AN: I'm a fan of some lovely magic Delancey654 invented for their Dramione fic "The Ginger Malfoy." It's a paternity potion that works by colour indicator, and if you've read "The Ginger Malfoy," you'll recognize that potion being embraced, celebrated, and borrowed for this story. Thanks to Delancey654 for creating this potion for us.
The Malfoy brothers had different ideas about the best ways to welcome the rest of the students to Hogwarts after Christmas holidays. As travelers streamed into the school from carriages and Floos, Draco stayed in the vanished room on the fifth floor, preparing to put Ronald's paternity potion to use.
Ronald, on the other hand, stood in a niche behind the statutes of stone soldiers cut out of the castle walls along the main entrance. He seemed to do well with Pansy when he pulled her into niches and alcoves, so he waited there for her. As the low January shadows turned to darkness, he watched as Hermione arrived, charging ahead of the first carriage-load of students, her prefect's badge gleaming in the lantern light.
Pansy came with the final carriage, her prefect's badge knocked askew on the front of her cloak. In his niche, Ronald's hands were nearly as cold and stiff as the statue he'd hidden behind. He darted out as quickly as he could.
She yelped as he caught her hand in his.
"Quiet, Parkinson. It's only me."
Pansy's eyes were wide, almost frightened. "Ronald - you're frozen solid. What are you doing out here?"
"I couldn't wait," he said. "I mean, I did wait. I've waited since Christmas Day for you to return my owl but - "
She scoffed. "That message? The one about 'the choicest blessings of the season?'"
He smirked. "Is that what it said? I'd forgotten, honestly. I copied it off a Christmas card at the Grangers."
She folded her arms across her chest. "That was the first word I had from you after the question I put to you on the road to Hogsmeade at the beginning of the holidays. And you couldn't even be bothered to write something in your own words."
Ronald's heart sank. "Pansy, no. No, no, I agonized over what to write. I wanted it to be perfect. But it was Christmas morning, and everyone was waiting, shouting and banging on the door. I panicked. There was so little time and - the hospital - the stupid bird - "
"The choicest blessings?" she interrupted, not ready to hear his explanations yet. "The last thing I said to you was 'choose me' and you write back to me with this - this bizarre statement about whatever 'choicest' was supposed to mean. Choice? Really Ronald? It made hardly any sense, but just enough to keep me fretting over it - "
He was groaning, shuffling his feet on the cold stone floor of the niche. "No, it wasn't meant to be a puzzle."
"Well it was," she snapped. "A perfect brain teaser, unsolvable, the first thing I thought about every morning, and the last thing I thought about at night."
He flung both his arms around her with such force she barely had time to turn her face before he mashed her cheek into the front of himself. It wasn't seductive but desperate. "It's all my fault. I'm sorry," Ronald said. "I didn't want to upset you. I just - wanted - you."
Pansy gasped, pushing away from his chest so she could read his face. "You what?"
"I choose you," he said, holding her close, looking down into her face, still sorry and scared. "Of course I do. I've been imagining myself saying it for weeks, and in my head it never went as stupidly as this but - please Pansy, I'm mad for you."
"You choose me over - everyone else?"
"There isn't anyone else," he said, crossing his arms behind her. "The Hermione thing - it was a habit we both outgrew. Please, Pansy, choose me back. I'll understand if I've blown all my chances and have to start over. I will if you want."
She hopped against him. "Not at all." She was looking up at him from beneath the line of her fringe, her eyelashes dark and lush, suddenly so sweet and happy Ronald couldn't help himself and bent to brush his long, straight nose against her little turned-up nose.
"How is that?" he said. "Non-lip facial contact. Was it alright? Too much?"
She smiled. "It's freezing. Your nose must be numb with cold. You didn't even feel that, did you?"
"Sure I did."
She pulled her gloves off and warmed his cheeks with her bare hands. "You poor, foolish boy. How long have you been out here?"
He shrugged. "Since before the first carriage. I didn't want to miss you any longer than I had to."
She made a soft, pitying sound. "You must get indoors right away."
When she moved to lead him to the entrance, he held her in place, face to face with him behind the warrior statue. "It's so nice and private here though. The perfect place to share a first - uh…"
She shook her head. "Absolutely not, Ronald Malfoy. If your lips are as numb from cold as your nose, you'll be convinced you're cursed by prenatal love potion exposure. No, after all the hard labour we put in last term, I will not kiss you under anything but ideal circumstances.
