CHAPTER THREE/THE LIFE OF MR M BROADMOOR/2 AUGUST 2008
Having lived through a war, Hermione wasn't shaken by much. The news of Mr Broadmoor's death washed over her without a pause, but the implications of it dawned on her with horror.
Harry broke through her thoughts, "Who is Michael Broadmoor?"
"The man I was telling you about, he was impersonated." Hermione spoke quietly in his direction, and Harry immediately filled in the unspoken words.
"How was he killed?" Harry smoothly flowed into Auror mode.
"Brutally. We suspect a Dark creature..."
He paused, and Hermione asked with trepidation, "What type of creature Kingsley?"
"I don't want to incite panic-" Hermione made an impatient noise, "-but it looks like the work of a Quintaped."
"A Quintaped?" She asked incredulously, "Kingsley, are you sure?"
"Well, no, but-"
"They're only found on the Isle of Drear, pray tell how one would have appeared in Muggle London?"
"We're not sure. The body had teeth marks consistent with early Muggle victims, the man's throat has been ripped out, and he has had both arms torn off and discarded."
"The body was found?"
"Yes, his wife woke up in the morning to the sight on the bed next to her."
"That doesn't make sense. If it was a Quintaped, there would be precious little left to identify him with. And his wife was laid next to him? Why didn't it touch her?" With each question, Hermione's hair seemed to grow and crackle with magic, and Harry and Kingsley exchanged a glance, knowing from experience that the best option was to let her work through it herself. "If the teeth marks match though... but his wife was just left?"
She let out a quiet noise of frustration, and continued pacing. "Kingsley, have you questioned the wife?"
"Yes. She's rather too upset to be of any help this morning."
"Naturally." She hummed, "Am I being brought on as a consultant for the case?"
"We think that would be best, yes."
She nodded in agreement, "If you send the consultancy contract through by midday I'll sign it and have it back to you by this evening."
Kingsley nodded in agreement, and then glanced towards the mounting paperwork on his desk. Harry took this as a dismissal, bobbing his head, and grabbing Hermione, directing her towards the exit.
"You know Ron won't be happy with you on a dangerous case while you're pregnant, right?"
She snorted, "Oh I know. I'm hoping to avoid an argument though, so don't you dare tell him Harry!"
He raised his arms defensively, "Alright, I'm just saying."
Hermione sighed. Harry was right, of course, if Ron found out, they were going to have another massive blow-out, and he'd only just stopped staying over at the shop.
And inevitably he would find out, because his weekend moonlighting at the consultancy would be called upon as the regional motives expert. Like it or not, he needed to be told.
"So what you're telling me," Ron said, in a loud voice that drowned out the end of Hermione's sentence, "is that my heavily pregnant wife, in her delicate condition.."
"Ronald, please," She scoffed, "I'm hardl-"
"..MY HEAVILY PREGNANT WIFE," He continued as though she hadn't spoken at all, "wants to hunt down a dangerous magical creature, who has attacked someone for REASONS UNKNOWN-"
She tuned him out at this point. Happy place, happy place, happy place. A technique she had started using shortly after moving in with Ron that had continued throughout their marriage.
She tuned back in to Ron when he turned to her, an incredulous look on his face, "Well?"
"We have this argument every time. Even when I'm not pregnant." Her tone was exasperated, "I'm not "hunting down dangerous creatures", Ronald, I'm a fucking consultant."
"It could make you a target!"
"I've spent the majority of my life with a neon target following me around, not like this'll be a huge change."
"But-" Hermione held up her hand, looking thoroughly fed up.
"I'm not having this argument again Ron, we have it twice a week and you should know by now that it won't change a thing."
Ron deflated, and she felt a twinge of guilt that she quickly quashed. "Will you consult for me on the case?"
He looked surprised, "You mean you want me to?"
"You're the best in the field. You're a pain in my arse, but I'll never deny that."
"..As long as I can be on field with you if it's needed."
"Ron!"
"That's my condition."
"Hello?" Draco opened the door to Tori's quarters even as he knocked, and found her sitting in the window seat overlooking the vegetable gardens.
