Applying Evidence-based Science

Chapter III: Applying Evidence-based Science

She saw the Gryffindor Sword on the bottom of the small pond and dived in after it, not realising her heavy winter clothing would only speed up her downward journey. With a tight grip on the sword, her feet pushed her upwards and then stopped. Oh, damn. Despite desperately flopping her feet in hopes to reach the surface, she felt her body descend again. "Silly girl! This is not the sword that killed Narcissa or the other two. Why are you going after it?" Hermione had never been so grateful to hear a Malfoy's voice. Lucius pulled her up, and finally, she was able to breathe, taking in big gulps of air.

Hermione woke up, still gasping for air. "Oh, gods," she groaned. "Why on earth am I dreaming about the Gryffindor Sword and a Malfoy, and as a rescuer at that???" Once the fog of sleep cleared, she realised that Malfoy no longer posed any fear to her. She wouldn't call his company pleasant, given the usual subject matter she sought him out for, but at least he'd never leered at her, a gripe she held against most males of her acquaintance, and his manners were always impeccable.

The dream forgotten, Hermione peeled the covers off and rose to prepare for the day. A visit to Madam Pomfrey was the first item on the day's agenda. She quickly copied the data from the text message she'd received from Colin onto a piece of parchment.

"Miss Granger, good morning," the Healer greeted her as she stepped out of the fireplace. "I have interesting news for you." She led the way to her office and motioned for Hermione to sit down in front of the desk. Taking several parchments and handing them to Hermione, she said, "Look at the rhesus factor. Three hundred witches and wizards, Hermione! I wish we could obtain funding for redoing the Squib study!"

Hermione skimmed the parchment, her eyes widening. "Not a single positive rhesus factor? That's incredible!" The blood groups themselves seemed to be somewhat randomly distributed: mostly A and O, but far fewer Bs. Her eyes came to rest on the last two names. Lucius Malfoy and Draco Malfoy.

"Did the Malfoys come here together?"

"Yes, they did, yesterday afternoon. I was surprised myself."

Hermione nodded. "Their relationship has been somewhat strained, but I hope they can sort it out ..." She turned her attention back to the parchment. "You must have been very busy to check so many students!"

"Yes, well, it was a diversion from the usual boring days between Quidditch matches." Poppy smiled. "To tell the truth, I'm rather excited. If now I'll manage to find data on Squibs, we may yet be able to prove the authors of the Squib study wrong."

Hermione nodded. "Looking at these results, I think it's actually doable. I'll take it up with Kingsley. That study was the sloppiest I've ever read, honestly." She took the parchment out of her pocket and handed it to the Healer. "These are the blood groups and rhesus factors of the murder victims, if you wish to add them to the list."

Poppy glanced at them. "Hm, all rhesus negative. Why am I not surprised ..." Then she faced Hermione again. "I would enquire at St Mungo's about blood data pertaining to Squibs, but I'm not holding out much hope to receive anything."

"Oh, it's okay. I can do that and claim it's to resolve a case. They're usually quite helpful that way." Hermione grinned and stood up reluctantly. "Time to do some brainstorming with my favourite Aurors."

She Flooed to the Ministry and quickly checked her office before heading for Harry and Draco's department to inform them of the latest findings.

"Ah, just the person!" drawled Draco when she entered the Aurors' office. He grinned at her. "I spoke to Father yesterday, and he would, for once, like to spend Yule with his only son. I told him Harry, you and I have been spending the last few holidays together and that I'd like to keep it that way, so he suggested we all spend Yule at the manor. That work for you? Or do you find the notion of spending a whole day with him too horrifying?" He looked at her questioningly.

Hermione shrugged. "That works fine. As long as there's Scrabble involved."

Draco raised his eyebrow. "Naturally. Couldn't imagine Yule without a game of Scrabble." He didn't bother to hide his sneer, and Hermione laughed.

"Aaawww, Draco. Still hoping to best me?" She grinned and then looked around. "Where is Harry?"

"Oh, he's in his weekly meeting with the Minister," Draco supplied. "What's your news then?"

Hermione quickly relayed what she'd learned from Madam Pomfrey.