He groaned a complaint. "But my mouth isn't cold. Here, try it."
She covered his lips with her palm as he bent toward her. It could have been to stop him from snogging her, or it could have been an excuse to have him kiss her hand again. "I will not try it. Not yet."
He was groaning again, his face tipping into the collar of her cloak, his icy cold nose drawn to the burning warmth of her throat. She laughed and squealed as he nuzzled closer, her hand pinned between them, shivers rising from her head to the backs of her knees.
"Mr. Malfoy," a voice called out to Ronald from just inside the entrance. It was Professor MacGonagall, about to shut the doors for the evening and doing one final, badly needed survey of the grounds. She gave a single shake of her head as he straightened up and Pansy's face came into view. "And Miss Parkinson. Right this way, if you please." She swooped an arm, beckoning them into the cheery but somehow unwelcome orange light of the castle.
Draco had signaled Hermione through the galleon to let her know he was in the vanished room and that she was to bring the finished paternity potion there as soon as she'd finished her duties. Everything was nearly ready when she came through the false wall carrying the potion in her hands. It was in the glass bottle he'd left at the Grangers' house, tightly corked, its liquid bronzy brown, shiny and thin, like maple syrup.
At the sound of her footsteps, he spun around from where he was working at the room's single table. They'd been expecting to see each other, but their cheeks flushed pink all the same.
Muscling past the shyness, Draco took three quick steps toward her, rolling his sleeves up his arms as he came. The sight of him coming toward her was dazzling, overwhelming, and Hermione balked and held the bottle between them.
"Does it really look like mud?" she asked.
He didn't pause but kept stepping toward her, nudging past the bottle to slide his arms under hers. He pressed her against himself, rocking the both of them as he sighed into her hair. "No, it looks like brandy, a fine, beautiful, priceless brandy."
His neck was against her face and she was breathing in his scent, her involuntary little hum sounding between them. "I would have said maple syrup myself," she managed to say. "And not the cheap kind from a shop. The nice kind that people bring back from ski trips to Canada."
He stood up straight to smirk at her. "You convinced your parents to go skiing in Canada? It's a bit overkill. I was thinking more like Switzerland when I suggested it. But well done, Granger."
"We just stayed at home, actually," she admitted. "I don't know what your mother did, but we had no problem with escaped Death Eaters coming 'round."
He winced. "Listen, you have to take it seriously when I tell you something's dangerous."
"I did," she chirped. "I was vigilant, constantly." She held the potion between them again. "And I would have had to stay at home to protect this anyway. It does look perfect, doesn't it? This is some fine work of ours."
He nodded. "Yeah, it is. All that's missing to finish it off is Ronald himself."
She let the weight of the potion straighten her arm, the bottle hanging at her side as Draco still held her. "Well, what do we do until he gets here?"
Without letting go of her, Draco walked the pair of them backward, toward the table. "We could do what most people our age would do upon finding themselves alone with a person they can't help but like."
She ducked her head, laughing at herself for impulsively confessing to him on her parents' basement stairs the last time they spoke. They were close enough to the table for her to set the potion down on it. With her hands free, she linked them around Draco's neck, her fingertips grazing his hair.
"We've been prefects for months now," he was saying. "We know all the best spots in the school to hide away and snog uninterrupted for hours on end, but we've never put this knowledge to proper use."
She scoffed. "The fact that we've interrupted so many people ourselves proves they're not very good hiding spots, not for someone aiming to be uninterrupted."
"Yes, well everyone we've caught has been discreet than us," he went on, smoothing her hair behind her ears, languidly, tenderly clearing her face for his approach. "Kissing in the restricted section, and under your family Christmas tree, and in front of Montague, and then your flaming dad, for the love of Boggarts."
She laughed again. She did laugh more when Draco was around. "You weren't complaining about any of it at the time."
"And I'm not now," he said. "I'm merely observing that the only thing that could make our kisses more perfect would be if they lasted longer. They've been altogether too short. So..."
She tilted her head, her eyes already closing to receive him. "So?"
"Sorry, Draco. Got caught up at the entrance waiting for - argh!" It was Ronald, coming into the room babbling excuses but not looking away from Pansy at his side until she elbowed him in the ribs at the sight of Draco standing in the centre of the room, millimetres away from snogging Hermione Granger.
