I am sorry for the delay in posting this. It is shorter than I'd like but I have limited time as real life in the form of my job has hit hard with the end of quarter. I should be out of it in a week's time and then I have a marvelous thing called VACATION when I can simply write and relax and do all the other things that real life demands, too. It should mean quicker updates again, however, once I give and grade my finals.
I have read all of your MARVELOUS reviews-thank you, thank you, thank you! I wish I had time to respond but I don't today, and I want to give you this chapter you've waited more than a week to read. I hope it satisfies and keeps you going until next week and more intrigue unfolds!
And if you could, please let me know your opinion. I really love reviews, they make me want to write faster for you, even when real life is so demanding. I have felt horridly guilty for not updating this sooner-so by all means, pile on the guilt again in the form of copious reviews. Thank you so much for reading.
"Well?"
The man's voice was impatient, edged with the hint of anger that was always a prelude to violence. The young man cowered slightly, his hands shaking as he pointed to a peak on the computer screen.
"That section there doesn't make sense. It doesn't match up with the usual profiles of epigenetic markers."
"Quit using your Muggle words, fool, and explain what it means," the man said with a hiss, striding impatiently behind him. For the millionth time, the young man ran his fingers nervously through his lank, unkempt hair. He had to make him happy, keep him happy…
"Um, it doesn't fit the rules, master. It's not matching up," he said, hoping that the blunt delivery would equally blunt the man's rage.
"What?" the blonde man stopped his pacing, his eyes narrowing as he met the quivering Muggle's. "Say that again."
"It doesn't match the profiles of a regulator! It's rubbish, I think they did it deliberately, but I don't know, I could be missing something—" he cut off as the other man withdrew the slim stick of wood from his pocket, aiming it at him with a certainty that caused panic to bubble manically beneath the surface of the young man's brain before he was writhing on the floor, every muscle in his body spasming, the nerves shrieking in pain. Agony. Pure agony.
"I'm just a student! I'm just a student!" he shrieked in self-defense, his body instinctively curling into the fetal position, the wetness from the release of his bladder a familiar humiliation. "I need an expert's opinions, I need help to get all of this done—I need help."
"You need more than help," the blonde snapped, pulling his brown hair and causing him to rise to his knees. "If I thought you had the gall to hold information from me…"
The cuts that sprung forth on his arms caused him to shriek again in pain and fear, and the wizard let him slump to the ground again in disgust.
"Kill me, please," he begged, when the pain faded slightly, and he saw the cruel expression on the man's face.
"I still have use for you, fool," the blonde snarled, then turned to look at the other man in the room.
The young man breathed in harsh pants as he lay on the floor, wondering if he would ever get the scent of his own blood from his nostrils again. The dark haired man never spoke, had never pointed his stick at him, although he played with it, folding it through his fingers with an alacrity that would be at home amongst the finest magicians. He simply regarded him with the same indifference one would give to roadkill, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. Finally, he spoke to the blonde man.
"I think it's time we acquired another Muggle."
"I didn't expect you would still be up," Lucius said as he noticed that Hermione was still awake, albeit it in bed. "At least I don't have to wake you for this," he said, holding up a vial of the potion, which had settled to a cucumber color after cooling.
"I wouldn't want to miss the delights of this newest torment," Hermione replied drily, setting aside the Muggle research journals that had kept the hours well filled in his absence. "Are you quite certain this will work?"
Lucius sat one hip on the bed next to her and held it out. "One way to find out. At least you can be reasonably confident I'm not trying to kill you, now that you've seen the ingredients and part of the preparation yourself."
Hermione swallowed it, the grimace on her face from the taste saying it all. "I deserved that, I know."
"Yes, you did. Or did it not occur to you that I have waited too long for a second child to go about blindly killing its mother before it has a chance to be born?" Lucius' voice was edged with sarcasm, but the hand he placed on her stomach was gentle.
"Why did you not have more children with Narcissa?" Hermione asked softly, aware that these glimpses of Lucius' heart were few and far between.
His attention remained fixed on her stomach, his hand gliding idly over the smooth silk of her pajama top. "We wanted to have more, but Narcissa lost several. After a certain point, it was not fair to ask her to keep trying, when each miscarriage cost her a bit more."
She didn't know what to say to that, but the "I'm sorry" that left her lips was really the only thing she could offer. Sometimes an acknowledgement of others' pain was really the best you could do.
"I know," he said, glancing at her briefly before he rose from the bed to get into his own pajamas. "Please tell me you ate something for dinner."
"I kept down more digestive biscuits for an hour," she offered, and Lucius shook his head.
