Beta love to the lovely CarbConnoisseur
"Sweet mother of magic," Janet whispered, her eyes on her granddaughter standing in the centre of the ritual circle, a handful of blue flames dancing on her palm.
"What… what does that mean?" Robert asked, sounding shaken.
"I don't know," Janet admitted. "I've never seen anything like it."
Seeming to come back to herself, Hermione shook her hand and the flames disappeared.
"Are you alright?" she checked, eyeing Alastor assessingly.
"Aye lass," he replied, sounding strained as he stared back at her with concern. "Are you?"
"Yes?" she replied, sounding unsure. "I ah… shouldn't I be?"
He snorted, dissolving into a laugh that on anyone else would have been considered hysterical. "Hermione… that… none of that was normal!"
"It wasn't?" she checked, sounding panicked even to her own ears.
"What wasn't normal?"Janet asked sharply, coming to stand beside them.
"How much could you see?" Alastor checked, attempting to get himself under control.
"Nothing!" Janet responded tartly. "Which, while unusual, is not unheard of."
"Right," he muttered. "Might I suggest tea?"
"Tea?" Robert blinked.
"Aye. Preferably with something in it," Alastor muttered as he stalked towards the house.
Hermione's eyes focused on his retreating back where she could make out the faint outline of a blue-tinged rune between his shoulder blades. "Come along mo sholas," Robert murmured, clasping her elbow to guide her forward. "Let's go and see what your father has to say."
"Do you think I did it wrong?" she asked, turning wide, fearful eyes towards her grandfather.
"Of course, you didn't," he scoffed. "It was… it's unusual for someone to have the power to fuel a hidden ritual their first time. It's something that comes with practice and focus. I should have bloody known when the book shocked you. It's never done that before."
"I don't understand," Hermione admitted softly.
"I'm not sure I do either, mo sholas," Robert admitted reluctantly. "But perhaps what I should have realised is that we should expect the unexpected when it comes to you."
"Oh," she whispered, her face still worried.
"Right then, you over dramatic sod," Janet scowled, forcefully dropping a mug full of whiskey laced tea in front of Alastor. "Out with it. You're scaring the lass."
Alastor's eyes flew to Hermione's face and he winced. "Sorry lass," he muttered apologetically. "It was… quite the experience. It unnerved me."
"Why?" she asked, wrapping her arms around her middle as if to protect herself.
"None of that," he commanded, tugging her across the space towards him. "Those flames meant something to you. What was it?"
She shrugged, still tense under his arm. "I've been able to conjure them as long as I can remember."
Alastor stilled. "Before Hogwarts?"
"Long before," she murmured. "I used to use them to read at night when I was meant to be asleep."
Alastor let out a harsh breath. "Right then."
"From the beginning, if you please," Janet prompted impatiently, perching on the end of the seat so she was within an arm's reach of her granddaughter.
"The magic was… tangible," Alastor began haltingly. "It began as usual, the runes lighting up as they do, but the minute she called forth her first corner, I could see the coloured mist. It was clear and… .living, almost. When she called the south, the runes lit up with blue flames."
"Pardon?" Janet barked, sure she'd misheard.
"Blue flames," he repeated slowly as if unsure of the words, "The ones she was holding in her hand at the end. It…they… sort of… manifested in her palm before winding around her like… rope or… a particularly affectionate snake."
"Mother of Merlin," Robert muttered. "They didn't burn you, mo sholas?"
"No. It never has," she murmured.
"Right," Janet replied faintly. "And then?"
"It stayed with her until she opened the circle, completely wrapped around her," Alastor continued, "The runes… burned almost, like they were being branded into my skin."
"Aye. There's a mark between your shoulder blades," Janet agreed.
Alastor hummed. "But hopefully not on my forehead," he quipped.
Robert snorted. "Luckily for you, no. The potion went as expected then? The runes flashed gold?"
"The runes flashed blue," Hermione corrected.
Robert's eyes shot to his wife. "Did they now?" she replied thoughtfully. "The same colour as that wee flame you were holding?"
"Yes, they sort of wound their way around the rim of the bowl too."
"Can you call it now?" Startled, Hermione opened her hand, the flames appearing on her palm. "It doesn't burn?" Janet hummed when Hermione shook her head. "Can you make it burn?"
Hermione blinked. "Why would I want to?"
"Handy weapon, fireballs," Janet shrugged, startling a laugh out of her.
