Thank you to the reviewer who asked to clean up the narrative of how Narcissa died in chapter 1. You were correct, that was confusing. I've cleaned it up now, so please go back and tell me if it makes more sense (I hope it does).
Several of you are curious about the mix of magic and science. As a scientist IRL I will speak to that throughout, I assure you: hopefully in a way that is believable but not too full of technical jargon. A couple of you are already curious about Lucius' motives...you'll just have to keep reading! He's quite a handful, as is Hermione.
Since I haven't offered a disclaimer yet, I will simply state that the plot is my own, and give JKR all the magnificent credit for such a marvelous universe. Thank you, readers, for indulging in this flight of fancy with me. Please, review and tell me what you think!
Lucius was comfortably ensconced in his library when the scratch of an owl at the window interrupted his delicious revisit of the expressions of shock and horror on the face of one Hermione Granger when the implications of her work had been revealed to all and sundry. Her faith in the good sense of the Ministry was sorely misplaced and amazingly naïve given her experiences. Foolish girl, to think she could point out the possible extinction of their world and not see an immediate and highly intrusive response!
At least he had the small pleasure of knowing she would be subject to the same infernal law as the rest of them. If there were any justice (which of course there weren't), she would find herself saddled with some idiot of a husband like Neville Longbottom or Gilderoy Lockhart. Even the inhabitants of the "Severely Damaged" ward of St. Mungo's would not be exempted from the law. If they were still fertile, their 'contribution' was deemed important enough to secure through whatever means necessary. Lucius grimly wished that blithering idiot on Granger. Talk about poetic justice.
Swallowing the last of his elven wine in a huff, Lucius retrieved his wand and prepared to hex the unfortunate owl that blinked in the darkness. He had his wand at the ready, but the creature seemed to sense his intent and after he had released the scroll it landed a nasty bite on his left hand instead, beating a hasty retreat back into the darkness. Lucius fired a stunner but knew it had missed, and cursed the blasted bird with a stream of colorful invective before he banged the window shut and healed the gash on his hand, then removed the drops of blood from the carpet.
Scowling, he picked up the parchment and broke the wax seal: an otter. He sniffed. Granger.
Sir, I have been thinking about the statistical models that Jessamine must have developed for the Ministry to use. I would like to see them tomorrow morning. I believe she might have missed a variable or two due to the likely epigenetic influences in play in the expression of the recessive genes? It might save everyone a lot of worry and anguish, and at worst it represents no more than a few hours of my time.
There was a clear blot that had been hastily removed, its shadowy echo tinting the parchment as more words were hastily scrawled beneath it.
Lucius, please let me do this. It costs this department little, yet it could mean so much to so many. I will do it on my lunch hour if I must, but I MUST INSIST on looking at those equations!
Firmly,
Hermione Granger
Lucius swirled off, intent on going upstairs to fetch his eagle owl Ramses and sending him with a curt reply that told Miss Granger exactly where she could put her cheek. He stopped midway however and considered whether a better strategy was simply to watch Granger attempt to pick apart Jessamine's work and alienate her co-worker in the process. Did she think him a fool, to let the Ministry make such crucial decisions without a thorough check of Miss Miselle's work? Lucius' eyes were stormy grey. Granger had made the mistake of underestimating him, and he would be correcting that misunderstanding; Right. Now.
He turned into himself and disapparated with a crack. Miss Granger was in for an unpleasant surprise visit from her boss.
Hermione had just changed into a slouchy pair of lounge pants and a comfortable sweatshirt when she heard the pounding on the door, then not even a pause before her wards were systematically dismantled within the space of thirty seconds. Hermione whipped her wand out of her hair, causing the sloppy bun to unravel, but she was ready and met the angry eyes of Lucius Malfoy as he stalked into her living room, his wand twitching at the sight of her. Hermione did not want this to get out of hand, and fell back on humor in the hopes that it would cause him to rethink for a second, allow them both to stand down.
"A simple note saying 'no' would have sufficed!"
Her chest was fluttering with agitation from the deep breaths she was drawing but her wand hand was steady and pointed at him, Lucius noted, even as he kept his own wand aimed at the insolent woman.
"Your damn owl bit me!" he growled out, circling a few steps to the right. Hermione mirrored him in the opposite direction, but his remark seemed to rachet the tension down a few notches, because she tilted her head slightly and then slowly, carefully lowered her wand, watching to be sure he was doing likewise.
