Hermione groaned. An armful of books felt much heavier than usual.
The night shift was to blame.
She had always been an early riser, the type to come into work at six sharp to organize her files and catch up on any overnight affairs. Coffee had always been ready by the time her coworkers came in, thanks to her, and while it was a welcome boost, she didn't need it. In the mornings, she was already wide awake, an unstoppable force geared to take on the day, no matter what challenges it presented.
House-elves had been the perfect clients for her.
They were up at the crack of dawn, many of their misfortunes occurring in the late evenings when they were serving their fatigued, ornery masters in their dungeons or studies. Hermione would start her visitations early. Their stories were still fresh then; their injuries were fresh too.
Now, she went to bed while the elves were cooking breakfast. She was in sessions when they were tucking in their young masters and pouring wine for their mistresses.
Her new life was starting to take a toll on her — both physically and mentally.
When she faced her reflection, she saw bags that weren't usually there. Her muscles ached all the time, she was developing frequent migraines, and her brain always felt a little bit foggy. Then there were, of course, the two hallucinations she'd experienced. Those were the most troubling symptom.
What was strange was that it wasn't even the first time she worked the night shift. Howling and shouting and forcing Wolfsbane down unwilling throats should have been much more tiring than her current workload, but somehow, it wasn't. Her internship never drained her the way Vampire Support was starting to — not even during the full moon.
Maybe she was getting old.
She settled at her usual library table, her lids heavy as she watched her colleagues shelve their books and hurry towards the grand, mahogany doors. Just weeks ago, she would've been one of them. The books on her table would be about elf magic and its rich history — fringe texts like If Elves Ruled the World and The Elfin Method. Instead, the stack before her consisted of The Manifesto of Blood-Drinkers , Vampirism Explained, and The Ministry of Magic v. Sanguine.
It was quite a change.
With a yawn, she plucked Legal Matters of Vampire Mates from the top of the pile and flipped it open. Occasional mentions of mate legislation were in McLaggen's notes, but they were as sparse as the mentions in the many texts she'd read, a footnote in the expanse of Vampire Law. She needed to know mate laws like the back of her hand — especially if she planned to re-approach the topic with Malfoy.
And she knew she would have to.
With all she'd learned about mate magic, she wouldn't be doing her job if she simply let him wave off the notion of one. She needed a game plan to bring it up again, and with Malfoy, she had to appeal to his sense of rationale. They were alike in that way.
Hopefully, there was something in the book worth his attention.
The table of contents suggested it was a rather complex area of the law. There were centurial ceremonies, registration requirements, obligatory —
"Shocked to see you here," a familiar voice mused.
Hermione gasped, a hand flying to her chest as she whipped around. Harry grinned down at her.
"You scared me!"
"Did I?" he asked, still beaming. He pulled out the chair beside her and plopped into it. "Looks like you've got quite the night ahead of you."
Hermione's heart slowed to its usual rhythm. She nodded.
"There's a lot to learn. Vampire Law is . . . complicated, to say the least."
"Is it?"
"More than I thought it would be. There's loads of contradictory ruling . . . The Fang Ordinance, for example. It was signed into law at the end of 1894. It states that all vampires must have their teeth filed once a month — but there's an act from 1901 that bans them from modifying their fangs. They can't be compliant, even if they try."
"That seems . . . unfair. Have you discussed it with your department?" Harry asked.
Hermione shook her head. The more she researched, the more she realized how much she still needed to learn. "D.R.C.M.C. meetings are usually about creature concerns, goblins, and occasionally werewolves, if something's come up. We rarely discuss vampires at all, let alone the hoops we expect them to jump through."
"Weird. Considering how many are out there, you'd think it'd be an important topic."
"That's my point. I'm starting to doubt this is entirely accidental."
"What d'you mean?"
"Fair legislation humanizes them," she explained. "Humanizing them means we have to treat them with dignity and respect, and frankly, I don't think the department wants to do that."
"Couldn't that just be McLaggen, though? It was his job to bring up this kind of thing, right?"
"I thought that too," Hermione said, "but this predates McLaggen. Prickle handled their caseload before him, and I found no record of Vampire Law being mentioned in conference agendas — ever. We've been so focused on compliance, we've not considered what compliance actually means."
Harry glanced at the page she was on. He raised an eyebrow. "And what's compliance look like for vampire mates?"
Hermione's face became, inexplicably, warmer. "That's what I'm trying to find out. I think they receive more benefits than others — but I need to confirm that."
