The Healer | Part 3: The Survivors

Finals

Edith

The Puking Pastilles did help. Though, surprisingly, not as much as they usually did. I still felt a bit queasy and my appetite didn't fully return. I suppose there was only so much that could be done for pregnancy-related illness. George mentioned trying to invent a formula for 'Edith-Strength' Puking Pastilles, but I was hopeful that it wouldn't last much longer. I reviewed my Maternity Healing books and noted that morning sickness usually only lasted until the twelfth week of pregnancy. Though, why it was called morning sickness, I had no idea. I felt ill almost every hour of the day.

I was holding off on telling Bonnie. I knew she was excited for her own future baby and I didn't want to take anything away from her. She was going to find out eventually, but I figured she didn't need to know right away.

When I arrived at Falcon's Rest the following Friday after school, George informed me that he had arranged for us to get married at the Ministry of Magic directly after my final exam, just two weeks away.

'Are you sure this is what you want?' I pressed.

'Yes, of course it is,' he replied at once. 'I should be asking you that question. You're sure you don't want a hen night or bridal shower or whatever?'

'Those are no fun if you can't drink,' I scoffed.

'Fair play.'

'What about you?' I pushed. 'No stag night? No party? You're sure you donna want to tell anyone? Not even Charlie? Or your father? I'm sure they wouldn't try to put a stop to it.'

'Edith, will you please stop asking,' he said with a heavy sigh. I froze and shut up.

'Sorry,' I said softly.

'This is what I want,' he said firmly, facing me and placing his hands on my shoulders. 'If you can't have your family there, then I don't want mine there either.' He let out another heavy sigh. 'I never thought I'd have to get married without Fred standing beside me.'

I bit my lip and placed my hands on his chest, unsure of what to do except comfort him in some way. His expression was hard, and he wasn't making eye contact anymore.

'I'm sorry, George,' I whispered.

'It's alright,' he said after another moment. His expression softened slightly and he looked at me again. 'Like I said, you're my family now. You and those two little delinquents in your tummy.'

I gave him a small smile and lifted my hands to his which were still resting on my shoulders.

'Now, there are a few things we need to discuss,' he said, lifting his hands and turning away. 'How good of a flier are you?'

I scoffed.

'I took flying lessons in first-year, that's the extent,' I shrugged.

'Were you any good?' He asked.

'I didn't fall off,' I replied. He snorted.

'Coming from you, that surprises me.'

'Oi!'

'That settles it, we're not going to Italy,' he threw his hands up in the air.

'Sorry?' I exclaimed. 'How?'

'I've been doing a little research,' he turned back to look at me. 'And pregnant women shouldn't be flying.'

'George, I'm pretty sure that's only once I'm past thirty-six weeks,' I pointed out. And that was only a rule for muggle airlines, but I wasn't about to say that out loud.

'And you need to limit the amount of seafood and caffeine you take in,' he went on.

'What does that have to do with anything?'