Finally, after a slow, twinned descent of their wands, Hermione said, "I apologize. Lucifer has always been the most ill-mannered owl."
Lucius nodded stiffly, but his body posture remained tense. Hermione was still gripping her wand tightly, but the elephant in the room had to be addressed.
"What does it matter to you if I look over Jessamine's equations? If the numbers are as airtight as you believe, then it will merely give me additional incentive to identify the epigenetic markers for the gene."
Lucius' eyes flashed with several emotions as he stalked over to her. Hermione stood her ground, but Lucius Malfoy could hover in quite an intimidating fashion. She felt a brief shiver of fear but refused to yield to it, and so remained where she was even as he came within an inch of her face.
"Do you not think it is bad enough that you have systematically destroyed any credibility or factual basis for a lifetime of beliefs, for the social basis of an entire world? Must you now grind my nose in it further, insisting that only the Golden Granger is capable of solving harsh puzzles, of taking all variables into account?"
He was harsh and biting even at such a low volume, and Hermione's eyes widened as she realized why Lucius had been so particularly interested in her work. He ignored the flash of realization in her eyes and pressed on relentlessly.
"Has it not occurred to you, Miss Granger, that I am verily the world's foremost expert on the variables of wizard behavior, including the likely response of the wizarding community to such revelations as yours? Even now you fail to account for the likely path on which you have inadvertently stumbled, self-righteously clinging to your work as if it were some shield against the baser instincts of others and the innumerable emotional consequences for every witch and wizard throughout Great Britain. You have spent this evening telling yourself that it will all be worth it in the end, haven't you?"
His voice was bitter and laced with venom, and Hermione took a step back, the vehemence in his tone making her feel slightly sick. He didn't attempt to stop her, merely pinned her with his quicksilver gaze as he continued in his scornful manner.
"Stupid little Mudblood! Damn Gryffindor, rushing in where fools and angels fear to tread!" Lucius knew his control over his anger was slipping now, and he turned away from her and bit down hard on his fist. The pain cleared his head and he whipped back toward her, surprised to find she had moved closer to him again.
"I'm sorry." Her eyes were mournful and the words held a wealth of meaning. Lucius allowed himself to appreciate that honesty for a millisecond before he hardened again, the cold seeping back into his voice.
"Yet, I think you have no idea how very sorry you will be, Hermione Granger. I only hope you live to feel the grief of it." His voice was more poisonous than an adder's, raw hatred on his face. "Come to my office tomorrow, Granger."
With that curt command, he twirled and disapparated on the spot, leaving Hermione with a lump in her throat and a worrisome plague of troubled thoughts that kept her awake late into the night.
The next morning was oddly anticlimactic, which served paradoxically to reinforce Hermione's unease. Lucius had presented her with Jessamine's neatly stacked sheaf of equations, not saying a word. Hermione had taken them and spent the morning going over all the equations with a fine toothed comb, checking, double checking, then triple checking to ensure that everything was properly represented. When that failed to produce a change in the results, she did what Professor Vector would do, and went through deliberately making the most likely errors, then compared the two in a blind comparison, switching her handwriting for Jessamine's. Still nothing. The equations were perfect, the numbers stark. She nearly jumped out of her chair when she felt a hand on her shoulder, a small cry of surprise escaping her lips.
"I need the originals back, if you please. You can torture yourself further on your own time. Back to your own project!" Lucius snapped curtly, briskly collecting Jessamine's work with a modified "Accio!" before he left her alone at her desk. Her co-workers pointed and whispered at her, but that she was used to. The Ministry was still dominated by mostly Purebloods, and Lucius had been right when he said that they would blame her for pinpointing the problem, even if none of them were personally responsible. Everyone wanted to have someone to blame, and she was an easy pick. It hurt to have the hard-fought respect she had sought be so easily erased in the onslaught of torrential emotions, the expressions on her co-workers' faces changing from grudging respect to outright hostility.
The days wore on as the DNA for testing came in, and it was a relief to lose herself in the work, time passing with a blur. When the first protests started with scuffles erupting in the streets between Muggle-borns and Purebloods, Hermione broke. It was then that she finally cried at the office, having made her way past arrested witches and wizards, expressions of anger and despair on their faces as they noticed her. At least she had the good sense to cast a Silencing charm first.
