Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Wizarding World.

Note: Soooo... Ron wasn't going to make an appearance in this fic at all, but he just kind of shoved himself into this chapter. There is a bit-ish of Ron bashing in one scene. Just a forewarning, in case you don't care for Ron bashing.

Chapter Two

For a baby cutting both of his top central incisors at the same time, Scorpius was perfect.

They'd arrived back in Hermione's flat precisely at seven-thirty, the one-year-old already asleep on her shoulder. She'd laid him in a cot in her bedroom before retreating quietly back to the flat's small sitting room, discarding her trainers next to the fireplace, then pulled off her scrub top and flung it across the back of the sofa. As her leftover stir fry reheated in a skillet, she pulled out the Crups case file and dropped it onto the tiny island countertop, flipping open the manila folder.

She sighed as her eyes scoured the top page for the tenth time just that evening, thinking back to her relatively heated discussion with Theo. She wanted this win. Needed this win. Theo said it was a start, a step in the right direction towards their mutual goal of equal rights for magical beings and beasts. It disgusted her, the discrimination and prejudice that still ran rampant in Wizarding society; werewolves were not rabid beasts, goblins were not inept with magic, house elves deserved to be paid for their work, and dragons were not creatures meant for spectacle. And those were just the basics.

The antiquated ideologies needed to be fought, and if that fight began with Crups, then so be it.

Tossing her stir fry until it sizzled, she replated it and began to eat, chewing slowly as her gaze focused on the name of the accused: Erik van Wyck. Harry had looked into him for her. The Netherlands native had a small residence in Ottery St. Catchpole, not too far from The Burrow, where he bred his Crups illegally. He had no criminal record, no immediate (or even extended) family, school records from Durmstrang showed an average student. It seemed – on paper, at least – van Wyck was a clean-cut guy just trying to make a living. Which, Theo had pointed out many times over the last two years, would give the Wizengamot cause to just slap him on the wrist, have him pay a fine, then register himself as a breeder. Hermione snorted. Well, fine. She'd make such a fuss,every illegal breeder in the bloody UK would know her name by the end of it.

She finished the last bite of her leftovers, closed the case folder, and set her dirty plate in the sink to wash in the morning. It was going to be another long day between her workload at the clinic then her night at the office. Wait, scratch that. Friday night meant drinks with Harry et al. at the Leaky. Hermione stretched her arms over her head, stifling a yawn. Maybe a drink is just what she needed. For… research.

Scorp woke early the next morning, gurgling and happy, and it further amazed her how well he was doing with his teeth. Part of her wondered if Draco had exaggerated the baby's fussiness, then concluded that since Draco was melodramatic on the best of days, he probably had.

She scrambled a couple of eggs, toasted some bread, plated some fresh berries, and shared a small breakfast with the baby before dressing in a clean set of scrubs, changing Scorpius' clothing, and walked down the street to Tesco's to buy ginger drops and a box of Twinings Lemon & Ginger tea for Tori.

It was barely seven in the morning by the time Hermione and Scorp Flooed to the Malfoys' country estate that Draco now called home. After the Ministry had seized the Manor and a large portion of their financial assets for war reparations, Narcissa thought it best they utilize one of the many other Malfoy homes in the country – and Hermione couldn't agree more; despite her obvious disdain for Malfoy Manor, Les Trois Prairies was simply breathtaking.

Meadow surrounded the cream-colored chateau, and surrounding the meadow was a dense forest, perfectly isolating the home. On the grounds of the estate, Tori and Narcissa prided themselves on their large vegetable and herb garden. Just beyond the garden sat an orchard of various fruit and nut trees planted in neat rows and greenhouses just beyond the orchard, which were charmed to grow a variety of plants year-round. A large pond on the outskirts of the grounds housed tilapia, feeding an aquaponics system of red, green, and purple lettuces. Had the chateau been Muggle and magic unavailable, a small solar farm would nicely round out the Malfoys' efforts; Les Trois Prairies was nearly self-sustainable, something Hermione greatly admired.

"Scorpius, my sunshine."

Hermione turned to the voice, slightly shocked to see a tanned Narcissa Malfoy lounging across a Louis XVI velvet chaise in gardening clothes that, had she not known the matriarch any better, looked brand new. Her long greying blonde hair was plaited elegantly, slung over her shoulder, the ends brushing the ancient chair's cushions and her sky-blue eyes crinkled at the corners with her wide smile showing bright, white teeth. She closed the book she'd been reading – Bees, Chickens, and Goats - Oh, My! Animals to Raise on your Homestead – and stood, holding her hands out towards the squealy baby.

