The Vamp

The Vamp

"Oh, what am I to do?" she asked her cat, who, unlike its mistress, was taking the situation calmly.

Nothing had prepared her mistress for what she was about to undertake, and her mistress wasn't certain her skills and courage were up to it.

Her cat had seen her initial disappointment when Flitwick's letter arrived Friday noon saying he couldn't attend the Saturday picnic lunch. His injuries had flared up. Her mistress had expected Flitwick to mediate and be a common bond of trust as she enticed Jack into an active role as a law-enforcement officer. The cat had listened to her mistress complain that someone with his capabilities...he was certainly arrogant enough...could do more than passively watch Mrs. Malfoy.

"There are fugitives to be caught," she told her cat, "but there's the problem of getting him to help."

The cat learned that Jack's aid wasn't certain. During a conversation, when he had visited in hospital, its mistress had discovered his disdain for history courses. Jack regarded them as stories touting robber barons while ignoring the people who had made real contributions. Her mistress's heart sank: Jack would shrug off their struggles with the Dark Lord as a tale of glorified gang warfare written by the winners...complete with virtuous heroes and nefarious knaves.

"No wonder he didn't get the grades he was capable of," Hermione told her cat. "He didn't believe anything the professors were telling him."

"I even tried getting information about him from Harry," she confided to her pet.

"He's not so bad," Harry had said, remembering Jack's sympathetic ear and good advice. "But I don't know how sound he is. He is from the Department of Mysteries, and he did have a thing with Mrs. Malfoy for a while. Why are you so interested in him?"

"I'm not interested in him," she had said. "I'm just curious about a law-enforcement colleague and one of your fellow professors."

Hermione scratched her cat's ears. "All I found out from Harry is that his wife has left him, Mrs. Malfoy is still angry at him, and he doesn't socialize even though there are beauty queens at the masked ball longing for company."

Her cat purred as Hermione's thoughts went tangential. "Harry's not going for beauty queens either. He's interested in the Patil sisters, who appear to be good for him although I don't know what he's going to do with two of them or how he's going to handle their family."

"Maybe that's it," she said, changing to running her hand along her cat's spine. "Maybe Jack's not interested in beauty queens. I do remember Harry saying Jack, Flitwick, and Mrs. Malfoy had weird conversations that went over Harry's head. Could Jack like brainy girls? Apparently, Mrs. Malfoy held up her end of the conversation."

The cat lifted its head as her mistress stopped her petting and slipped into deep thought. "Okay, but Mrs. Malfoy was trained from birth on how to dress well and how to flirt and remain chaste. My parents are dentists; they don't do that."

The cat watched its mistress heave a sigh. Sometimes, class inequalities were hard to bear.

But the struggle with the Dark Lord had taught her to persevere even though she faced obstacles: bushy hair, small bust, scar, and no flirting skills.

"Oh, what am I to do?" she asked her cat, who twitched its tail in response.

The cat watched her do her best.

"Meowr," went the cat.

"Cheap," went the mirror.

She tried again, toning it down. She wanted to bring him over to her side, not seduce him. He wasn't her type. Then she worried her outfit was too subtle. "Men probably like cheap," she told her cat.

The cat listened to the frustrations of a sincere and gracious lady. "Who knows what men like? Why can't someone like me for myself? I'm bright, friendly, and loyal, and I know I'd be really affectionate. So what if I don't have big breasts?"

Her cat was in total agreement when she said, "Men are a bunch of baboons. Why can't they appreciate kindness and sympathy?"

Having achieved a harmonious state of mind, she set out to meet Jack Higgins for lunch.

She spotted him at an outdoor table, sipping coffee and looking relaxed and dashing.

'Bloody mysterious bastard,' she thought. 'How am I supposed to know how to dress for you?'

He waved. "Good morning. Glad to see you. It's wonderful weather although a bit cool. Are you dressed warmly enough? You look smashing, but let me lend you a spare cloak I brought in case it turned windy."

Hermione thought his friendliness was undermining her plan for slowly breaking through his reserve, subtly gaining his trust, and gradually bringing him over to her side.

"Thanks," she said, thinking his misplaced chivalry had ruined an entire morning's effort by providing her with a concealing cloak that was keeping her comfortably warm. And it didn't help in the least that she liked his consideration and enjoyed flaunting the fact that she was wearing a cloak a wizard had lent her.

Jack gave her a wistful look and shook his head. "I'll tell you, Hermione, I've had one heck of a week. It's good you showed up. I need some company. What do you feel like doing?"

"I haven't given it much thought," said Hermione as his openness made all her morning's wily schemes look shabby.

Jack's first choice was a place where they could order some Margaritas and then enjoy the stormy skies and watch the waves crash on the rocks.

"Ah, yes, grey, bleak, turbulent desolation," said Jack. "I can live the poetic conceit of nature matching my inner soul. The mind-numbing drink helps, too."

