The floating emerald head of Kingsley Shacklebolt, British Minister for Magic appeared, smiling, in Draco Malfoy's floo. Warmed by the sight of her old friend, Hermione found herself smiling in kind.
"Kingsley," she greeted him. He turned his fiery head towards Hermione and his smile deepened.
"Ah, Miss Granger. Lovely to see you," he said. His head turned to take in the rest of the room. "Theodore," he said warmly to Theo, who bowed in greeting. Then his gaze landed on Malfoy, who neither smiled nor scowled, but maintained a fairly neutral, if not pleasant expression. "Mr. Malfoy. It has been a while, hasn't it. Pleased to see you have done well for yourself in France," Kingsley said and Hermione could tell by the genuine tone of his voice that he meant it.
"Minister," Malfoy answered and inclined his chin ever so slightly in deference. Deference which she had certainly not seen during their time in the French minister's office. "A pleasure to see you as well."
"Well, I'm sure you're wondering why I've requested an audience with you, so I'll get right to it," Kingsley said. "I have recently been made aware of a rather troubling medical malady that's cropped up suddenly here in Britain," he began, his flickering green face suddenly serious. "There are only a few confirmed cases—which I've spoken with Healer Patil about just this morning. Right after your call with her, Hermione. We believe there is enough of a correlation between what's going on with the few patients here and the new ones you've received just today that there may be cause for concern, especially if there are transmission risks."
Hermione was nearly vibrating with questions. She hadn't been away from her office for that long, but it seemed the situation had evolved rather rapidly in her absence. Internally, she was cursing the Auclairs for their part in hijacking her morning. She had the feeling that the Bakers were a part of something bigger and the fact that things were transpiring outside her careful oversight was making her itch.
"Healer Patil tells me that the malady in question wouldn't have been caught without your insight from this morning, Hermione. And while healing is Parvati's speciality, curses and dark magic using the vehicle of artifacts and art seems to be yours. I'd like to ask you to come liaise with our medical team here at St. Mungo's to help determine what's going on. As I understand, your man Clyde is already here helping to collect the information you need about the Bakers. But I think this might be bigger than a one man job," he paused. "Parvati's identified two new cases since you've spoken with her."
A somber silence stretched out inside the office. Hermione was surprised to hear of the new cases so soon, but thought perhaps Parvati, equipped with new information, had gone over recent undiagnosed cases and uncovered that there were more instances. A quick glance at Theo made Hermione even more nervous. His usually chipper demeanor was curbed, his eyebrows drawn tight in thought. Malfoy, hearing all of this information for the first time, also seemed to be lost in quiet contemplation. He'd drawn his hands from his pockets to cross his arms over his chest.
"That is concerning," Hermione started. "And these new patients, they're presenting with the same symptoms?" She asked.
Kingsley's head nodded. "I'm no healer, but from what Parvati has reported, the symptoms are almost identical."
Hermione's mind whirled, taking off in a thousand different directions. Mentally, she had already accepted Kingsley's offer, and was now thinking through next steps. "We'll need to set up a quarantine zone in the hospital. Healers should wear full biohazard gear if they're going to interact with these patients. And I'll need information on what exactly they were doing in the 72 hours leading up to the onset of symptoms," Hermione paused. "When do you need me in London?" She asked.
"As soon as possible," Kingsley replied, relief clear in his voice. His head swiveled over to Malfoy. "Auror Malfoy, since Hermione's place of business is in France, I kindly ask that you spare one of your Aurors to escort and liaise with her while she is working with the British Ministry," he said.
"Oh, that won't be necessary," Hermione started but was cut short when Kingsley began to shake his head.
"I'm afraid it is," said Kingsley. "The British Ministry is obtaining your services, which are tied to a business that is established on French soil. It's silly politics, but we must be by the book."
Hermione cast a furtive look over at Malfoy, who nodded. "I'll see what I can do," he answered. Hermione glanced toward Theo, who was flicking his eyes between her and Malfoy and back again.
"Excellent. I take it you will need some time to get things in order. Theo can help with anything you may need, and he'll see that you get here safely. In the meantime, we'll await your arrival."
"Thank you, Minister," Hermione said and with a nod, Kingsley was gone.
