us before. "To be perfectly honest, I believe in the light of this world. Many people here think I am silly for believing that good will always win out in the end. However, without hope, where would we be?"

Tilula closed the file and leant forward, resting her chin on her folded hands so she could talk directly at Hermione and I. "While it is true that we here at St. Mungo's like to treat every disease with individuality, I cannot help but feel greedy when having this opportunity to take some samples from you, Miss Granger. Nowadays we don't see too much progression in the healing of this type of disease."

"And," I assumed, "you want to take them from me now because I am still a patient and not merely a Muggleborn?"

"Yes."

"Doing this could one day allow me the chance to have children?"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in the seat beside me, "Elle, I wouldn't say th--"

"--Yes, Miss Granger, your sister is most likely right on the matter. This is no cure. However, there are many ways this could help." Miss Dragon smiled once more. "That is a promise."

A promise.

Could I let myself be so easily swayed by the ideas of promises and thoughts of perhaps one day being able to have children? Not really. There wasn't much to be held towards a candle these days, but the thought was a nice one.

I knew deep down that Miss Dragon simply wanted the opportunity to experiment on me, to use my eggs towards a greater research; however, who was I to turn her down? It wasn't as if the process would hurt me any, and I didn't have any use for the ones I had now.

If there was a chance that I could help other women with this problem, why wouldn't I do it?

Hermione was quiet beside me, but I barely even glanced at her as I responded to the healer with a simple nod. "Why not?"

"Wait, wait," Hermione said, voice layered with concern. "Wait, what does the procedure entail? Will Elle need time to rest? Will there be any pain? Any side effects? Anything --"

I put a hand on her arm to calm her rapid, slightly panicked questions. "Honestly, Hermione, I'll be fine. I want to do this."

Sore. So, very sore.

"Ugh, how much longer, Mione?" I whined, clutching my stomach as Hermione and I continued to weave through the practically vacant streets of Diagon Alley, lugging our trunks behind us. I was being burdened down by the extra weight of the potions Miss Dragon dumped on me for my cysts. 'Continue taking them, as this is no cure,' she had told me for the fifth time as Hermione and I walked out the door.

Hermione arched a brow at me as we neared Twilfitt and Tatting's dress robe shop. "We are here. And, Elle, don't whine at me. I told you not to do it. Honestly, there was no point."

"You're probably right, Hermione, but you know what? I figured: screw it. And, there's no going back now. Maybe some other delightful couple will need them one of these days. Merlin knows I probably won't."

Hermione ignored my ranting as we quickly entered the shop, the little bell on the entrance jingling happily as we did. "After this, we will go straight to the Burrow. I know you are hungry and that is why you are so whiny."

I sniffled, rubbing my arm. "T-That's not true," I paused as my stomach let out a gurgling sound of protest. "Okay! So, perhaps it is, but that's completely beside the point." My sister smiled at my antics and turned as a Madame Walkins approached the front of the shop, face plastered with a look of being pleasantly surprised as she introduced herself to us.

"Oh, well! Welcome, welcome!" She flustered about, motioning at both ends of her shop. "Dress robes for Hogwarts can be found on your left, and on your right you can find party gowns, tuxes, and other outing attire. Anything I can help you find today? It's been so long since we've had very many customers, you see."

I offered the patiently waiting lady a smile and asked her to excuse us a couple seconds as I pulled Hermione to the side and hissed under my voice. "Hermione, what are we doing in a dress shop?"

She flippantly ignored my question and glanced over my head to smile at Madame Walkins. "Could you please show us your formal gowns? We are attending a wedding in a few weeks." Hermione fudged the truth on the date, but I chalked that up to being overcautious.

Delighted for the customers, the madame of the shop chirped about patterns and laces as she maneuvered us through the store. Hermione drug me behind her all the while.

Meanwhile, I was glaring daggers at the back of my sister's pointy little head. 'I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you, Hermione Jean Granger. I hate you sooo mu--'.

"If you keep making that face, it'll stick like that, Elle. Then what would Fred say?" Hermione chided me, a stern nature in her eyes. "And, don't be so melodramatic. We need nice dresses. You know Fleur better than I, and you and I both know how she is about proper attire and basically anything that dwells in the superficial world of fashion."

