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Notes: The Re-establishment of Endangered Species	By : T-W-O Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 5048 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from anything in the Harry Potter universe -- stories, characters, settings, prior art.

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At 35
“One lesson learned from this is: pay attention and do your research. What we know about many of these species would fit on the head of a pin and still contain errors. The critical need for knowledge to provide healing potions and charms for critical population maintenance can’t be understated.” — The Bureaucrat’s Guide to the Rehabilitation and Re-establishment of Endangered Species page 391
“Mrs. Granger-Weasley, you’ve done a remarkable job here. The International Federation of Ministries has bestowed it’s highest honor on you and your pioneering work restoring endangered magical species…”

The memory, of yesterday’s award ceremony, at Sweden’s Kommunfullmäktige för Magi, dissipated to deposit Hermione back in the present.

“I’ll meet you at the platform, Ron.”
“Oi, what last minute meaningless assignment have they got you chasing now!? I thought you got the day off? Our Rosie’s leaving for Hogwarts!”

Rounding the desk in her home office, Hermione appeased her husband’s irritation at losing his first-born to the inevitability of growing up.

“And I’ve not forgotten. Go! She’ll appreciate some time alone with you. I’ll see you in —”

A glance gave her the time from the sophisticated — and modified — Muggle timepiece Arthur Weasley gifted her on their tenth wedding anniversary.

“— three hours. It’s important; Draco reported problems with the re’em herd.”

Ron’s disgruntled stare made her skin itch.

“Yeah, it’s always something with that wanker. Have a care around him and that ‘mini-me’ of his. Don’t want to have to rescue you at our ages.”

If I required protection from Draco… she mused in a private corner of her secret mind — or if you could protect me from Draco.
Two long-ago years on the front lines as an Auror hadn’t placed Legillimancy skills within Ron’s reach.

“I’ll be fine,” she said aloud instead. “Make sure to get yourself and the children to the platform on time — and don’t let Rose open that trunk. There’re far too many Weasley products hidden in there.”
“She’s a Weasley, luv,” he laughed, tension gone. “Where’s the harm in a bit of fun?”
“Too much ‘fun’ and Minerva will have to expel her regardless of her heritage — or possibly because of it.”
“Almost forgot,” Ron shot back as he turned to leave, “I’m talking about Hermione Granger’s daughter, not a normal kid,”
“Please, Ron? Be her father today — for me?”

Ego-stroking begging soothed the insecure store clerk.

He chuckled as he returned to her for a quick buss. “You’d think I was 11 years old again. Don’t be late or Rosie will never forgive you.”
“I won’t —” and with a quick toss of powder, Hermione stepped through the floo and into Draco’s study at Malfoy Manor.
“Hermione! Thank, Belenus!”
“Sorry — got here as soon as I could. How is Tory?”
“I’ve no idea why this potion isn’t working. She’s barely able to lift her head. Stubborn bint insists on seeing Scorpius off today and she doesn’t have the strength to stand! And it’s ‘Astoria’.”
“That ‘bint’ is your wife. Why she’s tolerated you all these years stymies me.” Her coat flew to it’s customary hanging hook from habit. “Have the herds been behaving differently?”

Rushing to follow, Hermione made her way to the secret door leading to the Manor’s private potions lab.

“Other than mating — the mares are in season — I can’t say I’ve noticed. That incompetent creature healer overlooked examining the colts. Had to remind his ignorant arse to see to them.”

Beside her, a worried Draco tossed her personal lab coat and protective gear her way.

“Doolittle will be replaced next week,” she informed him. “His mistakes are criminal and I intend to prosecute him for malpractice against magical creatures.”

Four hands interacted like one brain controlled them as the Hogwarts alums analyzed the disappointing potion.

