"one person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode."

cho chang / healer at st. mungos

[chohee-chang]

greengrassgrowths‌:

Astoria did not come to Diagon Alley often, even though her parents’ shop was just around the corner. As a child, there had seemed to be an invisible barrier separating the two streets, and the children of Sprindrift Lane had stepped beyond their grubby cobblestones to the wide, shinier, more expensive street only on occasion – and now, when Astoria could afford anything, the weight of public scrutiny kept her away. Or maybe it was merely habit. When she had ventured down the most ubiquitous street in all of magical London most often these days, it was in company of her son – collecting his things for school, yes, but also buying him all the things she’d never gotten to have as a girl.

One of those things had been Fortescue’s ice cream, and sitting with her son over a pair of sundaes after a day of shopping, chatting together and listening to his increasing-complex thoughts on any topic that struck his fancy, had always been her favorite part of those excursions. Now, missing her son who was back in school, Astoria had thought that she might cheer herself up with a reminder of those lovely afternoons with a familiar if solitary treat, she had been walking toward the shop without really paying attention, letting her feet carry her while her mind wandered in wistful contemplation – a mood from which she was abruptly shaken by a near-collision with an unfamiliar witch–

But no, she wasn’t unfamiliar; Astoria had met her recently, and the conflicted feelings from that night boiled-up all afresh. This was Cho Chang, kind and charming and inexplicably possessed of dangerous notions. “Cho – Ms. Chang,” Astoria said, startled, “are you all right?” She wasn’t sure what she ought to do – depart as quickly as possible? But to do that, she would have to all but step directly over the other witch, unless she wished to forgo her plans for visiting Fortescue’s and leave in some other direction… Instead she bent down and reached to gather the fluttering parchments before they blew away, wondering whether or not Cho was going to bark for her to leave it, to get her filthy traitor hands off her things? She held the pile out almost defiantly, daring the other woman to be rude in the face of her good manners – and her eyes caught the words on the parchment she held. Astoria went still, her polite smile dropping off her face as abruptly and irretrievably as Cho’s ice cream. “Ah,” she said; a strangled, involuntary little exclamation.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Cho responded stiffly. Of course this would happen to her today of all days. Bad things happened in threes, right? First she had a shit day at work, next she dropped all her personal belongings including the ice cream she had just purchased in the middle of the street, and now, Astoria Malfoy was standing in front of her, smiling at her. Cho’s scowl grew at the other woman’s polite smile, as if she hadn’t practically ran away from her last time they talked. If she didn’t know any better, Cho wouldn’t have been to tell that the smile was fake. And now Cho couldn’t be outright rude without looking like the bad guy. 

But then Astoria’s face changed, her eyes widening at the sight of Cho’s belogings. Specifically, the pamphlet on muggle rights she had shoved into her bag a couple days ago without thinking much of it. “Just some light reading,” Cho said lightly as she took her things from Astoria and it was now her turn to plaster on a fake smile. But where Astoria’s had been polite, Cho’s was sickly sweet, waiting for the other woman to react. 

“Are you here with your husband?” Cho asked as she shoved everything back into her bag and realized Astoria was still standing there. She hadn’t seen Malfoy in decades and was more than happy to keep it that way. She was ready to make a run for it if he was anywhere near by, ice cream be damned. She really should have gone for alcohol today instead.

[chohee-chang]

angelinaweasley‌:

At Cho’s Chudley Cannons comment, Angelina rolled her eyes with the same level of disgust as her companion’s. “That’s gross. But hey, you know me! The most generous person there is. Besides, I figure that all of that extra training to become a doctor must result in some kind of reward, money or otherwise.” Frankly, Angelina was the type of person that only needed enough money to feel comfortable. Perhaps that was odd– she had teammates who always wanted more, but not her. Her mindset was the result of a standard, middle class upbringing. There was such thing as having too much money, just as there was such thing as having too much fame. She could only think of so many people who wholeheartedly enjoyed being famous. 

“Hm.” Angelina thought for a second, and now she was the one who had been caught off guard. “Both of my parents practice magic but my dad’s from a muggle family. Growing up, I spent a lot of my summers in a muggle town, which means that my doctor was actually a muggle as well.” She knew many wizards found it odd that she didn’t go to St. Mungo’s for her childhood checkups, but she figured that Cho, as a fellow halfblood, would understand her point of view. That was quite refreshing, really. “And in the clinic next to my pediatrician’s was a sports psychologist’s. If they don’t exist in the wizarding world, they really should. Teams would do anything to stay on top on the rankings. Seriously, if you know anyone who could do that, hook me up. We have to beat the Harpies next week.” Which, that reminded her. Finally able to take a breath, she dug into the pockets of her windbreaker. Sure, Angelina had left the flat in a rush, but surely it was here somewhere. Ah. Retrieving the item, she held out an envelope to Cho. “Speaking of, I got some free tickets for said game from our publicity department. I usually hand them out to my friends, because again, I need to establish that I am the most generous person to ever live,” she joked. “If you have time, you should come. There’s two tickets in there, so you know, maybe you can bring a cool person you want to hang out with more, if you get what I mean.“

Cho listened carefully to Angelina’s explanation. Although she had her suspicions, she never knew the extent of Angelina’s familiarity with the muggle world. Of course the fact that she had a muggle cellphone said something. But then again, owning a fancy muggle trinket and having a familiarity with their healthcare system were two different things entirely. 

Cho straightened in her seat as Angelina pulled out an envelope and held it out to her in a matter-of-fact manner, as if they were the kind of friends that did this sort of thing for each other all the time. “Oh!” Cho exclaimed once she realized what was in the envelope. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly,” she said, knowing how expensive and valuable those tickets were. Even back in the day, prices to attend quidditch games like this had been astronomical--the kind of thing she could only ask for on her birthday or Christmas. Cho could only imagine how much prices had surged since then, and especially for seats like these. But even as she spoke her words of denial, Cho couldn’t help it as her hands automatically reached over to take the other woman’s offering. A real quidditch game. It had been years since she felt her racing heart as she watched players racing across the field, screaming along to the crowd surrounding her.  “If you’re sure there’s no one else you’d rather give them to...” Cho let her voice trail off, the longing evident in her voice. “Thank you, Angelina. The next round of drinks are on me. Scratch that, all the rounds tonight are on me. It’s the least I can do.” Just when she thought she couldn’t be more grateful for inviting her out in the first place, Angelina went and topped it off with this. 

