Hello again! I've lost track of days, has it been 3-4 days? I think maybe so. KEZZ, thanks for your persistent kudos! And thank you RevQ for the wonderful review! I appreciate the props for a good Lumione work. Welcome aboard all new followers and Favorites!

THBS, I hope it's just the time of year or something, but two reviews for two new chapters does not a happy author make! Seriously, over 200 people (maybe closer to 300, hard to tell from viewer counts) are reading this fic. I am craving feedback-those reviews are so great to receive, and it really inspires me to persevere and rework when stuff doesn't come out right, to tweak and scribble and edit as fast as I can. I know that we all have real lives and other things to do, but just a single sentence of "loved it!" or "didn't see that coming" or SOMETHING is just so very, very appreciated. If only 10% of you readers hit the review button and did that, wow it would make my day!

Ok, things are moving along. If you were waiting to find out what happened to Lucius, here you go. The end draws nigh, folks. Probably not for another five or six chapters, but I can see it coming now. As always, I own nothing except my plot & original characters, the rest belongs to the talented JKR. Please let me know what you think!


Thérèse's face was a mask of annoyance as her nephews slung curses around her parlor, her only action thus far a flick of her wand to cast a shield charm around herself. "Men!" she harrumphed to herself, waiting for the right moment.

At last, she saw that Bertrand was close to the head of the table, while Lucius was moving just past a row of armless side chairs along the oval table.

"Piertotum locomotor incarcerare!" The chairs leapt to life, grabbing both nephews. "Expelliarmus!"

Thérèse's wand was lightening fast, and she was holding both of her nephews' wands in her left hand, her look one of disgust before it faded to an expression of innocent fatigue. She dropped the wands with a clatter onto her table, then drooped fashionably into the closest chair, placing her hand across her eyes. "Iribe!"

Her house elf popped into view, his eyes wide as he took in the two wizards struggling ineffectively in the chairs. "Yes, Madame?"

"I require my special coffee immediately. My nephews have displeased me greatly."

"At once, Madame!" the house elf assured her, winking out of view as Thérèse peeked through her fingers at her nephews. They had wisely ceased struggling against the chairs, which tightened at every motion, and were now glaring at each other hostilely. Bertrand saw her peeking and opened his mouth to speak, but Thérèse flicked her wand and cast a silent Silencio at him, and nothing came out. Lucius wisely shut his mouth after seeing that, and Thérèse resumed her dramatic swoon until Iribe popped back in with her Turkish coffee and an immaculately baked fresh cheese brioche. She watched Iribe pour the coffee several times to cool it off, and then sat up, abruptly business-like, and took a sip, the elf anxiously waiting.

"That will do," was her only comment, and the elf winked out again, leaving Thérèse to enjoy her breakfast in peace. The French doors to the patio were opened with a flick of her hand, and the sound of the birds outside was soothing. Harriet flew in and perched on the silver coffeepot, an odd, churring trill coming from its mouth. Thérèse sighed with annoyance, then flicked her wand toward both nephews, releasing them from their chairs and also undoing the silencing charm on Bertrand.

"Now, don't say a word. Sit nicely like good boys, as you don't have much time now."

Bertrand's expression was nearly malevolent, but since Thérèse had diddled the boy on her knee as a baby she was hardly afraid of him. Lucius was tight-lipped but under better regulation, but he did have the gall to ask, "Wand?"

"Not just yet, Lucius. I'm highly displeased with both of you, squabbling in my breakfast parlor like children! And after you've both been dancing around each other for weeks! I had thought you both more intelligent. Bertrand, Lucius, you are both working toward the same goal."

Both wizards looked highly skeptical, but at least they were smart enough to listen to what she had to say. Nodding her head, she continued, "You both fail to pay attention to the subtle clues, and I cannot wait to see more of this family shred itself. I am competent enough, but really, have you two learned nothing from all of the family history?"

Thérèse stood from her chair and swept toward the door. "Now, I am going to have a luncheon with Bedell at 1 pm. Perhaps, in the interim, the pair of you might get your heads out of your asses and figure out how that information might be useful to you?"