"That makes no sense. Why would the Ministry want two vampires to be working together?"
"Actually, they're less likely to offend than single vampires, so really, it makes perfect sense," Hermione answered. "The Ministry would want to incentivize it."
"Wait — how would it make them less likely to offend?"
"It's all about blood availability," Hermione explained. "Single vampires are more likely to harm someone because they have to. Vampires with mates have a failsafe. So long as one of them has been taking their potions, the other one can feed off them — which brings me to the apothecary ban —"
"They feed off each other?" Harry interrupted, his nose crinkling.
Hermione nodded. "It's actually more nourishing for them than human blood or the Replenishing Potions. It's medicinal."
"Wow, they must all be looking for mates then."
Hermione scoffed. "So you'd think."
"Wait," Harry started, knitting his brows, "so they don't all want mates?"
"Most of them do," Hermione muttered, scanning the chapter for anything of interest. She turned the page. "A lot of them have had their mates pass away and they're still grieving. We can't really grasp it as humans, since we cognitively understand there's the possibility our partners could die . . ." Harry's face fell at that; he didn't do well with discussing death anymore. "Sorry, I just meant —"
"Don't worry about it," he said quickly, eager to veer away from the topic. "So you're er — you're really trying to help them, then."
"I have to, I represent them," Hermione replied. "Besides, we've already spent weeks in and out of court. The least I can do is get something out of our time investment . . . Of course, convincing —"
"What d'you mean our time investment? I thought you were working alone."
"Wait, I haven't told you yet, have I?"
"Told me what?"
She looked around the library, searching for any eavesdroppers or prying eyes. The five o' clock rush had given them the rare gift of privacy.
She leaned in. "Guess who one of my new clients is."
"I dunno — Umbridge?"
"Be serious, Harry."
"I was!" He frowned. "It can't be Rufus Scrimgeour."
"Obviously not, the man is dead."
"Not if you ask Luna."
Hermione ignored him. "Last guess."
"Celestina Warbeck."
"No," said Hermione. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I'll give you a hint. Who has impossibly blond hair, an abysmal attitude problem, and was once the rightful master of the Elder Wand?"
Harry blanched. "Malfoy's a vampire?"
"Shh!" Hermione hissed in a panic. Her eyes darted to and fro, just in case someone had snuck around a nearby bookcase. "Confidentiality is important in my field!"
"Hermione, there's literally a public list," Harry pointed out. "The stupid ferret is probably already on it."
"Still. It's not my place to be telling you. I only am because, well, it's Malfoy." She regarded him. Fear danced in his pupils. "I can see you're concerned about me, but you really don't have to be. He's no more dangerous than my other clients."
"Your other clients didn't say they wanted you dead when we were twelve years old."
She rolled her eyes. "I think he's over that, Harry."
"Is he?"
"If you actually thought he was out to kill me, you wouldn't have stood up for him at his trial," Hermione adverted. "He's in an adjustment period, but really, he's doing great. You've got nothing to worry about."
"I wouldn't call being a vampire doing great," Harry muttered sourly. "D'you think he did it on purpose?"
"Don't be ridiculous, of course he didn't do it on purpose."
"I mean, he did follow someone whose whole goal was to become immortal. Maybe he's just . . . doing that in his own way." Harry gave her a meaningful look. "You can't tell me it's out of the question."
"It is out of the question," Hermione affirmed. "He doesn't want to be a vampire — in fact, he hates them."
"That could be an act."
"It's not." She was sure of that. "He's very depressed about it. Honestly, I should probably mark him at risk of staking himself."
"As if Malfoy would kill himself."
"You haven't seen him, Harry. He's miserable."
"If you say so . . ." Despite seeming unswayed, Harry dropped his tone. "So how long has he er — been one?"
"A few weeks," Hermione answered. "He was attacked in Knockturn Alley — likely an unregistered assailant."
"How come this is the first I'm hearing about this? Shouldn't my team be handling something like that?"
"My department is aware of the issue. Obviously, they'll be looking for them, but a vampire that doesn't want to be found rarely is . . ." She paused. "Sadly, this kind of thing is quite common. We don't report every instance to the D.M.L.E."
"But you just reported this one," Harry pointed out.
"Not formally."
"Sure, but we could stand to put a few more people on patrol —"
"We can handle it," Hermione said sternly. "Besides, that's not the point."
