Ending The Sacred Twenty-Eight (Dramione)

Surprises and Support

The next day, a Wednesday, Hermione sat in her office at the Ministry, reading the high priority document her assistant, Victoria Frobisher, had given her first thing that morning.

It was an official request made by the HélèneLabs, the Potions company responsible for the monthly brewing and distribution of the Wolfsbane Potion that the Ministry – more specifically Hermione’s Department – gave to any lycanthrope that requested it, free of charge.

That company, a subsidiary of Malfoy Enterprises (and named after Lucius Malfoy’s grandmother), was requesting her help to ensure speedy approval and regulation of the new Wolfsbane formula they had developed.

Hermione snorted at that. They had developed.

Draco and Hermione herself had worked together to improve Snape's version of the Wolfsbane Potion that he used to prepare for Remus Lupin; their new adjustments to the recipe made the lycanthrope need only three daily doses of the Potion instead of seven, lowering costs and more than doubling the number of people they could provide the free life-saving potion to.

She spent a few minutes staring at the bottom of the document, her finger touching the place where Draco had put his signature.  

Stop being pathetic! She suddenly admonished herself, adding that document to an envelope with her own written request reinforcing the need for special attention to that Potion.

“Vicky?” she called her assistant.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” asked the young witch, walking into the office and approaching her desk.

“Send this to Miss Parkinson at the Health and Potions Regulation Office, please. Tell her it’s really important and her boss should read it before the day is over.”

“Right away.” Victoria replied before taking the envelope and leaving.

Less than a minute later, Hermione heard some soft knocks on her door.

“Mione?”

“Hi, Harry.” She smiled up at him. “Isn’t it too early for lunch?”

“Yes.” Harry walked into her office, not even trying to hide his concern. “I just came to see how you’re feeling today.”

“I’m fine, Harry, and I have an appointment later today for a check up – as promised.”

“Good. Will you tell me if you’re sick?”

“Of course.” She replied, his worry almost making her want to tell him she wasn’t sick, just pregnant.

With Draco Malfoy's kid.

And that Draco had claimed to love her for four years but was marrying another woman in five months because Hermione lacked the right blood-status to be Lady Malfoy.

Yes, she could tell her friend all of that. NOT.

Unless she wanted Harry – recently promoted Head of Aurors – to storm the Malfoy Enterprises offices and kill Draco, or send him to Azkaban.

Neither things would be easy for her to explain to her child in the future.

So she kept quiet and let Harry know she felt well enough to join him for lunch later.

---------------------------

That evening, Hermione opened the door of her home after her appointment at a muggle hospital and went straight to the kitchen to make some tea, finding herself between laughter and desperation.

Twins.

She was having two babies.

A boy and a girl.