"Are you ready to go then Granger?" Draco stuck his head around the door to the breakfast room, where Hermione was finishing the quiche the elves had baked for her when she happened to mention to Smidgen that she had a craving for cheese and eggs.

"Yes," Hermione said. "Just one minute."

Draco rolled his eyes as Hermione's eyes were fixed on the open French doors, and sure enough a large owl flew in, a scroll attached to its leg.

"Thank you," Hermione said politely, then unrolled the parchment to read the brief note from his father, a flood of color hitting her cheeks.

"You know I'm gagging here, right?" Draco said impatiently, and Hermione tucked the scroll into her pocket.

"You just hate being reminded that I'm your father's lover as well as his wife," Hermione snarked, and Draco made choking noises.

"Really, just after breakfast is too much. Now get your arse waddling, or I'll deal with the Muggle without you."

"I do not waddle!" she replied indignantly, and Draco just ushered her along. He'd give her that she wasn't fat, but she was definitely not as slimly elegant as Astoria had been when she was pregnant with Scorpius.

"Come on, come on, you don't want the Auror shift to change before she's due for her Obliviation."

At this reminder that they were doing something just a bit sneaky, Hermione hurried up and let Draco take her arm to step into the Floo. After the wrong Floo trip with Lucius, she realized it was one of those unconscious protective gestures that the Malfoy men couldn't seem to help doing unless they were deliberately trying to insult you.

"St. Mungo's, Draco Malfoy's office," Draco called with boredom, and they stepped through into his office.

"Harry said he would be on duty, I hope there haven't been any last minute changes," Hermione fretted.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Granger. I'm the one performing the Obliviate on both of them, so even if it's not Harry, I'll get the potion to them."

"I thought you weren't interested in hearing about my knickers," Hermione quipped, and Draco rolled his eyes again.

"Were you always this annoying in school, or am I only now just noticing because of the enforced proximity?"

"This is a special treat for you, to get you back for being so horribly nasty to me for all those years," Hermione replied.

"God, I hate myself. If I had known this was coming, I would have said fuck all to you in school!"

Thankfully they arrived at Frederica Hayes' room, Harry at the door.

"Thanks for doing this, Draco," Harry said sincerely.

"Well I'd hate to think what a fertility potion you brewed would be like," Draco said, then took the opportunity to get a bit of his own back. "You could have just asked me directly Granger."

"I know. I'm sorry, I'll remember next time," Hermione said, feeling bad for assuming Draco wouldn't be interested in helping two Muggles.

"What, planning to make a habit of feeding magical potions to Muggles, are we?" Draco said with an eyebrow raised.

"Of course not!"

"Better hurry up. The Americans are due to pick them up in ten minutes, and I distracted Sloane by sending him for some coffees," Harry said warningly. Harry's Hufflepuff partner was a solid if stodgy wizard, but he had an unbreakable sense of ethics and they certainly didn't need him around for this.

"We'll be quick," Draco assured Harry, letting Hermione into the room first before he closed the door.

"So today is it, huh? No more floating teapots and curious noises from the hall." Hermione shook the hand of the slim brunette who was sitting by Dr. Hayes' bedside.

"I'm afraid so Katy," Hermione said apologetically. "But I wanted to say thank you, to both of you. Getting a look at the data and your experimental protocols helps us enormously. You will never know how grateful we are again, so let me express it now—we owe you."

"Well once I got to speak to her on the phone, she was pretty clear on what she wanted me to bring," Katy said. "Fortunately we have back-ups of everything at home, so I didn't have to go into the lab and deal with any questions."

"Katy was laying odds on who was going to go first—I said me, and she said herself. I'll warn you there is a large quantity of beer on the line here, so, who's it to be?" They all knew that any score-keeping wouldn't be possible, but the scientist had resigned herself to the inevitable. She looked far better, her ease with the situation improving immensely once Harry had cut through all the red tape and gotten her partner to her side.

"It will be you first, Dr. Hayes. And thank you." Hermione clasped the woman's hand, then gave her an awkward hug.

"It is nice to have known for a little while that magic actually does exist," Dr. Hayes said with a touch of regret, then Draco aimed his wand at her.