"Well, dear, I wouldn't say fashion is superficial--," Madame Walkins giggled a haughty laugh, as if my sister had wounded her.

Hermione noticed her error and blushed a deep shade of puce. "I-I apologize, it's not superficial per say, I just meant..."

Rolling my eyes, I shook my head at my sister. "See what you've done, Mione? You've totally bashed this woman's way of life. Nice going!" I teased, getting a grin from the store owner and a wide-mouth gape from Hermione as she floundered for words to defend herself with. "Sorry about my sister, Madame Walkins. She doesn't understand the undertones of a good outfit."

Part of me was surprised when the madame merely rolled her eyes at me with a hefty chuckle. "You remind me of my sister. Honestly, I wasn't even insulted. You girls make me laugh." She shook her head and maneuvered us to a long isle with plenty of nice, rich looking dresses lined up on hangers. "Here are the dresses. If you need anything more, I will be behind the counter dears."

Hermione and I thanked the woman and as soon as she was out of hearing range, my sister lightly shoved me. "I cannot believe you! That was so embarrassing."

"Can we leave now? You lied to me about the Wizarding money. You said the Sickles were for Healer Dragon, but we pay her in advance."

Hermione sighed and leafed through the rows of dresses. "Oh, don't pull that betrayed face with me. The sooner we get done, the sooner you can get to the Burrow."

"You mean the sooner you can get to the Burrow."

My sisters fingers paused in their lingering. "What is that meant to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing," I groaned, flopping face-first into a row of silk and cotton. "Mrpher, Mhrmph...mrh," I groaned into the dresses, lazily. I let my arms droop at my sides while Hermione simply walked past me, leisurely filtering through the racks.

"Well, what do you think of it?" Hermione called my attention, so I lifted my head from the racks of dress robes. In her hand, my sister was holding up a floaty, lilac material dress that seemed to almost reach the floor, and in the other she was holding a matching pair of shoes.

"Meh."

Hermione arched a brow and rocked back slightly onto her heels in agitation. "Meh? Oh come now, I know you're sore with me about tricking you, but you don't need to go into zombie Elle mode. It's just dress robe shopping."

"Perhaps you're right." I simply pushed away from the dresses I was practically lounging on and hummed to myself as I stalked the rows of plushy gowns, glaring at each individual one, looking into each of their fabrics and saying: I hate you, until one in particular popped out from among the others.

"Voilà, chienne," I wailed dramatically at Hermione, yanking the dress from the rack and holding it elegantly up in the air. Part of me wondered if I had even said that right, since it had been too long since I had even tried to speak French.

My sister furrowed her brow and glared at me, uncertain. "Wait... what did you call me?"

"That's beside the point, that was then and this is now. What do you think of the dress?"

It was a shorter, capping off around the knees, red number with a frilly front that emphasized the chest and thick, red straps that were meant to cling to the sides of the shoulders. I could tell by the uncertain way Hermione hugged the lilac dress closer to herself that she felt a bit out of her element.

"I don't know, Elle. That one seems a bit tight, this one seems more comfortable to me," she concluded.

'She's going to make me wait for her to try them both on,' I mentally whined, but plastered a fake smile over my lips. "How about you try them both? I think you'd look nice in this. And, I think you'd really put Ronald in his place."

That seemed to get a reaction from her.

"I-If you think that I would give one iota of attention towards what Ronald thinks towards me, you are--"

"--Oh, knock it off, 'Mione. You guys aren't fooling anyone. Besides, what's the problem with having a little fun? Godric knows that we need it nowadays. So," I pointed a finger at her, then took the floaty lilac dress from her hands and stuffed the red one in her face, " in the words of my dear friend Lana Dowel: dress the fuck up, paint on your best face, and flaunt your assets."

Flustered by my speech, Hermione blinked a few times, as if attempting to process all that I'd spewed at her. with her head craned to the side, she made a motion as if to interject some witty conversation additive, but came up empty. And, with nothing left to argue, Hermione gave up and sluggishly slumped into the changing room across the shop.

"Atta girl!" I hollered, jumping up to see her as she passed between the rows, quickly closing the thick curtain to the changing room.