She couldn't have born to be near St. Mungo's. Draco Malfoy was still a malevolent bastard in some ways, but he was a good healer with a reputation for gentle treatment. Even he had to be affected by the large number of families traipsing through his workplace for testing. That morning's Daily Prophet had shown the lines of parents clutching children and babies, the largest being a particularly vivid picture of a witch sobbing in anguish as her husband ushered them out the main doors, a bewildered looking child following sadly behind.
It took weeks for Mungo's to process samples from children, still longer for samples to begin stacking up from all 'eligible' witches and wizards of childbearing age. Hermione did what she always did when she was confronted with an apparently insurmountable problem: she researched. She went to the best Muggle universities to copy journal articles, haunted the halls of the Ministry's library, and even returned briefly to Hogwarts with Minerva's blessing to consult the library there. She kept the DNA samples cycling briskly through the Ministry lab, ignoring the color coded slips of parchment that were stacking up in neat files. The MLE had placed wards on the matches, not wanting anyone to find out their match before all were notified.
Lucius hovered in the background but didn't press her for explanations as to where she was going whenever she disappeared for more research. As long as she kept the DNA moving through the analyzer, she suspected he didn't care. They were at an impasse of sorts. Lucius was working Merlin knew what deals regarding the roll-out of the potential matches, and Hermione was determined to make it all unnecessary by finding the epigenetic regulators. Occasionally he would catch her eye and sneer at her in a dismissive way, his opinion of her theory neatly conveyed in that one contemptuous gesture.
"Come on, Hermione, you could do with a break," Ginny urged in a floo call later that week. "Ron and Lavender are going to meet us in Hogsmeade, it will be good for you to get away from the intensity of the lab for a bit. Come and breathe a bit."
Hermione smiled half-heartedly and sighed. She did need a break. The atmosphere at work had grown more and more oppressive, until she felt like she was practically surrounded by a wall of hostility.
"All right, Ginny, I'll be there."
Ginny whooped, reminding her of the aftermath of a hard fought Quidditch match against Slytherin.
"Ok. We're going to try to get there a little early, say four? Lavender feels more comfortable if it's not so crowded."
"That means I'll have to leave work early, Gin," Hermione said.
"Bah, as if you haven't put in enough overtime lately! Be there!"
Ginny's head vanished and Hermione pulled her head out from the fireplace, sitting back on her heels. Of course Ginny was right, but she was certain that such a request might be enough to put Lucius over the edge of the tentative halt to hostilities they had recently achieved. The matches were close to being complete, and the owls would soon start flying with probably the most unwelcome news of a single wizard or witch's life. Hermione had not even allowed herself to think about her own situation in that respect—there was too much to do to worry about something beyond her control. She had, in her weaker moments, considering emigrating to Australia on account of her still missing parents, but she sternly told herself that would not become necessary. Her stomach gurgled loudly, and she pushed the tendrils of worry away with no little effort and focused on the immediate problem. It was, after all, what she did best.
"What do you want, Granger?" Lucius drawled, his desk uncommonly strewn with crumbs, a half-eaten cake of some sort in front of him. "Well? Don't just stand there, sit!"
Hermione shoved aside the perpetual irritation she felt at his imperious tone and took the chair indicated, primly arranging her robes before she looked up to meet Lucius' gaze. "I will be leaving early today. I just wanted to let you know."
Lucius eyed her and raised one supercilious brow, then leaned back in his chair. "Oh, are you? I was unaware that you had been promoted to department head. Many congratulations on unseating me, Miss Granger. Or perhaps you've forgotten that I set the schedules around here."
Hermione had been afraid of this, and took a deep breath to explain. "It's only that I've been putting in a lot of overtime, as you know full well. My work quality will slip if I don't take a break, so I let Ginny talk me into meeting them in Hogsmeade for a quiet meal out. I'm leaving at four."
Lucius looked at her as if she were a bug under a magnifying glass for thirty seconds, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of squirming. She let him look, then made to stand up.
"If that will be all then—"
"Did you know that today is Beltane?" Lucius asked her suddenly, gesturing to the cake on his desk. "A Wizarding tradition—but I don't suppose you'd know anything about that, would you?"