Two tickets. Who was Cho even going to invite? The list in her mind was very short. Maybe Hannah, her co-worker she had maybe sort of befriended recently. A cool person you want to hang out with more, Angelina had said. A date? The potential invites on that list was even shorter than her list of friends. The last male Cho had talked to with the exception of her patients had been Ron Weasley at his joke shop, who was happily married to Hermione Granger and very much not her type. At all. 

“How is your husband doing?” Cho quickly asked, hoping to change the topic from who she may be bringing to the game. “I was actually at his joke shop the other day.” She purposefully didn’t mention the fact that she was actually there to return a hefty pile of products, rather than purchase anything. 

[imperiasviktor]

St. Mungo’s | Viktor Krum & Cho Chang

@chohee-chang​

In all honesty, there was no reason for Viktor’s visit beyond wanting to check in on Cho. He did his best to keep up with all the news outlets in the Wizarding World and it was impossible not to note the way they’ve been treating Cho Chang recently. Viktor didn’t know how much of what they were reporting was true and how much of it was exaggerated and overdramatised but that was far from the point. Cho was free to support any notion she wished to; that was none of his business. However, with journalists going out of their way to paint her in such a negative light, he felt he wouldn’t be overstepping too much if he let her know she had his support, whatever that was worth.

He did his best to ignore the odd look he received when he asked about Healer Chang’s office and politely thanked the young wizard who’d given him directions. And even though Viktor was well-aware of how tense things had been lately, the interaction still put a small frown on his face. It was… disheartening to see such an attitude, especially at Cho’s workplace, and he felt his resolve strengthen.

Once at the door, he knocked lightly and hoped she wasn’t busy. “May I come in?” He realised then that perhaps she wouldn’t recognise his voice and added, “This is Viktor, by the way. From, ah. School. I can return later if this is an inconvenient time.”

[chohee-chang]

"Come in,” Cho called out automatically as she skimmed through a muggle medical article on PTSD, before the words spoken by the voice outside her door registered in her brain. “Viktor Krum?” She questioned out loud as her office door opened, revealing the quidditch star himself. 

“Are you injured? Or is it one of your players?” she asked immediately as she jumped up from her seat, alarmed by his sudden appearance. They were on friendly enough terms, having exchanged the odd letters over the years. The letters were almost always instigated by Viktor simply checking in on her which always boggled Cho’s mind--a world-class quidditch player owled her first, asking how she was doing. Of course, Cho knew the reason behind Viktor’s letters: Cedric. She understood and appreciated the way he went out of his way to think of her, think of Cedric, his unjust death, and her grief, years later. But still, unannounced social calls were definitely uncharted territory in their friendship (if they could even call it that?) “Of course you can come in. Is everything alright?” 

[chohee-chang]

date: October, 2020 location: Diagon Alley closed to @greengrassgrowths

After a long day at work, Cho found herself at Fortescue’s Ice Cream. At the rate things were going these days, if she had a drink every time she was having a bad day, she would be drinking more alcohol than water. So today, Cho chose to chase her woes away with a scoop of strawberry and peanut butter ice cream. She held her ice cream cone in one hand, her work bag in another, and a copy of the Daily Prophet she picked up at the ice cream parlous wedged in her armpit. She tried to juggle all those things at once in an attempt to get the newspaper inside the bag, until she failed--her ice cream cone dropping to the ground, landing in a sad goop of pink. Cho groaned, regretting her choice to forgo a drink at the Leaky Cauldron for this. When she wrenched her bag open in frustration, she used a little too much force, and some of its contents came spilling out--a book on Healing practices from the 19th century, some spare parchment, and a pamphlet some muggle rights activist had shoved into her hands a couple days back.

“Don’t worry, that was all me,” she reassured a passerby who had been walking close to her as she bent down to collect her things. “I get clumsy when I’m in a bad mood.” She had a sheepish smile on her face until she caught sight of who she was talking to. Astoria--Astoria Malfoy, to be exact. They had met at the Hogwarts reunion recently, and had been getting along swimmingly until Astoria revealed herself to be one of those ridiculous pureblood supremacists.

“Oh. It’s you,” Cho said, an annoyed frown settling on her face.

[chohee-chang]

date: October, 2020 location: Daily Prophet headquarters closed to @veelavictoire-weasley

Cho had sent many, many Owls to the Daily Prophet in the past couple of days, all complaining about the heavily misleading article about her. Each of her owls were met with cookie-cutter responses that clearly signaled their total lack of interest in actually addressing her concerns and after a while even those stopped, and she got no responses at all. Today was finally Cho’s first day off of work, and she was spending it marching to the Daily Prophet headquarters, ready to fix this ridiculous problem once and for all. 

She flagged down the first person who looked like they worked there. With a scowl on her face, she said quickly, “Hi. I’m here to request an immediate correction in one of the articles you guys printed last week.”

[chohee-chang]

hannahgrace-abbott‌:

Hannah was slightly surprised by Cho’s mention of her announcement, but pleased at the offer for help. She already felt like she was drowning in her work, and had just chided herself this morning for thinking that it was a wise idea to start a wild goose chase for information, so any help she had was so appreciated. “That would be incredible!” She responded enthusiastically, tucking the chart she was holding under her arm and shifting on her feet.

Hannah’s surprise only increased as Cho continued to speak, but she quickly shook it off and beamed at the other woman. It occurred to her that this was probably difficult for Cho, after all the times Cho had turned Hannah’s invitations down, and Hannah wanted to convey that she was both pleased and enthusiastic about the offer. 

“I don’t have plans,” she replied with a laugh. “And as I’m getting a little sick of the typical Leaky Cauldron fare, I could use a change of pace. Is that an invitation?” 

