Sold-Chapter 23-Godparents

By Marmalade Fever

The dishes were cleared magically and dessert was on its way. Draco watched, lazily, as his counterpart stood. "I'd like to make an announcement," he said, and Draco groaned, figuring it had to do with him. "In the not-too-distant future Hermione, either one, will no longer be the brightest witch to have ever graced the halls of Hogwarts." Draco looked around, confused. Granger frowned, obviously a little disturbed at the idea. The others had raised eyebrows.

"Impossible," Weasley said, laughing.

"Yeah, that'll be the day," Potter added, also chuckling.

The long-haired Granger/Malfoy—H. Malfoy, he decided—beamed. "We told Evander this morning, but we'd like you all to be the second to know…" Draco moved in closer unconsciously, "we're going to have a baby!" Draco dropped his water-goblet and it rolled across the floor. Granger, a few feet away, looked almost ready to faint. Everyone else, on the other hand, looked jubilant.

"Malfoy, you old dog, congratulations!" Weasley said, getting up to clap a hand on the short-haired Draco's back.

"A girl then?" asked Potter's wife.

"Yes!" H. Malfoy said, smiling.

"Oh! She'll be in the same year as little Geldric, here!" Antoine cried, patting her own stomach happily.

"So what you're saying," Draco said, at last, as all the clamor began to die down, "is that she'll be smarter than Granger because of our blood?"

"No," his opposite corrected, "because of both our blood. This baby has a powerful combination of parents, and don't you forget it," he said, so sternly that it was hard to believe he was talking to himself.

His wife straightened. "Also," she said, "I know we've just met, in a sense, but we'd like the two of you to be her Godparents. That is, if you'll be staying." Draco's jaw fell open and he turned to take a look at Granger.

"On my part," the brunette replied, "I'd be happy to." She turned scathing eyes on Draco. "Well?" she asked, after he hadn't replied.

"I wouldn't make a good Godfather, so you all must be batty to even consider it," he said simply.

His counterpart smirked in a sympathetic way. "Well, I don't know about that. But if you'd rather we asked Potter and Weasley, here…"

"Point well taken. If, and remember that 'if,' if I'm still here, then I will." He crossed his arms resolutely.

"Good," the corresponding Draco said, clapping a hand on his arm. "Now, any name suggestions?"

"Personally," the girl Weasel said, speaking up, "I'm a big fan of Ginevra."

"I wonder why," Draco said, under his breath.

"Ginevra Malfoy? Well, I guess it's not bad," H. Malfoy said, albeit hesitantly. Draco half-laughed, half-coughed into his hand.

"Millicent?" Antoine suggested, and was greeted by a resounding "no."

"To much alliteration, too much like Bulstrode," short-haired Draco said.

"And too close to Millificent," Granger said, though not explaining. Her counterpart nodded her agreement.

"I know you're opposed to alliteration, but how about Muriel?" Weasley asked.

"Like great-aunt Muriel?" Girl Weasel asked, laughing into her napkin.

"We'll put it on the list, Ron," H. Malfoy said, though she didn't touch her quill.

Draco sat in silence as the discussion went on. It was unbelievable. His counterpart was going to have another child! His mother would be sincerely disappointed to hear this… His mother. His poor, dying mother, whom he'd left in his own reality, probably to die grandchild-less. He had to remind himself that there was a whole new, healthier version of the same woman not but twenty minutes away, walking.

"Any suggestions from you, Draco?" He looked up. H. Malfoy was addressing him, rather than her husband.

"Narcissa," he said, hoping for it to sound more like a command than a suggestion.

"Actually," his other self replied, "we've already decided on that as a middle name."

"Good," he said, though his features said the opposite.

"And you, Hermione?" the other Draco asked.

"I'm thinking," Granger said.

"Thinking? Of course, what else do you ever do?" Draco mumbled.

"I'm trying to think of rare names," she said. "How about… Ellette? It means Little Elf."

"That's actually really good," her counterpart said. "Ellette Narcissa Malfoy…"

"Ellette Malfoy," her husband repeated to himself.

"Or another one might be Leatrix, which, I think, means bringer of joy."

"Oh!" Girl Weasel squealed, "and you could call her Trixie for short!"

"Or," Draco interrupted, "you could name her Bellatrix and do the same." Potter visibly flushed.

"Or," Granger said, loudly, "if you'd rather have a name that actually means that she's smart… how about Telly? It's easy to say and it means both wise and best."

"That's a good one, too," her counterpart said, looking as if her brain was buzzing. "We'll get back to you on it." She smiled.

…

Harry turned the locket over and over in his hands. This was impossible… Someone must have planted it there for him to find. He rubbed his eyes. Something was bothering him. He had one of those rare niggling sensations that told him that he needed to get information. He had a bad feeling about this auction that Neville had told him about. Maybe he could find a manifest or something that said who had been bought by whom? He knew exactly where he might find one, and not very far from there either. Malfoy. Malfoy would surely have gone to the auction. Who knew? Maybe he could free whomever it was that the git had bought. And maybe, just maybe, it would be Hermione. He had a strange sort of hunch that it was her. He would have to be careful. Malfoy lived next door to his parents, and he would have to go around the Dark Lord's Lair to get there. After a meal of blackberries, he left, clutching his invisibility cloak closer to him.

A.N. Don't bother telling me it was too short.