"Good morning, Narcissa. I'm surprised to see you. Draco said you were in Cairo," Hermione said, handing Scorp off to his grandmother and placed kisses on the matriarch's cheeks.

"I was. I took a Portkey home last night. How are you, Hermione, dear?"

"Well, thank you. You didn't have to cut your trip short because of-"

Narcissa waved a dismissive hand, silencing Hermione, and nuzzled the giggly baby. "Oh, pish posh. It was just Cairo. Nothing I haven't seen before."

The corner of Hermione's lips curled up at Narcissa's nonchalance; of course to one of the wealthiest Wizarding families – regardless of the asset seizure nearly a decade prior – it was just Cairo; nevermind the furthest Hermione had ever been from home was to France on holiday before third year. One day, she mused.

A clock chiming the time had Hermione glancing at her wristwatch. Seven-fifteen. The clinic was to open at eight; she had multiple Muggle appointments that morning followed by a brood of Weasley Wizard Wheezes Pygmy Puffs to check on. Looking up at the pair, she smiled and held out the Tesco's sack.

"I'd love to hear all about Cairo over tea soon, but I need to go open the clinic this morning. There are some ginger drops and a box of tea in there for Tori. They should help with her morning sickness."

Narcissa took the bag and smiled again. "You're a dear, Hermione. Thank you for watching Scorpius for us last night."

"Truly, any time. He's always so good for me. I'll owl you my schedule for tea. I can't wait to hear about Cairo!" She leaned forward and kissed Scorpius on the cheek before stepping back, returning Narcissa's smile and with a wave, stepped in the chateau's Floo, exiting into her office at the clinic.

Seven-nineteen.

Good.

Just enough time to enjoy a cuppa.

And a good twice – fiftieth? – over of her case file.

"Alright, Muff, that's a good girl," Hermione murmured to the elderly Maine Coon as she withdrew the needle, laying it on a silver tray that sat on the table. She ran her hands through the cat's soft fur then smiled at the animal's equally elderly owner, Mrs. Embry. The squat woman stood, clutching her overly large handbag, her watery eyes focused on her only companion of the past eleven years.

"She'll be just fine, Mrs. Embry. Osteoarthritis is common in elderly cats, especially breeds like the Maine Coon. I'll need to see both you and Muff back in six months to repeat the injection process, but her joints should stabilize, and she'll go back to her mousing before long."

Mrs. Embry returned Hermione's smile, taking the younger woman's hand in hers, and squeezing. "I appreciate you, dear, more than you know. Especially helping an old broad like me out with the financials."

Hermione returned the woman's squeeze, then turned to usher the cat into her carrier. "Please, Mrs. Embry, it truly is my pleasure."

Opening the door, Hermione allowed Mrs. Embry to exit the small exam room first before picking up the cat carrier and following her out. Amelie, Hermione's receptionist, smiled brightly at the woman before scheduling the feline's next appointment, then she followed the elderly woman out of the clinic to her modest car, setting Muff's carrier in the back seat.

"Take care, Mrs. Embry. Please ring us if you have any questions or feel like Muff needs to be seen sooner."

Mrs. Embry's blue eyes fell on Hermione's face and she smiled sweetly, cupping her cheek with a soft hand. "Thank you again, dear."

"You are very welcome. Please drive carefully."

Hermione turned and walked back into the small clinic, flipping the 'Open' sign to 'Closed' as her last Muggle appointment for the day ended. She met Amelie's eye and nodded, then waved her wand and a disillusioned door appeared opposite the exam room Mrs. Embry and Muff earlier occupied.

"Is George here yet?" Hermione asked, looking at the time on her wristwatch. Half four.

"It's Ron today," Amelie stated, standing up from her chair behind the counter that served as the receptionists' desk and waved her wand over her head. Robes replaced her scrubs and her long black hair untwisted from its braid, tumbling down her back in waves. The woman's deep brown eyes met Hermione's, a whisper of a smile touching her lips.

Internally groaning, Hermione nodded once and stepped towards the magical exam room. "See you at the Leaky?"

"I'm picking Fred and Roxy up from The Burrow for George, but then I should be there."