Theo clapped his hands together, startling Hermione. "Well, now that's all settled," he announced and pushed himself off the desk to retrieve his jacket. "Hermione, I am at your disposal from now until our departure." He turned to Malfoy. "And who might we have the honor of accepting into our circle of trust from the French Auror Department?" He asked with a wry smile.
Malfoy left her side to return to his desk. "I have someone in mind I can send. Give me an hour or two to brief him and send him along," he said and sat down with a sigh. Theo hummed his approval and began walking toward the door.
"Much appreciated, Dray." He swept open the door with a flourish and gestured for Hermione to precede him out of the office.
Before she could go, Malfoy's low voice called after her. "I never did get that statement, Granger."
She looked back over her shoulder at him. He sat relaxed in his chair, elbows on the arm rests with his fingers laced so that his hands hung suspended just above his lap. He was watching her with a quiet intensity that she had become accustomed to in the last hour or so being in his presence. All the bluster of his youth had disappeared, making way for this much more refined and watchful version of him. Hermione felt that in the silence he allowed to stretch between them, he was taking his time in assessing her. It felt like he was reorienting himself with her. And maybe, he was allowing her to become reoriented with him.
She reached up to tuck her hair behind an ear—a nervous tick she never really kicked. "Yes, well, as I said. You know everything I do from last night anyway." He barely moved, and the movement he did make was nearly imperceptible, but Hermione read his disagreement in the slight shift of his shoulders and cant of his head. "But," she heard herself saying at his rebuke, "you will know where to find me now should you need any other information."
Satisfied, Malfoy nodded once and watched her as she turned to go.
Having Theo around was quite like having a puppy. Everywhere she went, people stopped them to say hello. He was effervescent and charming, radiating a real zest for life and he seemed truly delighted when he encountered an old acquaintance or recognized someone. She wouldn't have been surprised if he sprouted a tail and started wagging it. Somehow, he managed to make her exit from the Ministry much less grim than her arrival, which was quite a feat given the circumstances.
Once they were outside, he turned to her. "Where to first, Granger?" He asked.
"Well," Hermione started and began walking down the street with Theo in tow, "I need to stop by the gallery to check-in with my staff. Then I'll need to pack up a few things—I presume I'll be staying in London for a bit?" A nod from Theo answered her question in the affirmative. "Then I'm free to go," she finished.
"Brilliant," Theo answered, flashing her a blinding smile.
The weather was mild for April. And blessedly, it wasn't raining, which was surprising for Paris in the spring. Theo, who had not been to Paris in years, told Hermione that he would take a stroll around while she conducted her business. That was fine with her. Henrietta debriefed Hermione as best she could while Hermione shuffled through her notes from the morning's encounter with the Barkers and her subsequent call with Parvati.
"I'll need you to stay here and take over while I'm gone. I'm not sure how long I'll be away, but you'll need to manage things for now," Hermione told the young witch. Henrietta, clutching her leather-bound diary nodded sagely. "And owl Clyde to let him know I'll be joining him in London," she said.
Once she'd gathered her notes, she made her way to the front of the gallery. Theo was leaning against the doorframe near the entry with two plump paper bags that smelled deliciously like falafel. He held them aloft like a prize and announced, "Sustenance."
They walked together back to Hermione's flat, where they wasted no time unpacking their food and eating it standing at her kitchen island. Theo ordered incredibly well for knowing next to nothing about Hermione's dietary preferences. In reality, she really would eat almost anything so his chances for success were high to begin with. Still, she was surprised at the thoughtful gesture.
While Theo cleaned up, again, thoughtful to a fault, Hermione rummaged around her bedroom to find items suitable enough to pack. She wished she had more time to do laundry and prepare for a long-term stay abroad, but sadly, she'd just have to make do with what she could muster.
She had just begun levitating the last of her things into the leather bag on her bed when she heard the floo roar to life downstairs. Two male voices exchanged words that started out clipped, but rapidly devolved into shouting. Hermione thew open her door and all but launched herself down the stairs and into the kitchen where she discovered the shouting to be largely one-sided.
Pierre was standing just beyond the bricks of the fireplace, wand out and aimed at Theo who was leaning back casually against Hermione's kitchen sink with his hands in his pockets. Both men turned their eyes to her as she skidded into the kitchen, her own wand clutched in her hand.
"Pierre!" She shouted, eyeing his wand pointedly. "Put your wand down this instant!"