Hermione's head jerked back and Draco's arms fell from around her waist. "Parkinson?" she said, gawking at Ronald's hand clamped around Pansy's. "What are you playing at?"
Pansy held Ronald's hand in both of hers. "Consider me asking you two the same thing, Granger."
"I should think it's obvious," Hermione countered.
Pansy huffed. "Yes, actually. It has been for some time. But that answer is hardly satisfying." She curved her mouth into a greedy smile. "Draco, spill it."
The little owl looked half frozen to death by the time someone noticed Pigwidgeon fluttering around the windows of the Malfoy Manor kitchen. He stood on the hearth over the scullery fire, preening the ice out of his feathers as an elf carried away a message for the Master and Mistress of the house.
The elves had learned to avoid the Lestranges, so instead of seeking out Lucius in the drawing room, they found Narcissa, upstairs in her bedroom, squinting out at the driving snow.
Though she'd been expecting this message, she frowned all the same. News that Bellatrix was at large was all over the papers now. Of course, the Weasleys wanted some assurance that Ronald was being kept clear of her. In her message, Molly didn't quite accuse the Malfoys of harbouring fugitives, but she did express concern for the "unpredictable" nature of their family situation now the Lestranges were unaccounted for.
Narcissa took a deep breath and fought to keep her temper. She needed to be careful, to assure Molly Weasley that Ronald knew who Bellatrix was and the danger she might pose for him, and that he would stay in school until the Aurors rounded her back up.
"Darling, no," Lucius said when he came up to bed and saw Molly's note. "Don't reply in writing. Too easily it becomes evidence, should anything go awry. The return address - they've left London and are back at their hovel. I'll pay a visit."
"No, I will go," Narcissa said. "You know Arthur prefers that it's me. Frankly, so do I."
Lucius came close as she summoned a traveling cloak. "He closed his arms around her waist and dropped his chin to her crown. "I am eternally, utterly sorry, Narcissa darling."
She pulled on her gloves as if he wasn't holding her. "Sorry isn't the right word. To be sorry is too near regretting our relation to the Weasleys. And since the moment I laid eyes on Ronald, I haven't been able to regret him or anything connected to him."
Lucius sighed, continuing to hold her even though she was reaching for her wand to leave. "As much as we adore him, darling," he said, "Ronald owes his existence to Arthur Weasley."
She scoffed. "Yes, he is either Arthur's son, a monster conceived under the influence of a love potion who cannot love, or else my husband is at least a little in love with another woman."
"Cissa, it's not that simple."
"Of course it's not," she said, finally tilting her head to look at him.
He held her gaze for as long as he could. At times like these, there was a knowing coldness about her. Of course, Lucius knew paternity potions existed. But he had always had it in his mind that, without Molly and Arthur's permission, he would never use one on Ronald. And Molly had very recently pledged to him that she would not use one for Ronald's own safety, not with the dangerous Legilimens who was the Dark Lord loose in the country again.
But the matter was never discussed between Lucius and Narcissa. They only spoke of it obliquely, with these kinds of barbs and insinuations.
At any time during the fourteen years Ronald had been in their care, Narcissa could have brewed a potion and used it on her son herself. Lucius could not ask her directly if she knew who Ronald's biological father was, but that did not mean she did not know.
In the vanished room, Hermione and Pansy stood in matched stances, feet apart, arms crossed, chins lifted, like queens on either end of a chess board.
Hermione looked at each of the boys in turn. "You both knew about this, didn't you? Why are you acting shocked, Ronald?"
He sputtered. "Because I am. Last thing you told me was you and Draco weren't together, and now here he is about to gnaw your face off."
Hermione scoffed. "Poetry."
"Oh, honestly," Pansy said. "There's no need for the two of you to row like a bad marriage anymore." Pansy clamped her fingers on either side of Ronald's jaw and tipped his head downward. "Stop looking at her like that."
Draco shuddered. "You get used to it."
"No, I don't," Pansy said.
"Oh, don't worry on my account," Hermione said. "Ronald is all yours, Parkinson. Even though a week before Christmas he was asking me to make sure I troubled myself to consider him as part of my future. Bloody F-boy - "
"And then you spent the holidays making eyes at my brother, right in front of me," Ronald burst. "And that was after Pansy sprung an ultimatum on me on the road to Hogsmeade. It was all very confusing, okay? But we're all sorted now. Right? Draco? Tell them it's alright. Nothing to be confused about."