"I… I don't know," Hermione admitted. "I've never tried."
Janet nodded slowly. "Something to work towards then."
"What does that mean?" Alastor asked sharply.
Janet paused before she spoke, a thoughtful look on her face. "Well, it's clear that the lass has an affinity with fire, so I suggest we work with it. It's also clear that she's more powerful than any of us had anticipated. Perenelle is going to adore you."
"I… is that a good or a bad thing?" Hermione checked, her face still worried.
Janet snorted. "Well… she's over six hundred years old. I imagine she's forgotten more than most people ever learn."
"Oh," Hermione breathed, her eyes lighting up with possibilities making the rest of them laugh. "So I… I didn't do anything wrong?"
"No lass," Janet soothed, "I don't think so, but I can check with Perenelle if you'd like? I'm not as accomplished as she is, but if I had to guess, you instinctively tailored the ritual to ensure it was as potent as possible. Which is an immense gift given that it was your first. We have several members of the coven who have been reported to have done similarly, albeit never in quite such a… flashy way."
Hermione snorted. "Flashy?"
"Fire's a hard element to master," Janet explained slowly. "It's… unpredictable, to control it to any degree is a rare gift and not one I've seen before. For you to have the runes light up with flames and fire remaining with you throughout the ritual, your affinity is unusually strong and it seems to want people to know it. Should you will it, I imagine you'll eventually be able to make those wee flames of yours burn, spread, and recede. It has been… theorised that those who can harness fire are also protected from it. They have a natural affinity with dragons and eventually can withstand fiendfyre."
"That's impossible!" Alastor exclaimed.
Janet shrugged. "I would have said it was impossible for fire not to burn until ten minutes ago, yet I've just watched my granddaughter hold it in her hand."
Alastors eyes widened. "Fucking hell," he muttered, draining his teacup.
Fabian eyed Caradoc across the table. Every line in his body was tense. "Where do we start?"
Caradoc snorted. "You think I have an answer to that?"
"We need to start somewhere," Fabian muttered mulishly.
Caradoc groaned. "Do you… before Dora had you even considered anything with the witch?"
"Yes," Fabian sighed. "Not… a huge amount to be honest. She's interesting, but her father is terrifying."
"So you're not interested…."
"I am!" Fabian protested. "I just… it feels like Pandora gave me permission that I didn't have before."
"Fuck," Caradoc muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face.
"You've considered her too then?" Fabian stated, eyeing his friend warily.
"I've been meeting the witch for lunch," Caradoc admitted. "She took me to…" he frowned. "I think she called it the cinema. Moving story, play type thing. It was good."
"For how long?" Fabian bit out, staring at him in horror.
"I've met her a few times," Caradoc admitted. "It's clear she's not ready for anything but a friend at the moment. I'd sort of planned to slowly ingratiate myself so that when she was ready I'd make a move."
"Right," Fabian muttered crossly. "So what you're saying is I've lost before we've even begun."
Caradoc huffed. "I don't bloody know! I have no idea what goes on in that witch's head! Are you saying you're giving up?"
Fabian stilled, turning that over in his head. He had no idea why he was so drawn to his boss's difficult daughter, and yet he was. He wasn't quite ready to admit defeat yet. "No," he sighed. "I don't want to give up."
"Me either," Caradoc admitted. "She's one of the few witches who isn't utterly bored when I talk about work."
Fabian hummed. "So… may the best wizard win?"
Caradoc nodded slowly. "Or we talk about Dora's third option."
"A triad," Fabian muttered flatly.
Caradoc shrugged. "Not something I've considered before," he admitted. "But… she said it was the best option."
Fabian groaned. "I don't know how I feel about that. It's… not entirely in my nature to share."
"Do you think you can handle that witch on your own?" Caradoc laughed suddenly.
Against his will, Fabian's mouth quirked into a slight smile. "Perhaps not," he admitted, thinking of her and Marlene. "She doesn't behave like anyone I've ever met."
"No," Caradoc snorted. "She does not."
"Right," Fabian sighed. "So how exactly would it work? Because I hate to break it to you mate, but if you're after a Prewett I'm the wrong twin."
Caradoc rolled his eyes, throwing a cushion at Fabian's head. "Your arse doesn't interest me in the slightest."
"Thank fuck for that," Fabian muttered with a smile. "Could we do it, do you think? Share?"