Satisfied that she had made her point, Thérèse moved her wand, sending both wands back to their rightful owners, hesistantly respectful expressions on their faces. Yes, it was good to be queen of the family circle sometimes.

Lucius and Bertrand both stood, brushing off invisible dirt and lint from their impeccable attire.

"Well, that old witch must have more than the one nightjar," Bertrand said with a huff. "I placed a tracking charm on her bird ages ago, and that—" he flicked his eyes toward the bird that was watching them with interest, "—is not it."

"One hundred and sixty and still a master," Lucius said haughtily. "I don't know if I hate her more or want to kiss her cheek."

"Both, I imagine," Bertrand observed, then turned up his nose to his cousin. Lucius returned the gesture with a haughty gaze of his own, both staring warily at each other. A house elf popped in, almost driven to its knees by the weight of an ancient stone pensieve.

"Mistress says, 'Use it!'" the house elf stammered, then disappeared again before either wizard could hex it.

"Well I'm not trusting that thing of hers," Lucius sniffed, "But if you're willing to come back to the chateau, perhaps we could put each other's recent memories to the test."

"Why should I trust your pensieve instead of mine?" Bertrand countered coolly.

"Because last night I saw you fucking your mistress into the carpet. And if that wasn't you, I suspect you damn well better see what else 'you' have been up to," Lucius replied calmly, smoothing his gloves. "Or do you want to pretend your haircut had absolutely nothing to do with belated Polyjuice prevention?"

Bertrand swore under his breath, so softly that Lucius only caught a few words, "…murder….bastard…"

"Shall we?" Lucius asked.

With a curt nod, the cousins briskly exited the house, while Thérèse watched them from an upstairs window. "They always did learn faster than their fathers," she said to herself with a single amused chuckle.


It had been three days since Frederica Hayes had been admitted to St. Mungo's. Hermione stayed home the first day, allowing Scorpius to practically destroy the salon with a massive set of magical tiddlywinks. It was amusing and distracting, both of which she sorely needed. Hermione felt she had erred in not letting Draco summon Lucius with the signet ring, but the next second she was cursing herself for being so stupid as to go to the States alone, and dreading what he would say to her when he came back.

After Draco got pissed with her during dinner when she peppered him with questions about Dr. Hayes' condition, he finally left the table before he would really hex her. Astoria was left to try to smoothe over Hermione's hurt feelings, letting the witch cry on her shoulder.

"I'm just so guilty…that poor woman, she had no idea what was happening, and now she's lost her baby… Do you know she told me they had been trying for so long to have one? It just makes it even worse, and when I think of how they will Obliviate her and she won't even know the real reason why…"

"Why do you do that to yourself? Not everything is your fault, Hermione. That's why Draco gets so annoyed with you—he calls it your martyr complex." Astoria had not been in Slytherin for nothing—this was a very manipulative move to hopefully push Hermione away from her self-pity and into anger.

"That ferret! Apologies, Astoria—but your husband can be such a—such a git!" Hermione said, her head snapping up fiercely.

"Kind of like your husband, hmm? I wonder where Draco learned it from," Astoria said drily and watched Hermione scowl.

"I suppose you think I should just shrug about that poor scientist, say 'oh well', and let Mungo's deal with her and the aftermath. That would be the Slytherin thing to do," Hermione said just a little unkindly.

"Go and visit her then. They can't Obliviate her until she's past the curse breaking, so you could talk to her first. For all you know, she doesn't blame you at all. And there must be hazards associated with Muggle research, surely they have their own version of crazy people running around occasionally," Astoria said.

Hermione sat up, fresh determination on her face. "Yes, I should do that. It's my fault she is there, I could at least see what I could do to make it easier for her. Maybe we could get a special dispensation from the Wizengamot to help her get pregnant again. I'm sure there is something to be done."

"I'm sure you will find the right course of action—it is very Gryffindor of you," Astoria said, and twisted her lips deprecatingly when Hermione got up and left for her room. Unless she missed her guess, Hermione was about to send off some important owls. She looked up at the corner and saw Draco end his disillusionment spell, a smirk on his lips as he walked slowly over to her, then leaned over her chair.