“I won’t ask how you manoeuvered Shacklebolt into placing your old department under your new one.”
“Kingsley derives a great deal of positive press from the refuge and your work with it." Her acknowledgement came distractedly as she squinted into the lab’s ancient 19th century microscope. "I merely reminded him of that — and the fact that you’ve managed to reduce the cost of critical potions ingredients by half.”
“Thank you…”
“You needn’t thank —”
“I do. What did you tell your idiot husband?”
“The truth,” she admitted, surprised at his petulance, “that you required some support with the re’ems — and stop calling Ron an ‘idiot’; it’s tiresome. I’m sure we can fix this in time to get the children to the station on time. Is Scorp looking forward to Hogwarts?”
“Somewhat…” came to her, subdued. “Astoria thought it best to give him some background on the Malfoy reputation. He’s… Scorpius isn’t sure what type of welcome he’ll receive.”
“I’ve made sure to tell Rose to be kind and look out for him.”

That revelation stopped one set of hands.

“Does Weasley know? Has he figured out that you don’t come here to hex me every five minutes?”
“He’s not capable of understanding, if I told him, so — no. He doesn’t. Harry suspects but doesn’t give a fig.”
“I appreciate you prepping Rose Cedrella… to be kind to Scorpius away from the Manor.”
“She’s my daughter, Dragon. I know what —”
“Don’t!” he whispered hoarsely, clearly pained. “Don’t… remind me of what I did to you. I’ve said I’m beyond sorry —”
“I know —”
“But I’ve never had the courage to admit the rest… ‘Sorry’ and ‘Thank you’ don’t quite say it all.”

The pressure from his powerful gaze turned her own in his direction.
She deflected back to the crisis — “I th-think… I think I know the problem.”
He left her avoidance unchallenged; both understood she’d just retreated — and for not the first time. “What do we do?”
Back on solid footing, the swot lectured her potions partner.

“This blood came from a mother cow. Her magic levels are lower because she’s nursing — I experienced the same with Rose and Hugo.”

The “Ah Ha!” moment brought embarrassment to the stunning Lord’s face.

“Gods! My brains are porridge! It happened to Astoria as well, but I put it down to the curse. Suggestions?”
“We collect a new sample from a male or a mare still in heat. Mating hormones will boost the strength and Tory should enjoy a pleasant afternoon and evening. The effects could last days with better ingredients.”
“It’s ‘Astoria’.”

Minutes of collection time in the refuge and more minutes in the private lab had the potion brewing with plenty of time to spare. Hermione took a seat in Draco’s study to peruse his latest antique spell book purchases while he checked on his son’s preparations and his wife’s stamina.
He retrieved her from her favorite chair and the interesting book with the words —

“Astoria requests your presence…”

Stepping through the floo together brought her into the Malfoys private suite. Recognition of the location passed briefly in Hermione’s expression before she smiled and made her way over to the divan where the exhausted Mrs. Malfoy rested.

“Hermione — do I have you to thank for the rescue of my elixir?”

The effort to push oxygen across her larynx caused Lady Malfoy’s eyes to close, as if the act required rest after each spoken word. Beside the Lady, on an antique side table worth more than Hermione’s home, sat three empty demitasses formerly filled to the brim with the suboptimal potion. The usual dose would have fit a small sewing thimble.

“You know men,” the Gryffindor chuckled, “pure shite with details.”

The nearly normal — “Let’s banish them!” — carried the speaker’s mischievous conviction if not her energy.

“— AND on THAT note,” Draco whinged dramatically, “I will depart to assist my son.”

With a disgruntled flourish, Lord Malfoy and his haughtiness made a dignified exit from his own bedchamber.
The quiet entreaty caught Hermione off-guard.

“I… I need your help… your pledge.”
“Anything, Tory; you know that.”
“Still a Gryffindor,” the fragile beauty chuckled. “I’d be a bit more cautious making blanket promises to the dying without knowledge of the request. Even to me.”
“And me a barrister — how stupid of me!” the new head of Magical Law Enforcement’s prosecutors’ office grinned.
“I cherish the time you and Draco have given me — and don’t deny your part in this.”

Draco’s lab partner deprecated in silence.

“I’m glad I got to see the children growing up. Rose will be beautiful and brilliant. Have you ever revealed where you secreted Albus to during those ‘cousin visits’?”
“No, Harry’s clueless,” Hermione smirked. “Rose and Scorp alone together led to far too many confrontations. Alby reminds me in many ways of Scorp. He may well go to Slytherin —“
“— and Scorp will cause his father’s ‘death by disappointment’ if he doesn’t go to our old house.”
“I have ‘spoken’ to your husband about that unwarranted prejudice. Several times.”
“Forgive him this. It’s the only part of his legacy he accepts. Scorp is the product of two Slytherins.”