“Yes,” Cho answered, perhaps a little too quickly. The relief that came from Hannah’s easy acceptance made her question why she had been putting this off for so long. Cho also felt ashamed knowing that if their roles had been changed, she wouldn’t have been so forgiving. She had the tendency of holding grudges forever, an unfortunate trait that she never outgrew from her teenaged years. If Hannah had turned down her invite, despite the fact that Cho herself had done the same so many times throughout the years, she  never would’ve approached Hannah again for anything outside of work-related matters. How did Hannah do this? 

“How do you feel about muggle restaurants?” she asked cautiously. She had been craving pizza from a muggle restaurant that she used to frequent with David, but had not been able to bring herself to go back on her own. She wasn’t sure what it was that stopped her--shame? Embarrassment? Wanting to avoid small talk with the small restaurant owner who knew her and David by name? It was something of a mix of all those things. “But I also heard there was a new place that opened up recently. The Hot Dragon? Flaming Dragon? Something like that,” she quickly offered an alternative.

[bxrningbridgcs]

@chohee-chang​ | katie + cho

Leaving Mungos was more often a more joyous occasion. She wore a smile when descending the stairs rather than the creased brow that was present that day. Though she was later than usual, her timing had little to do with her mood. She tossed the conversation she had just had around her brain like a quaffle rolling off her fingertips, but before any sense could be made, she spotted something that made the hairs on her arms stand on end. Just ahead of her on the stairs were two people. One was a taller man, which wasn’t unusual in itself, but the shirt he wore, the words painted in red across the back, made her wary. Plus? The woman he seemed to be following wasn’t just some run of the mill stranger. 

As she rounded the staircase, Cho Chang’s side profile came into view, and that was all the nudge Katie needed to act. “Cho!” She called, hand raising in a wave and ignoring the man when he turned at the sound of her voice. “Cho Chang,” she said, realization flowing through the rise and fall of her tone. “I haven’t seen you in-” her feet made rapid work of descending the steps and sidestepping the stranger. Once she was past him, her eyes widened in an obvious attempt to speak beyond her words. “Years, I’ll bet.”

Without pause she slipped her arm in the crook of Cho’s elbow, her smile every bit as genuine as it needed to be. When their backs were to the man, she dropped the pretense and the volume of her voice. “I’m not sure if you’re aware or not, but a rather unkempt man is following you wearing a shirt that says ‘All for Muggle, Muggle for All’.”

[chohee-chang]

“Katie? Katie Bell?” Cho exclaimed in surprise. They had been in the same year at Hogwarts, and the girls who played quidditch back in their day used to have an unspoken sort of solidarity that sometimes even transcended house loyalties. Cho had distinct memories of telling off her teammates for bashing Gryffindors for “flying like girls”--a convenient insult for her team of almost-all blokes, as Gryffindor almost always had the most female players. But even so, Cho was confused by the other woman’s sudden act of familiarity when she looped their arms together. She herself said that they hadn’t spoken in years. After hearing Katie’s whispered words of concern and a discrete look back however, Cho understood immediately. She groaned and quickened her pace, pulling Katie along with her. 

“Don’t worry, he’s harmless,” Cho muttered to Katie in assurance. “Annoying, but harmless. He’s one of those radical muggle sympathizers and actually hasn’t used any magic in the past six months as a show of solidarity or whatever.” Cho hated that she knew this fact at all. The man, and many others like him, had been popping up all over her life ever since that Daily Prophet article painting her out to be one of them. Cho hesitated, wondering if she was obligated to tell Katie why exactly the man was following her. After much internal debate, she blurted out, ”I promise I’m not one of them. They just think I am so they’ve been trying to corner me into a conversation and give me their pamphlets or whatever--but I’m not.” She hated that this was something she had to clarify whenever she met someone recently. Unfortunately, her name had been plastered across the Daily Prophet for all to see, and now people came up to her asking if she was the Healer Chang, crazy muggle lover.

[chohee-chang]

rcnaldbiliusw‌:

Cho was one of the many classmates Ron had neglected to speak to at the reunion. It wasn’t a conscious choice - not necessarily - but he couldn’t say he was miffed he’d missed the chance. Given Cho’s highly-publicized comments regarding Cerberus and the ‘no-contact’ policy, she’d made a space for herself on the list of people Ron could take or leave - but in truth she was more or less already there. Her brief sojourn with Harry in their fifth year didn’t last long enough for him to become attached, and the fiasco with Marietta polarized them even more. He didn’t dislike her, but when she heaved a gigantic bag of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes products onto the counter his eyebrows rose. 

“Well, I do own the place,” he replied, forcing a bit of humor into his tone. He’d grown quite good at putting on his “boss face” when it came to the shop, and as disinterested as Cho seemed, he knew better than to let his offense show. Lifting himself from his chair, he dragged the bag toward him and peeked inside; it was a sizable return, and his confusion was palpable. 

“Were you unhappy with them? The products, I mean?” he asked, plucking things out of the bag to inspect them. 

“Oh no. I wasn’t unhappy,” Cho answered hastily, not wanting to offend, even if was only Ron Weasley, who she rarely saw anymore and never really had a friendship with in the first place. The most she ever talked to him was back when she and Harry were well, whatever they were, and she didn’t exactly have the best impression of him. But she didn’t want to be that person--the crazy rude customer that became the brunt of every joke made by the employees. As Healers, she and her coworkers had their fair share of memorable patients that they still talked about years later (in the worst way possible). Eight years later, they still giggled to each other about that one bloke who got brought in to St. Mungo’s after trying to place an enlargement charm on a certain body part. “It’s just that these were a gift and well, this stuff just isn’t my cup of tea anymore. And I don’t have any kids around me that I can hand them off to,” she explained. Cho remembered years ago, when the Weasley brothers first started selling their products, she had been one of the many people who spent a good amount of galleons on them. Now, however, she simply had no time or patience to entertain herself with this junk. What kind of self-respecting adult would?

“All of it has been just sitting in my closet and I’m sure some kids out there will enjoy it more than I ever would. I promise they’re all unopened,” Cho added when she saw Ron beginning to go through the items one-by-one. She tried to hide her annoyance. She had better things to do than stand in a joke shop all day. 

