Hunter and Prey

Hermione sat up all night going through accounts and all the Department documentation she had on her computer. She wanted to go into work to find out everything she had missed. And beat Basingly into a bloody pulp. However, that was Harry’s job, the finding out if not the pulping. She compiled a detailed report of the anomalies she had discovered and mentioned Philip Prewett several times in the section on the financial shenanigans.

A little public recognition for the man dismissed as a useless Squib. On the theme of just desserts, Hermione typed up a report detailing a new field trial for a herbal variant of the tranquiliser darts. She wasn’t too specific in writing but it was enough to cover her and Neville’s backsides. Snape got mention too as she formalised a request for his assistance. He was a Potions Master. They would be lucky to have him working with the SMS.

Hopefully she could salvage the Department’s reputation. Hermione felt responsible for saving her co-workers’ collective bacon because she knew there would be fallout from this. Bugger Basingly! This was just the sort of mad science that made wizards shy away from technology. She could guess why he did it too.

They were chronically short of test subjects and the ones they did have were infected not innate lycanthropes. It made a great deal of difference to the accuracy of their testing. Fenrir Greyback was a born werewolf. All research on him suggested he was descended from innate lycanthropes as no one had been able to successful match him to a pureblood family for several generations. Thus his was possibly the most intense lycanthropic bloodline in the UK if not Europe.

That did not please Hermione. Remus had worried himself to the bone about passing on lycanthropy to Teddy. He thought of it as a curse. He feared it. She thought of it as a disease. But it was not a legacy she wanted for her children.

Sitting in bed staring at the wall, Hermione faced the fact that in a shorter time than she would like she would be a mother. There would be no adoption. She knew what she was facing. A Muggle family would not have the faintest idea how to cope and a wizarding family would never agree. So, it was her responsibility. That scared her.

She took a Dreamless Sleep potion at a Mediwitch’s insistence, rousing in time for dinner. Hermione ordered steak. If she was going to do this... oh my god I am going to be a mother... she would do it properly. Memory of the fawn suggested she should increase her protein intake. She had been eating healthily but it couldn’t hurt to add more meat to her diet.

Hermione took refuge in lists. Everything that was worrying her went down on a list and the list got lists and the list’s lists got lists. Try saying that three times fast, she shook her head at herself but it did help to see everything itemised and prioritised.

She would need to make some changes. Hermione sent another owl to Florentyna Meach. There were legal details she needed to settle. Just in case. If she died and the triplets survived, she did not want them reared by Ron. Her divorce was still not finalised. No wonder magical marriages lingered. Untying the knot was not easy. Alexander the Great had the right idea with the Gordian Knot.

Were there any archaic laws about a wife’s infidelity? Hermione made some notes. She would try anything to speed up the process. Wizards’ obsession about perpetuating their lineages might have prompted a few clauses to the extensive marriage legislature. No one wanted a cuckoo in their nest. Nest, that reminded her. She needed to do something about a nursery.

When Draco swanned in looking debonair he found Hermione lying on her back with her wand in hand looking at swatches of colour on the ceiling. Surely she could not be that bored. He noted the sheaf of parchments and the infernal thinking machine on a side table. She had been busy.

“L’Oracle wants to interview us.” He observed, sitting down without being invited. “A formal interview for a piece they are doing on relationships in the New Age.” Draco said the last two words with audible quotation marks. It was not a term he liked.

“And what are you going to say? ‘The sex is great but I’m going to dump her as soon as she whelps’?” Hermione asked without moving her gaze from the ceiling. She liked mint green for the nursery walls. It was restful. She didn’t want to colour code her babies though she should probably ask what she was going to have to be better prepared. “We don’t have a relationship, Draco. We have sex, lies and hopefully no videotape.”

He did not get the reference and frowned at her. Draco drew his wand and returned the ceiling to its original whiteness. Hermione sat up to glare at him.

“We play this out to the end, Granger. There is no point losing your nerve now.” He looked pointedly at her belly. Her glare intensified but Draco continued as though he had not noticed. “L’Oracle has more respected society commentary than the Prophet and wider coverage.” He knew she cared little about that so added his trump card. “As it might be prudent to send your children to a school outside the UK when the time comes I suggest you consider laying the groundwork now.”

“I haven’t lost my nerve.” Hermione retorted coldly. “I am being practical so don’t get snippy with me. What are you going to say?” She repeated. A few off-hand answers and guarded smiles were not going to carry them through an interview. “You told that bint outside Malkins you weren’t granting interviews. Why not stick with that?”

“I have my reasons.” Draco answered, turning the conversational thermostat down another couple of notches. Hermione’s interrogating stare was diverted by the arrival of dinner. She tucked in with enthusiasm in spite of the wizard turning up his nose. He looked at her, entirely unconcerned about his opinion or presence. She would not budge to a demand so he tried another tactic. “Please.”

Hermione glanced at him, surprised. She had never heard his utter that word before. Whatever his motives he wanted this badly. She wondered if his father was not doing as well as they had hoped but did not know how to ask without prying.

“Alright, I’ll do it.” Hermione paused to take another bite, finding herself ravenous. “But I want to prepare for the interview so I need a précis from you about what we are going to say.”

“Yes, dear.” Draco smirked.