Hunter and Prey

Thus it was that Hermione found herself in Madam Malkin’s buying what the proprietress called ‘lounging robes’. The loose almost weightless gowns were a significant improvement on what they had seen downtown. She could have bought something smart from one of the maternity boutiques but as she had pointed out she would be wearing a tent in a few weeks anyway. Draco had laughed and they had agreed quite naturally to go to Diagon Alley.

It had started after breakfast, she had remarked on her need to go shopping. Malfoy had said she shouldn’t go alone and while not precisely volunteering had hung around until she was ready to leave. They had ambled about and had sufficiently accepted each other’s company that Hermione took his hand without hesitation when Draco helped her down from the stool. Why Madam Malkin, who was shorter than Hermione, insisted her customers perch on footstools was a quandary.

“That should do for the time being.” She had only bought three robes as she intended to reuse them as casual wear. With luck, she wouldn’t need them as maternity dresses for very long. But unless she wanted to wear crop-tops and track pants as hipsters, she needed something. A bare midriff only worked for some and she had never been gifted with washboard abs.

“How about shoes?” Draco suggested, holding himself very upright as several of Malkin’s customers whispered behind them. Madam was very professional and had not even blinked at their arrival but she had been the only one not to gossip. “Mother said her ankles swelled so much she was reduced to wearing house slippers everywhere.”

“You have some odd conversations with your mother.” Hermione meant it only as a casual remark as she paid the bill. Draco took the bag peremptorily because they had not yet sorted that dispute. After she had overbalanced and nearly fallen on slick department store tiles, he had taken charge of the shopping. About half of it was his, he had a weakness for accessories, but he refused to allow her to carry anything. Everything shrank into a Bulgari bag and he would not hear any protests.

“All part of the ‘When You Fulfil Your Obligations’ lecture series.” His expressive mouth curled into a half-smile. Hermione laughed and thanked Madam Malkin, walking out of the shop without turning her back. Various whispering campaigns at Hogwarts had trained her not to cringe but it was still no fun.

“At least you were spared the ‘What Nice Girls Don’t Do On the Weekends’ discussion panel.” She looked up at him, thinking he looked much better when he wasn’t trying to be handsome or sneering. Draco rolled his eyes in sympathy. It was worse for only children, he was sure and of course she would know that too.

They turned towards Springheels for shoes when a camera flash brought them up short. Hermione jumped back in surprise and Draco caught her arm to steady her because as much as she didn’t want to think about it her balance was off. They glared at the photographer who ducked behind a dark haired witch wearing the latest fashion in mugglesque robes. She flourished a quill and spoke fast.

“Just a few questions.” She said so quickly it was all one word. “Will you put to rest the speculation about your enforced seclusion, Ms Granger? Can you confirm allegations there is a secret Ministry taskforce detailed to your personal protection?” A sly look crossed the reporter’s pretty face. “Any comment on your former husband’s tell-all article? Are the werewolf rumours true?”

Draco still had his hand around Hermione’s arm and felt her tense. She was not far off hexing the bold witch into something that would offend. He leapt into the breach for no reason other than he was tired of hiding and he had been enjoying himself until the mouthy cow interrupted.

“Weasley has called me many things during our acquaintance but a lycanthrope is a new slander.” He put his arm around Hermione to keep her from interrupting as he ran with whatever popped into his head. “He’s a sore loser who can’t accept Hermione is happy with someone else.” Draco gave the reporter his most devastating smile and kept talking. The rush was better than Quidditch. “She and I had hoped to keep our personal lives out of the papers until after the divorce was done with. We won’t be granting any interviews.”

With all the hauteur of his lineage, Draco Malfoy escorted Hermione Granger past the reporter and through the crowd into Gringotts. He had no business in the goblin bank but it was the nearest refuge. Draco guided them into a private office, used for customers pleading about their overdrafts, and let out his breath.

“You are going to need a troll to dig yourself out of that hole!” Hermione shook her head disbelievingly. “What possessed you to say all that?” She felt faint and sat down on one of the infamously uncomfortable chairs. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Every word.” Draco tried to keep the grin off his face. He had been so careful, so watchful since the Dark Lord’s death, minding his tongue closely for fear of making the unbearable worse. Meekness did not come naturally to him. Now he shed discretion like an old skin. “I need to get my parents out of the country fast.”

“You need to emigrate!” Whole battalions of wizards would be out for his blood at the hint of a suggestion they had an affair. “You’ve painted a big red target on yourself if Fenrir Greyback finds out. Need I emphasise the dangers of enraged werewolves? I have extensive notes on the subject if you wish a refresher!”

“Think about this rationally for a moment.” He aired his best smile again but was not surprised when it didn’t work. She was not going to melt at the knees for him. Draco smoothed his hair, in awe of his own brilliance. Slytherin Forever. “This is the perfect strategy.”

“Alright then, convince me.” Hermione said, ready to debate.