"I don't know," Caradoc admitted. "But it would be nice to have backup so we're not continually blindsided by the witch. I get the impression that whatever she's not telling us is far bigger than either of us could ever imagine."
"Me too," Fabian admitted. "It scares me, to be honest."
Caradoc hummed. "So we give it a go then?"
"How the fuck can we give it a go if she's not ready?" Fabian demanded.
"We become friends," Caradoc shrugged. "We get her to the point that she can't think of us without thinking of us both and then, as with my original plan, when she is ready, we make a move."
"Do you think she knows?" Fabian asked abruptly. "That could be why she looked so shocked at the ball."
Caradoc shook his head. "She said Dora informed her that she'd be her daughter's godmother and had a… message from someone she used to know. I got the impression they were dead."
"Fuck," Fabain hissed. "Your cousin really needs to work on her tact."
"Tell me something I don't know," Caradoc muttered. "However, it can't have been too bad. They were meant to be meeting yesterday."
"They were?" Fabian checked with wide eyes.
"Apparently they're going to be friends," Caradoc replied wryly. "So Dora says anyway. She was really rather excited about it."
Fabian blinked. "Of course she is."
Snorting, Caradoc shook his head. "So… how are we doing this?"
"We're going to go on a charm offensive of course," Fabian grinned. "We're also going to train with the witch, because she mentioned wanting more duelling partners. We're going to meet her for lunch, we're going to take her out and show her around and introduce her to people. In short, my dear friend, we are going to become indispensable."
"Right," Caradoc murmured thoughtfully. "I wonder if she'd like to help with some of my experiments."
Fabian groaned. "Fuck I hope not, or I don't think I'll survive two of you."
Caradoc grinned, shrugging. "I win either way."
"Arse," Fabian groused with no real heat. "Now, let's discuss how we're going to get little Miss Moody to take us seriously."
Nodding, Caradoc made himself comfortable and began to plot.
"Hermione!" Saul beckoned her over to where he was holding a pair of what looked like opera glasses as he examined an iridescent egg.
"Do I want to ask?" Hermione checked, peering down at the egg.
"Hermione, meet Broderick Bode." Saul waved his hand carelessly in the direction of a tall man with a kind face who was watching Saul with rapt attention. She startled slightly as the name triggered something at the back of her mind, wishing she could pin it down. "Broderick here had the brilliant idea to cast a reducio on a couple of dragons to see if we could cross breed them."
Hermione blinked. On anyone else that statement would have sounded sarcastic, but given that Saul was almost vibrating with excitement, she had to assume that he was being completely genuine. "I… I see," she murmured. "The reducio didn't wear off?"
"Oh it did," Broderick grinned sheepishly. "Tore through Master Solomon's wards and we ended up with a slightly annoyed dragon head in the atrium. It was fine… Thankfully it was at night and no one was hurt."
"Slightly annoyed?" she repeated, arching a brow. The man flushed before he waved his hand carelessly.
"It was fine," he repeated. "We fixed the damage before anyone else was aware."
Hermione snorted. "I see. So do you think the reducio permanently changed the composition of the egg?"
"That's the thought process," Saul nodded.
"Will it be as untamable as a traditional dragon?"
"We don't know," Broderick admitted. "We're hoping not. The dragons weren't interested in the egg once they were back to normal size. We had hoped they'd take to it."
"This was the only viable one?" Hermione frowned. "Don't they normally lay in clutches of more than one?"
"Three to six normally," Broderick agreed. "This is one of four. They're all different colours and they all appear to need different things. We have one we're struggling with. We've been trying to examine them to determine the differences, without disrupting their natural processes."
"Ah," she murmured. "Have you found differences?"
"Many," he sighed. "But not enough to understand what the last one needs. I'm more than a little worried it's not going to make it. We've tried recreating the traditional nest of the Chinese Fireball. This one," Hermione paused, realising that he was pointing to a tiny red egg surrounded by flames that she'd somehow missed, "seems to like it. The white one over there likes the traditional nest of an opaleye. See how the flames are different?" Hermione nodded, realising the flames were black.
"Are they always like that?"
"Yes. I have no idea why. Opaleyes spit out traditional fire, but when it comes to the nest, it turns black."
"Wow," Hermione murmured, fighting the urge to touch it.
