Jewel of the Nile

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Well, it hadn’t been the last night of the world, but it had certainly seemed like one of the longest.

Eyes heavy, head aching, Hermione dragged herself out of the Floostream and into the Consortium’s main common-room, all-too-aware of her disheveled hair, of the dark circles under her eyes that she hadn’t had the energy to charm away. Not that it mattered, of course. Considering that it was eight in the morning and that she’d been up since two – reading minds, battling madmen, channeling ancient vengeance deities – she figured she was doing pretty well to make it to work at all.

On the other hand, seeing as her alternative was staying home and staring at that spot on the rug …

… well …

"Hermione, dear." That was Areli, bandbox-perfect in mint-green linen and cabochon earrings the size of Hermione’s thumbnail. "You don’t know how relieved I am to see you. I’ve just had an owl from Albus."

Great. Just great. Hermione managed a wan smile.

"Yes, well," she said lamely. "It was quite a night."

"So it seems." Areli’s sharp eyes took in Hermione’s pasty skin, her wrinkled robes. "Are you sure you’re up for this, dear?"

Hermione blinked. "Up for what?"

"The Eli Lilly meeting," Areli prompted gently. "Your migraine remedy, remember?"

Oh, shit, Hermione thought – dammit, I knew I was forgetting something! – and swayed on her feet. Areli grabbed her arm.

"There’s a Mr. Parker and a Mr. Conlin in the conference room – no, you aren’t late," she hastened to add as Hermione cursed under her breath; "they’re early. I conjured up some coffee and buns and set their wrist-watches back half an hour – given the circumstances, I thought you might be running behind. I was just going to pop over and check on you, actually."

"Oh. Thank you."

Hermione’s panic must have been written all over her face; Areli clucked at her kindly and steered her into a chair. A moment later, she’d produced tea and scones and was deftly adding cream and sugar to Hermione’s cup.

"Eat," she said firmly. "And relax. I’m going to take care of those circles under your eyes; you look like you’re in heroin withdrawal, and that’s no way to go into negotiations, especially with American businessmen. Now close your eyes."

Hermione chuckled weakly, as she’d been meant to, and sipped halfheartedly at the tea – again, far too sweet for her taste, but maybe the sugar would give her a little push – frowning a little as warmth spread to her toes. "You put Illuminata in this," she murmured, surprised, and opened her eyes just in time to catch Areli’s slightly guilty nod.

"No use having it about if you don’t use it, is there?" Areli pointed her wand at Hermione’s hair and muttered something Hermione couldn’t catch. "And if anyone deserves a little chemical courage today, it’s you. Now, drink the rest of that and then stand up – that robe is all right for research, maybe, but not to close a deal like this one."

"Areli …"

"Don’t argue, dear – if there’s one thing I know about, it’s making an impression on investors." A wave of her wand, and Hermione’s black robe was a chic little caramel-tweed suit with brown leather buttons and a fashionably brief skirt. A moment later, her comfortable, battered ballet flats had morphed into smart brown square-toed pumps – Hermione staggered, thrown off balance by the three-inch heels that hadn’t been there a second ago, and would have fallen if Areli hadn’t steadied her.

"I don’t know what to say to them," she said numbly. "I meant to get here early this morning – I’m so sorry, Areli, but I just forgot – and they’re M-Muggles, right? I can’t talk about magic … and what if they ask me how I make it? I can’t –"

"Don’t worry about that." Areli’s tone was dismissive. "If they get too inquisitive, I’ll head them off; that’s why I’m sitting in on the meeting." She swept sharply assessing eyes over Hermione from head to toe, then nodded, apparently satisfied. "You look better," she said. "There’s colour in your face again. Are you ready?"

Ready? Are you kidding? Hermione thought, and had already opened her mouth to say so – I can’t do this today, please don’t ask me to – when the look on Areli’s face – shining, expectant, excited – made her bite her tongue.

