AN: The characters do not belong to me but are property of J.K.R. and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. Written for Death by Quill 2020 competition run by the Slytherin Cabal. The theme for this round of the competition was Charms and my chosen pairing was Pansy Parkinson/Ginny Weasley.

1st May 2005

The soft plume of smoke left her lips with a sigh, the nicotine kicking in and calming down her need to blast something. To most people in Britain, it was another regular sunny Thursday in late spring. To the British Wizarding population, tomorrow would mark yet another anniversary of the Final Battle of Hogwarts. The papers were full of it, half her staff was taking the day off, and just like every previous year, Pansy's invitation to the Ministry gala was lost in the post. Not that she felt a particular inclination to attend only to be sneered at, but it would have been nice to have the choice and snub the event rather than remaining the uninvited guest. Either way the whole thing was insufferable.

What left a bitter tang was the fact that she had personally healed or worked with half of the key decision makers including members of the Wizengamot, prominent magical families, even the current Minister himself, because her clinic was the only one of its kind this side of Europe and no one else could help them. Merlin, her mother must be rolling around in her grave furiously. A smirk stretched her lips. Good, she should be, she thought before taking a deep breath to shake off the ugly mood.

She had to remind herself that it wasn't her mother's fault she only ever saw a price tag on her daughter. It was the way of their society, seeing the worth of their young women in the profit from their marriage, and Perpetua Parkinson did pass onto her daughter all the skills and gumption that she would need in life and in an arranged marriage. As far as her mother was concerned, Pansy had two excellent qualities - her skills with charms and keen eye for fashion. She didn't perhaps foresee that Pansy would use the former of the two to become independent instead of taking on the role of a house wife…

"Your eleven o'clock appointment is here, Madame," came the pleasant voice of her secretary over the magical speaker, disrupting her melancholy musings. And thank Merlin for that, she was in no mood to think about the war or her dead parents.

She took a last toke before vanishing the bud and casting an air purifying charm to get her office back to smelling like clean linen which seemed to soothe most of her patients.

She tapped the speaker as she finished the last of her tea. "Please let her in and bring some fresh tea," she said clearly and readied a new file while she waited. First appointments were always the most interesting ones.

The redhead stepping into her office contrasted with her environment in an amusing way. She was dressed in tight jeans and a pretty cornflower blue jumper that worked well with her bright red hair, but her casual attire looked somewhat out of place in the simple but elegant glass and black leather setting of her office.

"Lady Potter," Pansy greeted her by standing up and offering her hand. No matter her title, she would remain Weasley in her mind at least.

Ginny's piercing gaze observed her for a moment before shaking her hand and helping herself to a seat across from her. Once the tea was laid out for them, Pansy made herself a cup and waited for the redhead to say something.

Ginny took a moment to observe her ex-schoolmate. She couldn't recall seeing her since the war, and the last memory she had of the Slytherin witch was wanting to punch her pug-nose for suggesting surrendering Harry to Voldemort. It was quite ironic that this was supposed to be the only person who could help her at this point. "Should I be undressing for an examination?" she raised a brow, noting that the room looked much more like a business office than a clinic.

"That won't be necessary," Pansy took a sip of her tea and wrote down a note. Impatient, attitude hostile - build trust if experimental treatment needed. "I received your file from the healers earlier this week, however I would like for you to tell me in your own words why you think you require treatment with my clinic," she invited. It was always useful to speak directly to the client instead of going from the sanitised medical records.

Ginny glowered at her, the prospect of sharing something so intimate with this witch prickling her temper but she tried to stomp it down. She was here for Harry and for their marriage, she could do this. "We've been trying for a baby for four years now. We don't have issues conceiving but I miscarried six times until successfully carrying our son James to term. He was born last year. It was a normal pregnancy, all went well and so did the birth. After recovery, the healers assured me all seemed to be in order and we could soon try for another one. I've had another miscarriage a month ago," she summarised, her tone flat and unemotional. She didn't owe her pain to the Slytherin.

Pansy nodded and made another note. Consecutive pregnancy unsuccessful. Malediction? Family history?

"Did your mother have any trouble conceiving? Any miscarriages?" she asked.

Ginny raised a brow at her questions. Her mother had seven children, wasn't that self-explanatory? "I hardly think it was an issue for her," she observed, her lips pressed into a flat line. If Parkinson started mocking her family, she was leaving.

Pansy looked at her, noticing the change in tone and set her pen down, reaching for her cup instead. "Just because she successfully carried seven children to term, doesn't mean she didn't struggle to conceive initially, or throughout her life. Giving birth for witches is more taxing than muggles because we impart some of our magic to their magical cores. That creates volatility in the witch's body, blood and magic. The consecutive pregnancies could have triggered something in your magic that impacts your fertility," she explained patiently with a neutral expression.

Ginny took in her words and nodded. "I don't know, but I can find out," she offered, willing to give this a shot. She didn't think mum will be happy for the questions but hopefully she would understand.

"Good. Is your period regular? Back to its usual cycle?" Pansy asked casually as she picked up her pen again, trying to lighten the personal nature of the questions.

"Usually, this month it's still…settling after last month."