"Have you read the Squib study from the point of view of a Squib or someone with very limited amounts of magical power? I really think you're on to something by assuming this study to play a role, you know? Now, if you imagine yourself in a situation of someone who is maybe a pureblood but has few or no magical powers ..."

Hermione stared at him with wide eyes. "Draco," she breathed, "you are a genius."

Draco grinned smugly. "And you've just found out?"

The last few days before the holidays flew by in a haze. The more Hermione researched and thought about the cases, the more she suspected a Squib to be the culprit. Every answer to the question of who would most likely? she answered rather resoundingly with a Squib. She'd checked all the Muggles married to witches, having excluded the likelihood of a female being the culprit for now; the wounds on each victim had been too deftly applied to come from a woman, considering the lack of magic. Fewer than a hundred Muggle men were currently living in or on the edge of the wizarding world, and only three near Hogwarts. Two of those were in their seventies or eighties and likely too frail, and one was in his early fifties, married to a Muggle-born witch, and a police officer...the other Muggle Law Enforcement liaison in addition to Colin...a most unlikely suspect.

Hermione shut the file with a resounding thud. It was time to start her ten-day break, beginning with tomorrow's Yule lunch at Malfoy Manor. She was in two minds about the visit. The recent numerous meetings with Lucius Malfoy at the manor had taken the edge off her decidedly bad memories of the place. Even the man himself was ... no. She refused to think of him as attractive. He was acceptable and not quite such a bane as she remembered him. She wasn't exactly uncomfortable spending her favourite holiday at the manor, especially given the guaranteed company of Harry and Draco. She didn't feel entirely comfortable, though, and was irritated not knowing what exactly made her feel that way.

"Severus, you better work on her some more. She looks mightily miffed there," Narcissa said, watching the young witch clear her desk. "And I know she's just thought about spending Yule at the manor."

Severus sighed. "Look, it's not my responsibility that she doesn't remember her dreams, you know." He was observing the young witch intently from his place near the wall of her office. "I have a feeling she is confused about Lucius. She likes him, but she's not quite sure about it or wants to deny it. Or ... something." He cast an exasperated glance at Narcissa.

"Yes, that's the impression I have. I'll have to work on Lucius, won't I ..." With that she disappeared, leaving Severus to watch Hermione.

The witch, entirely oblivious to the presence of a spirit, left the Ministry and Apparated home, looking forward to a relaxing evening. Maybe she'd decide on where to spend her next holiday; maybe she'd just take a book and indulge in some pleasure reading.

Severus observed Hermione in the kitchen as she prepared a quick dinner, which she then ate at the table while reading. He saw her mind churning; she was certainly not taking in a word of the book in front of her. A sigh escaped him. There is nothing wrong with liking Lucius, Hermione ... You know he's changed since Voldemort's death. For the better.

Hermione let the book fall down on the table, frowning. Might as well give up. Can't concentrate anyway. Her dinner finished, she cleared the table and moved to the bathroom. Maybe a hot bath will help clear my thoughts.

Hours later, with Hermione safely tucked into her bed...not that she'd noticed...Severus cast a smug grin at Narcissa. "Oh, yes, worry not. She's having sweet dreams of a tall blond, no doubt."

Yule dawned, and Hermione woke up refreshed from a good night's sleep, filled with pleasant dreams she didn't remember details of, and ready to spend the day with Harry, Draco and Mr Malfoy. It would be fun, she assured herself; Mr Malfoy wasn't bad company by any means, and Draco and Harry were her closest friends. Draco had rather seamlessly taken over that spot from Ron and only added in terms of quality.

Hermione showered quickly and then took care to apply some make-up. Green eyeshadow because it suited her brown eyes. Chocolate-coloured eyeliner because it emphasised her eyes. Mascara because it was a rule.

She scrutinised the outfit she'd taken out the night before. Dress robes. Sod it! She slipped into her jeans, as she'd done for previous Yule celebrations at Grimmauld Place, then chose a plain, black, long-sleeved t-shirt and an oversized black hoodie with a silhouette of Louis Armstrong playing the saxophone on the front. She'd be damned if she wasn't at least physically comfortable for the day.

Hermione picked up her presents for the three wizards...for the older Malfoy, she'd found a 2005 Pichon Longueville Baron, knowing he liked red Bordeaux...and went outside to Apparate to Grimmauld Place from where she'd Floo to the manor with Harry and Draco.

