Hunter and Prey

Kreacher could not have been described as ecstatic to see her. However his attitude had improved since their first meeting. Very privately Hermione thought Sirius Black had done his godson no favours in his treatment of the house elf. A lot of trouble could have been avoided if he had been less of an arrogant jerk.

She got a warm bed and a quiet room. Hermione transfigured herself some pyjamas, realising only then that she had met with Professor Snape while in a dressing gown. He had been too much of a gentleman to mention it or perhaps he had found the sight of a pregnant woman so off-putting that he had not looked at her attire. Some men found an expectant mother unattractive. Regrettably Fenrir was not one of them.

Hermione tucked herself into the canopied bed after warding the room. It might be futile but she wasn’t going to sleep without knowing she had done everything she could to protect herself. Her wand went under her pillow. She fell asleep and did not dream.

In the morning, Hermione dragged herself downstairs to the breakfast room with the nagging feeling she had forgotten something. A Pepper-Up potion would have been nice except that it was off her list. No coffee either. She sat at the table while Kreacher fussed around her trying to think what she was missing. A knock on the door diverted the house elf and a cat’s meow had her jumping out of her chair.

“Crooks!” Hermione hurried out into the hallway. She scooped up her fluffy, neglected boy and cuddled him. He yowled plaintively having suffered a night in the Hogwarts kitchen with only mountains of food to sustain him. “I am so sorry, Crookshanks. Mummy will make it up to you, poor thing. Would you like some bacon?”

“That is disgustingly mawkish, Granger.” The arrogant drawl drew her attention to the wizard who had delivered her pet. For his part, the scion of the House of Malfoy was surprised how quickly she got her wand out with her arms full of overfed cat. Draco raised his hands placatingly. “I would make a pithy remark on your manners but this is not a social call.”

“Snape sent you.” It was not a question. The fading traces of a concealment spell hung around the tow haired wizard as well as the scent of wolfsbane. The Professor had been shrewd in giving Malfoy Crookshanks to deliver. The half-kneazle would not have gone with him unless he had trusted his intentions and no foe would have come bearing her cat. Besides, Draco now had orange fur all over his night green waistcoat.

“Master Malfoy, please to be breakfasting in the morning room.” Kreacher invited unctuously and Draco followed him. Hermione bit her tongue. She was not going to scold the house elf and she was not going to make a scene. Setting Crookshanks down, she followed them to resume her seat at the table. There was a white cloth now and plates with the Black family crest as well as the sort of silverware one collects if often catering for fifty at dinner parties. There was a cruet set.

“Please feed Crookshanks, Kreacher.” Hermione requested, weathering the house elf’s scowl at being banished from the proximity of a true wizard. However, Kreacher went and Crookshanks followed him, indicating the presence of food. Draco’s aristocratic face twisted into a sneer but it did not last. He had a carefully neutral expression when he looked at her, which must have rankled.

“Severus met with my mother last night.” He began, nothing in his tone to suggest Snape’s visit as anything extraordinary. The Professor and Narcissa were still very close. “He explained more of what was going on. Potter has interviewed my father several times recently but has been very reticent about why.” His fingers drummed on the table, giving insight to the turmoil within. “We have not been able to find out more.”

“Its no fun being a pariah, is it, Malfoy?” Hermione remarked as Kreacher returned with a cold buffet, arraying it before the wizard but within the witch’s reach. He scuttled off to fetch more food. Draco glared at her, well aware how much his family had been shunned. It was still a shock to him.

“Severus said you had reason to believe we were involved with the werewolf.” His eyes dropped pointedly to her stomach but whatever else he was going to say withered. He stared then looked away and adjusted his cutlery to cover his lapse. “That explains Potter’s interest in my father’s affairs.” Draco looked aside at her. “However you have levelled no charges.”

“Fenrir Greyback mentioned speaking to a Malfoy. He did not specify which one nor do I consider him a reliable witness.” Hermione replied blandly. If they were going to dance around the subject then she could waltz with the best of them. She helped herself to some toast. First day after this problem was solved she would eat a full English breakfast washed down with espresso. “There is also Polyjuice, which disguises scent as well as appearance.”

“Shouldn’t you of all people leap at the chance to traduce my family, war hero?” He leashed his sneer just enough to be called polite. Draco sat back, pushing his plate away from him. He had no appetite.

“You never troubled yourself to get to know me, Malfoy, so how can you say that?” Hermione noticed how thin he was. He had always been lean but now his skin was taut over his cheekbones. “I won’t kick a man when he’s down. Your father should be in Azkaban but being spurned by wizarding society is probably a crueller punishment.” She nibbled toast, cautiously optimistic about keeping it down this morning. “Eat something. Worrying yourself sick won’t solve anything.”

“What would you know, Granger?” Draco snapped. Hermione laughed so hard she nearly fell off her chair.