[chohee-chang]

angelinaweasley‌:

Angelina laughed at Cho’s groan, but it could barely be heard beyond her table. In fact, she could barely hear herself think– it had been quite awhile since she had last visited a bar. “I can raise my glass to that. 89 days. Stunning. I’m glad I wasn’t a part of that one.” Angelina remarks, clinking her class with Cho’s before taking a drink. Frankly, these days, even the shortest of games tended to wring her out completely. It was a part of aging, she supposed. She couldn’t stay at the head of the Puddlemere pack for much longer, and Angelina wanted to leave before she was to be considered a weight on her teammates’ ankles. 

Upon hearing the next question, she opted to mercifully spare Cho and answer it for herself. Of course she didn’t actually know the answer. She wanted to talk recklessly, a type of liberty she could not typically afford.  Once again, the host shouted that she was wrong. And then, the unthinkable happened: he docked them points, so much that the duo had gone from having something to nothing. He left Angelina with no choice but to do the unthinkable back. Calling over a waiter, she said, “Could you please erase ‘Team Quids itch” off the board up there? And two more daisyroot draughts, if you’ve got the hands.” As the host turned his attention to the next question, she had the childish audacity to flip the bird on not one hand but both, a shit-eating grin alighting her face. Her dark complexion flushed with mischief. Satisfied, she leaned back in her chair and downed the rest of her beverage as if she’s back at school, all in one long drink. She thanked her expansive babysitting network for taking care of Roxanne– there was no other way she could have done that otherwise. Pursing her lips to hide a smile, she said, “Sorry about that. It’s such a shame when the boys fail to play nicely, it really is. We could beat them on the pitch any day.” It was more like Angelina couldn’t admit that her knowledge of quidditch history was nothing short of terrible, but the yelling, notably male host wasn’t making the situation better. Angelina scanned her memory. What had they discussed before the game started? Whatever it was, it was certainly better than what had just gone down. 

“Back to what I was saying. Of course the team would love to have you. You know, to help them get their pre-season jitters in check. Plus, you used to play quidditch. Combined with your medical background, I feel like you would make a great sports psychologist. So, if you ever get bored of your job…” Angelina looked at her and winked, “The possibility is always there. But I’d want at least 30% of your earnings, since I came up with the idea.” She pointed to herself with a shrug. “I don’t make the rules.” 

Despite her initial excitement, Cho was relieved when Angelina took them out of the game. She knew this was supposed to be all fun and games, but she couldn’t help but feel a flash of panic whenever she didn’t know the right answer to a question. “He’s probably a Chudley Cannons fan. He seems like the type,” she said about the host, wrinkling her nose in distaste. She may not have been the quidditch fanatic that she once was, but even she knew that poking fun at the Cannons was still in fashion. “I wonder what he’d do if he found out that he just got the bird from the Angelina Weasley,” she added in a lower voice to avoid being overheard. 

Cho laughed at Angelina’s antics. “Only 30 percent? How generous of you.” But her attention was caught by one particular phrase  that left Angelina’s mouth--sports psychologists. “Is that a thing for quidditch teams? Having sports psychologists, I mean,” Cho asked. She found herself growing curious about Angelina’s apparent familiarity with muggle health care--in fact, the other woman had been the one to bring up the comparison of wizard and muggle health care systems in the first place. 

[greengrassgrowths]

Mistaken Reflections

[chohee-chang]

greengrassgrowths‌:

chohee-chang‌:

“Frightening?” Cho repeated, her eyes narrowing. With that, it became clear what Astoria’s stance was on Pureblood supremacy. So much for giving Draco Malfoy the benefit of the doubt that he had changed since his teenaged years. If this was what his wife was like, surely Malfoy still hadn’t learned his lesson over the years. “No I fit right in actually, considering I was married to a muggle,” she answered to egg on the other woman. She couldn’t believe the look of horror on Astoria’s face.

At Astoria’s next question, Cho opened her mouth to automatically deny her accusations, having formed a habit of defending herself ever since that Daily Prophet article had been published. But then Cho stopped herself–why should she? What did she care what Mrs. Malfoy thought about her? “Oh yes,” Cho confirmed with exaggerated eagerness instead of a denial. “That’s me. I’m all about teaming up with the muggles. We have so much to learn from them. To hell with the Statute of Secrecy, I say.” She waited to see the other woman’s reaction. By now, her own disbelief and shock had worn out to be replaced with something more akin to anger. Cho found herself suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that her wand was tucked into the sleeve of her dress robe. 

Astoria felt like her eyeballs were going to bulge out of her head. This witch – this charming, friendly, pleasant, intelligent witch – had married a Muggle? She gaped a Cho like a landed plimpie, unable to wrap her head around such a horrifying idea. “But…but you’re so…so lovely,” she blurted stupidly. “I mean…” She shook her head, unable to force the words out. “That’s just…” She shuddered at Cho’s ideas, the bold and reckless and dangerous and devastating suggestion of tearing their whole world down and letting the Muggles burn the wreckage. “You can’t be…can’t be serious…”

Bile rose in Astoria’s throat and she felt like she was going to vomit. Her lungs seemed incapable of processing the air in this suddenly stuffy room. To hell with the Statute of Secrecy…Merlin’s teeth! She shuddered and stepped back, hardly aware that she was moving until her shoulder brushed the door. “That’s…excuse me,” she whispered, then turned and fled from the madwoman. Suddenly, the terrible cacophony of the party seemed like salvation.

END.

[greengrassgrowths]

Mistaken Reflections

[chohee-chang]

greengrassgrowths‌:

We ran in very different social circles – an innocuous statement on the surface, but under the circumstances one that carried an extremely explicit point. I’m not like you and him, it said. I’m better than you and him, it said. I never licked the Dark Lord’s boots, it said. Astoria felt her spirits sink, although it wasn’t a surprise; despite how popular he had been once upon a time, almost everyone took pains to distance themselves from Draco these days, lest they find themselves painted with the same ugly brush.

The follow-up statement was a surprise, though, and Astoria actually twitched in shock. “You lived in Muggle London?” she repeated, her eyes going wide. “Wasn’t that…frightening?” Astoria knew of the Muggle world mainly through stories about Muggle barbarism and filth; she had only brushed-up against it in the most cursory of ways, although these days those brushes came more and more often thanks to her son’s friendship with people like Albus Potter and Rose Granger-Weasley…but even those were cursory at best, consisting mainly of strange devices and stranger clothes, not with actual Muggles. The very thought of living alongside such horrible, uncivilized creatures made Astoria shudder in horror…

And then she realized why the name Chang was familiar. “Wait, aren’t you – were you the Healer that published that article in the Daily Prophet about wanting to merge our world with that of the Muggles?” she gasped. Cho had seemed so sensible – so kind. How could a witch like that be a proponent of something so awful?

