Aisling was already tired of waiting. Or merely tired, overwhelmed, and a touch grateful that with her injury in November, a visit to St. Mungo's wouldn't draw too much attention. Being the subject of gossip within Witch Weekly was hardly what she needed at the moment.

In truth, what she probably needed was tea, books, and a day off, but that wasn't something she'd allow herself. Even if she might be chastised for it. There was far too much that needed doing in her life, and it seemed that to stop and rest was also to remember. And also to let piles of paperwork build up, which made coming back a bit of a terror.

She couldn't say that she was looking forward to certain conversations with Edwin, either.

But the Welcome Witch had informed her that a Healer would be with her shortly. And so Aisling waited, hands folded in her lap, and appearing to be perfectly calm, immaculate. Patient. Perhaps it wasn't quite a lie.

Hannah disliked the extra duties imposed on her in her new position as a ward charge. She now held the delightful position as lackey for the higher ups. In the healer’s opinion, it should have been the trainees dealing with such mundane tasks as checking on a pregnant witch and making sure she was adequately well. Hannah hadn’t trained and worked hard for years to feel a belly and coo over an excited and often agitated expectant mother. She hadn’t applied as charge of an emergency ward to be laden with such dull tasks as this.

But Thorpe had been detained and Bombay had been called upon to attend the outpatient and let her know all was well and the single sleeping potion she’d taken twelve years ago wouldn’t put her future child’s health at risk.

It was with an irritated reluctance that Hannah made her way onto the ward, tall smart heels clicking on the wooden floor and green roles billowing around her ankles over a smart beige dress.

“Healer Bombay!” A mediwitch accosted her and offered her a clipboard. “Patient notes, healer.” Hannah took them, nodded to the other witch and stepped up to the cubicle in question. She pulled open the curtain and stepped inside.

“You’re having a baby, madam. Millions of witches before you have done the same thing, millions of witches after you will. There’s really little to worry about Madam…” Hannah finally glanced down at the name on her clipboard and frowned, “Knight.”

A brown eyed gaze was lifted to the smart witch sat primly on the edge of the bed. The next words to come from Hannah’s mouth were distant, as if she wasn’t saying them herself. Instead her mind was running over the possibility of this witch’s relation to a wizard that had destroyed her hope.

“Healer-in-charge Thorpe’s been delayed. I’m Healer Bombay. I understand this is a routine check-up and there are no substantial problems regarding your pregnancy?” Eyes cast to the belly of the woman. Was she Knight’s wife? Was that the baby of a prejudiced bigot slowly growing inside?

Of all the healers at St. Mungo's, it would be Hannah Bombay. Aisling had no doubts as to the woman's credentials, but her rage towards the Wizengamot seemed as if it would make any interaction difficult, tense. And this was a topic, a moment that felt so close and personal, no matter how normal it might be. Perhaps it would all be calm and cold and soon over. Perhaps not.

She looked up and over to the other woman. "Thank you, Healer. And there have been no complications yet." She moved her hands to rest on the bed at her side, fingers curving inward. "But my age appears to be cause for concern." It was in her paperwork, she expected, that number she preferred not to admit to.

But with the substitution, the questions, it seemed best to be thorough. "I've not been taking many potions, just the occasional ones to aid with sleep. And few of those recently." Healer Thorpe had chastised her about it a bit after the head injury, and so Aisling had made a bit of an effort. One that seemed far more intimidating with all the memories that this event invoked. But that past was not something she wished to speak of, here and now.

A bright analytical gaze was cast over Knight when the witch thought to mention worries with her age. Hannah had always been excellent at reading bodies, signs of aging, any scars. She’d made a living from it for years. The woman looked young for her age but the signs were there. The skin on her hands, the tiny lines at the corners of her eyes. Something always betrayed one’s age no matter how well hidden. She was in her early to mid fifties. Definitely on the older side to have a baby but certainly not unheard of for a witch.

Instead she was more preoccupied with the following statement to come from Aisling Knight.

“You have difficulty sleeping, Mrs Knight?” The healer asked without thinking to censor her thoughts.  She looked across at her patient with raised eyebrows. “A lot of weight upon your conscience perhaps?” Being married to such a wizard was bound to cause such moral conflicts in the household. If the women had a conscience for such issues to weigh upon. Her husband certainly didn’t and now Hannah had guessed he was bringing offspring into the world. More children to be indoctrinated into hating werewolves and treating them like animals and common criminals for something they couldn’t help.

Aisling appeared not to be bothered by the inspecting gaze, or the questions that followed it, responding with a simple shake of her head and a soft smile. "Thank you for the concern, but no, nothing like that. Always been a rough sleeper, I fear." Enough truth to that, especially when she'd slept alone.