"This won't hurt," he promised, and with quick precision, she was done.

"Is she okay?" Katy asked, looking at her partner, who was looking around in a daze.

"She'll be fine. Now, Katy, we have something for you," Hermione began, but Draco cut her off.

"We have ways of ensuring pregnancy," he said briskly. "This is a potion you need to give your partner before you try again to have a child. With this potion, it will absolutely work, and you will have another child, regardless of any difficulties before."

"Are you kidding me?" Katy said in disbelief, shock and gratitude scrawling across her face.

"No. I will give you instructions on what to do when I give you the spell, and instruct you in concealing it as well. And, I would recommend trying again as soon as you can. Potions like this won't keep forever."

"Thank you!" Katy said, throwing her arms around Draco impulsively, who stiffened instantly, causing her to pull back. "Sorry."

"It's fine," he said brusquely, again directing his wand. "Now—"

Hermione and Draco slipped quickly from the room, leaving the Obliviated pair to work out that they were in a hospital room, and process the false memories Draco had created of a conference, a terrible car accident, and a miscarriage.

"Do you suppose they'll use it?" Hermione asked quietly as Draco moved her down the hall toward his office Floo.

"I didn't give her much in the way of wriggle room," Draco said.

"True," Hermione replied. "I don't suppose there's been any change in Ron's condition?" Her voice sounded more sad than hopeful, and Draco just shook his head.

"No. But he's still stable."

The Americans were prompt, arriving just after Draco and Hermione left, and just as Sloane came back with the coffees. Harry let them into the room. And just like that, Katy Price and Frederica Hayes were once again unaware of the existence of the magical community. The American Aurors, under the guise of Muggle medical professionals, transported them in an ambulance magicked into a portkey to a stateside Muggle hospital. And all the while, Katy Price had a vial of potion secreted in her inner jacket pocket, and a vague sense that maybe it was best to try again quickly for that baby…


It had been four days and finally, finally things were starting to line up to move things along. Lucius and Bertrand were waiting for Bedell outside of his nominative office, although anyone who knew Bedell knew that he did nothing resembling work.

"Your mistress was rather cooperative, all things considered," Lucius observed as they waited for Bedell to show up.

"She could see which way the wind was blowing, and thought Bedell could offer more, opportunities for advancement, shall we say," Bertrand replied. "Fortunately the French Aurors are a bit more creative in their interrogations than their British contemporaries. She was ready to sing like a little bird when they lifted that curse."

Lucius thought not for the first time that it was quite French to run either hot with anger or cold with indifference, but he kept that observation to himself.

"And was Thérèse cooperative when you sought her assistance with the château?"

Bertrand snorted. "She was insistent that blood not be spilt on the carpets. Apparently, a Scourgify just cannot remove all traces of 'those stains'."

"She would know," Lucius muttered darkly. "She has some cheek to complain about such things after she outright poisoned her first husband. Caused quite a mess when he fell on a lit candelabra and crashed through the dining room table."

"It was never proven," Bertrand said, a sly grin stealing across his face.

"Pfff, as if there were any doubt within the family. Notwithstanding that he was a rank bastard, she could have chosen something less dramatic, or at least give it more the appearance of an accident."

"Bah, she is à bon chat. She rid the world of a disgrace of a wizard and has been fêted for it since. Ah, there he is, the rat. Time to play a bit of cat and mouse." Bertrand straightened up and stubbed out his cigarette, a habit that Lucius had always found very Muggle.

The plan was relatively simple, but it relied on getting Bedell into the right spot, both physically and psychologically. Thanks to the mistress singing like a canary, the French Ministry had planted an anxiety potion in Bedell's breakfast, which he habitually took at a small café near his Parisian address. The evidence of it was apparent, as Bedell was looking around anxiously and his hand shook as he undid the wards on the office where he pretended to work.

"I shall go poke him. So depressing, that my own brother has nostalgie de la boue."

The irony of Bertrand's perception was not lost on either of them, and Bertrand slid a sly grin at Lucius. "But of course, your mud is nicer, no?"

"Non sans droict," Lucius replied, and Bertrand whipped out his wand and saluted him.