When Hermione’s laughter subsided, Astoria’s request careened into her.

“Please take care of them…” came the breathy plea.
“You don’t have to ask —“

With her strength rapidly boosted by the inadequate and the reconstituted potions, Astoria torturously raised herself on the salon lounge; she now reclined at eye level with her guest.

“A vow. I am asking you to make a life vow that, while you live, you will do what’s best for my family and for yours.”

Hermione sat owl-eyed, unsure of how to respond.

“Tory, I’m…”
“Draco can’t do this alone. Outside of the Weasleys and the Longbottoms, there are few of the ‘Sacred 28’ who were not affiliated with Voldemort.”
“He’s certainly changed for the better.”

Astoria tucked her chin in contemplation.

“The contentious interventions of a certain Head Girl during 8th year had a great deal to do with that.” Soft crinkles outlined Astoria thoughtful smile. “No one cares for my family more than you— or recognizes how easily both could be pressured into pure-blood bigotry.”
“You should have more faith, Lady Malfoy.”

Astoria pinned her guest with a pointed stare.

“And you should have more courage, ‘Princess Gryffindor’. We don’t deal in equivocation or cloying sentiment; you know I’m right.”

Clear-eyed, Hermione bobbed her head in reluctant agreement.

“I think it best,” Lady Malfoy’s confidante suggested, “that neither of them know of this.”
“I agree — unless you and Draco marry after my death. Malfoy wedding rites have a ridiculous number of truth-revealing disclosure spells in them.”

The idea, directly from the lips of Lord Malfoy’s present wife, tripped up the Ministry’s lead prosecutor and kept her blushingly quiet.

“Alright — as I’m familiar with a life vow,” the legal expert finally responded, “how do you prefer it? Samhain’s Spell Sanctuary suggests…”

…and the perpetual swot blathered on, unaware her listener caught little of the lecture.

“Thank you for loving them as I would…”

Hermione chose to ignore the indebtedness laced in the laying down of this final pre-death burden.
The two women conducted business and further conversation before time came for both to depart for King’s Cross Station. Future conversations would be conducted by the Lady of the Manor with Hermione and each of the surviving Malfoys.
On this day though, when a shaken Gryffindor rejoined Draco in his study, the Lord of the Manor ignored the tearful reflection of his lab partner as she floo’d to join her family.

_______________________

The Malfoys stood a bit away from the throng of war victors bringing their children to Platform 9 & 3/4 for the first or the umpteenth time. Weasley descendants colored the palette of children’s heads, dashing about (and being thoroughly unhelpful) in their excitement at going to Hogwarts.
Obligatory slights were made by Ron upon noting the gaul of the Malfoys to send their precious little heir to Hogwarts instead of Durmstrang — where Ron (and many others on the platform that day) thought the junior-junior Death Eater belonged.
Thanks to the re-brewed potion, Astoria exhibited little of the fatigue and paleness that twelve years of fighting a curse with every cell in her body had exacted not two hours prior. She’d told Hermione that she’d set herself the goal to live long enough to see her only child off to school, knowing full well she’d burned her life candle twice as fast in doing so. That had been one of many tender topics covered scant hours ago in the Malfoy’s private bedchambers.

"Don't get too friendly with him, though, Rosie. Granddad Weasley would never forgive you if you married a pure-blood”

Though the assembled Weasleys laughed (as did many Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs within earshot), Hermione worried over the nature of Ron’s comment and the potential harm it might do for the next generation — the generation meant to move past class and bloodline prejudices — and especially for two children of very close friends.

_______________________

Many first-year letters, a few howler’s and much of a school year later, Hermione received a polite but ominous summons to meet Draco — and Harry — on the grounds of the refuge. Her initial error of the day was directly apparating into the enclosure, which now encompassed six times its original acreage, and not to the gates of Malfoy Manor.

“Harry!” she called out to the incongruous scene before her.

Within some kind of warded domed “shell” sat Draco — looking stressed, Harry — looking official, and an empty place-setting clearly meant for her.