She leaned forward, her raven necklace swaying at the movement. "Should I cease all use of such potions, then, or is there something else I could take?" The memories of Azkaban were locked far away for now. This was simply one meeting, one moment to survive and pass through. Calm.

After all, she was just one tired patient, a little concerned, grateful for a Healer's reassurance. "I'm sorry, you must hear these questions so often. Suppose that I'm still surprised that I have the opportunity to ask them now." Her voice softened with this.

“Yes you are of an age.” Hannah calmly responded. It was vital she kept her own temper, her own poor opinions of the woman and her thoughtless husband in check. Otherwise she would lose more than her dignity to this family. She could lose her job or be placed on a disciplinary for such behaviour with a patient. Therefore the first thought to state that the undeserving constantly surprised her was held back yet the dark look flashing behind her eyes was not. Her alert eyes scanned down to the witch’s stomach and then to her left hand, the wedding ring encircling her finger. It must be him she was married to.

Considering the need for sleeping potions reminded Hannah of Johann and his ridiculous addiction to them. An addiction that he claimed he could control. Once more the healer analysed this witch, her expression plain yet her gaze direct, violating Knight’s privacy.

“I wouldn’t advise a continued consumption of sleeping potions. The potion itself forces the deceleration of your entire body. That is certainly not beneficial to a growing foetus inside. It struggles to get what it requires from you and in turn this would leave you feeling drained and very sickly as the foetus grows and develops.” Hannah knew how hard it was to switch off. Her worries and stresses made it difficult to sleep now. Thanks to this witch’s husband. But Madam Knight hadn’t made the decision. She hadn’t publically blamed and punished her for something beyond her control.

But she was associated…

Bombay frowned and glanced at Aisling’s face again. It was a soft face, not a harsh cruel one. She didn’t have the harsh glare of the chief warlock, looking down his nose at a pair of criminals, a pair of werewolves needing to be shown up.

“Something more natural, herbal rather than magic might help. Lavender tea, camomile or cherry. They’re more calming remedies; to relax rather than impose sleep.” Bombay paused. Why was she helping this woman? “But be cautious taking my advice. I’m a dangerous criminal. Lavender tea could kill you.”

For a moment it had seemed as if some tensions had dissipated, as if this meeting could at least occur on the level of calmly professional. Oh, but Healer Bombay was brash, and lacking in those sorts of manners that most healers adopted either as a veneer or as a sign of true concern. Not the sort of behavior to reassure a Wizengamot already so aware of the devastation a werewolf, even a thoughtless one, could induce. But also nothing to grant credence to some of the outlandish rumors swirling about the woman.

"Elder Greyfriar made no move to poison me when last we spoke. I can't see why I would expect you to do so."Aisling shrugged, her expression open and unconcerned. Whatever her faults, Hannah Bombay seemed to be a capable Healer. Else St. Mungo's would hardly have kept her on, given all the fuss.

And she could always double-check with the apothecaries before taking anything.

This witch’s response to Hannah’s mention of poisoning was…trusting. The healer regarded the pregnant witch carefully, wondering why exactly she was stupid enough to:
1 – be married to Tarron Knight, heartless moron in charge of the Wizengamot
And
2 – trust the witch he’d convicted with her own health and that of her unborn child.

“I’m not as nice as Greyfriar.” Bombay calmly responded as she placed the clipboard at the foot of the bed and pulled open a drawer, removing a long piece of fabric. “He still believes in justice. Arm.” Holding a hand out, Hannah took Knight’s arm and began to wrap the fabric around it, perhaps a little too tightly. Her own frustration was showing. Recently Hannah was finding it harder to control her emotions. Constantly she was stressed, worried and tired. It was becoming quite unbearable.

“You may have issues with your pressure. It’s common for witches of your age that still insist on having children.” The arm was given a hard squeeze to make sure the fabric was wrapped firmly and Hannah pulled her wand from her robe pocket. “You’ll feel a tightness.”

"I did not make this appointment for the purpose of finding someone to be nice to me. No need for concern there." Aisling lifted her arm as requested, and flinched slightly as the cloth was pulled around her arm. Perhaps the topic of poisoning could be left aside for the moment, she had little wish to add a report on that to Healer Bombay's frustrations.

“You’ll feel a tightness.”

Aisling simply nodded, trying not to tense. There had been a few such troubles before, if smaller, sporadic ones that got her just a bit of fussing. At least from other, less hostile healers. "It has been a slight concern before, will it be more of one now?"

She took slow, deep breaths, trying not to focus on the pressure, on all the nagging little fears floating around this.

"Yes." The blunt response came.

The arm was tightly squeezed as Hannah twisted her wand. She closed her eyes, listening to an apparent noise which was silent outside of her own head. A moment later the arm was released and Hannah walked out of the cubicle.

End