"Right — Malfoy," Harry said. He raked his fingers through his hair. "Damn. I still can't — it's really hard to believe, Hermione. I almost feel like you're trying to prank me."
"I wish I was."
"And he's not scary?" he asked. "After your whole boggart thing . . ."
"He's not like my boggart," Hermione said quickly. "Like I said before, he's actually doing well. He's difficult and an arrogant prat like usual, but that's it."
"Apparently vampirism doesn't cure you of being a wanker, then," Harry muttered.
Hermione laughed. "Unfortunately not. It is weird, though. Sometimes, I think he's just trying to get a rise out of me like we're back in school. It's like sitting through those terrible prefect meetings all over again."
"You're certain that's all it is? It could be some kind of bait so you let your guard down, couldn't it? You know, since he wants to drink your blood and all."
"I don't think so . I've never had to spend so much alone time with him, so it's hard to gauge if he's acting much differently . . . " She grinned and added, "He's only called me a Mudblood once, though. I'd say that's pretty good, considering blood is such an important topic for him now."
Harry snorted. "Always has been, though, hasn't it? Suppose the whole vampire thing is fairly fitting."
"I suppose so."
Their laughs faded, and so did the harsh light of day.
The Atmospheric Charm was diminishing in that unnatural way it always did, now a sudden sky of pink and orange. Soon, it would be dark.
Harry glanced at his watch. "I guess I ought to let you get back to it . . . We've got a healer appointment at six — Ginny'll kill me if I miss it."
"Are you finally learning the sex?" Hermione asked brightly.
"No," Harry deadpanned. He stood and stretched. "All boring stuff today. Does it have hands and feet, that kind of thing."
"Hands and feet are pretty important too."
"Well, yeah. Good things to have, if we can help it." His expression became serious. "Hey — keep me in the loop on the whole Malfoy thing, yeah?"
"You know I will."
"Well, you did manage to keep it from me for a few weeks, whatever that means."
"As if you have room to talk! You didn't tell me about the baby until she was showing!" Hermione exclaimed.
"I dunno, in the grand scheme of things, vampire Malfoy is probably a bigger deal than another Weasley baby . . . He'd at least give it a run for its Galleons."
"Harry!"
"I'm only kidding!" he defended himself. Laughing it off, he added, "See you soon?"
"Of course."
He started in the other direction, but Hermione wasn't finished with him yet.
"And you let me know about those hands and feet, Harry Potter!" she shouted after him.
He shot a thumbs-up into the air, then with the opening and closing of the double doors, she was alone again.
The night shift was only beginning.
Malfoy was a prisoner.
Not in Azkaban — he'd narrowly avoided that, with Harry and Hermione's help — but as Hermione took her seat across from him, that's what she saw. A prisoner.
The Ministry had wrapped him in chains and tethered him to a chair; only a specially trained handler could move him; his sessions were minutely focused on his desire to commit crime. What else was he, if not a prisoner?
Hermione was not a healer, nor was she a parole officer. She was a representative. She was supposed to be helping.
Chains were not helpful.
The medieval approach bothered her with her other clients, of course, but to see Malfoy like that made her feel ill. Perhaps it was only jarring because they grew up together, for better or worse. Or maybe the problem was that he could control himself. She'd seen proof the week before.
Chains only bred contempt.
"Dimmitio."
Surprise flashed across Malfoy's face, quickly fading into his usual scowl. Just as she suspected, he didn't come towards her. He merely stretched his back subtly and put his hands on the armrests.
"How has the week been?" Hermione asked.
"As expected," he grunted.
She nodded. "You're still isolating yourself?"
"As opposed to what? Raiding a daycare for Sunday dinner?"
"I'll take that as a yes," Hermione replied. She ticked the box on his chart. "How have the Blood-Replenishing Potions been working? Do you feel like we're giving you enough?"
"I still haven't killed anyone, if that's what you're asking."
"I'm asking if you feel satiated. Your needs matter, Malfoy. This isn't just about white-knuckling through your hunger so you don't feed."
"I feel fine. Want to ask me about my toilet habits next?" he snarled. "Maybe my sex life?"
"If you've considered taking a mate, then yes, I would like to ask about your sex life — well, your romantic life, anyway," Hermione answered, all too seriously. She looked down at her notes. "I was planning to bring it up later, but since you mentioned it —"
Had she asked any of her other former classmates about such things, they'd be mortified. If they didn't stutter and blush their way through the topic, they'd surely make a report against her.