"That's not nearly enough." He paused in removing his shirt, and looked back at her. "I'm going to have to take you to St. Mungo's if this doesn't work, Hermione."
"You can stop threatening me with the hospital. I'm quite certain that a Muggle hospital would be able to deal with it if St. Mungo's couldn't manage. I'm hardly the first woman to have debilitating nausea with pregnancy." As she spoke Hermione realized she had come to peace with the fact that her body was simply uncontrollable at this point. It was a somewhat liberating experience.
"You will not go to a Muggle hospital," Lucius said tightly, jerking on the pajama bottoms with more force than necessary.
"You can hardly complain about all things Muggle when it's Muggle biscuits that are keeping me somewhat sane and not chained to the bathroom floor," Hermione pointed out snarkily, and Lucius merely flipped his hair to the side before getting into bed, pulling her firmly into his arms.
"I can persist in my opinions if they give me comfort, regardless of the reality on the ground, as they say," he informed her.
"Those are the words of an old man, Lucius, a relic from another age," Hermione began, and he interrupted her.
"Are you saying I'm old, you impudent wench?"
"Yes, I can see that you are," Hermione said, naughtily sliding her hand down the front of his pants. Needless to say, they hadn't had any enjoyment of marital congress in weeks, and Lucius was instantly at attention. He was hopeful of the success of the potion, if she was feeling naughty.
"Are you prepared to suffer the consequences if you do not retract that statement?" Lucius demanded, leaning over her in what he meant to be an intimidating fashion.
"Oh I rather hope so," Hermione said, threading her fingers in his hair.
How she loved suffering for Lucius in such a way.
"Tell me about your dinner. Whom did you have it with, and whom were you spying on?"
Lucius raised an eyebrow at her. "Stealing a page from my playbook, are we?"
"Well, you are remarkably relaxed at present, husband," Hermione said pertly, "And I have just enjoyed an hour of your expert lovemaking without my stomach twitching. I think I'm entitled to a treat."
She was looking very fetching with her hair loose around her shoulders and her head perched on her hands, simply looking at him from his chest. "You are a pest," he huffed, and she replied quickly, "You knew that when you married me."
"Very well. I had dinner with Yaxley, and we were watching Bertrand play the unctuous bribe-maker to a clerk in the Department of Magical Transportation."
"Our neighbors at the Ministry. How interesting." Hermione's eyebrow was quirked upward, and Lucius smoothed it back into its normal place.
"Yes, rather. And Calvin has been withholding some information regarding his dealings with another member of that department."
"Hmmm. Didn't you say that the break-in was accomplished through that department?"
"Minx. I didn't, but you are correct. The villains enlarged a rat hole that was a historical artifact of the building and made good use of it."
"And by villains, you mean Brandefort and someone else."
Lucius hemmed and threw her a bone. "Well, Brandefort was merely the pigeon. What remains unclear is how many others were involved—at least one who got away, and possibly another insider who assisted in the ensuing chaos."
"And you think your cousin was involved in this somehow." Her statement was certain, and Lucius let it pass.
"The point is, now we need more information from France, and possibly Norway. I have asked Potter to come over tomorrow morning before work to discuss it." Lucius picked up one of her hands and began to nibble on her fingertips.
"And I will participate in that discussion." Her tone was firm and no nonsense.
Lucius smiled beneath her hand, and kissed her palm. "What is it worth to you?" he asked slyly, and Hermione realized she had been played.
"Lucius, I insist on being part of this! If you have that meeting without me, I will go to work by myself," she said hotly.
"And be sent back home by a team of Unspeakables before you get through the door—and promptly be packed off to Mungo's, by me," he said equally firmly. "Now, kitten, if you want to come back to work, your boss must agree you are up to the requirements of your job. Given your recent distress, I don't think that will be possible until you are quite recovered, a few more weeks, say. And, in exchange for your agreement on discretion, you will participate in the meeting tomorrow with Harry."
"That's one meeting in exchange for an unnamed number of weeks cooped up here, Lucius. That is hardly equitable or fair." Hermione was in full negotiating mode, but it did not negate Lucius' attention to her flagging energy and the way the color was seeping from her face. He gently turned her onto the bed and ran his hand across her cheek and down her shoulder.
"Pet, you are still quite ill. It will take more than a few days for the benefits of proper nutrition and rest to catch up to you. While I am delighted to see your digestibles are palatable…"
"Digestives, Lucius," Hermione interrupted.
"Yes, whatever they are, but the fact remains that despite the lovely results of the past hour, you are still severely hampered in physical and magical energy, and you cannot even convince yourself that you are feeling ready enough to defend against all comers."