"Mummy!" Scorp peeked around Draco's legs, and launched himself towards his mother. She caught him with an 'oof' and a smile.
"Feeling any better?" Draco asked.
"A little. The Healer has me on Muggle potion for blood thinning. Figures better thin blood than thick at this point, it's easier to treat."
He shifted from one foot to the other, and Astoria examined him, "Draco, what's wrong?"
"Would you be up for a trip out of the house today?"
"I think so."
+/
Muggle London never failed to put Draco Malfoy in a state of awe – the buildings, so tall and vast, were built without an ounce of magic, just the physical labour of the hundreds of thousands of Londoners milling in the streets.
He made an effort to bring Scorp into Muggle London about once a week, determined that he would not grow to be as stuck up his own arse as Draco had been as a child. He didn't want Scorp to need a war to make him see the error of his ways.
There was an added bonus that no one knew him in Muggle London, and he didn't have to gauge upon meeting someone whether they were going to treat him like a normal person, spit in his face, or beg him to fund their cause.
Unfortunately, the visit was not one of leisure, and he hurried his ailing ex-wife towards the entry of Diagon Alley, or more specifically, the Granger Consultancy offices.
"Good afternoon, Isabel." He greeted the dark-haired receptionist cordially, who smiled and gestured for him to take a seat.
"Good afternoon Mr Malfoy. I'm happy to see you have seen the value in booking an appointment this time around." He turned to see Granger in the hallway, and for a moment he appraised her figure. The small bump, evidence of her second child, had grown in the two months since his initial appointment, and she glowed with the kind of radiance only an easy pregnancy could give you. He'd never seen it on Astoria.
"Granger." He nodded, and placed a hand on Astoria's lower back, steering her forward. "This is Astoria Greengrass, my ex-wife."
Granger shook her hand, "Hermione Weasley. Come through to my office."
She led them down the hallway, and they both sat in the provided seats in front of her desk. Granger didn't sit down though, she lowered herself to Scorp's level and spoke to him.
"Hello, my name's Healer Weasley. What's your name?"
Scorpius grinned at her, "Scorpy!"
She grinned back, "Nice to meet you, Scorpy. I have to speak to your Mummy and Daddy, but I have some toys over here for you to play with. Is it okay if you just play quietly on your own for a little while?"
Scorpius, who was usually quite stranger-shy, nodded happily, and toddled over to the small pile of toys that Granger had conjured in the corner. Granger smoothed the front of her pencil skirt as she stood and returned to her desk.
"Alright. Now, may I call you Astoria?" She directed the question to his ex-wife, who nodded her consent, "Lovely. Astoria, I'm a Healer who specialises in taking on complex cases. Oftentimes this involves consulting on legal cases or conducting third party autopsies, but I do occasionally take on straight medical cases. Your ex-husband has asked me to investigate your genetic curse."
She paused, giving Astoria a moment to catch up. Tori nodded.
"To do so, I need express permission from yourself, given that you are alive and of sound mind." She sounded as though she was reciting from a text book, and Draco had a sudden vision of Granger poring over a DMLE-prescribed text, brow furrowed as she memorised the words.
"Do... Do you think you have a chance at a cure?" Tori wasn't looking at him, or Granger. Her hands were clenched tightly, and Draco could tell by her tone that she almost daren't hope.
"Astoria." Granger spoke firmly, and Tori met her gaze, "I'm not in the business of promising the moon when I can't guarantee anything at all. What I can guarantee is a team of specialised medical researchers on your case. If there is a cure, you'd be hard pressed choosing a better team to find it."
Tori took a shuddered breath and nodded. "Alright. You have my permission. I presume there is a contract to sign."
Granger nodded and produced a document several pages thick.
"This contains information on the Consultancy privacy policy, the initial process we go through, and what paths we may take to investigate. There is also a form to give us permission to access your Healing records. Mr Malfoy provided me with some test results from Healer Alban Matthews, but I may need to look further into your history. Lastly, there is a form giving me permission to speak with your family and your ex-husband about your case. You can strike out anyone you don't wish us to talk to."