“Hermione. Glad you could make it.”
“I could hardly avoid a summons from the Aurors’ Office as the head of MLE. What’s going on? Something to do with the refuge?”
“I received a complaint, through secure channels, that the Malfoys are dealing in prohibited potion substances and that you’re aware of this.”
“Harry —”
“Hermione, I KNOW this is about your recent promotion and your crusade to change laws you’ve been bitching about since we were children. I can’t ignore this — even if you are my guv.”
“Draco?…”

The Boy-Who-Wanted-Answers ping-ponged his attention between the two of them — “Why are you asking him? I asked you to explain.”

“I suppose this couldn’t continue in secret forever.” Draco sighed in annoyance at Harry’s authority to disrupt his life on Malfoy property. “Go on, Granger. Explain to this near-sighted numpty how you’ve been saving lives all these years.”
“With Kingsley’s concurrence —” she qualified as she drew an official-looking parchment (from her ever-expanding purse) to hand to her Chief Investigator, “— the Ministry has been using the refuge for dual purposes. Draco realized—”
“Don’t give me all the credit, Lioness. You were equally pissed that particular Imbolc celebration.”

Harry’d never seen that smile from his best friend before. She looked… pleased. The nickname — using a feminine variant of her House mascot — threw him a curve as well.

“Don’t remind me… In any case, there are any number of potions that were unavailable in Greater Britain because of failed diplomatic relations before or after the war. Initially, the refuge was just that — a refuge for endangered native magical species. Draco drew up a plan to expand the acreage and use the additional space to raise non-native endangered species…”

— and her voice dropped, as it had for nearly fifteen years when discussing this clandestine project —

“ — to harvest potion ingredients using humane, non-lethal methods that he develops. The Ministry, especially our department, depends on Draco’s potions for antidotes, protection and healing; he can’t brew them without a reliable source for the ingredients. He’s not in the contraband potions business; he’s secretly on the Ministry’s payroll as a Potions Grand-Master.”

The Head Auror blinked without a word. Pushing aside the expensive Silver Imperial Makaibari tea he’d been served, he reached over the table (with a distinct lack of manners) and retrieved Draco’s solid silver flask of Fyrewhiskey. He downed a shot. Then he blinked some more.

“Didn’t you wonder at my long tenure in the Creatures department? I had to lead the department until I could take over MLE and place the Creatures department under my headship… to protect Draco — I mean the valuable work Draco did… DOES.”

An imbibed dose of the Aurors-only lie-detecting potion (that Harry was convinced Draco invented using something slithering around outside their temporary “tent”) informed Harry, without Veritaserum, that Hermione spoke the truth, but not the complete truth.

“So that custom Polyjuice potion,” he interrogated his boss, “the one that let’s us choose what parts of us change without using samples from a target — like hair or eye color… He created that?”

Draco’s smile at Hermione unnerved The Chosen One.

“Actually, your boss did most of the swot work on that one. Did you know you can make the changes permanent? Brilliant piece of charms work by ‘Madame Know-it-all’.”
“What about that energy potion of yours? You really —”

Easy and casual in each other’s company, they’d let slip more than was prudent. Fear crept into Draco’s posture at that revelation.

“What about it?” Harry prodded, having practically lived on the stuff, “Hermione?…”

In a swift swirl of limbs, the head of Magical Law Enforcement bared her forearm and grabbed at her Head Auror’s arm (revealed below Harry’s ever-present rolled up shirt sleeves) in an attempt to rectify her second error regarding Lord Malfoy. Her pulse hammered against his skin.

“Vow that you will never disclose what I’m about to tell you until the parties mentioned are dead or I relieve you of this vow.”

Had he been incredibly blind for all these years? Could she not trust him with her life anymore?

“I so vow.”

Trusting her with his life came second nature after 27-odd years.

“Draco?… Would you like me to…”
“Truth is, Potter,” Draco exhaled as tears formed, “after Hermione forced this beastly refuge on me, I had a vested interest in its success. My wife… Astoria’s family carries a blood curse. Muti-generational; only affects the witches… and only if they conceive and deliver a child. It’s…”

The orphan in their midst was unprepared for Draco’s breakdown or Hermione’s response.

