Recap:

"Now that we got that out of the way," she continued. "I want to know something else."

"Anything." She had to suppress her laughter at his willingness to please her.

"When are you going to ask out Lavender?"

Chapter 14: Pandora's Box

Ron's face was blank, his eyes overcast with the haze of his confusion. Had she just said what he thought she said? Surely she didn't think that he would want any sort of a relationship with Lavender after what had happened, and especially because of his feelings for Hermione. He'd hardly even looked at the girl since that night in the common room, so why did Hermione think he would want to date her? Couldn't she see the love he had for her? Wasn't his excruciating pain clear enough?

But, with all that raced through his mind, only two simple words came rushing out.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Hermione laughed. Of course she knew what his reaction would be, but seeing that look on his face was just too priceless. Besides, who said she wasn't allowed to have a little—and very well-deserved—fun with this?

"Why would you think that?"

"Why wouldn't I?" she asked in all seriousness. It was a logical enough question. "You were with her after all." There was nothing bitter or resentful in her voice, giving both of them pause. And quite abruptly, she realized that she was no longer upset about anything that had happened, even the pregnancy and who the father was, because, if she could still live and breathe after all that, then there was nothing that could touch her. She truly did have a shot at the life she always dreamed of.

"I don't even think of her," he half lied. Of course he thought of her, but only so far as she was the reason he no longer held Hermione in his arms. He knew he held most of the blame, however, but if she had never told him she fancied him then none of this would have happened.

"Well you should," she found herself saying. "She's a nice girl. And I want you to be happy."

He smiled at this. How could she fit such a big heart inside her?

"And you think asking Lavender out is the way to go about that?"

"Well you will have to apologize to her first. But after that I think there's a real chance there."

"Apologize?" He hadn't the faintest idea what she was talking about.

"Yes," she said, her voice the slightest bit firmer. "You've been ignoring her since that night, aside from the errand you had her run tonight. She didn't do anything worse than what you did."

"You know, I think your maternal instincts are kicking in a little too soon."

His jest stunned them both. He tried to speak, fumbling over his words, when Hermione silenced him with a light touch of her hand on his knee. He stared at her a moment, then loosened his tense shoulders, easing against the headboard.

"I missed this," she said. "I missed the Ron I knew."

"He suffered some severe brain trauma, but he's better now."

"Is he really? Even about Draco?" She was pushing it and she knew it, but what did she have to lose?

"If you're ok with it then I suppose I should be too. After all, we're all in the same boat as far as Malfoy in concerned."

"Yeah," she sighed, her eyes drifting to her feet. At least she thought she was on the same page as her friends. Of course I am, she thought angrily. Right?

Almost twenty minutes after shunning her, Hermione found Ginny stewing in the common room. She sat hunched on the window sill by the fireplace, her eyes looking at nothing inparticular, if she was seeing at all. Undoubtedly she was trying to figure out why she'd been sent away.

"I had to do it alone," Hermione said, her shadow casting her red-headed friend into darkness. "I knew Lavender was there because of Ron, and I decided a few days ago that when he confronted me I would speak with him."

"And what happened?" Ginny sneered. She hadn't spoken a single syllable to either Ron or Lavender. What they had done was completely unforgivable in her eyes. She loathed cheaters; it would take a lot more for her to reconcile with him, family or not.

"He apologized and was awkward and fumbly. I forgave him awhile ago, Gin. I realized that the only reason I was ever mad was because he embarrassed me. I never loved him the way I thought I did, and I want him to be happy."

"He stabbed you in the back!" she blurted out, jumping to her feet. "How can you forgive that!"

"I don't see the way you do," Hermione said calmly. "I see something with him and Lavender, and I don't want something as silly as my anger at being embarrassed to get in the way of that."

"I—" She stopped herself, noticing the eyes of the others in the room on her. That, and she wasn't really mad at Hermione, only puzzled. How was she able to forgive him so easily? "I don't understand," she sighed. "But it's your life. I guess I have nothing to argue about."

"Exactly," Hermione laughed. "Now if you'll excuse me I have a pressing matter to attend to."

"What sort of matter?"

"My son thinks my bladder is a trampoline!"

Melantha sat rigid and wide-eyed, her black leather journal grasped tightly in both hands. But it was not her written words, or the secret she held, that caused her body to tremble and her skin to crawl. The security at Malfoy Manor was supposed to be impenetrable, with only those outside gaining access when permitted by those on the inside. Or if they were a member of the Malfoy family, by either blood or marriage.

"How did you get in?" she demanded, her rigid demeanor returning with ruthless force as the seriousness of the situation became clear. It didn't matter an ounce to her that the pernicious girl standing before her, her waxy brown hair pulled back into a painful-looking bun, was young enough to be her daughter. Her name was Desdemona, she was barely eighteen years old, and she was a skilled and vicious Death Eater of little over a year. Melantha knew nothing else of her, other than she seemed to have shown up at Voldemort's side out of thin air, and had been hanging close under his wing ever since.

