Hermione woke up having cat-hair in her mouth and hearing some stroll through their room. She opened her eyes to find Shirona waving her bushy tail into her face. Well, that explains Draco. Her husband was still sleeping soundly.
She didn't realize that something didn't add up until she was bitten in her toe. Hermione shrieked and a strong gust of wind sent the intruder straight through the shoji-screens ripping the paper as a consequence. Lucius looked at her with a raised brow.
"There was a fucking chicken in my room, biting my toe!"
Lucius rolled his eyes. "My witch is afraid of chicken! And I call her tiger."
"It wasn't eating you alive," she defended herself.
"They are hardly considered dangerous."
"They're omnivorous and at times they turn to cannibalism! What the hell was it doing in my room anyway?! And where does it come from?"
"This idiotic elf of yours probably forgot to pull its feathers," the wizard answered matter of factly. Looking at all the feathers lying on the floor ant the hole in the paper screens he added, " With a greeting like this I highly doubt it will return, birds are in general quite intelligent."
"How come you're not shocked that there was a chicken in your bedroom, I mean it was a bloody chicken! And why is it always my elf if their work isn't to your liking?"
"Why should I be surprised? There is always that one that is just too Gryffindor for its own good. It does something stupid and gets itself killed."
"You think it's hurt? Should I go look for it? I mean, it might need healing..."
"It is just a chicken. We probably have dozens of them roaming the land."
Hermione opened her mouth to protest.
"Seriously witch, the animal is all right and if not you may consider it as an offering to the wild foxes."
"You're cruel. Why do we even have chicken?" Hermione asked.
"They call you the brightest-witch-of her-age, you surely know what chicken are for."
"I do. I just don't know why we need to have them. We could simply go to the supermarket and buy eggs and meat... OH shit! How could I've missed that! There are no wizard-supermarkets and if witches shopped at muggle ones it would be impossible to remain hidden. Damn! I feel so stupid. I mean, I knew the Weasleys raised chicken and you remember that basilisk-incident you caused, Hagrid kept complaining that someone killed his roosters... the whole time it was right before my eyes yet I missed it."
"I take it, muggle do not raise chicken."
"No, the majority does not. Of course, the produce has to come from somewhere, but during WWII agriculture industrialized and nowadays very few people work as farmers. Also, a lot of food is imported from countries with lower production and labor costs. Most Muggle life in cities where there is simply not enough space to grow their own crops. I should have known. I mean, that explains Ron's obsession with grilled chicken. Since the 50s, the broiler-industry took of and muggle raise them intensively, that's why chicken is now cheap. My dad refused to eat it because of its poor quality. When I was little I thought that you are supposed to eat chicken broth when you're sick because they're fed so many antibiotics. Turns out, most of those illnesses are viral, the chemicals don't survive cooking and chicken broth has no health benefits whatsoever."
The former Death Dater started to laugh wholeheartedly. It was an unfamiliar sound. She hadn't known he could laugh like that. It was so human. Silly witch, of course, he could laugh. Even with all his flaws, he was still a human being. The young witch hid beneath her blanket. She couldn't face him it was too humiliating. Hermione felt as if she had just proven all the racists she fought so hard against right. She definitely wasn't a muggle but she wasn't a real witch either.
It should have been suspicious that no matter how much time she had spent with the Weasleys she never heard Molly say something like 'George take your broom and fly to the supermarket, I've run out of flour' or 'How often have I told you to pick up a loaf of bread after you used it up!'. She hated it when she messed up.
Lucius pulled her blanket away. "You know, frankly speaking, I have never wondered where muggle get their food from. I knew there are no kitchen gardens in London or the other cities I've been to, but since I usually eat out, the question never arose."
"That's different! You're a pureblood supremacist. I, on the other hand, always thought to be tolerant and open-minded."
He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply.
"Get dressed, we could have breakfast together before I head to the office."
"You have an interesting definition of holidays," Hermione stated.
He looked at the tome the young witch had picked for some light reading, 'Detailed Arithmancy for Experts' by A. Singh. "Clearly, it is I who as an unusual concept of holidays."