Sold-Chapter 2-Riddle Me This

By Marmalade Fever

A.N.: Yes, you are confused. (evil smirk)

Evander stood at the entryway to Hogwarts, peeking out across the open lawn. There she was, with her glorious black hair swung haphazardly over her shoulder. His brown eyes watched her with keen adoration. He took a deep breath and headed toward her.

"H-Hi Lily!" he said, nervously, smiling at her as she turned around.

"Oh, hey Ev! What's up?" she asked, her green eyes sparkling

"Oh, not much. The, the sky, I guess." He looked up, as if for inspiration. She tried to hide a smirk and looked up as well. "Nice clouds," Evander muttered, instantly regretting it.

"Yeah… they're cumulus." Lily smiled at him. Evander smiled back, but then he frowned. There was something funny, way up in the clouds. It was growing larger, and larger.

"WATCH OUT!" he yelled, pushing Lily to the ground. She screamed as a large ball of light and electricity came hurtling toward them…

"Wh-where am I?" Evander asked, opening his eyes and staring around. He recognized the place. He was, most definitely, in Malfoy Manor, his grandparents' home. But it was darker, somehow. There wasn't any light coming through the windows. He scrambled to his feet as he heard footsteps echoing through the hall and he hid behind a suit of armor. He peeped out as he saw a man approaching, with long blond hair in a pony-tail. "Dad?" Evander asked, leaving his hiding place.

The man whipped around and Evander found a wand under his nose. "WHO ARE YOU? Where did you come from?" he asked. His face was set in a grimace.

"Dad, it's me!" but even as he said it, he knew that something wasn't right. Although this man looked like the Draco Malfoy he knew he was not. Something wasn't right. Something was definitely not right.

"What sort of riddle?" Hermione asked, sitting calmly on the floor. She had come to the sudden conclusion that it felt very good to be clean. Even her fingertips were basking in the glory of being freed from her atrociously long nails. Her muscle was slowly starting to feel tingly with the bit of energy that the food had restored to it. All she needed now was a good long nap, and, in time, perhaps even some exercise.

"Well," Draco began, standing resolutely with arms crossed, "I feel I must first impress upon you the very private nature of this riddle."

Hermione laughed, dryly. "Meaning what, Malfoy?"

Draco lifted his eyebrow at her. "Breathe a word about it to anyone and you'll be dead before you can say 'kedavra.'" Granger was unmoved, so he continued. "But somehow I have a feeling that you wouldn't want to go snitching anyway… not that you can." He paused. Her almost dead-eyes were watching him without emotion. "Here," he handed her something from his pocket. His heart beat harder as he waited for her evaluation of the photograph.

Hermione took the three by five photo and held it up to her nose. Her forehead wrinkled almost instantly. For Merlin's sake, Malfoy… It was a picture of the two of them, obviously forged… it had to have been. They were younger, maybe in their mid-twenties. She was smiling, wearing a wedding dress, of all things. He, apparently, was the groom. They were… well, they were cuddling. Hermione almost wanted to laugh. Then her heart almost stopped. Out of the side of the photo, Harry Potter marched in and wrapped his arms around the two. If this were someone's idea of a joke… She flipped the photo over and noticed her own handwriting. "Mr. and Mrs. Draco Malfoy," followed by a date, July, thirteen years ago. "It's a practical joke, Malfoy," Hermione said, eyes never betraying her.

"No mudblood," Draco said, plucking it out of her grasp, "I don't think it is." He blinked at her.

"Where'd you get it?" she asked, feeling anger boiling up inside her. Seeing Harry again… He'd been missing since she was twenty-three. There were several unconfirmed rumors that he had been murdered by Voldemort, but she refused to believe any of them.

"I was hoping you'd ask that," Draco replied, smirking at her. He went into the corner of the room and uncovered a blanket off of something. He brought it forward and set it down.

"A book bag?" Hermione asked, skeptically.

"Not just any book bag," he replied, giving her a sideways glance. He opened it and pulled out several objects. A wand, standard book of spells: grade one, parchment, a quill, Hogwarts: A History, and a small photo album. The latter, Draco held up to show her. He had slid the wedding photo back in and was now holding up a much more recent page.