"Listen to me, all right?" Areli tucked one stray curl behind Hermione’s ear, a gesture of maternal affection that made Hermione’s throat ache. "You’ve earned this; you’ve got nothing to worry about. Don’t be scared – this is a good cause that you’ve taken up. You’re taking away a little bit of the pain in the world today, and you’re going to make yourself a rich woman in the process. Just relax and enjoy it."

Hermione frowned, unconvinced. "I suppose."

"Look." Areli put both hands on her shoulders. "Whatever remains to deal with from last night, it’ll still be here when you get out of this meeting. But don’t let it ruin this accomplishment for you." One dark eyebrow lifted. "There’s more to life than being in love, you know."

Hermione felt the pressure behind her eyes begin to resolve itself into tears, and resolutely blinked them back.

Don’t cry, damn it. Not yet.

"You’re right," she said finally, tight-throated but steadier, and focussed resolutely on the warm reassurance of the Illuminata, simmering in her bloodstream. "Just give me a minute to get my notes, and I’ll be ready."

**

Parker and Conlin of Eli Lilly Pharmaceuticals, Inc., were as stereotypical a pair of American executives as ever came out of Central Casting – sober grey suits, neat short-trimmed hair, discreetly striped neckties, eyes sneaking a furtive peek perhaps at Hermione’s hemline, at the way her primly sexy shoes set off the turn of her calves, but otherwise fixed firmly on the Bottom Line. This, Areli muttered into Hermione’s ear, was a good sign; if their preliminary tests on the formula had gone badly, the company would have sent scientists armed with hard questions, not suits with calculators and contracts.

Their interest in the ingredients of Hermione’s migraine remedy went only as far as the proposed cost of the raw materials, which was at once a relief and a brand-new anxiety. Lemon balm was easy to come by, after all, and so were peppermint and feverfew and the ingredients used as fixatives in the final stages of the Illuminata preparation.

But how, Hermione wondered wildly, were they to explain away the need for phoenix ashes, when as far as the non-magical community was concerned, that particular bird didn’t even exist?

Once again, Areli came to the rescue.

"These ingredients," she said, tapping the short list Hermione had copied, at Conlin’s request, onto his legal pad, "can be added in your laboratories, or outsourced locally to your distribution centers." Her eyes flicked briefly to Hermione’s; Hermione was amused, but unsurprised, to see her wink. Clearly, negotiations were right up Areli’s alley. "The initial stages of the formula, however, are classified. We’d feel more comfortable overseeing it on this end."

"International shipping costs big bucks," objected Parker. "We’ve got a profit margin to consider, you know."

"You’ll make up your money with the difference in labour," Areli pointed out. "And more, probably. Every other window-washer in this city has a pre-med degree; skilled labour never came so cheaply."

Parker raised his eyebrows doubtfully, but conceded the point. Conlin, who had been studying Hermione’s handwritten list, frowned.

"Are the ingredients for this initial formula of yours listed here?" he wanted to know. Hermione shook her head.

"Not entirely."

"Well, what’s in it?" Conlin tapped the end of his Montblanc meaningfully against the conference-room table. "Everything you have written here falls under the category of ‘herbal remedy’ … which means we could market it directly through one of our homeopathic subsidiaries, without bothering to channel it through the FDA – we could have it on-shelf in a matter of months."

He shot her a speculative look. "But if there’s something in the formula that would require it to be dispensed by prescription, then we’re talking seven to ten years before it’s approved for sale in the States. Not saying we wouldn’t still be interested, but it makes it into a whole different proposition."

"Um." Hermione, who’d been afraid of just this question, stepped hard on Areli’s foot under the table – the nonverbal equivalent of Do something!

"No prescription," she said cautiously. "I don’t think, anyway. It’s just a distillation of lemon balm, that’s the main ingredient. And, uh …"

"Charcoal," Areli cut in. Hermione shot her a covertly grateful look; Parker looked puzzled.

"Charcoal? Don’t see what’s so proprietary about that. Cheap labour or no, it’d still be more convenient just to make it locally. Good for public relations, too."