Pansy made a final note and picked up her checklist, adding the items she would need onto it. "I have the rest of your medical file and am still reviewing it. If I could have the following items, it would make my research much easier," she explained and handed it over.

Ginny read through the notes, surprised at the last one. "I don't think I'll be able to get Harry's magical signature," she pointed out. It wasn't exactly something one could bottle. Unlike the healers who took so many samples of blood, semen and Merlin-knew-what else from her husband, Parkinson was asking for this?

"It doesn't have to be the signature itself. It could be an item that he enchants or connects with regularly, something that would hold his magical imprint. I can extract it myself," she suggested. "Can you think of such an item?"

Ginny nodded. Perhaps the golden snitch Harry bonded with would be useful….

"I can bring everything as soon as next week," she offered.

Pansy reached into her drawer and picked up her wand and a small vial. "Please send all the items in a labelled box through the floo as soon as possible. We will do our research and analysis, and my secretary will contact you to arrange a follow up appointment once we have some last thing I need is several drops of your blood for us to do some more tests, if you would?" she walked around the table.

Ginny rolled up her sleeve, the procedure taking no more than ten seconds, the cut painless and quickly and efficiently healed. She didn't linger after that, merely picked up her handbag and left without another word. Truly she didn't know what all the fuss was about. If Parkinson managed to learn something other than the healers, she would be surprised….

She watched the surface of the pungent potion bubble for a moment before becoming thick, without any real colour. Good. She picked up the vial with Weasley's blood and carefully added three drops into the simmering liquid. It changed into a dark murky brown and bubbled for a moment before settling down. Perfect. She ladled some into a beaker and walked over to the large table holding an impressive canvas that covered the whole surface.

"Revelio," she cast the charm as the first drop of the potion touched the canvas, and kept her hand steady as the liquid dripped down and began spreading, names and branches appearing one by one as the family tree grew before her eyes. Ten generations of the Weasley and Prewett family, those alive and the dead all included. Of course there were easier ways to find out someone's family tree. The beauty of combining this potion and spell-work meant the tree listed the children whose magic never developed fully, those never born. It was the most reliable family account, and her best invention yet.

Charms used to be her favourite and strongest subject in school. There was no other discipline that highlighted the true force behind magic - intent. While their families were touted as dark and evil, and the Order of Phoenix the paragons of light, the truth was that magic didn't recognise family names or allegiance in a war. All it recognises is the intent of the castor while casting. Avada didn't use to be listed as an unforgivable curse, instead used by healers to provide a way for them to end someone's suffering quickly and painlessly. Twisted by foul intentions and used instead to cause harm, it was now considered the most unforgivable of curses. This is what fascinated her, and it was why she pursued a mastery in Charms and honed her particular talent for understanding family curses and blood maledictions.

Something about the pattern of Weasley's miscarriages wasn't sitting right with her and she tended to trust her instinct. She returned to the small desk in the corner which held her notes and she reviewed what they knew so far.

Six miscarriages before successfully carrying a child, no other physical conditions or underlying illness. It certainly wasn't the kind of blood malediction that plagued the Greengrass witches…

Potter's magic showed no adverse reaction to his wife's magic or blood, which was an excellent sign for their compatibility.

Her health records were also lacking anything suspicious - she was a healthy twenty-four year old woman, fit, athletic, two minor quidditch injuries to the upper body. No internal damage, nothing at all out of place with her reproductive system. Her magical core was of average strength, stable and reacted within norm to pregnancy. There was absolutely nothing for her to go on, the family tree will hopefully hold at least some answers. It will be a long night, she better get some tea…

"The Septima curse? I've never heard of it," Ginny frowned at the woman before her.

"Otherwise know as the curse of the seventh child. Number seven is incredibly powerful to the old magics. We traced your lineage and tested your blood. The names Weasley and Prewett both have seven letters each, creating a powerful family precedent. You are the seventh child of this union, the only female child to bear the true blood heir of both families, and you are the first female child to be born in the last seven generations," Pansy explained, showing her the summary page she prepared for her.

She held it numbly between her callused, freckled fingers, trying to understand. "But seven is a lucky number. Shouldn't that make me lucky?" She regretted her question when she saw the flash of compassion in the brunette's eyes.

"Yes and no. It makes your seventh child lucky. James was your seventh pregnancy."

She felt discombobulated. She heard and understood the explanation, but the implications were too terrible. "Then if…if we want to…" she tried to ask but her tongue felt dry and head dizzy.

"You will have to bear six miscarriages between each born child, yes," Pansy confirmed the bleak diagnosis.

"I can't-" she stopped herself, her arms instinctively wrapping around her body.

Pansy gave her a moment before continuing. "I think we may have found a way to satisfy the curse conditions, but it would require some sacrifice. Sex magic," she said carefully.

Ginny snorted. "Right, like that will happen," she muttered. She loved her husband, Harry and James were her world, but the likelihood of him agreeing to a sex magic ritual was very slim. She could feel Pansy's gaze on her but didn't want to look up and face her judgement. She was surprised when the brunette sat in the chair next to hers and showed her another parchment.