“Dragon…” she soothed from where she now knelt, on the ground between his knees, “Astoria wanted to have your child. Harry,” she regained the Auror’s attention with her head turn, “the re’em, and several other of the creatures here, provide rare ingredients that have kept Astoria alive. She… She hasn’t wasted away like the others who inherit this despicable affliction — but she is dying. I’ve been reporting her status to Kingsley and Arthur since Draco began looking for ways to break the curse…”

Her voice faltered as she reacted to Draco’s unabashed weeping, the broken man clinging to Harry’s sister-in-law and best friend. Mentally, the Auror skipped past his more relevant questions and let go with one he knew would get answered without spell damage.

“You two?…”

Never had a question struggled to leave the Auror's mouth before; interrogation was his forte.

“No. My marriage to Ron has been faithful on my part. I can’t speak for Ron, though I’ve yet to have cause to doubt him.”

Again, the truth from her… but not all of it…
A small smile graced the face of Harry Potter as he looked with concern on Draco Malfoy; the Lord of the Manor had hidden nothing in his answer. Harry cleaned his perpetually smudged lenses with a shirttail before speaking. The Boy-Who-Hated-Malfoy’s random utterance caught his supervisor and the secret potions master flat-footed.

“Alby’s been writing home, mostly to Ginny, about the creature refuge,” Harry mentioned for no apparent reason. “Wants to volunteer in summer… with Scorpius. He’s made friends with your son, Malfoy. Seems they’re both having a bit of a rough go as first-years. Guess we got off easy —”
“That we did, Potter…” Draco rasped out to the overture offered. “Merlin’s last kindness before he dropped a group of children in the middle of a fucking war.”
“Harry?…” Hermione inquired quietly. “What’s the verdict?”
“Do I have to…? Never mind; I’m satisfied. And before you badger me about it —” he pre-empted the questions ever present on the lips of the juggernaut named Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley, “— no; I can’t reveal where it came from, not even to my superior. Kingsley and I will make sure no future false claims are made against either of you; I promise. Thanks for the tea, Malfoy.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Potter,” came back from the soft voice of Lady Malfoy.”
“ASTORIA, my love! You aren’t meant to be up!”

The minutes that passed, to Accio a cushioned settee for Draco’s lady to recline on, completed Harry’s wordless interrogation.

“I’m feeling quite energetic today and wouldn’t have our company go without greeting. Hermione — a pleasure, as always.”
“I was coming up before I left. Rose sent me some choice observations on the first-year boys and I thought to share them before I remind her not to be quite so judgmental — like her mother was,” the amused mother grinned. “Apparently, Scorp and Albus annoyed her when —”
“HEY!,” Draco interrupted, “We’ve got work to do! That QuintaPed nearly gutted me and it’s going through four cases of single-malt scotch a day. Can’t catch it safely to retrieve any useful ingredients because the ONLY bloody Pogrebin outside of Siberia keeps tailing me and giving away any disguise I wear!”
“Draco, darling,” Astoria placated, causing both Gryffindor’s to laugh at the spoilt family head, “I’m sure Hermione had no idea how difficult —”

Lady Malfoy’s efforts made no impact on Lord Malfoy's rantings.

“The Nundu ATE almost all the bloody Murtlaps! Please inform your superiors not to harass my arse because the market price for Murtlap essence will be erratic for some time.”

Harry tugged his sister-in-law aside as Draco continued.

“And those Mackled Malaclaws you dumped on me BIT me — which is why Astoria’s potions went awry. Nothing but bad luck the ENTIRE week after EACH bite. Really, Granger, if you MUST saddle me…”

Walking through the barrier together, the Head Auror kissed his boss’ cheek before disapparating.

“I think I understand. Will you help me?”
Clueless as to her bespectacled friend’s request, she queried — “What with???”
“Albus. And Draco. Help me understand both Slytherins?”

Hermione’s two Slytherin friends had the decency to look down and smile only inwardly at the conversation neither was meant to hear.
Harry had the decency not to reveal the initiator of the unsubstantiated complaint against Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger.
Hermione had the decency not to reveal her theft of the complainant’s name directly from the fore-mind of her best friend and Head Auror (who’d never mastered Occlumency)...
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Notes: The Re-establishment of Endangered Species