"The little one Saul is examining likes a mix. Its nest is that one." He pointed to a mesmerising nest that was a mix of black and red flames. "But nothing we've tried appears to be working for the last one."
Hermione's breath caught as a horrible sense of inevitability shot through her. The tiny egg looked… cold. She had no idea how she knew, but she did. Hoping that she wasn't making a monumental mistake, she approached the nest, opening her hand until her flames danced on her palm. She barely registered the shocked intake of breath from the gathered unspeakables as she focused on her intention before sending the flames into the nest, wreathing the egg in fire that matched the colour of its shell.
"Mother of Merlin," Broderick breathed, his eyes on the monitoring charms hovering over the nest. "That's…. what sort of fire is that?"
Coming back to herself with wide eyes Hermione shook her head. "I ah… I don't know. I've always called them bluebell flames."
"Always?" Saul asked sharply, slashing his wand through the air, casting what Hermione assumed was a privacy ward. It was stronger than any other one she'd ever felt.
She shrugged uncomfortably. "I've been able to do them as long as I can remember."
Saul gave a slight whine as he placed the iridescent egg back in its nest. "We'll be discussing that in a minute. How long will those flames last?"
She shrugged. "Until I call them back."
Saul froze. "Until you call them back," he repeated. "Bode, analyse them. The results are not to be shared. Bring Collins in on it. I want absolute secrecy."
"That bad?" Hermione muttered as Bode scurried away, presumably in search of Collins, leaving her with just Saul and the blue-flamed egg.
"I've never in all my life seen completely blue fire, Hermione," Saul admitted. "So either your accidental magic created something new to suit your purpose or anyone else who can cast it has hidden it. I'm not going to lie, I'm hoping for the former because if it's the latter then I'd have to be worried. No one hides something like that without purpose."
"Right," she muttered. "I… used to cast it at school and no one said anything."
"Then perhaps a discovery within the next twenty years," he mused thoughtfully. "Interesting."
"Surely it cannot be new if the dragon responded to it?" she shrugged.
"It's a brand new species of dragon!" Saul exclaimed exasperatedly. "We don't even understand why the eggs are all so different. They all came from the same parents!"
"Then perhaps that's how the fire was originally discovered," Hermione pointed out softly. "I have no idea if this experiment was successful in my time. I don't remember hearing about pygmy dragons but that doesn't mean nothing came of it."
Saul surveyed her thoughtfully. "You have a point," he admitted grudgingly. "However, that doesn't detract from the fact that you've been unconsciously summoning that new fire since before your magic was a conscious choice."
"I know," Hermione sighed. "Gran theorised that I had a natural affinity with fire. The ritual I did with dad last night had some… surprising alterations."
His jaw dropped. "You've done your first ritual? Already?"
She shrugged. "It was a protection spell. We didn't know when I suggested it originally that it recommended a ritual. I don't remember reading that the first time, but the damn book is sentient and seems to like pissing me off, so who knows."
Saul snorted. "It's a book, Hermione. It doesn't have the capacity to think."
"I think this one might," she muttered. "And it's an arsehole."
Saul snorted. "I'm sure your Uncle Charlus has planned on doing something about your questionable language."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "How long until they hatch?"
"We have no idea," Saul admitted. "We're monitoring them and we've reached out to the Romanian dragon sanctuary to see if they have spells we're unaware of. But don't change the subject. Tell me about this ritual."
She shrugged. "The runes lit up with those blue flames, which I'm told is unusual. The flames sort of surrounded me when I got to the South and stayed with me until I extinguished them at the end. Dad said the runes burned after I drew the last one on him and they flashed blue, not gold. I don't really understand what any of it means if I'm honest."
Saul let out a harsh breath. "Right then, something to ponder. What were your gran's theories?"
"Um, she theorised that I'd be able to control the flames. She mentioned that there were rumours that those who have an affinity with fire also have one with dragons and can eventually withstand all forms of flame. She was going to check with Madam Flamel."
Saul stared at her for several long minutes. "Right then," he muttered, pausing as something occurred to him. "You've flown a dragon."
"Yes," she agreed, frowning at him.
"It didn't cook you."
"Ah, no. Although it did try."
"Hermione, if that dragon wanted you dead you'd be dead," he replied bluntly. "They're not known for missing, especially not in a confined space. The fact that you not only survived, but that it let you fly on its back… Mother of Morganna, maybe your grandmother has a point."
