Hunter and Prey

The week did not greatly improve after Ron stormed out of the infirmary. Her parents returned and she had been so upset she broke down completely in front of them. It was only the impossibility of a Muggle finding the Burrow that kept her father from extracting something permanently from her ex-husband. Harry returned with a team of Aurors to document her physical condition and interview both her and Madam Pomfrey in more detail.

She had been so exhausted after that she spent the night at Hogwarts. Her mother stayed while Harry took her father home then continued on to liaise with the police. After that the fun really started. Hermione dragged herself through police interviews, an obligatory press conference and a tearful meeting with Elinor’s grandparents. The little girl remembered her and the photo of them hugging was front page news.

An exclusive interview with the Guardian got the reporters off her back and gained her an extraordinary amount of money about which she felt rather guilty. There were calls for tighter security at mental health institutions then the Muggle side of the story ebbed away as the world moved on. The wizarding world proved much more difficult to satiate...

Very early in the morning of the beginning of her eighth week, Hermione got out of the bath, belted on a robe and padded downstairs to open the door. Basingly had been by the day before to drop off her wand, which her team had found at the farm, along with a stack of work. She was officially on medical leave at Kingsley Shacklebolt’s direct order but she had not been prepared to sit at home twiddling her thumbs. So she had her own vine wood in her hand when she peeked through the front curtains. There was a redhead at the door but a welcome one.

“Ginny, should you be on your feet?” Hermione let her in, tucking her wand in the pocket of her robe so she wouldn’t look like a paranoid nutcase. Ginevra Potter waddled in laden with bags and an almost due second baby.

“I have feet?” Ginny grinned. She bumped the door shut with a practised hip then lent against it. “Harry sent me to warn you Rita Skeeter knows I’m not the only one who’s knitting booties.” Dropping parcels, she gave Hermione that morning’s copy of the Daily Prophet quite literally hot off the press. A Quidditch scandal kept her off the front page but page three was no comfort. The muggle photo was there alongside a wizarding photo of her with the Minister of Magic.

“I should have squished her.” Hermione read the article as she helped Ginny into the kitchen with the bags. Skeeter’s poison quill was in fine form but she knew bugger all about obstetrics, miss-guessing how far along was her victim. That was a small blessing but not one about which Hermione could be very philosophical.

“Yeah.” Ginny sank onto a chair then charmed it to adjust so she could sit comfortably. “Still could. It’d improve the world no end.”

“There was an amnesty for unregistered Animagi a few years ago. She registered. I checked.” Hermione tossed the paper disgustedly onto the counter. Crookshanks, prowling for his breakfast, promptly sat on it.

“I meant a more literal squishing.” Ginny fished around in one of the bags and extracted a jar of something greenish and horribly medicinal looking. “Mum and Ron had a big fight, after he got his voice back. He told her about your little chat in the infirmary.” She loved her brother dearly but he had a gift for ruining his life with his own temper. “This stuff works a treat for morning sickness. I hardly spewed at all for this one.”

“I’ve got an appointment with the gynaecologist this afternoon. I want to consult her before I have a termination.” Hermione tried to correct her gently. She didn’t know how much Ginny knew about what had happened. Harry could be very closemouthed when it suited him. Mrs Potter looked surprised.

“Ron said you were keeping them.” She set the jar down, feeling very awkward. “He was very emphatic about that. Fairly ranting. He said you refused to take a potion.” Ginny regretted her supportive gesture. She hadn’t discussed it with her husband. After she heard the story from Molly and then Ron, she had thought the matter settled. Now she had put her foot right in it.

“I didn’t refuse. There wasn’t a safe one to take. Madam Pomfrey suggested I simply wait to miscarry rather than risk any of the potions she knew.” Hermione kicked a skirting board. If the rest of the Weasleys hadn’t been so amiable she would have put Ron’s moronic behaviour down to inbreeding. “I’m looking into every avenue there is. This is a bit more complicated than finding a coat hanger.”

“What’s a coat hanger got to do with it?” Ginny asked, puzzled. Ron had also said Hermione was raving but that was likely more his interpretation.

“Its a Muggle thing.” She took the easy way out rather than explain feminist history to a witch. “Look, thanks for the thought. I’ll take some of that green stuff. The only thing I’ve been able to keep down this week is vegetable soup. I’ve been doing all my reading in the loo.”

“I know all about that.” Mrs Potter laughed. She handed over the herbal remedy. “It tastes terrible. Neville made it.”