"I walked through the door," the yellow-eyed beauty laughed. It was her pale yellowish eyes, if nothing else, that had chilled Melantha the most from the moment she first saw her at the gatherings. "The Dark Lord advised me to not reveal my lineage, for many reasons. He has suspected your disloyalty for some time."

"If I'm to be killed then why was only a silly little girl sent?" Melantha sneered with a hint of laughter. She had seen the girl duel, and though she was a perfectly good fighter, she was no match.

"As you must know, my dear Melantha, news of your nephew's approaching fatherhood has swept far beyond the walls of Hogwarts Castle. And with Lucius tragically gone, our Lord saw a brilliant opportunity before him."

"I will not let anyone touch a hair on that child's head!" She was to her feet before she told her brain to stand. Wand at the ready, she was trembling with rage.

"But the wheels are already in motion, you deceitful old woman."

"No one can touch him or anyone I love while they're under this roof!"

"But you forget so quickly," Desdemona laughed. "I was able to come through the doors of Malfoy Manor. No one knew who I was or where I came from for a reason. My name is Desdemona Malfoy, proud niece of the late Lucius Malfoy."

"You're assuming that you'll make it out the front door to come crashing back in with your cohorts," Melantha sneered, and without a moment's hesitation cast a curse far more powerful than necessary to take the girl's life. But the heavens were in favor of the dark witch, and instead of taking her life, it took her memory, leaving her curled on the floor of the library in a fit of uncontrollable giggles. "Either way," Melantha said to the witless child, "you won't come near my family."

But she knew, a stiff knot forming in her gut, that this was by no means the end of it. Desdemona Malfoy was expendable in Voldemort's eyes. She knew the road that lay ahead of her—the dark and treacherous road to peace—but it scared her not, for she vowed to protect her family at any cost.

There was only one thing she had to do before alerting the Order.

She had to go to Draco and reveal the secret that had been plaguing her for more than half her life.

The biting wind whipped through the room with relentless force, swirling glittering snowflakes in all directions. But Draco cared not. He was numb to the cold, to any feeling, sitting slumped on the stone windowsill. How could he have been so blind? So stupid to believe that Hermione could have actually loved him in return? But if he never told her then he knew the "what ifs" would plague him for the rest of his life.

And the very worst part was not that she didn't love him, and not that he still loved her and would continue to, but that he could never escape her. She would be there, around every corner, for the rest of his life. They would raise their son together and feign being comfortable. He would never bring up his feelings to her again, not after his humiliating defeat only hours before. But, somehow, he knew she would know just by looking at him that he still loved her.

It was inevitable that she would begin dating, perhaps immediately. Perhaps even before they graduated. He didn't know who was stupid enough to try to be with her while Draco was around and highly volatile. Whoever that person was had better be prepared for hell on earth.

"Draco."

He turned his head slowly in the direction of the fireplace, where seconds before he'd heard someone Floo in. without looking he would have known it was his aunt, her permission to enter his room fireplace granted by the Headmaster. Which meant that something important was going on.

Ignoring the sinking feeling in his gut, and her dirty and disheveled appearance, he said, "I don't remember inviting you."

"You, Hermione, and your son are in terrible danger."

"What are you talking about?" he snapped, his pulse jumping.

"A young girl by the name Desdemona Malfoy—"

"My cousin," he said. He'd remember that name anywhere. Though he didn't know the girl, he knew his father had always been very fond of her.

"You know her!"

"Of course I know her. Now tell me what the hell is going on!"

"She showed up at the Manor this evening, attempting to kill me, or so I thought." Her eyes were cast at the floor, her heart sinking. She didn't know how it happened, how Voldemort had found out, but, because of her, they were all in grave danger. "I cursed her so badly that she's now nothing more than a vegetable. And then I dressed in my darkest cloak and apparated, carrying her with me to Voldemort and any Death Eaters that were there."

"Why the hell did you do that?" Draco demanded, furious that she wouldn't get to the point.

"Because Desdemona mentioned the baby. I had to go and find out what he planned to do, and stop him." Draco's spirits lifted. So that's why she looked so roughed up; she'd fought and—wait, she said they are in danger, not were. His hopes sank once more and he listened intently. She was telling him these things for a reason. "The instant they saw me I was bound with a spell and interrogated. But I wouldn't say a word, and because he thought he would kill me right after, he told me his horrid plans." She found it increasingly difficult to keep her breathing normal. Her knuckles were sheer white, her head throbbing with pain and fear. "There exists a spell that, if done correctly, could bring Voldemort immense power, power far greater than even he knew. And any additional power on his side, no matter how small, is never good."

"Get to the point!"

"For the spell you need many difficult to find and grow items, but most importantly is what he sought from our family…He needs the blood of his enemies, but not only that. The blood must come from three specific people; a parent, a child, and a grandchild. And at least two have to be male…"

"That doesn't make any sense!" he yelled, clenching the billowing curtains in his fists in a vain attempt to quell his fear and anger. "My parents are both dead! And neither was an enemy to Voldemort!"