"You're über-hot when you're being sneaky," Draco said, then pulled his wife into a passionate kiss. "Mind if I put a bit more Slytherin in you?"

"Yes please," Astoria said, running her hand over his bum. Say what you will about them, but the Malfoy men were sexy beasts.


"May I come in?"

There was no response from the woman in the bed when she knocked at the doorframe. Frederica Hayes just continued staring out the window, and Hermione sighed and closed the door behind her. "I wanted to apologize to you, for dragging you into this nonsensical, messed up world."

The professor's eyes finally met Hermione's as the witch took a seat next to the bed, gently placing her wand on the bedside table beside Frederica Hayes. "That is my wand. It chose me when I was eleven years old. I was born to non-magical parents, and since leaving school I have identified the genes responsible for magical abilities. It has caused quite an uproar in our community, worldwide. I'm afraid there are those who are afraid of what that knowledge represents, and they are attacking anyone who is working with it. And you have unfortunately been caught in the crossfire."

"I'm not supposed to know about this, am I?" Frederica asked, her intelligent eyes reading Hermione easily. "So what happens next? I already know about the miscarriage, kind of hard not to notice that when I woke up."

Her voice was bitter, and it just twisted Hermione's heart a little bit more. "Ordinarily you would have been transferred to a Muggle—that is, non-magical—hospital. But there are some lingering effects from the curse, and they need to keep you here for a bit to be sure they've taken care of it all. Otherwise…there could be unpleasant consequences."

Frederica gingerly tried to sit up a bit on her bed, and Hermione leaned over to help her.

"Why don't you just use magic to do that?" The bitterness was still there, but the indefatigable scientific curiosity was there, too.

"Because I don't think you're very comfortable with magic." Hermione picked up her wand and flicked it toward the window, making a rainbow appear. "It's an incredible gift."

"How do you keep it a secret?" Frederica asked. "Seems like this kind of thing would be hard to hide."

"More magic," Hermione said. "We have rules to follow, just the same as you do. Under ordinary circumstances your memory would already have been modified, but since you still need magical healing, and you have suffered a…trauma, they are going to wait until they can transfer you."

"What about my students? My partner? What happened to them?"

"I am not sure what happened to your students. I'll have to let an Auror tell you—our 'police', if you will. And I will ask if you can see your partner. I'm sure the Americans have communicated with her."

Frederica's eyes drifted toward the window. "So how often does this kind of thing happen? You know, attacking with murderous intent?"

Hermione was glad that she wasn't looking at her. "This isn't common. Don't worry, you're perfectly safe here."

"I was perfectly safe in my office too," Frederica said quietly, then her eyes drifted back to the window. "I'm tired now. And I really want to speak to Katie."

Hermione could see the glimmer of unshed tears and knew the woman was trying to hold herself together. "I'll speak to the Aurors about it immediately. I have…some pull in the Ministry."

Frederica nodded and Hermione left the woman in peace, resolving to send Harry himself to America to fetch the woman's partner if necessary. Her Auror team trailed along behind her, an unpleasant reminder of just how tenuous her situation remained.

"Merlin, Granger, can't I get away from you at work?" Draco griped as he came down the hall, waving his wand at a quill that was taking notes for him. "Please tell me you aren't here to indulge your guilt trip."

"I'm looking for Harry or Ron," Hermione said, ignoring his implied question entirely. She was not beholden to Draco just because Lucius was away. "I don't suppose you've heard from Lucius?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "As a matter of fact, I received some business correspondence from him this morning."

"And you didn't tell me?" Hermione's voice had risen, attracting the attention of several passing wizards and witches. The corridors of St. Mungo's were roomy, but not that roomy.

"Shut up. I will show it to you this evening, all right? Some of us haven't been suspended from our jobs, so if you don't mind, I need to get back to doing mine—and that includes tending your Muggle friend."

"No need to be such a git, Malfoy. Just because she's higher in Daddy's affections doesn't mean you have to berate her," Ron said in his affable manner as he walked up to them, his partner following behind. Ron grinned when Malfoy's eyes narrowed, the barb obviously hitting home.