Hermione raised her nose and started replying, "Of course I know what Beltane is. It's a festival marking spring. Bonfires are set to—"
"Yes, yes, no more textbook answers if you please, Granger," Lucius said, cutting her off abruptly. He leaned forward again in his chair as Hermione's bottom sank back down onto hers. "This is an oat cake, sprinkled with the ashes from last year's Beltane fires. It's supposed to ensure fertility. Since we are both facing a marriage to persons unknown and hopeful parenthood in our immediate futures, would you like to sample it as well? Purely in the interest of keeping the peace, you understand—I am sure that we will find our spouses perfectly pleasant when your machine is through spitting out results."
Hermione was quite certain that this was another way of him getting his digs at her due to her lackluster love life. That he was lacing it with digs at her ignorance was an added bonus. The shock must have shown on her face, because he laughed at her but deliberately misinterpreted her reaction.
"What, did you think me too old for remarriage? As a proven breeder, you can be sure the Ministry wants to see me back in service, as it were, especially since Scorpius is perfectly fine."
Hermione let out the breath she didn't know she had been holding and opened her mouth to start apologizing, but Lucius cut her off with a wave.
"Shut up. You thought it and so did everyone else. Well, you were all wrong, weren't you? Despite the disaster wreaked upon so many pureblood households, the Malfoy name will most certainly continue on."
Lucius was studying her reactions in a way that always made her nervous, and an evil smirk twisted his lips now as he looked at her. "Come now, Hermione, do you mean to tell me you haven't thought at all about whom you will be forced to marry? Tsk tsk, such a poor liar. Here."
Lucius stood and picked up the remaining half of the oat cake, then broke it in half and came around to the front of his desk to lean one hip against it and hold the clean handkerchief toward her, two even pieces of cake on it. "You take one, and I'll eat the other. I was in no hurry to replace Narcissa, and from the utterly abysmal state of your love life, you were hardly rushing to the altar yourself. We could both use a bit of luck in the coming year."
"Very well," Hermione said after a quick flick of her eyes to meet his. She withdrew her wand and indicated the cake. "If you don't mind?"
He was bitterly amused. "If it pleases you."
She murmured a few incantations, passing her wand over the cake. It appeared to be clean, but if there were any potions in it they could be undetectable. She looked at her boss again.
"Are you brave enough, Miss Granger?"
It was the mocking that settled it. Hermione picked up a piece and he quickly took the other, saluting her with it before they both ate their pieces quickly. It was slightly sweet and crumbly, and there were no immediate effects.
"Sorry to disappoint you," Lucius said pettily, then brushed the crumbs from his robes and returned to the other side of his desk. "Be off with you then, and don't think to make a habit of buggering off early on Fridays!"
"Thank you," Hermione said with an arch of her brow, and left Lucius' office. Hogsmeade, here I come!
A few hours later Hermione was cursing herself for losing track of the time. It was 4:15 already and she was still in the office. Shoving some paperwork into her case, she shrunk it and put it in the pocket of her sleek grey skirt. She found the Ministry dress code to be to her taste, although she never admitted it around Harry and Ron, who endlessly bemoaned the need to wear ties to the office. She always felt smarter in her neatly pressed slacks and pencil skirts, and her frilly blouses made her feel feminine. She had meant to go home and change, but that wasn't possible now. She cleared her desk and locked the office with her wand, then hurried out to the lobby. She had decided to disapparate to Hogsmeade, as going by Floo would require a hop home and then back to Hogsmeade. She made her way to the disapparation foyer and turned in a wink, her mind still somewhat distracted as she whirled to her destination.
Blinking, Hermione realized she had put herself outside of the village instead of next to Scrivener's, as she had originally intended. "Damn," she muttered, then began to walk. It must have been her errant thought of Hogwarts, as the path was the familiar one tread many times between the school and the wizarding village it happily supported.
The light at this time of day during late spring was tender and bright, and Hermione felt a brief relief from her worries. Ginny was right, she needed this. Hell, she probably needed a bit of exercise, so the walk was a good thing too. She felt herself relaxing for the first time in weeks, and it was only the dint of long habit that alerted her to the crack of a twig behind her. Whirling and pulling her wand, she found herself staring at a hooded figure.
"Back off," she demanded, watching as the hood fell back to reveal the face of Antonin Dolohov. Unbidden, the scar that slashed across her chest burned, and she threw a shield charm quickly as he laughed and sent a stunner her way.
"After all this time, mudblood—why would I resist this opportunity?"