“Frightening?” Cho repeated, her eyes narrowing. With that, it became clear what Astoria’s stance was on Pureblood supremacy. So much for giving Draco Malfoy the benefit of the doubt that he had changed since his teenaged years. If this was what his wife was like, surely Malfoy still hadn’t learned his lesson either. “No I fit right in actually, considering I was married to a muggle,” she answered to egg on the other woman. She couldn’t believe the look of horror on Astoria’s face.

At Astoria’s next question, Cho opened her mouth to automatically deny her accusations, having formed a habit of defending herself ever since that Daily Prophet article had been published. But then Cho stopped herself--why should she? What did she care what Mrs. Malfoy thought about her? “Oh yes,” Cho confirmed with exaggerated eagerness instead of a denial. “That’s me. I’m all about teaming up with the muggles. We have so much to learn from them. To hell with the Statute of Secrecy, I say.” She waited to see the other woman’s reaction. By now, her own disbelief and shock had worn out to be replaced with something more akin to anger. She didn’t fight in a whole bloody war just for the Malfoys to continue their ridiculous prejudice beliefs. Cho found herself suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that her wand was tucked into the sleeve of her dress robe. 

[chohee-chang]

magicterrence‌:

“Hey, I don’t judge…” Terry takes a drag from his cigarette, “Too harshly.” A small smirk formed on his lips. Even though he had the tendency to be a shrewd judge of character every now and then, Terrence saved that for the Wizengamot rather than old friends. In the next breath: an exhale, loosening his shoulders and his lungs. He tuts, “Shame. I thought it was brave and forward thinking, actually.” As she spoke of her unfortunate incident of being taken out of context, Terry listened intently. “In that case, I have a question…” he pauses and speaks the next sentence in a slightly lowered voice, “ Surely, you must have had an experience with muggle technology to form that opinion. So what made you feel so strongly about it?” An innocent enough question, but one for Terry to gauge Cho’s actual sentiment and approval of muggle technology and treatments. “We have magic, that’s got to trump whatever machine they’ve ever come up with, don’t you think?” Terrence did agree with Cho, but playing devil’s advocate was one of his favourite past times. 

Terry chuckles, he always admired how forward Cho was with her opinions. Sadly, on account of his career within the Ministry of Magic he didn’t always have that luxury. “Unfortunately, this Ministry hot-shot didn’t have much of a say on the matter.” He taps the ash off of his cigarette, speckles fall to the floor, “The Minister of Magic has her own mind and is doing what she and her party feel are best for Wixen Britain.” In bipartisan spirit, Terry had suggested what in his opinion was a more logical route to Hermione, but was turned down on the account of the risk. In Terrence’s judgement, Cerberus and the ‘non-contact’ statues weren’t really dealing with the problem at hand: muggle technology outwitting magic. Yes, there were large risks involved in his plan, but high risk equals high reward.

Cho hesitated, unsure if Terry was genuine in his curiosity, or if he simply wanted to have a go at shooting her down. Something about the way he said “brave and forward thinking” rubbed her the wrong way (was that sarcasm?), but perhaps she was being overly sensitive. She was too used to people being so quick to dismiss her insistence that muggle medicine had something to offer. Just in time, the bartender returned with her drink. She gave a quick thanks and sipped her glass of Ogden to take time to think on her answer. In the end, she decided to go with honesty. Who cared if Terry criticized her for it? She would argue right back, not unlike the way that they used to debate homework answers while comparing their work in the Ravenclaw common room.

“Of course magical cures can be faster, more efficient. Muggles take weeks to heal a broken bone, when it barely warrants a trip to St. Mungo’s for most wizards. But things aren’t always that simple.” Cho paused, as this was usually the contentious part of her spiel that caused people to excuse themselves from the conversation or attack her for concerning herself with a non-issue. “Say for example, someone goes through a traumatic event and struggles with nightmares from it. So we give them a fix of Peace Draught or a Dreamless Potion, whatever. But then what about the next night? And the night after that? Is the patient meant to consume these potions--which have dangerous side effects when used long-term, may I add--for the rest of their lives? Or until they just forget their trauma? The problem is that the issue causing those nightmares haven’t been addressed, just postponed or ignored.” Cho paused again to take another sip of her drink, trying to gauge Terry’s reaction. “All I’m saying is that the muggles may have some interesting alternatives for us.”

Cho frowned at Terry’s answer that wasn’t really an answer. How politician of him. She had never understood the appeal of pursuing politics as a career path. But she thought that the whole point was the power to change the world, make a difference and whatnot. That definitely fit what she remembered of Terry from Hogwarts, which was what made his answer so odd. “Isn’t that the whole point of being a Ministry hot-shot? To have a say in these things?” 

[chohee-chang]

This wasn’t a place for the likes of him. The Chaser had a buzzing energy that most people feed off, but Terrence seem to drown in. His meeting had just concluded and if had to spend another moment here, his head would explode.

“Thank you for the tip, Terry.” The journalist smiled rising from her seat to leave.

“If you’re truly thankful, I’d rather we pick another place to meet next time.” He says, only half-jokingly.

They couldn’t be spotted leaving together, so Terrence sits in his seat waiting for an acceptable amount of time to pass. He reaches into the depths of his jacket to produce a packet of cigarettes to alleviate the fog his mind. His fingers pick out a cigarette and light it as though it is nothing, muscle memory until the end. Terry had tried quitting once before, but the weight of the world and the stress of his job seemed to be a good enough excuse to continue. He forces a sharp exhale of smoke out of his lungs; ironically, it served as a breathing exercise to calm his nerves every now and then. Kept him measured and collected.

Terry.