"I beg to differ," Hermione argued, and Lucius smiled.
"Oh? Well, by all means, show me your shield charm, if you please." He wordlessly summoned her wand from the bedside table, and offered it to her, an innocent expression on his face.
"That is a low blow," Hermione muttered, taking her wand simply because it was there and wishing she had enough reserves to send a small stinging charm his way.
"I have been down this road before, sweetling, and I am well aware of what you are and are not capable of. When you are capable of defending yourself and our child, I will gladly accept your presence back in the office. Until then, accept the offered olive branch with the good grace for which you are renowned."
Hermione scrunched up her nose and scowled at her husband. "You mean like I accepted you as my husband? Fine. I expect you to wake me in enough time that I won't miss any of your chatting with Harry."
"Ouch! That stings, my pet," Lucius said with mock outrage, then pulled her firmly into the crook of his arms.
"You know I hate it when you call me that," Hermione said, her attempt at grumping failing rather spectacularly as a loud yawn escaped her mouth.
"You are such a poor liar," Lucius said as he kissed her good night.
"How are you doing Hermione?" Harry asked as soon as he stepped out of the Floo, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "You're way too thin."
Hermione threw a dirty glance at her husband, who stood impassively and returned her glare with the universal 'I told you so' look that is shared by all spouses, Wizard and Muggle alike. "Thank you Harry, but I am feeling better now. Lucius brewed a custom anti-nausea potion for me."
"He did, eh?" Harry threw a look at Lucius Malfoy and stepped back from his friend. "Potion number 3 seems to still be Ginny's best bet, although she still has her moments. I suppose you've heard about Lavender, then?" Harry took a seat on the couch that Hermione indicated while she sat down on the chair opposite. Lucius took the opportunity to ask Twigs for some coffee and tea, then seated himself in the chair next to Hermione's.
"No! Oh Harry, don't tell me—"
"Yep, she's pregnant too. They're very pleased, I'm surprised they haven't owled you?"
"Oh," Hermione flushed. "There were some owl posts that were, um, well, unreadable, unfortunately. I couldn't make out who sent them."
"Ah." Harry wisely shut up and Lucius took his cue to interject himself into the conversation.
"As much as I hate to break up this charming tête-à-tête, perhaps we should discuss why you are here, Potter. It seems some further investigating is required in France, and Norway."
"Oh?"
Lucius filled Harry in on Bertrand's presence in England, and the conversation he had had with Ambrose Mullan of the Department of Magical Transportation.
"I suspect that Bertrand will be returning to France shortly, if he does not decide to poke his head in here first—and then he will need to be followed, Harry. You know what Thicknesse and Kingsley suspect about Norway. I doubt Fabian will be aware of your little jaunt, but you'll have to ask Kingsley if you should bring your partner or not. I'm sure that Calvin can cover adequately if Kingsley orders him to do so."
Harry nodded and looked back to Hermione. "I expect you to keep to yourself, Hermione. After that business with Zosimus' Apothecary, I'd say your best bet is to pretend Death Eaters are on every corner. Apologies, Lucius," Harry said with a small nod, which Lucius returned stiffly.
"Not at all."
Hermione could perceive that he was at a minimum offended by the comment, but was keeping himself in check with the religious control that he exercised around those with whom he felt less than perfectly comfortable. She had often perceived Severus Snape holding himself in just such a way at Order meetings. Now she was uncomfortably aware of what it meant. She set that aside to think about later, however, and asked, "What happened at Zosimus' Apothecary?"
Lucius' eyes flashed at Harry and he realized his mistake too late. "Oh, um, well, I assumed Lucius had told you about that. The shop clerk was under the Imperius. He was selling adulterated potions. Caused a few miscarriages before he was caught, unfortunately."
"I see," Hermione said, some color fading from her face. She felt incredibly sad for those women…and it was all because of her. "I'm glad you caught him, Harry."
"Yeah. Well, we don't buy any of our stuff there anyway—too expensive." Harry cleared his throat after Lucius darted another angry glare at him, and decided it was time to leave. "I'll just get the trip sorted, and let you know. I imagine I'll be right behind your cousin when he leaves," he said to Lucius, then gave Hermione another hug. "Take good care of yourself, Hermione. Ginny would never forgive you if you rushed into something at this stage."
"I know," Hermione said, recognizing that he really meant himself and Ron. "I have quite a loud conscience sitting on my shoulder."
Her eyes met those of her husband and she allowed him to take her arm and fold it in his own as Harry left, the picture of a united front. If only it felt like that all the time!