When I landed on my feet once again, a throbbing in my ovaries reminded me to calm the hell down, since I was still in pain. "Ow, damn it."Blame plain human kindness for donating eggs to be experimented on. Who knew basic human decency was so painful?

While Hermione was busy changing, I decided that I would speed things along by filtering quickly through some dresses. I had the worst sense whenever it came to finding things for myself, so I knew it was going to be a rough time.

I flippantly brushed off the long, extravagant gowns. The only woman that should be so elegantly dressed is the bride herself, not that anyone could possibly ever take the spotlight from Fleur Delacour.

The sound of the changing room curtain being pulled back made me pause in my fruitless search and put my full attention on Hermione as she awkwardly came towards me, pulling at the hem of her dress, as if willing the fabric to grow a few inches.

"I'm not certain about the dress, honestly," Hermione frowned, twirling in a small circle so the fabric could fan out around her. However, she quickly stopped and pushed the full skirt down again. "It's a bit short."

"It's a bit fabulous!" I squealed with a cackle. I cut off my obnoxious laugh with one sudden, horrifying fact as I put a hand over my chest. "Oh God, that sounded like Jenna."

My sister agreed, pinching her fingers together. "Just a smidge, actually." She tugged a final time at the dark red frock and stared me in the eyes, thinking over something. "Well, you really think it flatters me?"

"Definitely, you look smokin', babe," I encouraged her, turning back to the dresses. "Meanwhile, I'm kind of at a loss for what to do for myself. Can't we just leave? I'm sure I have something -- OR! Or," I stressed as Hermione placed her arm on her hip with a look of disbelief that I was trying to weasel my way around. "I could borrow something from Ginny, or better yet Molly! Gin's too tall, I guess."

"We aren't doing that," Hermione huffed, "just pick something. The opposite color of red is blue, so that could help you? I know you like being completely different from me."

I scrunched up my face, "Hermione... the opposite of red is green."

"No," Hermione huffed, grabbing my hand and pushing us to the blue colored gowns, "green is red's complimentary colour. It's elementary learning, Elle."

I pondered that for a moment. "Huh... perhaps... perhaps you're right."

"I am."

"Know-it-all."

"Jealous."

"You wish I was jealous," I sniffed, nose turned high in the air. I crossed my arms over my chest and turned my eyes off of my sister.

There were a few mannequins clad in different hues of blue dress robes, but one in particular really caught my eye. It was an icy blue frock with capped lace sleeves. Interested, and slightly moved by the purest desire to get out of this shop, I grabbed my size from beneath the example and examined the eyelet lace back with bulky powder blue buttons going down it.

"I've found the dress," I informed Hermione, putting the dress robes over my arm and stalking to the front of the store so we could pay.

Hermione followed me closely, shooting glances of distaste. "Elle, it's a nice dress, but you haven't even tried it on, you don't even know what it looks like on you. Aren't you going to at least change into it before purchase?"

"That would ruin the fun of leaving here sooner," I reminded Hermione. She didn't seem to appreciate the snide tone in my voice, or perhaps the devilish smirk on my lips, but -- surprisingly -- she did not fight me on the matter.

I could feel my skin tingling with agitation the longer I was in the store. Perhaps there was a deep seated reason as to why I completely abhor shopping, maybe all those times that my adoptive mother lost me in the local malls, or the stench of dusty decorations as they desperately tried to make the shopping place seem more festive than it was solely for money. But, it really didn't matter what effected me in the past.

"Is that all for you, dears? Anything else I could get you?" Madame Walkins' voice was sugar-coated with the typical pushy tone that all saleswomen came equipped with. Politely, Hermione refused for the both of us, assuring the woman that two pairs of shoes and the dresses were more than enough. "Alright, well have a delightful day, girls. And... stay safe out there, okay?"

The genuine concern she had moved me a bit as I pushed my sister out of the store. "We will try," I smiled, letting the door click shut softly behind us.

Coughing and sputtering, I tried to clamber out of the Weasley's fireplace, but tripped over the fire grate and ended up landing face first on the cold floor boards. "Ouch, son of a bitch, mother f--"

"--Welcome back, dears!" Mrs. Weasley's voice called out through the empty living area. "I'm just in the kitchen cooking up some dinner for the lot of you, but feel free to move your things up to Ginny's room. That's where we have you both for the time being."