Upon hearing his name, his eyes dart up to see a face that was reminiscent of a Ravenclaw he used to know well. A thinly raised eyebrow and a degree of surprise pinching at the corners of his mouth, which press into a friendly smile. “Cho?” He hadn’t seen or heard from her in years if not decades. Though, it’s not like he made effort to reach out either. They’d both grown old, the lines and wrinkles in their skin and the white strands of hair concurred. The older you grow, the busier life gets. Still, they shared fond memories from Hogwarts. Terry wondered if she was still the Cho Hee Chang he knew, because he certainly wasn’t the same Terry Boot she had a recollection of. No longer the boy who made faces at her across the library, nor the boy who sat with her at almost every quidditch match analysing each play-by-play, or the boy who she shared gossip with over butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. The Battle of Hogwarts had rebirthed him from a naïve brave intelligent kid into a man of smoke and mirrors.

“Twenty-two years to be exact.” He smiles, inviting her to sit with him. “Ah, I’m well. What can I say. How about you?” He asks, tapping the ash off of his cigarette onto the floor. She was one of the few people Terry didn’t keep a file on, and thus genuinely had no idea what had gone on in her life, expect for what was splashed on the front page of the Daily Prophet. “I hear you’re a Muggle sympathiser now, giving Cerberus the middle finger too.” He smirks, Terry may have outgrown a lot of things but his thirst for gossip and information wasn’t one of them, his earlier meeting was proof of that. “Is it true? You can’t believe everything you read, so I must ask.”

“I’m good,” Cho answered easily. She appreciated his short and sweet answer that allowed her to be just as succinct. “I’m a Healer at St. Mungo’s and had a particularly nasty case today, so I just stopped by to grab a drink.” 

Cho huffed indignantly at Terry’s question. That blasted article. “And what if I am?” she said crossly. It was just like Terry to immediately delve into the juiciest piece of gossip. No wonder he hadn’t asked about the boring normal things like how’s work? and any kids? Cho rolled her eyes and relented before he really believed that she was indeed, as he put it, a muggle sympathizer. “Merlin, I know it’s been twenty-two years, but I’m offended you had to ask. Of course it’s not true. The Daily Prophet just misquoted me terribly and I’ve been trying get them to put out a correction since,” she grumbled. She had sent a countless number of Owls to the newspaper’s headquarters over the past week or so, badgering them to clear her name. So far, she had no success. She had half a mind to send a Howler next, inspired by all the Howlers she had received since the article had been published from critics like the mega-fans of Hermione Granger and the Ministry. “I am not some radical hippie muggle sympathizer. I just think that muggle medical treatments have some merit, is all.” 

“As for Cerberus, all I’ll say is that it feels like an overkill. Typical Hermione Granger. But I’m sure you have your own thoughts, mister Ministry hot-shot.” Cho really didn’t know too much about recent politics, but based on the little she overheard at work and read from skimming the news, she found Cerberus to be going overboard. Of course, this was no surprise, considering that  their current Minister of Magic was all about going overboard and enforcing rules to the maximum. Although Marietta was yet another old friend Cho had since lost touch with, Cho still thought that Hermione’s spell was much too harsh, and much too permanent. 

[greengrassgrowths]

Mistaken Reflections

[chohee-chang]

Astoria was giggling in surprise and delight, enjoying Cho’s stories – enjoying Cho’s company – when the little elf reappeared bursting with pride and pristine robes. She greeted the creature with a warm smile and a heartfelt thank you, running her fingers over the delicate silk ruffles and finding not the faintest hint that they had ever been touched by Kevin Entwhistle’s horrible cranberry pumpkin schnaps. Between the restoration of her not-so-ruined-after-all robes and this pleasant interlude with Cho, the evening almost felt like a success after all – at the least, she was having fun now.

And who would have thought that hiding in an undersized robe in another woman’s guest rooms with a witch she barely knew would turn out to be such a highlight?

“No, Moffy,” Astoria said, handing over the robe and starting to slide her arms back into the delicate folds of her dress robes, “that is all, thank you.” She had to squirm a little to tug the silk up over her rump – she might have been embarrassed at the undignified move in front of someone else, but somehow Cho’s presence was so comfortable already – and then reached down to tie the waist-sash tight – and then Cho spoke.

The words hit like a lash – not so much for their venom (certainly there were worse things by far that could be said to her about her husband – some of which had been, over the course of the night – for all that Astoria knew that the humiliation of that traumatic Transfiguration did linger for Draco). No, it was the surprise that got to her – she’d quite forgotten that Cho didn’t know who she was already; had allowed herself to forget that the friendly camaraderie bubbling so easily between them was built on false assumptions.

“Yes,” Astoria said, her voice dull and heavy – not with indignation or outrage, but simply with the weight of reality settling back in around them. “As in Draco Malfoy, the pasty little ferret. He’s my husband.” The moment of sanctuary dissolved with the abrupt fragility of a soap bubble. Cho Chang – the name rang a bell, but distantly. Astoria wondered how awful whatever Draco had done to her had been, all those years ago. “Shall I tell him you’ve sent your greetings?” she asked, voice strained with good manners and regrets.

Her delicate organza robes had never felt so heavy.

“No need. I don’t think he’d be very happy to hear from me,” Cho answered slowly, still unrecovered from her initial shock. “We ran in very different social circles at Hogwarts.” 

She eyed Astoria critically now, wondering how much of her husband’s old blood supremacy values that this woman shared. Cho had forgotten that blood supremacy was even a thing anymore, since her contact with the wizarding world for many years had been limited to patients and other Healers at St. Mungo’s. There'd been the occasional older patients who demanded for pureblood Healers and pureblood Healers only, but Cho liked to think that these were the unfortunate remains of the past generation, exceptions to the otherwise new and better world. She hadn’t thought about the name Draco Malfoy in years, and it was discomforting to think that he and other likely-to-be prejudiced purebloods were out in the world being a part of society, getting married, and attending parties. “And I’ve been living in muggle London since the war,” Cho added coolly, watching for the other woman’s response to this particular piece of information. “So I doubt he remembers much of me at all.”