Hermione remained silent, turning that over in her head. "I don't know what to say to that," she admitted.
"Me either," Saul agreed ruefully. "You keep things interesting, if nothing else."
"Less interesting sounds nice," she muttered, making him laugh.
"Right. Let's go and talk goblins," he sighed, reluctantly forcing himself to stick to their planned agenda. It was too important to get distracted from, even if he was itching to investigate this fire affinity the witch apparently had.
Hermione cast another look back at the tiny egg, grimacing when Saul caught her. "It's… I don't know how to explain it, but I don't really want to leave."
Several expressions cycled over Saul's face too quickly for her to catch before he settled on amused. "Ok," he murmured slowly. "So we'll talk Goblin customs here then." Silently, he conjured two chairs and sat them in front of the nest. The egg gave a tiny hum that sounded like a piano note. Saul froze. "That's new."
"What does that mean?" Hermione asked sounding slightly desperate.
Saul gave a laugh that sounded close to hysterical. "I have no bloody idea!" he admitted. "Gods, give me a time turner over this mess any day. How do you feel about… what did you call them… pygmy dragon sitting?"
"I can't babysit a dragon!" Hermione protested.
"Going to leave it are you?" he shot back, smiling smugly when the egg emitted a warbling, sad sounding note.
Hermione whined. "Well not now!"
He snorted. "Well then, let's make the nest containable. The last thing we need is your father on the warpath because it's burnt down his house."
"It won't burn anything," Hermione admitted.
"Pardon?" Saul asked sharply.
"It doesn't burn anything. That's what Gran meant when she said that she thinks I could make it burn if I wanted to, but I'm not entirely sure how."
Cautiously, Saul stood, extending his finger towards the flame, forcing himself not to recoil at the heat. He hissed, drawing his hand back quickly when the flames touched his skin.
"It burns," he retorted, eyeing his blistering finger.
"What? It doesn't…" she put her hand into the flames before he could stop her, drawing them out and showing him them.
"Holy mother of Merlin," he muttered. "So they don't burn you. Have you ever used them on anyone else?"
Hermione frowned. "They didn't burn the boys when I had them in jars but…" she froze. "Fuck. Snape."
Saul's eyebrows rose. "Severus Snape? The one you wanted to save?"
"I might have set him on fire in our first year, remember? I scooped the flames back into the jar but his robes… fuck I burnt those."
"You couldn't have remembered that before I stuck my hand in the flames?" he muttered mulishly, summoning some burn paste from one of the various pockets in his robes.
"I forgot," Hermione mumbled. "A lot has happened since first year."
Saul rolled his eyes as he fought the urge to sigh in relief when the burn paste kicked in and his finger no longer felt like it was still on fire. "Right, so… it burns other people and things around it. We'll need to fireproof a box or something."
Hermione frowned. "It never burnt my bed or my books," she muttered. "Or the garden before I started putting the flames in jars."
Saul mirrored her frown for several seconds. "Pick up the nest," he commanded thoughtfully, "And put it down on…" he conjured a blanket, "that."
Nodding, Hermione carefully picked up the nest. The tiny egg emitted several notes. "Aww," she cooed.
Behind her back, Saul rolled his eyes. "Of bloody course," he muttered, watching closely as she lowered the nest down onto the blanket. It remained intact.
"Huh. Am I to assume you wanted to burn me?" he asked wryly.
Hermione's head jerked up looking startled. "I don't think so," she frowned. "Not consciously?"
He snorted. "Keep a hand on the nest. I'm going to touch it with something that's not my skin."
Hermione watched with interest as he poked the flames with a piece of rolled parchment. He seemed to have expected nothing to happen, nodding when the flames curled around it but didn't burn. "Remove your hands but focus on not burning anything," he instructed, nodding again when nothing happened. "Think about burning the original parchment," he murmured, inserting another bit.
Hermione frowned, attempting to do as she was told. Her eyes widened as she watched the first parchment burn. "You have more control than you think," he muttered, eyeing her with interest.
Hermione hummed. "So did I mean to burn you?" she checked, sounding horrified.
He snorted. "I don't think so," Saul mused. "I just don't think you'd told it not to."
Frowning, Hermione considered that. "I'm not going to lie, that's slightly disturbing. Do you think I need to ask it not to burn everyone it comes into contact with?"