Hermione felt slightly anxious as she stepped out of the fireplace, but one look at Harry told her that he was far more nervous than she. "Merlin, I'm glad you opted for jeans as well," he said, pointing to his own, decidedly Muggle, outfit. "Draco insisted I'd be comfortable."

Mr Malfoy embraced his son first, then bowed his head over Hermione's hand, murmuring, "Merry Meet," and finally turned to his son's partner. "Potter," he said softly. His self-assured smirk was replaced by an uncertain grin...Endearing, Hermione thought...and he added, "Harry. You are practically family now, so we should, maybe, address each other by first name. I am Lucius, by the way." He stretched his hand out.

Hermione watched in fascination as Harry took Mr Malfoy's hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Lucius." He smiled at the blond. A genuine Harry smile.

Suddenly, everyone smiled. "Um, Father? Dad? I did tell you we'll do the cooking, didn't I? Um, that is, Harry is doing the cooking. He likes to employ Hermione and me as sous-chefs. I hope that's all right with you." Draco's voice held an edge of nervousness.

"Yes, son, you did tell me. I have no objections, although I'll feel rather lonely while you all do your cookery magic."

"Why don't you join us in the kitchen, Mr Malfoy?" Hermione asked. "I think the reason Draco and I initially became Harry's lackeys for his culinary adventures was for purely entertainment reasons." She dared a grin at him.

"Oh, well, Miss Granger, if you put it like that ..."

Hermione was in the middle of washing morels...an unthankful task, having to remove the soil from the many wrinkles...when Mr Malfoy approached her from the side. "Miss Granger. Hermione. Do you mind if we go by first names? It seems ridiculous in twenty-first century Britain to keep up Victorian etiquette."

Hermione was unable to suppress a smile. "Not at all. As a Muggle-born, I have enough trouble accepting all the facets of said etiquette."

Finally, Harry was satisfied with his culinary creations and allowed the house-elves to take over serving lunch.

"Oh, this is excellent, P...Harry!" Lucius exclaimed after taking a couple of bites. "Where on earth did you learn to cook like this? Surely, the Dursleys don't have such a refined knowledge of food!"

"Well, the Dursleys did make sure I knew how to fry bacon," Harry consented and smirked. "I suppose it was Draco's love of good food that inspired me to learn. So I took a leaf out of Hermione's book," he glanced at her sideways, "and started to read every cookery book I could find and then just practised."

"Feel free to cook lunch or dinner for me any day. This is fantastic."

"You are welcome at Grimmauld Place any time, Lucius," Harry said, his eyes challenging.

Go, Harry! Hermione thought. Lucius's consistent absence in previous years had doubtlessly put a burden on both Harry and Draco, and she was happy if there was a chance to change the habit.

"I ... I thank you." Lucius's eyes were cast down.

The day flew by with conversation, eating, drinking, and eventually, Scrabble. Harry and Draco had never been a match for her, but Lucius's skill was rather impressive. Hermione had a scary moment when he added BIA to her earlier AERO, doubling points of his word, but then she added EAU to someone else's ABOUT and the U hit a triple-word score. She grinned as she put the rack face down.

"Not bad, not bad," Lucius grumbled. "I suppose purebloodedness is overrated in Scrabble ..."

"Only in Scrabble?" Draco laughed. "Father, look around you!"

Lucius followed his son's advice, and his eyes widened. "Why, you're right, son. How could I have been such a fool for years? No, don't answer that." He looked uncomfortable. "I am learning, I think."

Much food, much laughter, and a considerable amount of wine and port later, the party finally broke apart, but not before Harry made Lucius promise to spend Boxing Day at Grimmauld Place, making Hermione's heart skip a beat. I'll see him again, and not for work-related reasons ...

She could not help but admit that she'd had one of the best Yule celebrations she remembered. Harry and Draco were always fun to be with, but what had surprised her most was Lucius's change of heart where his son's relationship was concerned. He seemed to have finally accepted Draco's choice, in fact approved, Hermione thought, judging by the way he'd treated Harry.

A/N: The words in the Scrabble scene are taken directly from the Scrabble site.

Grateful thanks to sunny33 for explaining and providing statistics of blood groups.