[rcnaldbiliusw]

WEASLEY’S WIZARD WHEEZES 21 OCTOBER, 2020 @chohee-chang​

Ron felt betrayed. The meager rays of morning sunlight filtering through the windows were like laser beams, but hurrying back into the shadows was simply too much work. He hadn’t even been drunk last night - a bit buzzed, maybe, but not nearly enough to warrant the pounding in his temples. If this was what being old was like, he wanted to unsubscribe immediately. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes as he stumped past the shelves; there were probably a few things he could’ve cleaned up better before opening the shop, but frankly he didn’t care. Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was barely-controlled chaos at the best of times, and he surmised he’d have the place to himself for at least the next hour.

He collapsed into the chair behind the main counter, but no sooner had he rested his forehead on the surface than the bell above the door gave a (rudely loud) jingle.

Who in their right mind came to a joke shop at nine o'clock in the morning?

(Plenty of people…but Ron wasn’t feeling all that compassionate.)

[chohee-chang]

Seeing all the redheads at the Hogwarts reunion the night before had reminded Cho of the big paper bag full of goods from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes that had been shoved into the back of her closet for the past two months or so. It had been a part of the care package some of her coworkers had gifted her when word of her divorce first got around. Cho had promptly fished out box of chocolate and two bottles of wine before chucking the rest, mainly products from the joke shop, out of her sight. Now the bag was held in her hands as she marched into the shop, hoping that they had a forgiving return policy. She didn’t even have a gift receipt.

“Good morning,” Cho said as soon as she reached the counter. She was too busy struggling to lift up the heavy bag onto the countertop to take notice of who was standing in front of her. “I’d like to return this please. All of it.” When she looked up, she found herself face-to-face with Ron Weasley. 

“Oh. It’s you,” Cho said dumbly, the early morning hour and headache from the four drinks she had the night prior doing her absolutely no favors. She had forced herself to leave her bed at a reasonable hour this morning, determined to have a productive day of running errands. Now, she regretted her decision immensely. Cho tried to recover by rearranging her features into a polite smile and said, “I mean, I just didn’t expect to see you here.” In his own family shop? That made no sense. “Could I just return all this please?” Cho finally repeated, giving up and at this point, just hoping to make a quick getaway.

[chohee-chang]

“Perfect.” Angelina wouldn’t be the only person drinking, then. The activity took her back to her Hogwarts days. A Gryffindor win seldom passed without a keg of butterbeer. Angelina hadn’t visited the school since the war, and she intended to keep it that way. For some reason, the prospect of going back terrified her, it caused odd shakes and a heartbeat compatible with quidditch games. There was no point in lying to herself. She knew why she was scared. “I always wondered if Ravenclaw celebrated with butterbeer after good games too. I always thought it’d mess with everyone’s studies.” Angelina didn’t intend on drinking to the point of drunkeness tonight, but she figured that there was no crime in having a few cocktails. She couldn’t recall the last time she had drunk in public, especially after having kids. She was used to the public scrutiny placed on her as an individual, but when it came to her family, she never took any extra chances. Contrary to her general train of thought, the risks were not worth the payoff. But here with Cho, dressed as someone else, she could hypothetically do whatever she wanted, and the realization was nothing short of freeing.

However, her joy was cut short once Cho approached the topic of her divorce. Before getting married, she was so sure that she didn’t believe in the institution of marriage, or rather, the concept of soulmates. It sounded like bullshit, to be frank. After Angelina got married, however, that perception changed. Perhaps it was a cliche (on second thought, it definitely was) but love was as powerful as a drug as Cho’s medicine, wizarding and muggle alike. Offering her a small smile, she said, “I completely empathize with your situation, really. Talking about loss is a tricky thing. I think it’s brave of you to talk about it.” Not that Cho had said her divorce was a loss specifically, but it was the end of a relationship with a long-term partner (or so she assumed), and Angelina understood how that felt. “As for St. Mungo’s, I’m glad you’re doing work in the mental health sector. Merlin knows how many people it’s going to help. If you ever have time to discuss stress management with my team, I’d be honored to have such an enlightening, life-changing, and mind-blowing professional in the building,” she lightly joked. Angelina opened her mouth to say more–she always had something to say, really–but was quieted by a man’s voice at the bar. She smiled at Cho, nose scrunched, before turning around.

He makes the rules clear. Each question would be worth different amounts of points depending on their difficulty, which was fine enough with Angelina. If they knew the answer, they were supposed to light their wands. Angelina slid her wand from her leggings and holds it, knuckles white, as she waits for the first question. She hears the year 1462, which is all she needed before she screams lumos maxima, nearly jumping out of her chair. Suddenly, all eyes were on her and Cho. She giggled out of her newfound excitement, and it sounds like she’s in school again. Leaning in to whisper to her, she quietly said, “Sorry. I just went for it because I thought maybe you’d know it. If you’re unsure, that’s okay! How are we feeling about this one?”

Cho rolled her eyes at Angelina’s playful dig at her former House. “Of course we did. Just because we didn’t spend every weekend partying like you Gryffindors didn’t mean we didn’t party at all. We just valued quality over quantity,” Cho shot back teasingly. Indeed, the post-quidditch game celebrations in the Ravenclaw common room were one of her best memories from her Hogwarts days. After a win, the whole team would go directly from screaming and cheering their heads off on the pitch to celebrating in the Ravenclaw common room, not bothering to stop by to shower or change in the locker room. Being the only girl on a team of all boys meant that hygiene came second to chugging butterbeer while your housemates chanted your name, cheering you on. Merlin, how did she forget how much she used to love quidditch? 

Cho smiled at the other woman, grateful for her casual yet heartfelt and supportive words.  She was especially thankful that she didn’t make too big of a deal about her confession. If she had, Cho might have done something embarrassing, like cry. “Thanks, Angelina. I appreciate it. Really, this means a lot.” She nodded eagerly at Angelina’s suggestion of working with her team. She wanted to capitalize on the moment and say more, but held herself back; she had learned her lesson at the Hogwarts reunion, when she rushed into bringing up collaborating with the Aurors department to Harry. “Oh stop, you’re making me blush. I’d be so starstruck in front of the Puddlemore United players.” She fanned her face exaggeratedly. She then added, as casually as she could, “But if you’re serious about your offer, I’d love to talk to you more about that in the future.” Cho needed all the good publicity she could get. Upper-management at St. Mungo’s especially had not been happy with her recent feature in the Daily Prophet, and good news like working with a renowned quidditch team would definitely earn her some brownie points back.

