Letting the Cat out of the (mixed) bag

Disclaimer- I own nothing but the plot, and Healer Randolf.

A/N - sorry for the delay. School's started, and things are crazy. Also, TPTB have put me on Ritalin (non-ADD), and while it's fixing a ton of things, it's curtailing my desire to write. Sorry about that.

Figured you'd rather see a story than a long author's note - much love to reviewers (you guys help so much), followers and those who favorite. I will do my level best to keep up with this story. Promise.

Healer Randolf regarded the blond aristocrat on the floor for a moment before he elected to leave the man unconscious. While young Mister Malfoy had a right to be concerned, Randolf wanted to handle this issue efficiently. And worried or not, it was obvious Mrs. Malfoy was the better choice for a brainstorming session.

Level-headedness and patience have their limits, though, and the former heroine had reached hers, waving a delicate hand in front of the Healer's face after he pondered a moment too long.

"Randolf-" Hermione snapped her fingers. "RANDOLF! There's a bloody cat inside of me. Focus, would you?"

The Healer shook his head, doing his best to forget the increasingly absurd questions his mind was devising, "My apologies, Mrs. Malfoy. I was just trying to picture a situation that could be responsible at the moment."

"...cat?" was heard from the floor. Draco stood up shakily next to Hermione, looking desperately at her for confirmation that this wasn't a joke. Fear was evident in her face. Malfoy spun on his heel toward Randolf, eyes blazing. "A cat. How did we wind up with a fucking house pet in my wife's uterus?"

Hermione laid a hand lightly on her husband's arm. "Sir, I had a mishap in Second Year at Hogwarts involving Polyjuice Potion and a cat hair. That couldn't be the cause of the problem, could it?" Tearful brown eyes locked on the Healer. For the first time since things went sideways, Randolf was able to smile reassuringly.

"Mrs. Malfoy, I highly doubt one Polyjuice misadventure would have such lasting effects. This, erm, situation will require quite a bit of creative thinking. We need to find some way to keep your daughter's...claws from puncturing the amniotic sac." He recast the diagnostic spell to ensure the fetus had two legs and no tail, and proceeded to cast a stasis charm, hoping it would hold until he could find a better solution. Randolf pursed his lips as he looked up at the mother-to-be.

"I also must forbid natural delivery; I do not believe it would be safe for Mireille to try to come through the birth canal. She could do some serious damage in the stress of the moment."

Hermione winced at the thought and nodded in agreement, watching as the elder man began to pace the length of the small room.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, are either of you aware of any Animagi in either of your family trees; particularly one who assumes any type of feline form?"

"Sirius Black, a cousin on my husband's maternal side, used to turn into a large dog," Draco raised an eyebrow as his wife continued, "and another cousin in the Black family, Nymphadora Tonks, was a Metamorphagus. I'm Muggleborn, so obviously my relatives lack the ability. Draco, do you know of anyone else in the Blacks or Malfoys?"

"Not counting the time I was forcibly transfigured into a ferret, no," the blond responded dryly.

"No cats, though?" Healer Randolf tapped a quill against his lip as he awaited the response.

Hermione looked pensive. "The only cat I can ever remember seeing was Professor McGonagall, but neither of us is related to her."

Both Malfoys noticed how quickly their Healer paled. "Wait here, please. I need to check something."

He left the room, and the frightened young couple could hear voices faintly drifting through the door, though individual words remained unclear. Draco gripped his wife's hand as they did their best to make out what was being said. The only thing they could get with any clarity was 'cat.' Minutes later, Randolf re-entered the room.

"I am awaiting a response to a query. It is best if you go home at this time. Please be ready to return here at a moment's notice, and contact me immediately if anything else strange occurs."

Thoroughly flummoxed, the Malfoys departed. Once Draco had Hermione settled in her room, he Floo-called Blaise.

"Draco? What's wrong? I haven't seen you look this bad since sixth year."

The blond ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Just get over here. I need to talk to you."

Zabini stepped through, assessed Malfoy, and headed straight for the liquor cabinet. Doubles appeared to be in order.

"So what's this all about? Is Hermione okay?" Blaise crossed the room, pressing a glass in his mate's hand. Draco accepted it gratefully.

"That remains to be seen. She's physically unharmed for the moment, but Blaise... During the appointment, Mira turned into a cat."

Blaise raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Really, Draco. If you don't want to talk about it, just say so. That was bizarre even for you."

