Narcissa sat beside her husband and sighed. The healers assured her he was in no pain. The magical coma was allowing him to heal. She grimaced and stared down at the ground. The sterile environment made everything seem so stark. She wanted to make the room more hospitable, but the staff had refused to allow it. They left her with nothing to do but wait and think. She wasn't best pleased by her own thoughts.
"She left. I did not see her to thank her." She twisted her hands together in her lap. "We are beholden to her. She's given us a real chance to regain our status in society. Draco and Adrien Martel have entered into negotiations with the Ministry."
Narcissa looked at Lucius. He hadn't moved or reacted. The healers were quite sure that he was unaware of his surroundings.
"She's given us so much. What can we possibly do for her?I know she loved the other version of you." Narcissa glanced up to the ceiling. "I know this other version loved her. I wonder what you will remember. I hope you aren't upset. I want you to be able to look back on the time with fondness. You did nothing wrong. I am glad there was some kindness and warmth in your life. I'm glad you weren't alone. Living without you was miserable. Draco did all he could, but there is only so much a son can do."
One of the healers entered the room and checked on Lucius with a couple of flicks of her wand. The witch didn't acknowledge her in any way. Narcissa settled her gaze on the witch's collar. The rumpled floral print rose above the lime green of the healer's robes. It wasn't lovely or surprising. The crushed fabric looked dowdy at best. When the healer left, Narcissa relaxed.
"Andromeda has written me. Apparently, Granger asked her to assist me." The blonde witch looked at her husband again. "I haven't responded yet. I do not know that I should. I want Meda back in my life, but I owe so much to Granger. I've taken so much from her. How do I repay the debt?"
She knew that Lucius wasn't able to hear her or to offer her any counsel, but sitting beside him and saying the words aloud offered some comfort.
Claude looked around the Spartan abode and sighed. Hermione's stubborn nature was out in full force. She wasn't purchasing new furniture. She'd bought the building outright, but she wouldn't let him do more than conjure a temporary chair for his own use.
"The man you love would not have wanted you to live like this." Claude gestured to the empty rooms around them. "Where are you sleeping?"
"I have a sleeping bag." Hermione shrugged. "It's enough."
"You have a real bed at my house. I could bring it here." Claude sighed. "Or perhaps you could move in with me again until you are ready to furnish the space."
"I wish I could." She twisted the fingers of her left hand into the curls hanging at her shoulder. "I know he isn't coming back, but changing things or leaving here feels wrong. I miss him so much."
"Emotions are dastardly beasts." Claude frowned. "You need a project to distract you. There has to be something to help you through this quagmire."
"We could find the others. I don't trust the Ministry to handle this." Hermione chewed on her lower lip. "They may need serious help. If their magic has splintered…."
Claude nodded. She didn't need to expound upon that particular tragedy. He looked around the room and considered this course.
"Are you sure that this is what you want to do?" Claude frowned. "Helping them will not bring your man back."
"It is the right thing to do." Hermione sighed. "I don't have to treat them. We could arrange for them to go Osorezan. The Ministry may be destroying these individuals."
"That is true." Claude nodded slowly. "I am sure your former master will be giddy at the chance to muck around in their minds and their magic."
"He likes interesting cases." Hermione shrugged. "Can you blame him?"
"Anyone that has lived as long as Asa has needs to find something interesting. Nicholas Flamel was much the same." Claude shrugged. "Though his method of extending his life did not provide him with a young and healthy body."
"Are you jealous?" Hermione arched a brow at him.
"Non." Claude waived his hand. "Age is good on a wizard. It keeps one humble."
He smiled as his daughter chuckled and wrapped her arms around him. He would see her through this. This witch, his glorious gift of a daughter, would rise up from this. He knew it deep in his old, old bones.
Kingsley Shacklebolt stared down at the parchment in his hands. Even with Malfoy Magisterium brewing round the clock, there was a shortfall in potions available to Saint Mungo's. He tossed the parchment down and leaned back in his chair. He knew that Draco Malfoy had hired several new potioneers recently, but there was only so much one company was capable of doing.
"We should appeal to Hermione directly." Percy Weasley tapped his wand against his copy of the parchment. "I doubt she meant to give Malfoy this much power."
"We bungled things there." Kingsley sighed. "She might not take well to another approach. The ICW ruling wouldn't allow for formal contact anyway."
"I know Ginny and Mum were going to approach her about Ron's predicament. I could send a letter with them." Percy looked a bit eager.
"We can't bend the law that far." Kingsley sighed. "We abducted the daughter of a foreign pureblood family. The French Minister is less than pleased. Their laws are different than ours. If the Martels invoke a blood feud, things could get very uncomfortable for us."
"She's a British citizen." Percy tapped his wand on the parchment in his left hand. "There are laws that could be used to compel her." Percy pulled out a parchment and handed it to Kingsley. "As a muggleborn female with no formal affiliation to an English Pureblood house, the Ministry can act in her best interest and assign a guardian. The guardian would act in her best interests. If we assign the right guardian, she need not be bothered with the trivialities."
"This is still on the books?" Kingsley looked over the law in his hands. "Why?"
"It was slated for review next year." Percy shrugged. "It would allow us the chance to produce more potions. The ICW can handle the questions that arise between the French laws and our own. It could take them years to resolve the issues. Years that our people will have access to much needed potions."
"The Malfoys might complain." Kingsley glanced back at the parchment. "They might stand as her representatives or sponsors."
"They won't make much of a fuss if we let Lucius go home but reserve the right to put him back in Azkaban if there are any problems." Percy's lips twitched slightly upward as he spoke. "Combined with the negative press they would surely receive if they tried to limit the populations supply of potions, I believe they will avoid championing her."
Kingsley felt his gut churn.
"I don't like this." He shook his head slightly. "It feels like we are putting expedience ahead of what is right."
"Using the older potion formulations is extending treatment time at Saint Mungo's by a third." Percy frowned. "Importing the potions from other countries would stretch our budget too far. Buying from Malfoy Magisterium is affordable, but their production is limited. What other options do we have?"
Harry stared at the documents on his desk and broke into barking laughter. He saw several of his coworkers staring at him and shrugged it off. He'd been inundated with negativity lately. This was a treat.
"By the horns of the God, Sirius, you old dog," Harry muttered as his laughter faded. "You made me laugh from beyond the grave."
He slid his godfather's will back into its leather envelope and ran his hand along the embossed seal of the House of Black. None of it mattered now. Narcissa was done with him. He'd felt the debt lift. Someday, he'd tell Hermione and they would laugh. Someday, when she would be less inclined to hex him on sight.