“What happened in the year 1462 --” was all the trivia night host got to say before Angelina cut in with a shout. Cho cheered excitedly for her partner, but quickly stopped when Angelina turned to her instead of answering herself. “I thought you knew the answer!” Cho sputtered. “You sounded so confident.” The whole bar was looking at her and Angelina, waiting for their answer, and Angelina was looking at her. Panicked, all Cho could say was, “Er--I think the first Goblin rebellion was in 1462?"

“Wrong! That’s not even a quidditch related fact!” The host shouted disapprovingly and the rest of the bar booed. Cho groaned and buried her face in her hands in embarrassment. She pointed an accusatory finger at Angelina. “I thought you knew the answer!” she repeated, but there was an undeniable smile on her face. Before Cho could complain too much, someone else had gotten the question right and the host had moved onto the next question. How long did the longest game of quidditch last? This one, she knew. She was the one to light her wand first this time and answered confidently, “89 days.” She grinned at Angelina when her answer was pronounced correct, and lifted her glass smugly. “Cheers. Rocky start, but we’re getting there.” 

[greengrassgrowths]

Mistaken Reflections

[chohee-chang]

Despite the other witch’s warm and welcoming mien, Astoria couldn’t help but feel guilty. Why didn’t Cho ask the obvious question – who is he? Why had Astoria not made more of a point oftelling her? She wasn’t ashamed of Draco; wasn’t ashamed to be a Malfoy. She was also well aware of the baggage that her surname carried, especially here tonight with the people who had grown-up alongside her husband during his worst period; with so many people who had fought in or been scarred by that horrible war. And she wasn’t trying to hide who she was – that wasn’t something she did. (Not but once, anyway, and that had been the act of a mother desperate to do best for her son.) She should say something now, should make the effort to clarify – but before she could fumble out the awkward words, Cho was gone, rushing off to help her.

She should have said something…

But Astoria felt so uncommonly vulnerable with sticky schnaps drying on her skin and staining the delicate blue of her robes; felt so uncommonly alone with no one but a strange witch and a stranger’s house-elves to help her. (Where was Daphne? Her sister could have charmed this stain out just by scowling at it. Or Draco, who was even more useless than Astoria at domestic spells but whose experience balancing messy potions and fine robes meant he was likely to know the solution to this mishap, at least…) So when Cho came back in, all sympathy and compassion, what Astoria said instead was, “Oh, you’re a Healer? That must be marvelous – and marvelously difficult! Are you at St. Mungo’s?”

She told herself that it had been Cho’s choice not to inquire further; told herself that it would have been even more awkward to try and force the issue after Cho had neglected to give her own surname. How would she had phrased it? “How nice to meet you. I’m Astoria. I’m here with my husband who is Draco Malfoy, which I thought you ought to know!” There was no way to say that without it coming-off alternately as bragging or apologizing – neither of which suited the moment. No, Astoria told herself, trying to believe it, she had done her best to segue into the subject; it wasn’t her fault that Cho hadn’t taken the offer and asked.

Besides, sitting here alone would have been miserable. She smiled at Cho and hardly jumped at the loud CRACK as a wrinkled elf appeared with a bow. “Miss,” it said. “Please to be giving Moffy your robes, and Moffy will be bringing them back to you clean as whistles!” When Astoria hesitated – was she to sit here naked? – the elf added, “Moffy will take ladies to bedroom where ladies can wait until Moffy is done,” and held out a dressing gown that looked several inches too short for Astoria but would at least serve the expectations of modesty – and warmth; a castle in Scotland was cold in October, even with warming charms and healthy fires – she smiled and said, “Thank you.”

Then she looked at Cho hesitantly. “I don’t want to impose…?”

“Yes, I’m at St. Mungo’s. I’ve been with them since I joined their Healer training program straight out of Hogwarts,” Cho answered. She was about to ask Astoria about her own profession, when they were interrupted by the appearance of a house elf. 

“Of course i’ll join you,” Cho assured the other woman. She knew the sacred rules of sisterhood when it came to girls and fashion emergencies--no one should go through it alone. Besides, Cho was relieved to have a legitimate excuse not to rejoin the bigger crowd of people so soon. And this way, she could still tell herself that she was socializing.

The two women were apparated by Moffy to yet another extravagant room in the MacDougal mansion. This room’s standout feature was a life-sized portrait of Gildreoy Lockhart, who Cho recognized not only from the brief time he taught at Hogwarts, but also from the Janus Thickey ward in more recent years. Cho had received two or three signed photos of Lockhart herself, from the times she came across him in St. Mungo’s during her first couple of years at St. Mungo’s. He had practically shoved them into her hands. She had rediscovered them recently in the attic of her and David’s old house while packing to move into her new flat, and had immediately tossed them in the rubbish bin. She couldn’t imagine anyone requesting a life-sized copy and hanging it up in a bedroom. She shuddered at the thought of trying to sleep at night with Lockhart’s pearly whites shining down on her. “His hair was rather impressive though,” Cho admitted to Astoria at the end of her retelling her encounters with the man.

A familiar crack interrupted their admiration of Lockhart’s portrait. “Moffy is back with your robes, missus,” the house elf announced proudly. “Moffy needed three whole tries, but Moffy is back so quick, and with your robes so clean!” 

“Is Moffy needed for anything else?” The house elf needed to be assured multiple times that they were okay before she bowed at them, finally taking her leave. “Moffy wishes Missus Malfoy and Missus Chang goodnight!” she squeaked before another crack resounded in the room. 

Cho turned to look at Astoria incredulously. “Malfoy? As in Draco Malfoy? The pasty little ferret?” It was hardly the worst insult she could’ve said, considering who exactly Draco Malfoy was. Cho had little to no direct interactionswith Malfoy, both during and after their time at Hogwarts. But she knew enough. Who didn’t? Even before he was a Death Eater, he had been an annoying little twerp. She couldn’t imagine someone as nice and normal as Astoria married to Malfoy. Perhaps he had changed, Cho said to herself doubtfully. To be fair, it had been many years since she had last seen or heard of him. But still. Malfoy?