"You have done well of your mariage de convenance," Bertrand said, but his attention was fixed elsewhere. Lucius knew his cousin was preparing himself mentally to do what was necessary, and he sat back again to wait for a few minutes as Bertrand disapparated soundlessly, reappearing in Bedell's office with a loud crack.

It was not hard to imagine what Bertrand was doing to Bedell. Although he was tolerant of the draw on his company, Bertrand did expect Bedell to do a nominal amount of work for the privilege of his hefty salary. Given Bedell's extracurricular activities of late, it was hardly shocking that Bedell had conveniently forgotten the miniscule tasks Bertrand expected him to complete. It should be easy enough to push him over the edge. Once Bertrand used his wand, that would be it.

Lucius saw a bright purple flash that indicated it was time to make his presence known. He disapparated into the office easily, saw the flash of shock on Bedell's face when he realized there was more going on here than the standard bollocking from Bertrand.

"You've been a naughty boy, Bedell," Lucius said, attempting to stun him after throwing a few distracting hexes.

Whether it was training that the indolent Bedell had neglected heretofore, or the anxiety potion manifesting as desperation, Bedell was holding them both off. Lucius, however, had a portkey in his pocket, charmed to take them directly to the French Ministry's holding cells. He was close enough to grab his cousin, and saw an opportunity as Bedell threw a curse at his brother. Lucius activated the portkey and laid a hand on Bedell just as he saw the bright blue glow in Bedell's left hand as he activated another portkey.

Having a split second to decide whether to let go of him, drop his own portkey, or risk being Splinched to death, Lucius made a choice and vanished, the French Ministry's ring glowing a bright blue for a second in front of Bertrand's eyes on the floor before it disappeared as easily as had his cousin and his brother.


"Why did Poppa have to go again?" Scorpius whined the next morning.

"Because he had more work to do," Astoria said patiently. She had hoped Hermione would be willing to play with him for a few hours so she could go Christmas shopping, but as yet there was no owl from Lucius and Astoria could tell it was grating on Hermione's nerves.

"Broom?" Scorpius asked hopefully, looking at Hermione and holding up his fork.

"Not today, sweetheart," Hermione said, feeling Bump give her a vigorous kick. It was silly, but somehow having a nickname attached to the baby made it more real for her, a little person she couldn't wait to meet. She and Lucius had yet to pick a name for a girl, but he had picked a boy's name that Hermione actually found rather pleasing. It was definitely a wizarding choice, but at least it wasn't a constellation.

"What work do you have on your agenda today?" Astoria asked, sending the fork whizzing around the table to please Scorpius.

"I have a Floo call to discuss some niffler experiments that would give me some more information about the suspected regulatory region, at least give me a hint as to which other pathways are affected," Hermione said, but her mind was still chewing over the lack of an owl from Lucius. "He would have told Bertrand to let me know if something went wrong, wouldn't he?"

Astoria gave a mental sigh. "Yes, I'm sure he would, Hermione, especially after the last time he went incommunicado. Lucius is not the type of man to make the same mistake twice."

"That's what I think too," Hermione said, chewing on a hangnail, a horrible breech of manners and a reflection of her absentmindedness.

"Would you like to come out to the orangery with me? I was going to see what citrus is available for some special Christmas puddings," Astoria offered, unsurprised when Hermione declined.

"No thank you, I have to do some reading to get ready for my meeting."

"Of course. Scorpius, don't try to transfigure the spoon, you're far too young to be messing up the silver quite yet. Come along, young man."

Scorpius hopped down from his chair with a scowl, but Hermione hardly noticed them leave. Four days he'd been gone, and he'd been so prompt in sending owls. They always arrived during breakfast. Always. Bump gave her another kick, and Hermione realized she could not sit idly waiting forever.

"Right, I'll set a timer. If I haven't gotten that owl by then, I'll call Draco," she said to herself, then set her wand to spark and buzz when an hour had passed.