They were sitting on a bench with a view of the wild shore. Jack's relating to the grey, bleak, turbulent desolation warmed Hermione's inner core. 'I was afraid he would be sarcastic about everything and not like anything,' she thought. 'And the stormy shore is attractive in its own way. The mind-numbing drink helps, too'

"What else do you like?" she asked him.

She thought he looked briefly sad.

'I love my daughter who now hates me,' he was thinking. 'She's certain I killed her friends' parents and made Mummy angry. But I need to brace up. Hermione is trying to be friendly.'

"I don't know if we like it," he said, "but at work we're still doing the army exercises. The standing joke is that it keeps us from being wastrels going to seed after our disastrous victory. We have to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed the first thing in the morning."

Hermione nodded understanding. She wanted to hear more.

"Seeing enthusiastic young kids is good for me even though I took a cut in pay to spend half my time teaching."

'Most of his friends were killed. His wife left him. He's still recovering,' she thought. She put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. When he didn't object, she left it there. 'His friendliness and my sympathizing with him are throwing my plans for vamping him into a cocked hat.'

They finished the Margaritas, and Jack suggested someplace sunny for lunch.

"We can do the Ruby Hat," he suggested. "Paradise is a sandwich, a mixed drink, and ... and a third item I can't remember. It's probably not important."

"Thou art but a dead man," Hermione told him.

"I know the Ruby Hat, too" she said. "The finger scribbles and our trying to rub it out and crying over it just smudges the ink and stains the parchment."

Jack was thinking she wasn't such bad company.

Hermione's first thought was that he could move his finger and writ something on her. Then they could rub it out. She wouldn't cry about it. Hermione, reflecting on her first thought, decided she shouldn't have had a Margarita and she would like another. He had had a bad week. She had had a terrible six months and a crappy Holiday.

"You're corrupting me," she accused him. "I opt for sherry, fruit, and a secluded spot. Or would you prefer knickers and biscuits ... I mean kippers and biscuits."

"I didn't know they came on biscuits. And here I've been eating naked biscuits all my life."

"They're only sold in gourmet shops," she said. "Only refined gentlemen buy them," she added.

An hour later, Hermione had poured two glasses of sherry and arranged some melon slices.

"And what do you like?" he asked her.

"I haven't had a chance to do much," she said. "There's the work of tracking down the Dark Lord's disciples, and there's dancing, but dancing is part of work even thought it's fun sometimes."

"You mentioned that people in your department weren't enthusiastic," he said.

'Damn his willingness to listen to me,' thought Hermione. 'I'm going to prattle on about my problems instead of bringing him over to my side.'

"At first, they made an effort, but they lost their enthusiasm," said Hermione.

"My guess is they joined your department to fight the Dark Lord as soldiers. But detectives aren't soldiers, and soldiers aren't detectives. Now that I think about it, they're not soldiers either. There's going to be a mismatch until the people in your department leave for their true calling and they're replaced by law officers."

"Perhaps so," replied Hermione, thinking about his description. She decided she would like to hear more cool analysis accompanied by sympathy. The other wizards she knew didn't do that. It gave her a calmer attitude towards her co-workers, and it was entertaining in its own right. It brightened the day.

"Are you certain you're a detective?" he asked. "I keep thinking you're conscientious and you'll perform the task at hand even if it's not to your liking."

"Are you suggesting I do something else?" she asked.

"Not necessarily," he replied. "I am saying you're talented, the wizard world is in bad shape, and there are things as valuable as bringing criminals to justice."

"I sometimes think that getting people out of prison who shouldn't be there would be good," she said.

Jack was thinking that Hermione might have a bit of humanity in her.

Hermione was thinking that Jack might have a bit of compassion in him.

Hermione regretted having dressed cheaply. His sympathy to both her and her coworkers made her want to approach him on a more meaningful level. Could she still approach him? Would he be forgiving of a lapse in judgment?

She stretched out close to him, propped on her elbow. "Most people think that if I do something well, I enjoy doing it," she confessed.

"It's called will-driven performance. It's unusual," he said.

"Is that what you do?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No. This is going to sound immodest, but there are things difficult enough that no one can be ordered to do them and will-driven performance isn't enough either. They can only be done by someone who enjoys that particular challenge."

'He's more arrogant than I thought,' she mused, moving closer to him.

"There's a downside," he said. "People driven by challenges ignore orders from above and look down on work that's merely hard."

'I like it that he's talking to me,' she thought, running her fingers through his hair. She was close enough that she was touching him.

Jack Higgins, like any normal person, was willing to provide solace to the lonely. He stroked Hermione Granger's hair as she laid her head on his shoulder. 'She was an over-achiever in school; she's an over-achiever at work; and she's isolated herself,' he thought. He was recalling wizards he knew, trying to think who might be compatible with Hermione Granger.

"I'm glad you're talking to me," she told him.

"It's easy to talk to you," he said.

'She's too righteous for me,' he thought. 'She would never accept or forgive my sheltering Narcissa and Bellatrix.'

"You're the only person I feel comfortable around," she said.

"I'm glad you can relax," he said.

