Hunter and Prey

It took Hermione quite a while to recover her poise. A cramp in her side forced her to stop laughing. She had to take several deep breaths before she could talk. Draco looked thunderously offended and distrustful.

“You are the absolute limit.” She shook her head at him. “You are so sunk in your own world you just don’t think, do you?” Hermione put her toast down and drank some pumpkin juice slowly to fend off hiccups. The pressure on her diaphragm from her womb made her irritatingly prone to them. “Of course I know would know nothing, Malfoy. Mudbloods have never suffered, have they?”

He had the decency to wince at the epithet he had so often used himself. Whether or not his opinions had changed, Hermione could not tell but she had got over her shame at the word. Rather like African-Americans and the ‘n’ word. It hurt less if you used it yourself.

“I don’t know why I came.” Draco grated, crumpling his napkin. He was too proud to show weakness in front of a muggle-born. There were cracks in his facade though. Hermione wondered if his parents knew he was here. She wagered not. Lucius would have broken his own wand before appealing for help from her.

“I don’t know either but I’ll listen.” Hermione had written so many tearful letters home she had lost count. She had not sent them as she had not wanted her parents to worry but Malfoy had hurt her deeply when they were children. But that nonsense belonged in the schoolyard and she would not live in the past. Nor would she learn from him how to be a vindictive bully.

“It wasn’t us.” He said forcefully. “My father barely leaves the estate now.” Draco heard himself and grimaced. He sounded pathetic. “He has never recovered from Azkaban. I think he was half-mad when he rejoined the Dark Lord.” His hand strayed to his forearm, unmarked now Voldemort was truly dead. “He just sits in his study staring at the walls. Mother is dealing with it better but she was never a fanatic.” His grey eyes met hers, storm dark and brooding. “We are an embarrassment.”

“It won’t last.” Hermione was morosely certain of that. “We’ll change the rules and shake things up but it will all settle back down to how it always was. The wizarding world fears becoming mundane and wants to protect itself. Its a siege mentality.” She idly picked at her chicken, tearing it into small shreds. “In a few years, the war will be statues and reminiscences. And the old families will tout their traditions again.”

“That is quite the most dour consolation I have heard.” Draco smirked at her. Hermione met his look and shrugged.

“Get out more, Malfoy. You see your world being washed away but the more things change, the more they stay the same.” She gave a small laugh. “That’s another reason why I didn’t slap a suit against your family. I didn’t think it would stick. Nailing Rita Skeeter to the wall is one thing but your father is Teflon.”

“Doesn’t that go on cooking pots?” Draco eased himself back into his chair, relaxing just a little. He had been pleased to see the notice in the Daily Prophet of Skeeter’s dismissal. Too often lately had his name been on the receiving end of her poison pen. The phrase ‘and the Malfoys stayed home’ seemed to be a favourite of the beetle woman’s.

“Now you surprise me. Have you been watching television?” Hermione asked as though it was an exotic perversion.

“I do go into Muggle London, Granger. We have business interests.” He didn’t say any more but he didn’t need to explain. Converting pounds into Galleons was easy but the reverse was very difficult, as many of the muggle-born witches and wizards discovered when they tried to escape. Most of the wealthy families made their money on the other side of the wall or had Muggle Trust Funds for emergencies.

“I can see you in a pinstripe suit.” She ate some fruit and wondered if she was dreaming. She appeared to be chatting with Malfoy. The same thought evidently occurred to him as he concentrating on filling his plate, not looking at her.

Other than his mother, Granger was the only witch Draco had spoken to in months. Even Pansy had dropped him. The Parkinsons had been desperate for the Malfoy Galleons but there would be no marriage now regardless of the bride price. He ate slowly, minding his manners though he had suddenly found himself ravenous.

“May I ask you a personal question?” He assayed after he had devoured most of the collation. Hermione, her mouth full of toast, nodded. “What memory charm did you use on your parents?”

“A variant I developed myself.” She swallowed in surprise. It was not at all the question she had expected. “Oblivate is over used, a quick fix. I wanted to be able to undo everything I had done cleanly.” Hermione studied Draco for a moment as Kreacher entered and refilled their tray with hot offerings. Her mouth watered at the sight of the pastries. She took one then remarked. “Are you thinking of sending your parents Down Under?”

“No, to Canada. We have a hunting lodge there.” Draco tucked enthusiastically into bacon and eggs, making Hermione envious. “I need to do something. Father’s not far off not being able to bear the disgrace. I thought if I could give him a break just for a while he and Mother would be able to reconnect.” He stabbed his fork into an egg, watching the yolk run across his plate. “Its like living with ghosts.”

“Have you thought about a magical disguise instead? Then your parents could go on short trips around the UK. That would be more relaxing for your mum than a big trip overseas. A recall suppression charm would ease your dad out of his depression.” Hermione thought about it. Throwing medication at the problem was not likely to work with a wizard. “When Hagrid came back, he said the worst thing was the fear he would never be happy again.”

“I could send them to Iceland.” Draco considered. “Its not the UK but my parents honeymooned in Reykjavik. Mother said everyone was going to the Continent that year. She didn’t want to be a sheep.”

“My parents backpacked around Scandinavia before they got married. There are lots of hot springs. You could book them a spa holiday.” Hermione licked her fingers then wiped them on her napkin, having avoided the ranks of cutlery. Who needed three spoons for breakfast? She met Draco’s look as he shifted in his seat. He shook his head.

“Have lunch with me.” He asked, as surprised as she was at the request.