"No idea," Saul replied cheerfully. "But I imagine we could figure it out. I'll need to upset Bode and prevent him from experimenting too much unless you'd like to donate us some fire?" He waved a conjured jar at her teasingly.
Hermione rolled her eyes, snatching the jar from him before filling it with flames.
"You're enjoying this a little bit too much," she grumbled.
Saul grinned. "You get to go home and tell your dad you have a new pet dragon," he reminded her gleefully. "I'm going to demand the pensive memory."
Hermione huffed. "Right. Goblin customs?"
"Spoilsport," he muttered, settling back in his seat. "Very well, tell me what, if anything, you know."
Alastor stepped out of the floo after what felt like an unreasonably long day, all he really wanted was to sink into the sofa with a firewhisky. He headed in the direction of the livingroom, hoping his daughter was home from her jaunt into the Department of Mysteries before freezing in the doorway.
"Dad!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes widening as she was caught with a dragon nest on her knees.
"Hermione… Hermione lass you appear to be on fire again," Alastor commented faintly.
"Ah. Yes. I went to visit Saul today to discuss Goblin customs."
"Right," he muttered. He'd known that. It did not explain why she was on fire.
"He sent me home with a few books," she continued.
"That is not a book Hermione!" Alastor retorted sharply.
"Ah no," she admitted slowly, "This is apparently a pygmy dragon who might have ah… taken a liking to me."
"A dragon?" Alastor repeated flatly.
"Ah yes. A mini one though."
Alastor sank down onto the sofa slowly, his eyes never leaving the nest. "A dragon."
"Yes," Hermione nodded slowly, looking more than a little alarmed.
"A dragon who has taken a liking to you?" Alasor spoke again in that same flat tone.
"Ah… yes," Hermione agreed, her eyes widening when he began to laugh so hard he was in tears.
"Oh my Merlin, I needed that," he gasped. "This is… this is fucking insane. Hermione that's a dragon…. on your knee… I… fuck, is anything ever normal with you?"
She flushed. "Apparently not," she muttered.
He snorted. "Well at least we won't be bored." He took another look at the dragon egg and howled.
Hermione glowered at him, picking up the nest with as much dignity as she could muster before stalking out of the room. He found her over an hour later, curled around the egg in otter form, the faint sound of music emanating from the nest.
"Hermione!" Charlus beamed at her from behind his desk. She eyed him hesitantly, cradling the still flaming nest. "What's that?" he asked with a frown.
"One of Saul's experiments," Hermione muttered. "I'm babysitting because it seems to like me."
"Right," Charlus nodded, eyeing the flames. "And ah… what exactly is Director Croaker playing with?"
"Oh," Hermione flushed. "Ah… dragons."
"That's a dragon?" he asked flatly.
"Oh gods, not this again," Hermione exclaimed. "I did this with Dad already last night. Yes, it's a dragon. Yes, it's going to be with me for the foreseeable future. No, I don't know how long. Can we look at laws now?"
Charlus stared at her wide eyed and bit back a laugh. "Of course," he agreed. "Once we're done I'm going to invite Kingsley in. We got sidetracked by your wards last time, but I really do think we need to have a chat with your elves."
Hermione sighed, but nodded. "Fine."
"I'm going to come too. It'll… if we have to we'll spin it that Alex is meeting us there I think. We'll send him a patronus telling him to stay put until we're back so he doesn't turn up here and make liars of us."
Nodding, Hermione set the nest carefully on the floor before pulling the stack of files towards her. "I assume this is where I'm starting?"
Charlus smiled ruefully. "It's one of ten piles relating to werewolf laws. It's going to take months."
"Fabulous," Hermione muttered, eyeing the wobbling stack with trepidation.
Charlus snorted. "I'll arrange a desk for you shortly. Unfortunately, I might have upset Madam Summers in furniture acquisition and she's jinxed my office to prevent transfiguration."
Hermione's head snapped up, catching his embarrassed flush and she laughed. "What did you do to her?"
He sighed. "I might have unwittingly sat on her pet toad."
The snort of laughter that Hermione gave was loud and utterly unladylike. "You did not!"
He grimaced at her. "I did," he muttered. "He was fine. She's completely overreacting. It's hardly my fault she gives the thing a chair in her office!"
Deciding not to answer him, Hermione hid her smile behind the first piece of parchment and attempted to contain her mirth long enough to focus on the words in front of her.