Resolved, she spent fifteen minutes wrestling uselessly with her notes and reviewing what she wanted to say in her meeting, then gave up and put the notes away. It did little good to stare at the transcription of Dr. Hayes' interview in Lucius' hand, her own notes added on the sides when she talked to her in the hospital. A walk, that was the thing. The gallery, perhaps. Hermione ignored the ancestral portraits that sneered at her, a Silencing charm in place for years to come. There were beautiful works of art up here: sculptures by Wizard and Muggle masters (the latter a shock to her system when she discovered them), and beautiful, moving landscapes of Wiltshire, the Lake Country in Derbyshire, the rugged Cornish coast, the beautiful hills of Provence.

She checked her wand again, called Twigs.

"Have any owls arrived, Twigs?"

"No mistress, I very prompt to tell you if owl comes," he said with all the gravity he could muster.

"That will be all Twigs," she said, tapping her wand anxiously against her thigh. Something was not right. Lucius knew how important this was to her, it was not something he would just ignore without cause!

"Right," Hermione said, then walked back downstairs to the Floo in Lucius' study.

"Healer Malfoy's office, St. Mungo's," she called clearly, then stuck her head in the flames.

"Sweet Salazar, woman, don't you know it's too early in the workday to be petrifying me with your paranoia?" Draco said, although Hermione noted that he didn't tell her to fuck off straightaway.

"I'm not being paranoid, and your father is in trouble," Hermione said with conviction.

"Jesus, Granger, can you give it a rest? I'm sure he's fine," Draco said, but he already knew what she was going to say.

"You can call him, with your ring. I've seen Lucius do the same to you. I want a look at that ring, please."

"Fuck," Draco muttered, but he flicked his wand at his door to indicate he was out, then said curtly, "Step back, I'm coming through."

Hermione barely had time to get awkwardly to her feet again and get out of the way before Draco stepped through, brushing soot from his jacket with impatience. "Listen, Hermione, I understand that you're worried, but this isn't exactly the fucking owl post. It's meant to be used only in emergencies."

"I know that," Hermione said defensively. "But I also know that Lucius would not break a pattern that was very important to me, that we agreed on before he left. So just tell me—would Bertrand contact us if something went wrong? Or would he wait until it's too late to do anything to seek you out?"

Draco's expression lost some of its irritation. "Honestly, I don't know, Granger. He's not exactly one of my closest relatives, and since I'm just his first cousin once removed it's not like I've popped over for croissants on a regular basis. I just know that my dad trusts him when it comes to family matters, and this type of thing would certainly be considered family business."

"If you were to call him with the ring, what would it do?" Hermione asked, and Draco had noticed that she had her wand at her side.

"It would heat up, hot enough not to ignore, but not hot enough to burn," Draco said, drawing his own wand.

"And is it detectable as a magical outlay? Does it give off any type of signature?" Hermione asked.

"No idea," Draco said. "I wouldn't want to risk my father's life on it."

"Neither would I," Hermione said. "However, I think it could help. I think we should go to France."

"What? Are you kidding me?" Draco was dumbfounded, but Hermione held up her hand to shut him up.

"Perfectly serious. We need to talk to Bertrand, and failing that, talk to Thérèse. One of them should be able to tell us what is going on." Hermione's expression was determined, and Draco rubbed his hand on his face.

"Look—"

"No, you look. I KNOW that Lucius told you this might happen, and furthermore, that he told you to help me, not hinder me. So either hand over that ring and get out of the way, or go tell Astoria where we are going, because I'm heading off in five minutes via portkey and I don't give a damn whether or not you come with me." At that, Hermione grabbed a ceramic figure from the mantelpiece and turned it into a portkey to their French house.

"Fine, fine! TWIGS!" Draco bellowed, then disapparated with a pop to tell Astoria where they were going, and furthermore to contact Harry Potter urgently and tell him to get the fuck in touch with French Ministry for fuck's sake!

Less than a minute to go when Draco popped back into the study.

"Not a word, Granger," he barked as he took a firm grip on the other end of the figurine. "What the fuck is this anyway? A shepherdess?"

"It's Demeter, the Greek goddess of the harvest!" Hermione said, as if anyone would know that.

"Why didn't I know that?" Draco said sarcastically, but before Hermione could reply there was a tug in her navel and they were both spun out, tumbling on their feet into the foyer of the house in France.

"Now what do you suggest, Sherlock?" Draco asked sarcastically.

"Don't you know where Bertrand lives?"