"Who is this, eh, Hermione?" He asked and from the very first syllable he uttered she knew he had been drinking. She stared at him in disbelief. It had been mere hours since she had last seen him. He'd been slumped over and disheveled, but he'd been sober, she was sure of it. Now, his clothes were badly rumpled, his hair was tangled and damp with sweat and he swayed slightly from side to side. His wand arm shook as he maintained his aim at Theo. Theo, by all accounts, looked positively giddy with amusement, his eyes alight with mischief. But when he turned his smile on Pierre, it was laced with a quiet menace that nearly made Hermione recoil.
"This is Theo Nott. He's from the British Ministry—we went to school together," Hermione said, approaching Pierre with her hands raised as though she was approaching a feral animal. And he looked at her like one, too. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, wide with frenetic energy. They were slightly glazed, she could see that he was focusing and unfocusing on her as his drink-addled mind whirled through a million fabricated possibilities.
"And who might this delightful creature be, dove?" Theo asked, slipping in an endearment that he knew would rankle Pierre. Hermione shot him a glare.
"This is Pierre Auclair." Full stop. She clicked her teeth closed and swallowed down the rest of the sentence she had spoken a hundred times before. Pierre whipped his head from Theo to Hermione. She saw his anger bleed into anguish, then back again.
"Ah, Auclair. What a fine way to meet the French Minister's son," Theo drawled, clearly unimpressed.
Pierre readjusted his aim at Theo, grinding his teeth at the blatant insult. "What are you doing here?" He seethed.
"I'm here to escort our lovely Hermione to the British Ministry. She's got business to attend to. She'll be away for a tick," Theo answered, rolling his shoulders back. "I'd leave you two to say your goodbyes in private, but I think you'll understand why I can't do that." He was speaking to Pierre, but his gaze landed on Hermione as he finished his sentence. After a moment, she nodded. She didn't want to be alone with Pierre in this state any more than Theo didn't want to leave her. Pierre had never been physical with her, but something in the depths of his eyes as he stood shaking with rage in her kitchen made her stomach twist with unease.
"What business?" He nearly spat, rolling his eyes. Hermione stared at him. The casual dismissal of her work in those two words drove the proverbial nail into the coffin of their relationship. Hermione felt the tiny fissures that had been forming over days, weeks, months gape open, leaving an irreparable chasm.
"What business? That business is mine and mine alone." She kept her voice calm, level. "I am leaving. I don't know when I'll be back. But what I do know is that this ends here, Pierre." She put her wand down on the table so she could reach up and remove the engagement ring from her finger. "I'm sorry," she murmured and held it out to him.
Pierre looked as though he'd been physically struck. He stumbled back a step as he stared down at Hermione's hand between them. He kept blinking rapidly, like he was trying to erase the image of her returning the symbol of their promise to one another. But she held firm, and her hand did not tremble.
He raised his eyes to meet hers, gaze dark and heavy beneath his lowered brow. The movement must have alarmed Theo because he said, "Don't," in a voice so low and heavy with malice that Hermione froze.
"Put it back on, Hermione," he said with quiet fury. Hermione had never been afraid of Pierre, but she suddenly felt thankful to have Theo just across the room.
"I—I'm sorry, Pierre, really I am. But I can't do this anymore." She tried to keep her voice light, placating, but she could see that her tone was only infuriating Pierre even more.
"Put. The ring. Back on," Pierre said through his teeth. Hermione began to lower the ring to the kitchen table at the same time as Pierre wheeled his wand around to aim at Hermione.
Hermione's reflexes weren't what they used to be at the height of the war, but she was still sharp enough to disarm a drunkard before he could do any damage. She swiped her wand, letting the ring drop to the ground, and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"
Pierre's wand tore from his grip in a sudden flash of scarlet light. Hermione caught it in her free hand and clenched it tightly in her fist at her side. Before she could act any further, Theo walked forward the two paces between him and Pierre, and knocked him out cold with a furious right hook.
"Well met," Theo said and shook out his hand as he looked down at Pierre's prone form on her kitchen floor. He sighed. "I'm going to be buried in paperwork after this."
For she is terrible [deinē]; anyone who is her enemy [ekhthra] 45 will have no easy time raising the song of triumph over her.
Euripides, Medea, 44-5