Hermione had to stand up and peep through the bars to see anything. Again, there she was with Malfoy, but they weren't alone. Standing between them was a young boy, around ten-years-old, grinning sheepishly. What struck her most was his amazing similarity… to both of them. He had her curls, her eye-color, his chin, a compromising hair color of dark blond, his pale skin… He was exactly how any child born between them would have turned out. The very thought made her skin crawl. The look in Malfoy's eyes made her want to scream.

"Well?" Malfoy asked.

"Where did you get this?" Hermione repeated. Draco looked her in the eyes and turned-tail. He marched to the opposite wall and opened a seemingly hidden door.

"Mobili corpus," she heard him mutter. She couldn't see very well, but knew that someone was being led along with him. He lowered the person to the ground and turned to face her, before stepping out of the way. Hermione scrambled forward as she got a good look at the boy from the photograph. He was unconscious and lying limply on the floor. She cautiously reached a hand through the bars and stroked his hair.

"How long has he been here?" she whispered, more fearful for him than for she had been for herself all of these years. His hair was soft and silky.

"About a week, I've kept him unconscious while I waited for you."

"He," Hermione forced herself to keep her voice calm, "he… have you performed a paternity spell?"

"Only naturally Granger, what do you take me for? He's fully and biologically ours." Draco's voice took up some of its earlier drawl. "A fact that I can assure you is mathematically impossible."

"So… you want me to figure out who or what he is?" Draco nodded. "Then you had better tell me all you know."

Draco took a long look at the child before him and then at the skeletal woman behind the bars. In her present state, childbirth might have snapped her like a twig. He sighed. "As I said, I've kept him unconscious. I must have scared him, because once he realized that I wasn't his father," he stopped speaking. "…He called me Dad." He shifted, uncomfortably. "Judging by the contents of his knapsack, I'd say that he's a first year at Hogwarts." Draco's eyebrows knitted. Hogwarts had been near destroyed after Dumbledore's death. No one went there. "He turned up at my parents' house, in one of the wings of Malfoy Manor at approximately 9:15 AM on Tuesday the twenty-second of September."

"That's it?" Hermione asked, the gears in her head desperately trying to make sense of it all.

"That's it. I haven't even been able to figure out his name."

"I… want to speak with him… alone."

"Why?" Draco immediately countered.

"You've already managed to frighten him out of his wits. If we want any answers, he needs to be calm."

Draco contemplated the matter. "Very well, but just know, Granger, that I do have the power to punish you… or the boy." He picked up the book bag and muttered "ennervate," before leaving through the door.

Very slowly, the boy stirred. He sat up and blinked. The room was very dark. He turned his head and squinted. "Mum?" he asked, clearly having kept his memories of his situation in tact.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but he continued before she could. "Listen, we may not have much time. I don't know where I am or why everything's so funny, but we need to find Lily Potter!"

"Lily Potter…" Hermione echoed, more confused than ever.

"Why are you in a cage? Why's Dad so… creepy? And what happened to you? You looked about dead."

"Lily Potter?" Hermione asked again. She was completely dumbfounded. So far she had learned that this boy belonged to herself and Draco Malfoy from a marriage that never existed, that somehow Harry Potter had been present at the ceremony, and now she was being asked to believe that Lily Potter was somehow alive?

"Oh, come on Mum! You must remember her!"

"She… she died thirty-seven years ago."

The boy rubbed his head in desperation. "No, not her, not Harry's mum. I mean Harry's daughter. Why has the world suddenly gone blarney?"

"You mean, you're not the only one?"

"One what?"

Hermione cradled her head in confusion. "If what you're saying is true, and Harry Potter's blood daughter is somewhere nearby, then the world is in very, very big trouble."

"What's going on Mum? Nothing makes sense…"

"Listen, what's your name?" Hermione asked, looking at him desperately.

"It's," the boy paused, a frown creasing his forehead, "it's Evander Gwydion Malfoy… and you're not my Mum, are you?"

"No… at least, not in this lifetime."

A.N.: Well? Are you slightly less confused? I feel like I've given away too much too soon.