I groaned and rubbed my sore forehead before responding to Mrs. Weasley. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, I'll be sure to do that!"

Quickly, I pulled my body from the fireplace as Hermione was shot through the Floo System as well. However, she had a much smoother landing and dusted herself off with a delighted smile. When she took in my soot covered cheeks, Hermione arched a brow. "Honestly, Elle. Are you ever going to master the Floo System?"

"No!" I shouted, voice filled with an overflow of aggression. "Obviously I'm inept."

Hermione rolled her eyes at my childish tantrum and grabbed her trunk, as well as mine, before shooting me a suggestive look. "Well, I'll take the bags upstairs. How about you get acquainted with everyone again."

"I know what you're suggesting, Hermione," I stretched out my back then sighed a heavy breath of air as I merely began to brush the soot from my clothes, watching black puffs of old ashes roll off my body. When I felt I had brushed myself off enough, I let a smug grin stretch out my cheeks. "Thanks, 'Mione! You're the best!"

"I know," she nodded in agreement. Without so much as another word, she waved me away and gingerly took the handle of my trunk. For a brief moment, I was about to tell my sister that the others could wait so I could help her carry the luggage up all those stairs, but a sudden Ronald Weasley appeared with a goofy grin and one side of his red hair pushed up in a messy, bed-head style.

"Morning, Ron," Hermione blushed as his hand brushed hers in the process of taking her trunk. "How has your summer been?"

I watched the two of them ascend the stairs, listening as they both lightly spoke of things neither of them truly cared to say. Ron could be a doofus, but I appreciated the way he made Hermione feel most of the time. Well, the way he made her feel when he wasn't getting under her skin. Which seemed to be forty percent of the time these days.

The warm sun quickly soaked through my clothes as I basked in it, stepping out of the Burrow and into the grassy fields beyond. It was a beautiful day, but so far I was a bit surprised I had not run into anyone yet. Molly had warned there was to be a full house due to the wedding.

I sensed the attack before it actually hit me.

Tackled by a mighty hug, I stumbled back a bit only to be wrapped tightly into a comforting, but needy grasp. I chuckled against Fred's chest as I hugged him back, burrowing my head against him and savoring the moment.

"Well, are you going to kiss me, Granger?"

I crinkled my nose and tried to squash the grin that flickered automatically at the corners of my mouth. "George! I had no idea you felt that way about me, what would Fred think?"

"Funny," Fred lowered his head and kissed me on the lips, cupping a strong hand on my cheek and trailing the other through the hair at the nape of my neck, fingers lightly tugging at the roots as my insides and heart lurched in response.

He broke away first, eyes shining as they met mine. "How was your day?" There was something in those brown eyes, something that gleamed in the golden flecks, that called out 'I love you' to me, that assured me that he truly wanted me. Me, just Elizabeth Rose Granger.

It was intense.

I liked it.

Tangling my fingers through his hair, I pulled his face back to mine, despite the height difference. He bent his knees a little, to help me out. Kissing him softly, I murmured against him. "Well, Hermione took me to the Healers." Another kiss I was able to sneak in before Fred pulled away, this time out of concern.

"The Healers? Are you feeling ill? How was it?"

"...They scraped out my insides and put them in a petri dish," I sighed, dropping back down onto my heels, knowing that this wasn't exactly information that would put anyone in the mood for romance. "But, don't worry I'm fine."

Fred seemed confused by the phrase 'petri dish', but as if he did understand me, he brushed it off with his typical nonchalant breezy nature. "Sounds delightful!" The sarcasm in his tone was very impressive.

"There's more," I whispered, swallowing an audible lump in my throat, "Hermione... she... she then forced me to... go dress shopping."

"Oh Godric, you've had it rough today," Fred grinned, kissing my forehead which did curious thing to my heart.

"I know!"

_____

I think that was the longest chapter I've writing for the HT series in a long time O:

Anyway, I'm not feeling too well, I have a massive cold -.- but I have to get on a plane to get home from college. I hope your holidays are going well so far, compared to mine, lovelies!

Lots of love, your sick writer xx