Draco heaved an enormous sigh. "Actually, it's going to be plenty confusing for a while longer."
Hermione raised both her eyebrows, her vision flicking between the brothers again. "How is that? What have the pair of you done?"
"Think, Ronald," Draco said. "The night we got back to school, when Mother demanded to know which of us fancied Granger, and we knew they'd go completely spare if I admitted it was me…"
Ronald's face blanched. "So I told them it was me. I didn't even think. I just took the bullet."
"More poetry," Hermione sneered.
"It gets worse," Draco added. "Snape was standing right there when he said it. And if he figures out we tried to fool Mother, Snape will have no qualms about trotting off to tell her everything. There's nothing he wouldn't do for her. It's rather unsettling, frankly."
"Right. No need to panic. Snape can't know about us," Hermione said. "That's fine. I'd been worrying about how to tell Harry anyway, and could use a little privacy. Maybe it's for the best."
"No, Granger, it absolutely is not for the best," Draco said. "This isn't just a matter of you seeing me secretly. It's a matter of you pretending to date Ronald openly."
"Oh stars, no," Pansy said. "No, absolutely not. I appreciate sneakiness as much as the next Slytherin, but I will not have this."
"I'm so sorry, Pansy love," Ronald said.
"Well, you needn't be," she said, spinning away from Ronald as he reached for her. "Because you're not going along with it."
The other three were all talking to her at once, pleading, bossing, and cajoling.
"Alright," she called over them. "I am not unreasonable and I can imagine an arrangement I can tolerate. This is it," she said, lowering her chin and glaring at Hermione. "And you are not going to like it."
"Try me," Hermione replied. "You'll find I'm perfectly able to put my personal feelings aside for the sake of the greater good."
"How noble," Pansy sneered. "Then you won't be bothered at all if, while you're fake-dating my Ronald, I unexpectedly fake-reconcile with my first love, Draco Malfoy."
"What?" the brothers said in unison.
"Yes, that's right," Pansy grinned, still addressing Hermione. "It'll ensure nothing ever gets out of hand. You won't do anything to Ronald that you wouldn't mind seeing immediately mirrored between Draco and me. Because that's what will happen, Granger."
Hermione let out a single, joyless laugh. "You think I'm keen to maul Ronald? Right under Harry's nose and all?"
Pansy shrugged. "I have no idea what you could bring yourself to do for the - what did you call it - the greater good. So I'd like a little insurance. And if you never overstep with Ronald, I'll never do the same with Draco. Over the years, I've already ranged over most of him. Lovely terrain that can only have improved with age. I wouldn't even have to be shy."
Ronald was sputtering again. "Now wait just a minute - "
"I'm only threatening them, Ron," she said, looping her arms around his waist and nestling her face against his chest.
He still wasn't used to her treating him like this and fell speechless, draping his arm across her back and fighting back a facial expression that could only be described as goofy.
"Do we have an arrangement, Granger?" Pansy asked from where she stood embracing Ronald.
Over her shoulder, Hermione looked to Draco. He answered with a shrug. "It's either this or my parents send me off to school in Bulgaria."
Hermione struck a pout. "Seriously? But your mother was so nice at my house - "
"That was vapid good manners. And my father is of a completely different mind when it comes to my prospects in Bulgaria, Granger. Don't test them."
"Fine, we have a deal, Parkinson," Hermione said. "By the stars, Ronald, what are we going to tell Harry?"
"Should I go get him right now?" Ronald smirked. "Maybe if we're lucky he can bring Cho Chang into all of this. Stars know it's not complicated enough."
"Speaking of complicated," Draco said, "Hermione finished the potion."
Ronald jumped. "Oh. Right."
"But you seem to be dealing with a lot right now," Hermione rushed to say. "Emotionally, I mean. Maybe we should wait to use the potion until - well, until we've all had some time to settle in."
"I agree with Mother Granger this time," Draco said. "There's no rush to use the potion. It won't expire for years."
Pansy relinquished her hold on Ronald. "It's me. Whatever you're all up to, those two don't think you should do it in front of me."
Draco tutted. "Now Pansy, that's not - "
"No, she's the perfect person to have here for it," Ronald interrupted. "The whole idea that Molly Weasley might have had a love potion accident with someone other than her own exhausted husband came from Pansy in the first place. And if the potion does turn anything but Weasley red - well then, we can test whether Molly had any affection for her other man by whether I sense any affection when I - when I'm with Pansy." He took both her hands. "You don't mind, do you? If the first time I kiss you, for real, it's part experiment?"