"Weasel," Draco said coolly, then brushed past both of them on his way to Frederica's room.

"Unpleasant as always," Ron said. "Well I suppose he's good with his patients, but some snarky habits are hard to break."

"Ron, I need to get Frederica's partner here from America. If she has to stay in St. Mungo's, she should have her spouse with her."

Ron looked at her blankly. "What, 'Mione?"

"The American, Ron—the Muggle scientist. Her name is Frederica Hayes."

"Ah, right. Well, here comes Harry now. You can ask him yourself. I steer clear of all the international wizarding messes even if they involve one of my best friends. Plenty of homegrown ugliness to deal with," Ron observed.

"Usually a Malfoy involved somewhere." Hermione fixed Ron's partner with a stare, but he was unrepentant in his frankness. "Notwithstanding you of course, ma'am."

"What does he mean by that?" Hermione had just demanded of Ron as Harry walked up to them.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, noting the tenseness of Hermione's shoulders.

"I was taking exception to Mr. Severt's characterization of my husband," Hermione retorted.

"Um, the Muggle?" Ron said, and Hermione thankfully turned her brain to that topic.

"Harry, I need to ask a favor. I realize that it gives the Ministry the heebie-jeebies to allow a Muggle to go unObliviated, but it would really help Dr. Hayes if she could have her partner here for moral support. She's feeling very upset about the miscarriage and being thrust into a whole world of which she was unaware doesn't help."

Harry blew out a breath. "That's a lot to ask, Hermione. They are okay with her being here, due to the curse, but bringing in a non-hexed Muggle would probably cause a lot of shrieking in the Wizengamot."

"It would only be temporary, Harry. Both of them would be Obliviated when Dr. Hayes is discharged. And I realize that it's manipulative to ask you to do it, but I'm not exactly carrying much water around the Ministry these days, in case you hadn't noticed."

Harry raised his eyebrows at the bitterness in Hermione's tone, but he acquiesced. "Okay, Hermione, I will get it sorted, one way or another. Now, I was coming to ask you about Lucius' potions lab. Apparently there is a potion in there that would be useful for me, and obviously I can't get past the wards…" he trailed off as he took in Hermione's stunned expression.

"Excuse me, Harry, but did you just say that you've heard from my husband, and furthermore, that he said I'm supposed to help you get something out of his potions room?" Hermione asked.

"Um, yeah…I assumed you got an owl…" Harry had been married long enough to realize that he'd stepped on a very large landmine in his friend's marriage, and it was too late to rectify the damage.

"It's fine, Harry. I'm sure there are more important things to be dealt with," Hermione said, and Harry threw a glance at Ron for some help.

"I say, Hermione, it's my lunch hour and I need to pick out a few baby things for Lavender. I'm complete rubbish at this sort of thing—will you help me choose something suitable?"

"What, like soothers and things like that? I think you'd best let Lavender pick that out herself, Ron," Hermione said, her voice icy.

"No, I want to buy something completely impractical…you know, the kind of thing that is a bit of a splurge but it's so cute a new mom really wants one. And I haven't the foggiest idea what that would be, I just know I want her to have it," Ron explained, and Hermione's anger melted away. She wasn't mad at Ron, and it was adorable how he wanted to dote on Lavender. Heaven knew there was little 'extra' in the Weasley household growing up. It was sweet that he wanted to spoil Lavender.

"Oh, that's a good idea, Ron. I should get something like that for Ginny. You know, something unexpected. She and the baby deserve something special," Harry piped in, and Hermione mentally acknowledged how her best friends were falling all over themselves to make her feel better.

"All right, but let's go to Whimsic Alley. What you want will be expensive, and certainly frivolous—and Practic Alley is NOT the place to find that sort of thing," Hermione said, a small smile creeping onto her face. They were still such boys sometimes!

"Great! I'll just clear up this last report and I'll join you there," Harry said.

"Does this shopping trip include lunch?" Severt asked, and Hermione sighed. She was terrible at holding grudges, most of the time.

"Of course. Let's go."