'We're incompatible,' he thought. 'I ignore a lot of the routine niceties of life because they're not a challenge. Hermione would never understand not responding to ordinary demands.'

"You have very high standards," she said. "I doubt I could live up to them."

"I think you have the wrong impression of me," he said.

'I'm a slug,' he thought. 'Hermione deserves a bright version of Harry Potter, a partner she can admire.'

'I need someone,' she thought. 'I know I have lots of faults and I'm not pretty, but I wonder if Jack could like me anyway. He talks to me, he listens to me, and he understands what I'm doing. He's not such an arrogant bastard once you get to know him.'

'I don't have to worry about this going too far,' thought Jack. 'Nothing will happen if I'm not an aggressive bad-boy. The double standard will save me.'

Hermione was nuzzling Jack, then stretching her leg across him, then kissing him, then moving on top of him. "We can go to my flat," she said.

'If this doesn't take the biscuit,' thought Jack, 'the one with knickers.'

* * *

'I thought only boys felt content and smug,' Hermione was thinking. 'I'm supposed to be fretting about my lost innocence.'

She and Jack were in a restaurant, and the salad had arrived. She smiled at him and picked up her fork.

'I'm comfortably quiet with him,' she thought, 'although I was loud enough an hour ago.'

She sighed, still confused. 'There was the physical release, several in fact. He's considerate. Perhaps it's the understanding before and the affection during and after...that silver-tongued devil. I'd still be in bed clinging to him and listening to him if I hadn't had to pee.'

After a sensible salad, Hermione was certain they could go to a quiet place, have a coffee and pastry, and decide on their strategy for capturing the outstanding fugitives.

"The two most wanted people are Bellatrix Lestrange and Severus Snape," observed Jack.

Hermione nodded.

"Perhaps they are together," suggested Jack.

"No!" said Hermione.

Jack gave her an inquisitive look.

"I mean ... it wouldn't make sense, would it? It would double their chances of being spotted, wouldn't it?" blurted out Hermione. "Besides, they're not compatible, are they? The Black sisters are such snobs. Sev ... I mean ... Snape wouldn't put up with them, would he? I can't imagine them being together."

"Perhaps they are not together," said Jack, having wild thoughts about painkillers and a missing Potions master, and thinking wilder thoughts about the emotional lives of young ladies.

"At any rate, we want to track them down," said Jack. "Lacking any other leads, we can keep an eye on the masked ball. It's an excellent place for secret socializing and clandestine meetings with friends and relatives."

Hermione did not look enthusiastic about the suggestion.

"Aren't you going to suggest that I get back into the good graces of Mrs. Malfoy and take her to the dance in hopes that her sister will try to contact her?" prodded Jack. "It would be a good way to watch for Snape, too."

"That's ... that's an idea," stammered Hermione.

'Definitely does not want to stake out the dance floor,' thought Jack.

"That might be too obvious," said Jack. "What about pretending that we're not watching Mrs. Malfoy closely enough? Eventually, she'll lead us to where her sister is hiding. Bellatrix Lestrange is the one everyone wants."

"Yes," said Hermione. "Yes, that's brilliant."

* * *

"Where have you been?" asked Narcissa.

"You told us you were going to have lunch with Flitwick," said Bellatrix.

"Flitwick couldn't make it. Hermione Granger showed up, and she wanted to plot how to catch Bellatrix."

"Do tell us more, dear," the two women said.

Jack related the essentials of the long luncheon, omitting some minor details. The three were in a quandary. Should Narcissa lead Hermione Granger and her minions on some wild-broom chases? It might mislead them into thinking Bellatrix was not at the Manor, but it would have them thinking that Bellatrix was alive. Hermione and her colleagues might conclude the wild-broom rides were a ruse and raid the Manor. Or Hermione and her colleagues might raid the Manor out of frustration at never catching Bellatrix. If they did nothing, Hermione and company might raid the Manor just to do something. The three felt as if the world was closing in on them.

Jack lamented that playing along with Hermione had created problems. The two women reminded him that he didn't have any choice. Any show of reluctance on his part would make the over-achiever suspicious.

In the midst of this despair, the most unlikely ideas collided. Jack outlined his plan. The two sisters agreed. There might be hope after all.

"Vous parlez Français, mon ami," Bellatrix demandé.

"Not yet," said Jack. The phrase 'sleeping dictionary' came to mind, reminding him that he was a half-crazed divorced male.

"Je l'enseignerai que le Français," a dit Bellatrix.

"Je l'ai vu d'abord," a dit Narcissa.

'French isn't so hard,' thought Jack. 'I don't understand a word, but I know what they're saying.'

_____________________________________________________________

"Vous parlez Français, mon ami," Bellatrix demandé.

Do you speak French, my love?

"Je l'enseignerai que le Français," a dit Bellatrix.

I will teach him French.

"Permettez-moi, si vous plais," disiez Narcissa.

Allow me, if you please.

"Je suis plus âgé et plus sage," Bellatrix affirmé.

I'm older and wiser.

"Je l'ai vu d'abord," a dit Narcissa.

I saw him first.