"Oh, that's right. I forgot the Harpies had a game in Wales. How're they doing?"

"Top in the League," Amelie smiled. "Jones is retiring after this season, so Angelina's gunning for Captain."

"If anyone can do it, it'd be Angie."

Hermione waved at Amelie as she stepped through the office Floo, then sighed, tucking a loose curl behind her ear, a hand resting on the doorknob.

Ron.

They really haven't had the best relationship – romantic or otherwise - since she went back for 8th year. They tried after she completed N.E.W.T.s, only very briefly over the summer before her first term began at university, but he was constantly whinging that they rarely saw each other (despite Auror training keeping him and Harry in the field for days on end) and when they did, he would do nothing but complain about her friendship with Draco and Theo. After numerous bouts of jealousy and one-too-many rows, she called it off. For his sanity as much as hers.

Needless to say, Sunday dinner at The Burrow had grown awkward, especially after Molly embraced Theo like another son – and then Draco, by extension, despite the perceived history of hatred between the Weasley and Malfoy families.

Hermione twisted the knob and pushed open the door. It was eerily quiet, the simmering of a brewing potion lending the only sound to break the silence, which should have been the first sign that something was wrong. Pygmy Puffs, like their Puffskein cousin, were usually squeaky, squealy little things, but even the brood didn't make a peep.

The tension in the room was so thick, it was palpable.

In the larger magical exam room, a cage full of multi-colored Puffs sat on a metal exam table against a wall, their tiny, pinprick eyes staring at the redhead. In front of the table, Ron stood, his bulky arms crossed over an even bulkier chest with a scowl so prominent on his face, lines had etched themselves deeply into his pale, freckled skin. He didn't acknowledge Hermione when she stepped into the room, his gaze focused, instead, on something out of her line of sight.

"Ron?" she asked, then closed the door, following his gaze to the opposite side of the room where Theo stood wearing dark blue scrubs, a stir rod in hand, his eyes focused on the potion he was analyzing. Theo's head turned to look at Hermione when she closed the door, the briefest of exhausted smiles pulling at his lips.

"Is everything alright?"

"What's he doing here?" Ron grunted.

Hermione exasperatedly exhaled, her hands finding their way to her hips as she stood staring at Ron in disbelief. "Ron, this is ridiculous. You know Theo and I work together."

"Yeah, at Diagon. What's he doing here?"

"Ron," Hermione sighed, stepping over to the cage and opening it to grab a baby Puff. The teal fluffball squeaked as Hermione shined a pen light in its eyes. Satisfied that the Puff seemed healthy, she sexed it, then set it in a wicker basket with an obnoxious pink bow.

"Ron, you know-"

"I wasn't asking you, Nott. I was asking Hermione," Ron said, cutting the other man off. Hermione heard the stir rod hit the side of the cauldron, and she turned, cupping a magenta-colored Puff between her hands.

"I don't think it matters who you asked, Ron. I assist Hermione at the clinic a few times a week, especially when she has magical cases. George was on the schedule today, not you, so I figured I'd come to see if Hermione needed help with the brood. Besides-"

"Theo," Hermione interrupted, placing the Puff in a blue basket, "You do not need to explain. Ron knows this, he's just too hard-headed to really internalize any of it."

Ron huffed, and she turned to face him, her mouth set in a thin line.

"You've really got to stop this jealousy bullshit, Ronald. We haven't been an 'us' for years. There hasn't even really been a friendship for years. Let us do our jobs so you can do yours."

Ron's eyes narrowed at Theo before he set his gaze on her, his own mouth set in a thin line, then huffed again before turning and exiting the Forever Floo meant solely for magical appointments.

Hermione sighed heavily and closed her eyes, her forefinger and thumb pinching the bridge of her nose. "Theo, I'm-"

"Don't say you're sorry, Hermione. You can't control Ron or his… emotions. Let's get these Puffs checked out and I'll take them back to WWW."

"No, I should do it. I wouldn't want a big blow up at the shop if you happened to wander in and Ron is there."

Theo pushed his glasses up his nose and studied her. "It's Friday."

"And?"

"Drinks with Harry."

"Something you're supposed to attend, too."

"Fine," Theo conceded, "We'll deliver them back to WWW and just walk to the Leaky afterwards."

Hermione's lips curled up into a small smile and gathered Theo around his waist, squeezing him tightly. "I really am sorry about Ron. I've given up trying to figure out what his deal is."