"Why the fuck would I know that? I've sent him a few owls and been side-alonged to his house. I don't have the foggiest clue where the fuck he lives!"

"Shit. That leaves one option, then," Hermione said through gritted teeth. "You'd better prepare for some fireworks, Malfoy!"

So saying, Hermione gripped Draco's elbow and focused on her destination. As Draco turned his head to yell at her, he realized where they were standing: the steps to his great, great aunt Thérèse's house.

"You're fucking insane," Draco said as she pounded loudly on the door. In short order, a fat house elf answered the door, looking down his squat nose at them.

"The mistress of this house only receives appointments on Fridays and Tuesdays," Iribe said, then made to close the door.

"Oh no you don't! Imperio!"

"Fuck me, Granger, did you just use an Unforgivable?"

"Shut up, Draco. Take me to her, NOW." Hermione's tone brooked no disagreement, and the house elf nodded as if in a daze and trotted through the halls, leading them toward a bright room that was apparently hosting breakfast. The witch they were seeking sat at a long oval table, the French doors banking the wall thrown open to the countryside. The nightjar was perched on the silver coffee service, Hermione noted, then waited for the house elf to announce them.

"Mistress, visitors," Iribe said, as if proud of his achievement. The newspaper that Thérèse had been reading folded down with a snap, and her eyes narrowed minutely before she said, "You! What the hell are you doing here, and putting my house elf under the Imperius curse to boot?"

"I am here to find out where Bedell has his little hidey hole. The place he runs to when he's in trouble, with his tail tucked between his legs like a good cur," Hermione said, flicking her wand and ending the Imperius curse, then darting a deadly look at the elf when he made to grab hold of her. "Touch me and it will be the last thing you ever do."

"Why are you here with her?" Thérèse demanded, looking at her great-great-nephew.

"We have reason to believe that my father might need some assistance," Draco said, attempting to be somewhat conciliatory, although he suspected his inheritance had just been shot to hell.

"Reason to believe my arse," Thérèse said. "I don't bargain with little girls and sniveling boys. Go away before I really give you something to cry about, little girl."

Draco might not claim to know Granger very well, but he knew that at this point in time, it was not a good idea to piss her off.

"I don't think so," Hermione said, quietly, then her wand flew, disarming Thérèse and strapping her to her chair with two moves that were rapid enough to be worthy of Lucius. "Where is he?"

"I haven't any intention of helping you, you ill-mannered, trollish, Mudblood whore," Thérèse answered, and Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Fine, we'll do this the hard way." She looked around the room, and pointed her wand before Draco or Thérèse could realize what she was aiming at. "Avada kedavra."

Thérèse jerked as her nightjar dropped dead from its perch, and then let out a high, keening wail. "You killed Harriet! Do you have any idea how long it took me to train that bird? How irreplaceable she was?"

"I know you have more," Hermione said with deadly venom. "I'll kill the rest, have Iribe fetch them like a good little elf if you don't tell me what I want to know. Now." Another flick of her wand had the house elf again under the Imperius, his eyes glazing over.

"How dare you! I'll have you arrested! I'll see you imprisoned for this!" Thérèse's chest heaved in agitation, and Draco folded his arms across his chest, his wand dangling from his hand. He was beginning to enjoy this little show.

"I'd cooperate if I were you, Thérèse. Else she is going to put you under the Imperius next. I hear she's a dab hand with it—you recall that nasty break in at Gringotts, don't you?" His smile was sweet and pointed, and Thérèse huffed and was silent for a full minute before she finally said,

"I can't tell you where it is. I would have to show you. Somewhere in Norway, that's all I know—but I have been there."

Hermione grasped the older woman's wand in her hand. "Fine. But you do anything, I snap this. You get us inside the property, and you are free to go back home. Are we clear?"

"Fine," Thérèse said, but Draco stopped Granger.

"A wizarding vow, I think. Unbreakable, let's say," he said smoothly, and he saw the murderous tick in his great-great-aunt's eye.

"You weren't getting anything, you know. You're too spineless," she hissed.

"Apparently not," Draco said grimly, then held his wand at the ready as Hermione clasped the old bat's arm with her own.