"That's not entirely true," Melantha said, keeping her eyes expertly on him. He looked away, his sight settling on the Dark Mark imbedded in the flesh of her arm. For the welfare of everyone else—and not taking her own life into consideration—Melantha had offered, so many years before, to cross enemy lines and become a Death Eater, leaking all that she learned to the Order. No one had asked her to do it; no one had even suggested it, even thought of it. She had come up with the idea all on her own, risking her life for the benefit of others. And no one ever knew why.

"What do you mean not entirely? I saw first hand how evil my parents were! There is no way they were on our side!"

"But one of your parents was his enemy, Draco. And still is."

"You're not making any sense!" But in his heart he knew that she would never say something like that unless she was convinced it was true. Could his mother or father really have been innocent of their charges? Had one of them been like Melantha, secretly infiltrating Voldemort's opposition to gain information and advantage?

He found that impossible to believe.

"I've seen them do horrible things to other witches and wizards! They've tortured them simply for sport! How could either of them actually be good! And furthermore, they're both dead, so he can't use their blood!"

"Do you remember when you and I started to become hateful towards one another?" she asked. She was trembling so much she feared she might be sick.

"What in Merlin's name does that have to do with anything?"

"You don't remember when because there was never a time that you and I ever got along. Even when you were a small child, I was always glaring at you, taking your toys, feeding you foods I knew you hated. As you grew older I came around less and less, and when I did, I was so cruel to you that you grew to hate me as much as I thought I hated you."

"This might be hard to believe," he said angrily and sarcastically, "but I don't care why you hated me. Nothing you did was any different from what my parents did, or anyone else in the family."

"I thought I had a reason to hate you," she whispered, drawing a plain black leather-bound book from her cloak. She took several steps forward, the dried blood on her face looking black in the moonlight. "Don't be angry with her, but Hermione discovered this journal in your library. She confronted me about it and I begged her not to say a word. It is very clear that she kept her word, and so I am here to fulfill my end of the bargain."

"Why would I care that she read your stupid journal?" he sneered. But his mind screamed at him, itching to learn what was inside, for he actually did want to know what reason she thought she had for treating him the way she did. She was the nicest, sweetest, most caring person to everyone—except for him. With the rest of his family they had been malicious to everyone, unless, of course, that person possessed something they wanted and faked kindness was needed. At least with them he didn't have to wonder.

"Here," she said, handing him the book. Hesitantly he took it. "Open it to the page I have marked and read the paragraph I circled.

He sighed and rolled his eyes, turning to the correct page. The words were small and jammed together, but clear as day, appearing to have been written with great care. He had to read it four times to be sure it said what he thought it did. And then, giving the expected reaction, he pitched the journal at Melantha and cried, "It's not true! You're lying!"

"No, Draco," she said solemnly, keeping her distance. "And Voldemort somehow knows. We are all in danger."

He sank low to the floor, shaking his head and mumbling over and over that it wasn't true. But something deep within him knew that it was. It explained so much. He was about to reach for the journal that had landed a few feet away, after ricocheting off his aunt, when a terrifying thought shot through him like a thousand daggers. He raced to the door and nearly made it out, when Melantha grabbed his arm, yanking him back into the room.

"Where are you going?" she asked calmly. She had to stay levelheaded if she was going to protect them.

"To Hermione!" he spat, wrenching himself free. "She needs to know this too!"

"Let me go with you. Let me be the one to tell her."

"Why!"

"Because!" She grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at her. "You are too distraught to tell her anything without getting her in hysterics! And that is the worst thing you could do to her right now."

"You can't expect me to just sit here when she and my son are in danger! I have to see her!"

"No," she said with finality, then raised her wand, quickly saying the spell before he could deflect it or counteract her. Instantly he fell into a stone cold sleep in her arms. She placed him gently on the bed and kissed his forehead, leaving her journal open to the marked page on his bedside table.

It broke her heart every time she looked at more than two words in the journal. But that particular paragraph had been one of the hardest to write. And it read:

My vicious sister and her foul husband are granting me one request. But after killing my beloved husband, violating me, and imprisoning me here, left with only my nightmares for what's to come—after all they have done to me with no remorse this small favor is nothing to them. They are allowing me to name my son, the tiny wizard that grows in my belly, the baby that they will rip from my arms the moment he is born. And I am naming him Draco.

Well there you have it, Melantha is actually Draco's mother. A few of you guessed it in reviews, so congrates! I'm proud :) I didn't think it was that obvious. I'm sure that there are a million unanswered questions as for how this is possible, why it happened, and how it was kept a secret for so long. And most importantly—how Melantha allowed this to happen, for one would think a mother would fight to the death for her child…I will answer all these questions, and more, in chapters to come. You know me, I love being mysterious :P Oh, and there is a perfectly good explanation for why Melantha hated her own son.

REVIEW! Because you know you want to!

Note: Please don't yell at me or curse me in your reviews. I have pretty good reasons for doing what I did. Besides, it's my story, I can do what I want, heehee!