Theo didn't say anything as he squeezed her back, then unwrapped her arms, taking a step back and looking her in the eyes. "It's fine. Ron's just a prat. Always has been, probably always will be. At least he comes from good people."

Hermione nodded, turning to pick up one of the many now-squeaky Puffs (a lime green one that seemed extra fluffy), checked it over, and placed it, too, in the blue basket. "Yes, at least there's that."

Checking the eighty plus Pygmy Puffs had taken the duo just under half an hour to finish before they stepped through the Forever Floo into WWW's back office, where George sat at an old wooden desk, a pair of spectacle loupes sitting on the tip of his nose. He looked up when they entered, smiled, and set his newest project down on the desk in front of him, the loupes following suit.

"Oooh, my ickle Puffywuffies," George cooed, taking the blue basket from Theo's hands, nuzzling the rainbow of furry creatures.

Hermione tried not to laugh, sharing a look with Theo, before setting the pink bow adorned wicker basket on a side table and settled her hands on her hips. "All healthy. You've got fifty girls and thirty-one bouncing baby boys."

George looked up her, propping the basket against his hip. "Brilliant. Thanks. Bill me?" Hermione nodded, noting when his gaze traveled to Theo, his carefree smile twisting into an apologetic one. "Sorry about Ron, mate. A shipment of Extendable Ears was sent to the Hogsmeade shop and I had to go fix that mess before Ames delivered the sprogs."

Theo held up his hand and shook his head. "Like I told Hermione, there's no need for an apology. Whatever issues he has with me is for him to deal with, not everyone else."

George opened his mouth to say something, but the Floo erupted, cutting him off, and a child-sized blur raced past her, flinging himself into his father's arms. "Da! Look what Nan and I made today!"

Little Freddy squeezed George's neck then leaned back, shoving a piece of parchment in his father's face. George laughed then held the picture away, his eyes crinkling in amusement as a puff of grey smoke rose from the art project.

"See? Nanny made my dragon blow smoke!"

"I see, Freddy! It's absolutely brilliant, mate!" George smiled, turning his gaze onto his four-year-old son. He lowered the boy to the floor, kissing his temple and ran a hand lovingly through the child's dark auburn, curly hair.

Hermione watched as Amelie lowered George's daughter, tiny Roxanne, to the floor and she toddled to her dad, her arms reaching for him. He scooped her up, planting kisses on her cheeks as she giggled, then – in a move reminiscent of Scorpius – patted George's cheeks between her tiny hands and gave him an open-mouth kiss on his forehead.

"Da!" Fred exclaimed, pointing excitedly to the baskets of Pygmy Puffs, "Oh, da! Can I finally have a Puff! Please!"

George chuckled, settling Roxy on his hip, and shook his head. "You know your mum said you can have a Puff when you you've shown her you can take care of your flobberworm."

Hermione held her hand over her mouth, stifling her laugh, and met Theo's eyes again as the boy groaned. "But dad! All he does is lay in his tank all day. He's no fun." Turning to Hermione, Fred blinked owlishly up at her. "Tell him, Auntie Mi! You know best! You're a vetted-in-arian!"

Smiling, Hermione knelt and cupped the boy's cheek. "Your da's right, Freddy. It's important to take care of the animals we do have before adding another to our family."

Fred pouted.

George smiled, his hand flopping down on Fred's shoulder and began to steer his young son out of the office. Looking back Hermione, Theo, and Amelie, he nodded in gratitude, then said, his voice fading as the family took the stairs to the shop's flat, "You have forgotten to feed him – twice!"

"But dad," Freddy grumbled, "He ate all of Nanny Molly's cabbages the last time I brought him with me. He doesn't need to eat anymore. Nanny said so."

George's laugh echoed in the empty shop.

Hermione and Theo transfigured their scrubs into more suitable Wizarding wear and walked with Amelie down Diagon Alley. The hustle and bustle of the day was starting to wind down, the cobblestone street only seeing a handful of feet as patrons scrambled to finish their daily shopping. Old shop keepers dragged their displays of wares into the stores from the street, mumbling about cheapskates and hagglers. Darlena Fortescue, the late Florean's niece, waved to them as they passed, then turned back to the metal sidewalk tables and cleansed them with a swish of her wand. Such a normal end to a normal day – really, to a normal week.