Malfoy's jaw tightened as he glared, "I'm not fucking kidding, Zabini. My daughter is a goddamned feline!"

"You're serious."

A nod.

"Really, honest-to-Merlin, no-screwing around serious."

"I swear on my son."

"Damn. I know we used to kid about Granger having kittens back in school, but this is ridiculous."

"Blaise..."

"Wait, I'm trying to envision future family gatherings. Will she be chastised if she starts washing herself in front of company?"

"Goddamnit, Zabini..." Draco shot him an exceptionally filthy glare.

"She'll likely be popular as a teen; she'll be flexible enough to put the Greengrass sisters to shame."

"ENOUGH!" The distraught father lunged, and missed. Blaise had many years' experience winding up his best friend.

"What is wrong with you, you freak? How can you sit there making jokes about my unborn child?"

"Coping mechanism," Blaise waved a hand dismissively. "Honestly? I'm still having trouble believing this. Are you sure it isn't some elaborate joke on Hermione?"

"No way. My father and wife have almost no-holds-barred in their weird little war, but I feel confident he had nothing to do with this."

"Have you told him yet?"

"No. You're the only one so far. I wasn't ready to deal with my parents' reaction, and I don't know how we'll share any of this with her folks. Randolf sounded like he'll be calling us back in soon. Judging by his reaction, I believe he has a theory, and it isn't good."

The duo drank in silence for a while until Blaise spoke again.

"What should Pans and I get for a christening gift? I can't decide between onesies or a scratching post."

"Fuck off, Zabini."

"Hang in there, Drake."

An owl arrived two days later:

Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy:

Please Floo to my office at 2:00 tomorrow. Do not be alarmed by your fellow attendees.

D.H. Randolf

Malfoy crumpled the letter as he paced. "Fellow attendees? What the actual hell? Mira's condition's going public?"

"Don't panic, Draco. At least not until we see who else is there tomorrow."

They arrived at the clinic only to find the Healer waiting with all of the magical donors used on Hermione and Mireille. An assistant seated the expecting parents as Randolf strode to the front of the room.

"If you remember, I informed you that in this case, we had a wider pool of witches and wizards than utilized previously. I also told you that an abnormally large amount of energy was expended. It goes almost without saying that you are among the most powerful magical folk of your time, from both the Light and the Dark. There was also an unusual numerological aspect at work."

"Thank you Captain Obvious. What does all of this mean?"

Hermione shushed Draco and turned back to Randolf apologetically.

"It means that there has been at least one unexpected side-effect. Frankly, I would prepare for more as the baby grows."

"What kind of side-effects, exactly?" Lucius asked the question on everyone's mind.

"Mireille has taken on the aspect of a Feline Animagus already, which is a talent of Headmistress McGonagall's. There is an excellent chance the baby will assume other abilities or personality traits from donors due to the intensity of the energy transference. The reason I called all of you here today is simple: I would like for each of you to list any talents, strengths, or dominant personality traits you carry, so that we might predict any future surprises."

Harry raised his hand.

"Excuse me - what did you mean by the numerological aspect?"

"Good question, Mr. Potter. There were a dozen witches and wizards, and Hermione made 13. While powerful, 13 can be something of a wild card."

George Weasley chuckled softly to himself as he worked on his list. The noise drew attention, and he looked up to find the entire room eyeing him suspiciously. He shrugged and addressed Hermione.

"Chin up, Mione. It could be worse; I was just thinking of what Fred would say if he were here. Imagine, you could have had both Weasley twins involved. I wonder what the baby would have been capable of then."

Draco snorted. "Probably a talent for pyrotechnics, passable ability at Quidditch, and providing an answer to the question of how young one can be when sent to Azkaban." George grinned. Hermione rolled her eyes at both of them.

"Healer Randolf?" It was Harry again.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"What about anything I acquired from Voldemort's accidentally leaving a piece of his soul in me? As far as I know, I lost it when he killed that part of himself."

"It isn't likely to transfer, but list it just in case."

"I wonder if your daughter will have the ability to see unusual creatures," came dreamily from Luna. "I do hope the Nargles and wrackspurts will leave her alone. It was most inconvenient to keep losing my shoes." The delicate blonde shrugged to herself and continued working on her parchment. George caught Draco's eye and smirked.

"Bet those pyrotechnics are looking pretty good right now."