"Hermione!" Saul's voice startled her out of the parchments in front of her after what felt like barely five minutes. He arched a brow looking amused at the confusion on her face. "It's lunchtime."
"Is it?" Hermione frowned, her eyes flying to the clock. " Shit! I swear it was nine the last time I checked."
Charlus laughed. "If you hadn't been writing continuously, I might have thought you'd fallen asleep. The only part of you that's moved is your hand!" he teased. "What exactly is it you're writing?"
"Oh, plans on how best to repeal laws. We're realistically going to have to do it in stages, so I was attempting to work out what was the best order. If we can marry up stages then maybe we can do several at once."
Charlus blinked. "Of course you were."
Snorting, Saul shook his head at her. "Right then. I've been tasked with ensuring you eat today. Let's go and brave the canteen before your father has something to say. How do you feel about leaving the egg?"
Hermione flushed. "I woke up in my animagus form inside the nest this morning," she muttered.
"Ah," Saul nodded, but wisely kept his own counsel. "Well then, let's take your first baby to lunch."
"It won't cause issues for people to know you're playing with dragons?" Hermione frowned.
Saul shrugged, leaning closer to whisper dramatically. "I'll let you in on a secret. I'm the Director of the Department of Mysteries. I don't have to care."
Shoving him and rolling her eyes, Hermione bent to pick up the nest. "Lead on then Director."
He made a dramatic sweeping gesture with his arm, holding the door open for her. "After you, my dear."
Still laughing, Hermione almost walked directly into Fabian Prewett.
"Shit!" she cursed, steading the egg. "Sorry!"
Fabian blinked, looking like a deer caught in headlights. It had been one thing to come to a decision regarding the witch with Caradoc. It was entirely another to come face to face with her so soon. "I… I…"
Gideon rolled his eyes. "I think what my twin is trying to ask is are you alright, Miss Moody?"
"I'm fine," Hermione assured him, frowning at Fabian. "Is he? Has someone cursed him?"
"Bewitched I think is the correct term, Miss Moody," Gideon grinned, making Saul choke on a laugh. "Dare I ask what it is you're cuddling? Fire is an unusual choice…."
"Oh… oh it's ah… not exactly mine."
"I think you'll find it probably is," Saul muttered.
"I can't keep a dragon!" Hermione yelped, turning to look at him in horror.
"And when it turns its little eyes to you and begs silently, are you really going to say no?" Saul asked, sounding so amused she wanted to hit him. "You can't even say no to the egg!"
"But it sings almost, and I feel sad!" Hermione protested.
"That's a dragon?" Gideon intervened as Saul smirked smugly, clearly feeling like he'd proved his point.
"Ah, yes. Hopefully a small one, but we're not sure," Hermione explained.
"Hopefully a small one," he repeated looking at her as if she'd lost her mind. "The DOM is just… handing out dragons these days?"
"Not exactly," Hermione squirmed. "It sort of… got sad when I tried to leave and then I felt guilty so now… now apparently it's living with me."
Gideon's jaw dropped before he snorted, dissolving into disbelieving laughter. "Sweet mother of Merlin. You're just utter chaos, aren't you?"
"Of the best kind," Charlus agreed, ignoring the betrayed look Hermione sent him, before continuing pointedly. "Don't you two have work to do?"
"Yes, Boss," Gideon agreed quickly, taking hold of his brother's arm. "What the fuck was that?" he hissed once they were out of sight.
"Did she have a dragon?" Fabian frowned, sounding bewildered.
"Yes, arsehole! I'll repeat, what the fuck was that?"
"I don't know!" Fabian groaned. "I just… seized. I wasn't expecting her."
"Hopeless," Gideon muttered in disgust, before walking away from him. "Absolutely hopeless."
"Right but… an actual dragon…" Fabian called after him questioningly.
"It won't bite," Saul chided as Hermione poked at her lunch.
"What is it though?" she asked, scrunching her nose.
"They said chicken," Saul replied thoughtfully. "But who really knows? It's one of the mysteries of the canteen."
The look Hermione sent him was distinctly unimpressed, before she huffed, straightening her posture and looking at him properly. "I've been meaning to ask, is there a way to contain wards in an object?"
Chewing slowly, Saul mulled that over. "What type of wards?"
"I recently won an Auror simulator because no one could find me through my wards. Dad wondered if we could make them portable because they're not practical unless you have a lot of time and need to hide."