"You may not like what I'm about to propose but it's currently the only option, so I'll explain and let you consider, because I genuinely think this could work," Pansy said gently, not wishing to cause the grieving woman distress. No matter who her patient was, that was never her objective. "I spoke to my team and we think after your last miscarriage, we can offer the magics five drops of your blood and five other lives such as mice or other small animals in a runic circle during intercourse and satisfy the conditions of the curse that way. If you did conceive during the act, a fortifying potion taken before or within 24 hours would protect the foetus from being harmed. You can do this yourselves, as a couple, or if you don't want your husband involved, you can get a third party to do the blood offering and speak the ritual tongue for you while you're in the act," she explained carefully.

Ginny's head shot up. "Someone would do that?" she asked, somewhat mortified.

Pansy nodded. "I've done this a couple of times for my clients, as it's magically draining and my magical core is strong enough. I don't suspect that would be an issue with your husband but if he is unwilling, he may not wish to be the one leading on the ritual," she explained practically.

Ginny gnawed at her bottom lip uncertainly. "Can I think about it?" she asked softly.

Pansy nodded and handed her the two sheets of paper explaining the curse and the ritual that could satisfy it. "Take this with you, consult it with your husband, or not. If you decide not to go ahead and wish to terminate your treatment with me, I will also understand," she reassured the redhead and watched her leave silently. At this point, it could go either way, she just hoped that whatever the Potters decided, it would be right for them.

The water was blissfully cool, helping soothe her flushed skin. She caught a glance at herself in the mirror and turned her head to look herself squarely in the eyes. If she was going to go ahead with this, she needed to be able to look herself in the eyes, otherwise how could she look at Harry?

The past week had been a bit tense. They were both still grieving their last loss and she could see it was taking a toll on her husband. She knew he wanted a large family, and she always saw herself having at least two, if not three children. But even broaching the subject on some of the more experimental treatments has been tough. She knew he loved her and wanted her body to be safe, but there were things his muggle uprising didn't allow him to understand. Old magic such as sex magic was not very common and she wasn't entirely thrilled either that this was their only option but over the past couple of weeks of consideration, she came to understand that it was a very small price to pay to save her marriage and grant them the wish for more children. And if it meant Harry didn't know, she would have to live with the small deception to ensure his happiness.

She took a deep breath and walked back to the bedroom, carrying a small vial with her. He was already in bed, and looked up at her with a small, sad smile. "Another dose of vitamins from the healers?" he asked, and she could see he was trying to be part of her recovery in his own thoughtful way.

She shook her head and sat on the bed side him, showing him a vial. "It's a new treatment…it's supposed to fortify any conception that may occur. I was hoping to take it tonight," she hinted, hoping he would be agreeable.

He frowned with concern. "Are you sure? Is it too soon? It's only been two months since we tried last," he said gently, not wanting his wife to pressure herself.

Ginny shook her head. "I really hope this works, I just want to try, to get back to how things should be…to make love to my husband," she offered with a soft smile and reached up to caress his slightly stubbled cheek.

He observed her for a moment longer before nodding. "Alright, we can try again. Do you take the potion before or after?" he asked.

"Before. The healer warned me that it may spike my magic a bit, I haven't taken it before, so don't worry if my magic feels a bit intense," she warned.

Harry took off his glasses and waited until she took her potion before they settled under the blankets, his kisses soon distracting her imagining the witch magically hidden in the adjacent walk in wardrobe, watching them through the open doors…

Bodies pleasantly sated some time later, she let Harry nuzzle into her chest and listened as his breathing evened out into the deep, tired sleep of satisfaction. She noticed movement and looked up as the magic hiding their guest dropped to reveal Pansy collecting her bag with ritual items and sacrifice. The brunette got up quietly and headed out, pausing in the bedroom doorway to look back at the redhead. She nodded to let her know the ritual transpired as it should have and silently closed the door after herself. Ginny heard the soft sound of the floo flaring and held onto her husband a little bit tighter as she prayed to all their Gods that this would work.

3rd March 2006

She hummed at the first sip of her piping hot tea, as she settled at her desk and picked up the day's Daily Prophet. The whole front page was taken up by a blinding announcement 'IT'S ANOTHER BOY!', and four pictures of the latest addition to the Potter household and his tired but beaming parents. Albus Severus Potter, she snorted. Why Potter was allowed to pick the children's names, she would never know. James Sirius was rather on the nose, but she was quite certain the her old Head of House was rolling in his grave at this travesty. She looked at the smiling face of Ginny Potter, and she knew her victorious gaze meant more than anyone else reading paper would ever understand.

She set the paper aside and picked up her correspondence, her brow rising in surprise at a small white envelope. It was addressed to her in a loopy penmanship, but wasn't sealed with any wax. She opened it carefully, knowing her secretary already checked for any jinxes or curses, and pulled out a simple white card. 'Thank you' was all it said, no address, no further note, no signature. And yet as she read the words, she knew who they were from even if she couldn't recognise the same loopy handwriting on the check that came to her a few months back.

She picked up the newspaper once more and cut out the front page article and photos, neatly folding them inside the envelope before placing it with Ginny Potter's file. She would treasure this particular victory for a long time to come...