Summary: Hermione was certain she'd never have to worry about thedespised father of her daughter, Draco Malfoy. But one day when they accidentally cross paths, their lives change drastically. Sequel to Souffles.

Chapter One

'Get a loada this, Mike'… thought Celeste Ezabelle Camady… as she twisted her elegant long wavy white-blonde hair into a french bun in front of her dressing table… 'Bet you wouldn't think that I'm "too young" for you now, when you see me like this!'

Hermione apparated so suddenly at her room, that Celeste shrieked. Her mum's eyes were livid with frustration.

"I've been telling you to get ready and downstairs, for the past half-an-hour!" Hermione scolded. "And what do I find you doing? Admiring your reflection for the billionth time today! Thirteen year olds."

She snorted, saying the last sentence with scorn.

"I told you I don't wanna go," the young teenager persisted, turning back to face the mirror, applying lip-gloss and deciding which perfume was more suitable. "Let them revoke my British wizarding-passport, I don't care. It's not like we're ever going back to England, are we? Now I have more pressing problems to dwell on. Like how do I get Mike to take his eyes off that wretched Adrianna, and notice me instead, for instance?"

"Mike? Mike Sanders!" Hermione's eyes went wide. "He's seventeen!"

"And why shouldn't he like me? I may be thirteen, but everyone knows that I'm mature for my age. At least, much more than my classmates. I'm salutatorian, and if I set my mind to study a bit more I guarantee I'll make it to valedictorian. Did Adrianna even win Miss Teen Witch Beauty of Raven High last year, no! She didn't! I did! Or did she ever-"

Hermione groaned. It was another one of what she liked to call, her daughter's ostentatious conceited-brag talk… Gets it from her father, of course. It wasn't that she wasn't proud of her daughter's achievements. But really, there's so many times you can hear of how many sports, beauty and academy awards someone has won. Even if that person did happen to be your daughter. There was a whole room with a display cabinet for all the trophies, medals and certificates her daughter received. You'd think that was enough. Apparently not though, she still had to be frequently reminded of them verbally as well. And to make matters worse, her daughter insisted on learning muggle Karate, as if it were necessary to learn self-defence when you're a witch with a wand. So now a new addition will go on to her list: "And I'm an official black-belt!"

Honestly, her daughter was so restless. If only she put more effort into her studies rather than anything else, not only would she manage to make valedictorian, but she could juggle a muggle education alongside her magical one.

"Look," Hermione said, checking her watch, interjecting her daughter's speech. "We're going to be late if we don't head off soon. So how about this, go to this interview with me, all we have to do is answer a few questions, make some promises, and sign some forms. You can leave the last two to me. It shouldn't take too long. As retribution I'll give you and Mike my full blessing if you manage to snag him. And on the way, I'll manage to explain why this is important."

Hermione made a mental note to pay this Mike, and his mother, a visit some time soon. Over her dead body is he going out with her only baby!

Celeste got up huffily, tossing her long hair behind her shoulders as she did so.

"Fine. Where's the floo-powder?"

ّA!ّ!ّ

Celeste hummed softly in the waiting room of the Magical Ministry of Foreign Affairs department while pensively waiting for her name to be called. Well, one thing was certain, Hermione thought as she winced; her daughter will never win anything for her singing skills, unless it was 'the Most Horrendous Voice Award'. She glanced around the room. Not many people were there. There was a married couple with two children, a single man, and three other woman (two of them looked like sisters). And here her daughter was siting beside her.

"Is this going to take long?" Celeste asked, looking bored.

"I don't think so…" Hermione started. "Ok so I promised to fill you in on the reasons why this is essential. Well, we have to keep our passports; otherwise they'll deny us access to ever enter Britain. And what if we needed to sometime in the future? What if something, God forbid, should happen to your grandparents and we had to make it there for a change, instead of the other way around? And Harry and Ron have families now. They won't be in a hurry to come visit us often. We'll have to start paying them visits from now on. Besides, it'll be nice to get acquainted with the country you're originally from, won't it?"

Celeste was listening rapidly. She seemed to accept it all.

"But why does this stupid interview have to be today?" She whined. "It's the weekend! Usually, I'm off with my friends at the weekend."

"A British Ministy worker arrived here today specifically to see us." Hermione said firmly. "He'll be going back tomorrow. It's either we do this now, or our passports will be withdrawn. Whoever he is, he won't come back just because Your Highness is not in the mood. Now remember what I said earlier-"

"Yeah yeah," she rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "Be patriotic! I know. How many times must you repeat it! I heard you the first time, you know."

Hermione was just about to berate her for using such a tone with her, when her legitimate name was called.

"Ezabelle Camady!"

A secretery was ushering her to the office.

"Isn't my daughter meant to accompany me?" Hermione asked.

"She will. But you must have a head start." Replied the secretary, opening the door and leading her in.

"Good luck, mum." Celeste called indifferently, reaching for last season's Cosmo magazine (the only interesting magazine available, in her opinion, from the rack).

Hermione entered the office with an air of confidence. She looked up at her interviewer, and almost screamed.

His face fixed on some paper work, and not looking up to greet her, was the father of her child whom she was sure she'd escaped from forever thirteen years ago, Draco Malfoy.

My only motivation to carry on writing is your review. So don't be surprised if you check back to see if I've updated and find out that I haven't, because no one'd given me their opinion on the chapter.