Fulfilling Obligations (Harmione)

Chapter 39: Gifts

"Are you sure you're not too cold?" Harry said, his own teeth chattering as the cold wind blasted against his face.

Hermione shook her head slightly, although she used one hand to pull her coat a bit tighter around her. "I'm fine," she said. "We're almost there, anyway."

Harry nodded but nevertheless pulled her closer to his side as they crossed the street, their clasped hands hidden by the sleeves of their coats.

Hermione smiled slightly. "I said I wasn't cold."

"Well I am," Harry replied. "So you're really doing me the favor."

"Right," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes, appreciating the warmth Harry provided her.

Ever since her pregnancy, Hermione had taken a strong aversion to both Apparition and Portkey, so walking had become their primary mode of travel. Unfortunately, the bitter cold of London in late December made this trip to St. Mungo's considerably uncomfortable, so they were both quite grateful when the saw the glass storefront that indicated the entrance.

Once inside, Harry quickly ducked his head in an attempt to avoid attention and quickly ushered Hermione past the welcoming desk and up to the same floor where Ginny had given birth to James. At this particular reception desk, Hermione stepped forward to speak to the elderly witch that sat behind it.

"Hello, I have an appointment with Healer Clayworth?" she said, fiddling with the strap of her purse.

The receptionist nodded and pulled a clipboard towards herself before looking up at Hermione.

"Name?" she said, her thin lips stretching into a small smile.

"Weasley," Hermione said, fidgeting even more as she sensed Harry behind her, quietly shifting his feet.

The witch took a moment to look at her clipboard and then gestured down the hallway. "You and your husband can go wait in room 604 - Healer Clayworth will be with you shortly."

Hermione was glad the witch didn't glance too closely at Harry, as she didn't bother correcting her statement when she stepped away from the desk.

"Thank you," she said quietly, then re-took Harry's hand and led him to the correct room, where they each took a seat as they awaited the Healer. As the minutes passed, she still didn't release Harry's hand, instead refocusing her fidgeting from her purse to his fingers. He made no comment as she did so, even when she began to touch his wedding band, adjusting it and twirling it idly around his finger.

Only when the Healer entered the room did she drop his hand, and she did so quite reluctantly.

Healer Clayworth was a tall man, almost as tall as Ron, with sandy hair streaked with gray and light brown eyes. He was probably in his early fifties, his eyes and mouth lightly lined.

"Hello," he said amiably, reaching out and shaking Hermione's hand as she and Harry stood up. "I take it you're Hermione. As I'm sure you already know, I'm Healer Clayworth." He then turned and extended his hand to Harry, who shook it rather stiffly. "And you must be the father."

"Her husband couldn't make it today," Harry responded, his shoulders set rigidly. "I'm just her friend. Harry Potter."

"Harry Potter?" Healer Clayworth said. Hermione was pleased that his eyes didn't dart to Harry's forehead. "My apologies. I just assumed...well, at any rate it was very kind of you to accompany your friend."

Harry gave a curt nod in response.

Clayworth seemed a bit uncertain about Harry's cold demeanor, but nonetheless turned to Hermione again with a smile.