Mended

Thirty-Three

Ten vials of Antidote for Common Poisons, fourteen of Antidote of Uncommon Poisons. Those could wait, they were not quite as popular as the other potions he carried.

Four vials of Blood-Replenishing Potion. Severus had brewed more this morning; it was currently cooling in the stockroom. Burn-Healing Balm would need to be replenished by the end of the week, but there was no dire need for it at the time. Pepper-Up Potion, Skele-Gro, Sleeping Potion, and Vitamix Potion were currently brewing. Wideye Potion and Wound-cleaning Potion were each in desperate need of restock, except Danu had not brought the Aconite as she was meant to that morning. Perhaps she had forgotten, or was waiting until the children were down for a nap to travel via Floo. Either way, Severus regrets not grabbing a bundle from the greenhouse on his way out this morning.

Severus removes his reading glasses before slipping them into the front pocket of his robes, and rolls the parchment containing the inventory list, which he places next to the till on the front counter. The shop is still and quiet, the only sound being the repetitive clicking of Raoul stocking the shelves. He makes his way to the stockroom where Gaultier was currently experimenting with the mayapple, sassafras, and pokeweed they had acquired from their recent trip abroad to the America's.

"Ah. Severus. This mayapple seems quite promising." Gaultier announces as the door swings closed behind him.

"Excellent. I am quite interested to see how the pokeweed affects the Rheumatism Drought."

"As am I." Gaultier agrees.

Severus looks around the room for Lorna. Her books lie abandoned on the far desk where he had left her studying for the Transfiguration quiz she was meant to take later that afternoon. Twice a week Severus created a short quiz for her to take in preparation for Hogwarts. Today is her Transfiguration quiz, which she had been struggling with for the last several weeks. Her study, of course, was strictly theory, she would have ample time for practical practice once she began school. She would be prepared, and he would ensure it.

"Where has Lorna gone off to?" Severus asks as he thumbs through the Transfiguration book that had belonged to both him and his mother.

"Restroom, I believe." Gaultier answers as he stirs the cauldron he had been working over since Severus came into the room.

"I must ask a favor from you, if you are willing."

"Anything, my friend. Anything at all."

"If Miss Fischer is free this afternoon, might I request her presence at my home to examine my wife?"

Roswitha Fischer is the name of the midwife they had used to help test, as well as spread the word of their potions. She had delivered Elspeth, and was the most trusted of their correspondences. It also happened that she had been secretly sharing Gaultier's bed for the better part of three years.

It had been nearly two months since Danu had taken the potion she had found written in one of his mother's notebooks, and foolishly believed there to be no other option, and no lasting consequences. The first two weeks were painful for her, as he knew they would be, though she did her best to hide it. Leaving her that first weekend had been a mistake, one that he still felt immense guilt over, he had, at that time, been so frustrated with her that he needed to get away from her to clear his head. It was not the fact that she had been desperate enough to do so, it was that she had not expressed those frustrations with him before taking the most drastic, and foolish approach possible. If she had felt so strongly about never having another child, there were other options. He would have scoured the globe to find any safe alternative to alleviate her anxiety regarding the situation.

She had been adamant for two months now that she was not in pain, though he could see it etched upon her face each time she coughed, when she lifted the children, and when she sat or stood too quickly. Her nightly baths became longer each day, and he often times found her doubled over, her hand clutching at her lower abdomen and her eyes squeezed shut. Every morning, he offered her a potion in an attempt to gauge what would ease the pain, and each morning she insisted that she was fine, and would not accept them. Inviting Roswitha to evaluate her was his final, desperate plea to allow him to help her. They needed to know how dire the situation truly was, and how to go forward to provide any form of relief from the pain she was experiencing.