But Hermione couldn't help but feel anticipation rise as the trio entered into the already-rowdy pub through the hidden brick entrance. Her Crups hearing was on Wednesday, and she still had a lot to do. Some of which included… Ah, there he was.

Harry, still donning his Auror robes, carded a hand through his unruly black hair, his emerald eyes twinkling in the dim light that radiated from the lantern hung above the large booth currently loaded with ten of their closest friends.

Amelie grabbed Hermione's hand, and Hermione grabbed Theo's, as they wove through the thick crowd, people packed so tightly, it was a wonder Tom hadn't exceeded some kind of occupation limit.

When Harry spotted them, his eyes brightened, and he pulled Hermione into a bear hug. "It's so good to see you!"

Hermione laughed, letting go of Amelie and Theo's hands, returning his hug, then placed a kiss on Harry's cheek. "I just saw you on Sunday."

Harry bounced on the balls of his feet, his eyes alight in excitement. "I know, I know! But I've got some fantastic news! Ginny's pregnant!"

Hermione squealed and threw her arms around Harry's neck, pulling her oldest friend closely as she squeezed him. "Merlin! Ah! Congratulations!"

"It's a little unexpected, but I've wanted a third," Harry murmured in her hair, squeezing her waist in another tight hug.

"Congratulations, Harry," Theo said from behind her, and she pulled away as he offered Harry his hand.

He shook it, his smile brightening, then clapped Theo on the shoulder. "Thanks, mate!" Turning to the table, Harry rose his arms in the air to address their friends. "I'm going to be a father – again! Next round's on me!" The table erupted with cheers and wishes of congratulations.

"What's this I hear about another addition to the Scarhead Pack?" came a familiar drawl from behind Hermione. She twisted around as Theo smiled, pulling an opulently dressed Draco Malfoy – who was nursing a clear glass of Firewhiskey in the palm of one hand – into their little group.

A jovial belly laugh exploded out of Harry's mouth and he shook Draco's proffered hand. "That's right, mate. Looks like Hogwarts is destined for more Potter-Malfoy feuds in the future."

Draco's lips curled up into his signature smirk. "That is probably true."

A floating tray made its way to their table, wobbling slightly above the heads of the crowd with the uneven weight, the shots of Firewhiskey setting themselves down in front of their friends, and everyone rose their glasses to Harry.

"To Papa Harry, may the new sprog be mischievous!" shouted Seamus.

"Like the other two aren't already," Adrian laughed, winking at Hermione.

Hermione couldn't keep the small smile from playing at her lips. Adrian Pucey had joined the DMLE five years ago and quickly became friends with Harry, who integrated him into their strange throng of friends. Harry often laughed that they liked to collect stray Slytherins, which became even more evident when a previously unpleasant Marcus Flint was invited to drinks after a Ministry Quidditch game.

The mixing and mingling of Hogwarts Houses made pride swell in her chest.

"To Harry, may the babe not take after their uncles," Dean countered, side eyeing Seamus, then pulled his husband in for a chaste kiss. Hermione had a feeling Dean was referring to Seamus' uncanny ability to blow stuff up, which, in a strange twist of fate, had been a good thing as the Finnegans' equity investment in WWW nearly tripled in profit in less than two years.

The table laughed, and after other well wishes were merrily expressed, the group downed their shots then slammed the glasses down loudly on the wooden tabletop.

Hermione watched with a full heart as Harry flung his arms over Theo and Draco's shoulders, pushing them to sit at the booth, then turned to Hermione and gathering her into a one-armed hug, dragged her into the conversation. Everyone spoke loudly, pairs and triples breaking off into their own discussions, random patrons patting Harry on the back, also offering congratulations.

Her Crups – and van Wyck – talk with Harry could wait.

Times like these were worth it.

Author's Note: I am beta-less. Any mistakes are my own.

I am so sorry for the lengthy wait on this chapter. After I finished writing and then published a relatively dark one-shot/fest piece, my muse literally abandoned me. I couldn't write anything, couldn't think about another fic. I'm pretty sure I was in mourning. lol. Anyway, this was a bit of a filler chapter, but I wanted to show more of what Hermione does as a vet for both Muggle and Magical beasts, more interaction with her friends and bb Scorp, etc., but I hope it was worth the wait! That being said, there are a few major events that need to take place over the next couple of chapters before we head back to Romania. Thank you for sticking with the story, so far!

For reference: 'To sex' an animal is to determine if it is male or female.