Merlin’s gonads. We’re trading one problem for another, here.

Still, Hermione was beginning – albeit warily – to enjoy herself; this negotiation stuff wasn’t all bad. "It’s not the ingredients themselves," she said, raising guileless eyes to Parker’s. "It’s the process – it’s a bit tricky. I’d want to oversee it myself … at least at first."

"Ah. Well, if that’s all." Parker looked triumphant. "We’d be more than happy to fly you into Indianapolis. You could meet with our scientists – best minds in the world, if you’ll pardon my saying so – give a training seminar or two, maybe catch a Colts game while you were in town …"

Eeek.

"Um," Hermione said. "I’d really rather not –"

"—Out of the question." That was Areli, at her most acidic. "Miss Granger has her responsibilities to the University to think of, after all."

Parker looked momentarily abashed.

"I see," he said. "My apologies; you look a bit young for a lecturer, that’s all. I hadn’t considered –" He broke off long enough to slant a hopeful look at Areli. "No possibility of a sabbatical, I suppose."

"None."

Parker, disgruntled, ran one hand through his businessman’s haircut and scowled. "There’ll have to be a guaranteed-supply clause in the contract, then," he said darkly. "Based on what we’ve seen, we’ll want to market this aggressively nationwide – we can’t spend the money on advertising and then fall short of product. What kind of quantity can your plants produce?"

"Oh, well. That is …" Hermione, thinking of the Illuminata’s three-week brewing period, bit her lip. Areli didn’t look worried, though.

"Whatever you want, we can get it for you, don’t you worry about that," she said dismissively, and leaned back in her chair with an air of anticipated triumph. "Well, gentlemen? We’ve got little things to wrangle through, but I don’t really see a deal-breaker here, do you? You’ve done your preliminary testing – what do you say? Do we have a deal?"

Conlin and Parker exchanged glances.

"We need to run full-scale field tests," Conlin said slowly. "Since it’s all-herbal, that cuts down on the time, but we’re still talking four to six months, minimum. And we’ll need some additional samples of the product." He shuffled through his notes. "Funny thing about your formula, Miss Granger. Some of our top people ran it through a chemical breakdown – couldn’t get a thing out of it. Lots of speculation at the lab over it, actually; they thought you had something completely new here. They’re going to be pretty embarrassed when they find out what’s in it."

Hermione cleared her throat nervously. "Um. Well, as I said, the process is pretty complicated."

"Right." Conlin nodded. "Well, in any case. Dependent on the results of the field testing, I’m authorized by Eli Lilly to make you an offer for sole distributorship in the United States." He paused, looking diffident. "They’re interested in maker’s rights, too."

"No," Hermione said firmly, surprising herself. "It’s my formula. I keep it." Areli looked approving.

"Good girl," she murmured, and squeezed Hermione’s hand under the table. "I think we can do the other, though, Mr. Conlin," she said. "What kind of figures did Eli Lilly have in mind, for Hermione’s little miracle potion?"

Conlin flipped a few more pages, cleared his throat. And named a number that made Hermione’s eyes cross.

"Holy shit," she said, forgetting decorum in her shock. The Americans laughed.

"Royalties, too?" That was Areli, her eyes gone narrow and predatory. Hermione let the conversation go on without her; her head was spinning.

Wait till I tell Mum and Dad. Wait till I tell Gram.

Wait till I tell Snape.

Snape.

At the name, the mental picture of the face in her head, Hermione shivered, as if she’d fallen into icy water.

Whatever remains to deal with from last night, it’ll still be here when you get out of this meeting.

There’s more to life than being in love, you know.

Yeah, she thought, morose with unwelcome truth, and held on fiercely to the last steady bit of calm that was the Illuminata in her bloodstream. Yeah, I know.

She forced herself to smile at Parker, forced her cold fingers to return Areli’s comforting squeeze. But the joy had gone out of it for her.

**