Draco reached over the desk and plucked the document from her hands, "If you don't mind, we will have the Malfoy family contract lawyers look over this."
"I expected nothing less."
"Gin, please don't make me go home."
"You can face Voldemort but not your husband of eight years?"
"At least I knew what I was up against." Hermione groaned, her head in her hands. Ron had sent her an owl missive two hours beforehand saying simply 'We need to talk'.
"Have you got any idea what it could be?"
"The Daily Prophet probably told him you and I are eloping."
Ginny snorted.
"What's this about my wife leaving me?" Harry's quip was met with another piteous groan from Hermione, still muffled by her hands.
"Ron is practising his wife-wrangling skills." said Ginny by way of explanation. Harry did not look as though it was a helpful clarification.
"Alright, Hermy." Harry said, with a completely straight face. Hermione's head shot up from her hands to pin him with a deeply offended glare, "Time for you to get up and trot on home like a good girl."
It worked. Hermione stood with a huff, marched to the fireplace, and with a shout of "The Warren" was gone.
When Ginny turned back to her husband, he was holding a bouquet of peonies.
"I tried to get something as pretty as you, but apparently I can't because it doesn't exist."
She rolled her eyes, pulled the bouquet from his hands and placed it on the kitchen bench, and said, "Too much talking, Potter." Before kissing him soundly.
+/
"Ronald?" The house was dark when she got home, and silent. She made her way to the kitchen, pausing to hang up keys that she never used but carried anyway.
Ron was sitting at the kitchen table, the soft glow of candlelight bathing his face gold. There were a couple of takeaway containers and a bottle of elf-made non-alcoholic wine, and Ron held a bouquet of roses and sported a sheepish expression.
"Hey." He said, holding out the bouquet. It wilted slightly, and Hermione hid her grimace. She'd never liked roses.
"Hi, what are you doing?" She took the roses anyway, giving them a hearty sniff.
"I just thought... we need to talk. I'm sorry."
Hermione blinked, an apology being the last thing she'd expected. "Pardon?"
"I'm sorry," He repeated, and sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, "I'm not good at this and you know it. I... we've been fighting again so much, and I don't know how to fix it but I want to."
Her heart sunk a little, "Ron, I-"
He held up a hand, "I just want to get this out before you speak."
She nodded.
"I'm willing to do whatever I need to do to get us back to where we were at the beginning."
Hermione sank into the seat opposite to him, her bump making contact with the edge of the table.
"I'm sick of fighting all the time too." He met her gaze as she spoke, "I don't know how to fix it, but I need a bit of space to do so."
"Do you mean...?"
She sighed this time, "I think I should rent out a flat, maybe near the consultancy. Just for me. We can split Rose's weekends between us."
"Wait, are you breaking up with me?"
"No! No. I just think I need some space to figure out what we need to fix this. I'm tired Ron. I'm pregnant and running my own business and I'm coming home every night to silence our bedroom and yell at each other so Rosie doesn't hear."
She stood and began to head upstairs. Ron followed her.
"I just, maybe you could stay in the guest room? Or I could?" His voice betrayed his panic, and Hermione swung around and grabbed him by the shoulders.
"Ronald!" Deep breath, happy place, "I am not leaving you! It's just... a break. We both need a break. Now. I am going to pack a bag, and I'm going to stay at Harry's tonight. We'll figure things out tomorrow on a decent night's sleep. Okay? Okay."
Ron nodded mutely and watched in silence as Hermione packed her battered but functional beaded bag with a few key items.
"I'm sorry Ron." She held her hand up to his cheek and he leaned into it, closing his eyes. "This isn't final. We just... can't keep this up. I'm going to burn out."
With that, she was gone.
AUTHORS NOTE: Hi all! Thanks for all the views. This chapter took lots of mulling over because I didn't want to force it. Let me know if you think I've succeeded. I firmly believe that Ron and Hermione were not compatible characters, but I also think they'd stick it out for a long time out of sheer stubbornness. I don't like fics where either of them end up cheating on each other because I think it would be unlikely IRL, so I'm trying to bring about a natural end to the relationship.
Please review! Let me know what you think! I love hearing from you guys :)
~Alycat
