A Pregnant Silence
Hermione wonders if this is how all wars are waged; trembling on the edge of a mattress, knees clutched to chest, glaring at the bedroom floor.
A teaspoon clinks against the side of a mug.
What’s wrong? Draco.
She slides The Prophet across their duvet toward him, the headline bold and black and damning.
EVERY MAGICAL LIFE A MIRACLE.
And the underlying message:
any attempt to prevent will be criminally prosecuted
She writes letters with wrath. To friends, to ministry officials, anyone she will force to listen.
Invasion of privacy.
War on Witches.
Molly Weasley writes back.
I don’t understand the aggression, Hermione, dear. If you don’t want children, perhaps try abstaining. Does your husband agree?
She watches the edges of the letter curl in the fire, burning away like the quiet courtesy of the bitten tongue inside of her mouth.
They stake out the ministry. Hermione, Luna, Padma, even Pansy, along with others whose beliefs are as steadfast as her own.
They’re overtalked, belittled, put into their place.
It’s a repopulation effort, Miss Granger. You’re overreacting.
Pansy: Quite frankly, Minister, if I wanted the Ministry in my body, I would fuck you instead.
When Hermione gets her period, she feels relief, and the fire building in her empty womb burns hotter and brighter.
Then it dulls a little that night as Draco holds her in bed as she sobs and whispers Hopeless. Helpless. Hopeless. into the curve of his jaw.
Witches pour into the streets in peaceful protest.
Magical Law Enforcement line the Alley with wands in hand.
Luna, armed with a bouquet of daisies, places a flower in each of their empty wand holsters.
Their weapon is between their ears.
She taught Draco cross stitching early in their relationship. When she returns home, he holds up a small cloth covered frame.
Be the light you wish to see in the world.
And in the middle is a delicately stitched Molotov Cocktail. She laughs and kisses him.
They live on the roads, their new favorite home
my body, my choice
They will not be subdued, will not be hushed
my body, my choice
They refuse to be invisible, instead lighting the path brightly for their daughters and sisters
my body, my choice
Never underestimate the power of a pissed off witch
my body, my choice
with nothing to lose
