Hunter and Prey

“I’m still sore.” Hermione commented. She did not object to his attentions. He was being conscientiously gentle but Draco was not going to get any more from her than petting. Magical healing had mended everything however her body remembered its exertions.

“The Healers said, and I quote, to wait a week before wooing you.” Draco spoke in between toying with her stiffening flesh. He smoothed his fingertips over her breasts. Her skin was wondrously soft like rose petals. Kneading her lightly, he coaxed a thin dribble of milk across his tongue. He leant back and smiled at her satisfied. “You are sweeter than you look.”

“Why don’t you do something constructive and bring my parents here?” Hermione asked mildly. She seemed to strike the right balance between indulgence and request because he slid off the bed and Disapparated with no more than a smirk.

Hermione sagged back onto the pillows. She had a lot of things to do, not least descend upon the Aurors and curse them to Gehenna. Draco had been reticent to tell her but had finally divulged the Department for Magical Law Enforcement had missed Fenrir Greyback. They had tracked him to his lair in the wilds of Argyll only to be foiled by the Royal Navy of all people.

A local who worked on the nearby Coulport submarine base had reported suspicious activity and the base commander, leery of recent anti-nuclear protests, had set out a patrol to recce. The search groups had found each other before either located the werewolf. The end result had been the Aurors arrested for trespass and by the time they had charmed their way out of trouble, Greyback was gone.

Hermione decided to give herself the same week off the Healers had instructed for Draco. She would let herself recover, catch up on everything she had missed then go back to work. And nab the werewolf. She was not going to let anyone else stuff up again. The SMS had enough surveillance they could blanket a county, if she called in all the teams. It would be the coup they needed to rid themselves of Basingly’s perfidy. She would not have the Ministry looking sidelong at her department.

Draco would be more than happy to have her in bed in his house, she was certain. It suited the Plan and he had designs on her person. Hermione was no fool. She trusted him enough to stay under his roof but she wanted the whiphand. She would not like to be dependent on him. Old pureblood family values looked a lot like chattel servitude to a muggle-born.

Not just for the women, fortunately. A husband lower down the blood hierarchy than his wife could be expected to be an adjunct for all his name was being perpetuated. Names, that prompted her to the task of naming her children. She had not given it much thought because frankly she had not thought she would need to do so. But now she had to so she did.

Her family had no particular traditions. Her parents’ siblings had used her grandparents’ names for their children, freeing her mum and dad to inflict Hermione on her. In wizarding circles, the purer the blood the more esoteric the name. She could call the triplets Euripedes, Ninhursag and Metzli with scarcely a raised eyebrow from her peers. If Harry could burden his little one with Albus Severus then the field was wide open for her.

One thing for certain, she would absolutely not give any name with any connection to anything canine. Remus’s parents had been courting fate with his name. Hermione wanted something ordinary and got out her laptop to look up meanings.

She considered William but dismissed it because of Bill Weasley. Catherine was nice but it meant pure, with which she did not want to laden her daughter. Hermione’s research strayed to scholars and scientists prompting her to consider namesakes. She wanted her children to remember their muggle heritage. What better way than to name them after pioneers in non-magical fields?

Draco returned then excused himself to allow the Grangers their togetherness. Her parents were cautious until she assured she was coping mentally and almost recovered physically. Louise took that as permission to visit the babies. A late start and a desire to give their child everything they could had limited the Grangers to one. Three grandchildren while they were young enough to enjoy them was a blessing.

“Here you go.” Martin sat beside her, handing over the bits and pieces they had brought from her house. “They’re still fussing about over wards and such.” He grumbled, patting her hand. Now the worst was over and they could breathe again he had time to protest. “I know you’re not thinking about it now but if there is a next time, please, please make it a hospital. A midwifery clinic would do just as well.”

“I promise, Dad.” Hermione agreed. He would not have said anything if he had not been very concerned.

“You should have seen their faces when I asked about a transfusion. Bag blood! That’s what they called it.” Martin’s fingers tightened around hers. “We were so worried.”

Hermione did her best to reassure him, giving the technical details of what had happened to the best of her ability and Draco’s account. The Healers would not have told Muggles anything, Bachelor degrees or not. In the end, Martin still shook his head. Nothing would change his mind about the arrogance of magic-users.

They went together to the nursery where Louise was watching the house elves. The Grangers had much less difficulty with magical creatures, having met Dobby several times. Louise’s grandmother came from Cornwall and had told her stories about the knockers in the mines. Besides, for a single mother with triplets any sort of help for was welcome. Hermione introduced her children to their grandparents.

“Alexander Fleming Granger.” She picked up her eldest son who had wisps of ash brown hair that showed as wavy as his mother’s. Martin took his grandson, finding his cradling instincts still sound. “Rosalind Franklin Granger.” The little girl was awake and staring with wide cobalt eyes. Hermione gave her to Louise. Lastly she picked up her youngest, who was nearly bald but had comical downy eyebrows. “Jonas Salk Granger.”