With Good Intentions

…due to irregularities during the administration of the Magical Contracts portion of the Ministry licensing exam, the results for all participants will be expunged. The test will be rescheduled for…

“SIX MONTHS!?”

Lucius closed the distance to his panicked wife before her knees gave way. Hyperventilation stole her consciousness in minute portions, her chest heaving at the implications of yet another curve ball aimed at her husband.

“Hermione, calm yourself!”

Kreacher approached and handed the concerned husband a goblet quarter-filled with brandy. Since his abandonment at 12 Grimmauld — the Potter bitch would not abide anything that’d served the non-Gryffindor Blacks — the old elf had grown more reclusive and…

Lonely. Absent purpose and interaction, he’d developed acute depression.

Narcissa spent increasing time using his existence in the real world to accomplish portions of their grand plan. Eventually it made little sense to leave the pathetic creature alone. He’d mellowed in the presence of a Black family member he’d known (even a dead one) and in Winky’s company.

With improvement from despondent to merely surly, Kreacher confessed to Winky that he blamed Harry Potter for his isolation and the woman who controlled Potter’s life: Molly Weasley. He’d admitted early in his recovery that Harry Potter only treated him well when Hermione Granger stayed at the Black ancestral home; Hermione Granger cared about house elves and he’d tell anyone who’d listen.

“Slow down, witch! You’ll choke yourself!”

Three gulps followed rapidly by spluttering and coughing validated Lucius’ prediction.

“Your hearing’s in four months! I can’t find and prepare another solicitor in that time! How did Molly get her claws in the Magical Law Enforcement division!?”

 “Your paranoia is showing. It’s possible that the Ministry caught someone cheating.”

“If Fred and George couldn't defeat Hogwarts’ anti-cheating spells then the Ministry should be impregnable!”

“Galen is no Albus Dumbledore. And rumor has it that Minerva finds herself too busy running the school to assist the Ministry in any capacity.”

“Excuse me —” she sent courteously while dashing from the room.

Seconds later the sound of violent vomiting could be heard.

“Hermione? Do you need my assistance?”

“Lucius, leave her for a bit. She lives the strategy behind this gambit waking and sleeping and has been dancing on the head of a pin since her graduation fro Hogwarts — five very trying years. She’s sacrificed a great deal for you, you selfish prat.”

An easy smile overtook his features at Narcissa’s use of Hermione’s affectionate nickname for him.

“Is she…?”

“I would doubt it given the stress she’s been under.”

“Should I… see to her?”

“Yes, Lucius, you should see to your wife and show her the care and consideration you’ve always shown me… when I lived. Now GO.”

After a pot of her favorite tea — handmade for her by Kreacher — and a long nap, the co-conspirators recovered to navigate this latest crater in their path.