Draco was interrupting before she could answer. "It's going to be red. It's just a matter of getting it over with. This whole thing is ridiculous."
"Look at how emotional you both are. I say we wait," Hermione called over Draco's already raised voice. "In fact, you don't even have to be in the room while we activate it, Ronald. Just leave me a strand of your hair - "
"Oh no," Ronald said, both his hands raised in protest. "That's how we'll end up with one of Crookshanks's ginger hairs in the potion instead of mine, and me running off into the night convinced I was sired by a cat - "
"Or a kneazle."
"See, she doesn't even argue it couldn't happen. Bet you'd love to hear why, Draco - "
"Ronald, don't you dare - "
"What? Don't dare what?" Draco demanded.
Ronald and Hermione both fell silent, too cross to even look at each other.
"Oh, for star's sake," Pansy said, holding her own forehead.
After a moment, Hermione took a breath so deep all four of them heard it. "Fine, Ronald. Whenever you want. You want to activate the potion now? We can do it now."
He let out a breath himself. "Thank you for your kind support. What comes next?"
Draco had set three beakers on the tabletop but as he glanced at Pansy, he got one more out of his satchel. Next to them, he had set a list he had copied from a book from the restricted section. The four of them gathered around the table as Draco clapped his hands once and began.
"This is our paternity potion. In its un-reacted state, it is, as you can see, this lovely not-at-all-muddy brown colour. It is, however, infused with reagents that magically identify the presence of genetic material from twenty-eight British wizarding families."
He turned to look somewhat apologetically at Hermione. "May I do a demonstration with a strand of your hair?"
She nodded and pulled hard at the crown of her head. She held a long, dark, spiral hair up to the light before dropping it into the potion. There was no change. Draco swirled the beaker so the potion spun in a vortex around her disembodied hair. All the while, it kept its brown colour.
"As expected," he said. "Neither Hermione's mother nor her father are from the assortment of families the potion recognizes."
Draco looked up from the un-reactive potion. "Pansy? If you please."
"Oh," she said, slightly startled to be called upon. "Certainly."
She dropped a straight, dark strand into the next beaker. As soon as it touched the potion, a yellow web shot through the brown, hanging suspended in the solution. Draco turned to the list. "Buttercup yellow. So your mother is an Abbott?"
Pansy smiled rather wanly. "Yes."
Ronald grinned. "Abbott - aren't they all Hufflepuffs?"
"Shut it, Ronald," she said, tugging on his arm.
Draco took the glass and swirled it. The yellow web stayed visible, while around it, the rest of the potion turned a light green, like new shoots poking through the earth. He let his breath out. "Spring green for Parkinson. It works."
Just then Hermione began breathing normally again too, but she replied with a confident, "Of course it does."
"One last test before we begin," Draco said. He plucked a shiny hair from his own head to add to the third beaker. A black web sprung up on contact.
"You don't have to tell us that's for Mum," Ronald said. "Black for the house of Black."
Draco nodded as he swirled the glass. The potion turned an opaque silver, like mercury. "And this colour is for Malfoy," he said. "Exactly as described on the list."
They all leaned back from where they'd been hunched together over the table. One un-reacted beaker remained.
Draco dropped a hand on Ronald's shoulder. "You still don't have to do it. Not tonight and not ever. We can pour the rest of the potion into the lake and forget about the whole thing if you like."
Ronald looked at his feet. He swayed slightly, until the sway became a nod, growing in determination. "No, we've come this far." He raised his hands to his hairline and pulled. "I'll do it myself."
He held the ginger hair over the surface of the potion. "You don't have to look, Draco."
Draco swallowed. "I do."
Ronald let the hair sink into the potion. As it had for Draco and Pansy's tests, a web of colour appeared. "Dark purple, like a plum," Ronald announced.
"Yes," Draco said. "That's Prewett. That's Molly."
Ronald stood over the brown potion with the purple web. His three companions watched as his throat bobbed. To find out his biological father's family, all he needed to do was to reach out and swirl the glass.
"You don't have to," Hermione whispered into their waiting silence.
"But I will." Ronald grasped the glass. The brown fluid spun through the deep purple web, and as it did, it flashed, and lightened to silver.