"Leave it to me. It… might. Merlin, you need to hurry up and get your NEWTS. The projects are piling up. I'll agree to shared custody if you're insistent on working with Charlus."
"You're ridiculous," Hermione shot back.
"I'm an opportunist," he corrected. "You have… a unique perspective on the next several years of magical development that I'd be stupid not to utilise."
Hermione inclined her head, conceding his point. "Fine, I'll consider it. After NEWTs."
"You could just take them at the Ministry you know, get it over with," he wheedled.
"What do you know of Pandora Carrow?" Hermione asked.
Saul stared back at her for several seconds, clearly not sure where she was going. "Nothing," he admitted.
"She has the Sight," Hermione replied bluntly. "I assume you have privacy wards up?"
"Of course I do," Saul scoffed. "I am not a novice."
"Fine. She said me building the relationships I'm trying to cultivate is immensely important and I… trust her judgement. She also implied that I need to bring the twins and Caradoc in sooner rather than later. I'm considering Marlene McKinnon too. She owled asking to meet, so I'll sort of sound her out then. I don't know anything about her."
"Because she was… unavailable before?"
"Yes. All of the McKinnon's were."
Saul hummed. "Do I get to meet this Miss Carrow?"
"I can ask. I… knew a relation of hers… before."
Saul sighed as understanding washed over his face. "And you were close," he stated, not needing her nod to confirm it. "Very well. Perhaps discuss it with her and see if there's a… best time to bring people in?"
"Alright," Hermione agreed. "I'm seeing her on Friday, but it's at the Weasleys', so maybe next Tuesday? We're meeting for a few hours."
Saul hummed. "When does school go back?"
"Ugh, next week" she groaned, "I've agreed to be there one day a week, but I might try and swing two or I'll never be able to build the relationships I need to."
Saul nodded thoughtfully. "Are there some that are likely to be harder than others?"
"Yes," Hermione sighed. "One in particular. Two really, but I don't have access to the second one yet and I have no idea how I'm going to get it. I was meant to approach them at the Blishwick ball, but well… that didn't quite go to plan."
"Why?" Saul frowned
"Pandora Carrow blindsided me," Hermione muttered, before waving her hand. "It's fine. I'll… sort something. Gods know what, but something. I have another year for that one if necessary."
Saul hummed, nudging her with his foot. "Eat your questionable chicken or your dad will have my head."
Deciding it was safer to comply, Hermione picked up her fork, allowing Saul to redirect their conversation to less fraught topics.
"Kingsley!" Charlus greeted, startling Hermione from her notes for a second time. "Good. Come in and shut the door."
"Sir," Kingsley nodded, eyeing Hermione warily. "Miss Moody."
"Auror Shaklebolt," Hermione nodded, finishing her sentence before putting down her quill.
"Sit down, lad," Charlus instructed. "Now this conversation goes no further."
"Of course, Sir," Kingsley murmured.
"We need to go to Auror Moody's house without him being aware to interview his house elves," Charlus informed him bluntly.
Kingsley froze. "Pardon?" he squeaked, shooting Hermione a look as his cheeks darkened.
She bit back a smile, lowering her eyes before she laughed at his embarrassment.
"Auror Moody's elves," Charlus bit out. "Interviewing them. Now."
"Ah, right… Sir… ah… why?" Kingsley stammered, clearly trying to get his bearings.
"Oh," Charlus looked momentarily sheepish as he realised he'd not explained anything. "Hermione had queried whether an elf could be used to get someone through the wards."
"Ah," understanding flashed over Kingsley's face.
"I don't want to give my father false hopes of getting answers," Hermione voiced softly. "It might be another dead end, but we now know the attack was premeditated."
"How?" Kingsley asked. "Did you manage to speak to someone connected?"
Hermione shook her head. "No. It's… I was removed from the house by a spell my mother cast. It required certain conditions in order to be activated."
"I see," Kingsley replied slowly. "So it sent you somewhere… safe? If that was the case, why did Auror Moody not know where to find you?"
"No one knew she'd cast it. It's an old family spell."
"Right," Kingsley sighed. "How exactly are we getting out without your father noticing?"
"We'll leave from here. I have floo access. Hermione, send Alex a Patronus. Get him to stay put." Charlus answered for her.
Hermione nodded, casting quickly before murmuring her message. "Let's go." She scooped up the nest and stepped towards the floo. "I'll go first and call the elves."