Malfoy was different. Irritation etched its way into his features.
"I already told you. I'm not going to play house with one of those fucking monsters."
"Vampires that don't take mates are statistically more violent," Hermione cut in. She gave him a probing look. "You'd prefer not to attack anyone, right?"
"I'm not going to kill anyone just because I'm not betrothed to some filthy blood-sucker," Malfoy argued.
"Nobody is saying you will. What I am saying is that your odds of doing so increase dramatically if you remain alone. You don't need to make this choice today. You may not even need to make it this decade, but as your representative, it's my job to advise you through these changes." Hermione softened. "Mates make this all just a little bit easier, if nothing else."
He turned to the right wall, avoiding her gaze. "Nothing about this will ever be easy."
"Of course not, but it doesn't have to be as hard as it is."
"Maybe not," he growled, crossing his arms, "but living with one of those things is not going to make it any better."
"There are centuries worth of studies that say differently."
Suddenly, his eyes were piercing into her again. "You keep pushing this issue like I'll be in trouble if I don't agree to go put a ring on some fang-harpy's finger. Is there something I don't know? Because if there is, you might as well just bloody tell me, Granger. I don't like this little game of you trying to get in my head."
"It's not a game," Hermione asserted. "I want to help, and in an attempt to do that, I'm providing you with as much information as I can. What you do with it is entirely up to you."
"I've already told you what I'm going to do with it. You keep pushing it."
"Because I want you to process what I'm saying rather than shut out the idea entirely," she stressed. "I fear your hate for other vampires is so strong you may make poor decisions in the future. My job is to ensure that doesn't happen."
"Then lock me up and throw away the key," he suggested. "Problem bloody solved."
"Nobody wants that."
"Maybe I do."
Hermione sighed. "Look, I understand you're upset. Your circumstances are far from ideal."
"That's an understatement."
" With that said, we need to focus on how to make your life as fulfilling as possible," she continued. "That's what I'm trying to do."
He scoffed. "Is it now?"
" Yes. As your representative, it's my job to provide you with the knowledge and resources you need to live the best version of your life possible, whilst remaining compliant. My formal advice to make that happen is that you consider finding a mate. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but sometime in the future, you should consider it. For your own good."
His silver stare was still fixed upon her. She felt uneasy under his gaze.
"I think our time is up," he said crisply.
Hermione glanced at her watch. "We have fifty-two minutes left."
"Do you really want to be in here with me for the next hour?" Malfoy asked, arching a brow. He reached outward, waggling his fingers. "While I'm unchained like this?"
"The Ministry requires sixty minutes of your time to ensure you're not a threat to —" She stopped herself, but she'd already said too much.
Using the word threat certainly was not going to make him feel more comfortable with his situation, let alone heal his perception of vampires.
"Going to report me, then?" he asked coldly. "After you broke your own rules by setting me free?"
Hermione swallowed hard. She should have known he was planning to use her kindness against her. Vampire or not, he was still Draco Malfoy — a slimy manipulator that was too clever for his own good.
Harry had warned her he could be tricking her, and he was almost right. If only he had warned her it wasn't her blood he wanted, but rather blackmail.
That, she should have foreseen.
"I'll erm — I'll take care of it," she decided, standing. She didn't have much choice, after all. "Just let me . . . You'll need the chains to leave."
"Naturally. We wouldn't want Bulstrode thinking you've got a soft spot for me."
Pink tinged Hermione's cheeks as she silently performed the Tethering Spell. The chains that pooled around him levitated and clicked in place, leaving him exactly how she found him.
She cleared her throat.
"You're certain you have nothing else to discuss with me?" she asked, secretly hoping she could crack him open — if only a little.
"I want to go home, Granger."
She sighed. "Fine."
She made her way to the doors and knocked three times. Millicent turned around and blinked through the window, confusion evident in her expression as her eyes danced around in an attempt to take in the scene. Finally, she opened one of the doors.
"Is everything all right?"
"Yes, yes, everything's fine," Hermione said. With a timid smile, she dipped out into the hall and added, "I just erm — I'm suddenly not feeling so well, and I'm not meant to be in the room with clients if I'm sick. Illnesses can affect them differently —"
"Well, don't get so close to me, then, I don't want to get sick either," Millicent scowled. She slipped past Hermione. "Sounds like you're off early, Malfoy. Ready to go?"
Hermione closed her eyes.
When did she start cutting corners? And when did she start lying for Malfoy?