Bradford House was an old Baroque building that had, at different points in its history, housed a Prime Minister, two foreign secretaries, one Chancellor of the Exchequer and a wealthy, if otherwise inconsequential, botanist. It had been home to serious, respectable people, who engaged in serious, respectable occupations. Respectability was in somewhat shorter supply now that Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini called it home.
Hermione had never been there before, nor did she personally know anyone who had, but stories of what went on at Bradford House were widely circulated around campus. Someone always seemed to know a person who had a friend, or a roommate, or a cousin who had served at, or been invited to, or been thrown out of one of the extremely exclusive parties Malfoy liked to throw anytime he was feeling restless — which according to the rumour mill was often. The tabloid press had to keep its stories somewhat plausible, if not necessarily accurate or truthful, but no such constraints curbed the imagination of the student body, who revelled in wild tales of drug-fuelled orgies and ridiculous exploits that invariably resulted in the death of someone poor enough and obscure enough that no charges were ever brought against the rich and powerful hosts of these lively shindigs.
It made for entertaining gossip, but Hermione knew better than to believe most of what she'd heard. She believed enough of it, however, to question the wisdom of letting Malfoy convince her to bring Scorpius to what might have been characterised by many a former occupant of Bradford House as a den of vice and dissipation. It had taken surprisingly little persuasion to get her to agree to it, however, partly because she saw no alternative (she lived in a dorm), partly because she was still shaken from the events of the evening (magic was real, wizards existed, and there was an actual baby in her arms right now), but mostly because she was really curious (legendary den of vice and dissipation).
Bradford House turned out to be remarkably unremarkable, if terribly posh. There were lots of tapestries, and expensive art, and furniture that looked as if it should have been cordoned off to keep the rabble from getting too close.
Malfoy led the way with purposeful, determined steps, stopping by a rather impressive staircase.
"Dobbson!" he yelled, marching towards an open door on the right side of the hall before turning around to stride towards the room directly across from it. "Dobb— Oh, there you are."
"You hollered, sir?" A lanky, middle-aged man in a dark purple livery walked out of a door designed to blend in with the wall.
"Yes. Granger, this is Dobbson, my manservant." He had a manservant. Of course he had a manservant. "Dobbson, I need the Orion Room turned into a nursery and I need it done yesterday. And be discreet about it. I don't want to read about it in the paper tomorrow."
"Yes, sir." His was the face of a man entirely unsurprised by having his employer showing up in the middle of the night with a strange woman and a baby.
"And prepare the Ladon Room for Miss Granger. She will be staying with us."
That startled Hermione out of her musings on the weirdness of her night. "What? No. No, I won't."
"You bloody well are." He dismissed Dobbson with an imperious wave of his hand. "You got us into this, so you're staying here and dealing with it."
"I got us into this? That is rich. You literally brought us this child. And I do mean literally, in the traditional sense of the word."
"Do not even try to pull that on me. If you're going to blame me for the other guy, might I remind you that you were the one who got herself kidnapped in freaking Neverland?"
"Excuse me if my being kidnapped was such a damned inconvenience." It sounded ridiculous to her own ears, but it had just been a really weird night.
"Inconvenienced does not even begin to cover what I'm feeling right now."
Their tone had risen steadily until they were both screaming at each other, which resulted very naturally and rather predictably in startling Scorpius awake. The baby, exhausted from being dragged across universes and having his sleep constantly interrupted by over-excited adults, made his displeasure known by starting to cry in a pitch that by all rights should have been inaudible to humans.
"Now look what you've done," Hermione said, trying to soothe the upset child.
"I was not the one being unreasonable."
"Do not even get started with me again. If you think—"
"What the devil is going on here?"
They both turned towards Zabini, who was walking down the stairs in nothing but a pair of trousers. Malfoy ran a hand through his hair, looking more than a little aggravated.
"It's complicated," he said.
Just then an expensive-looking lamp that had been resting very peacefully and lamp-like on top of a mahogany sideboard started to hover mid-air, quickly imitated by two elaborate chairs on either side of the room. Zabini stared at these happenings with no more than a raised eyebrow. When he spoke, his voice was carefully measured.
"Give me the cliffs notes version."
Malfoy opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before shrugging and pointing at Scorpius.
"Magical baby."
Draco had never, to the best of his recollection, been in the kitchen at Bradford House. He had never had any reason to. He could never have imagined that his first incursion there would be to provide sustenance for a child that was his, except that not really, except that kind of.
It was lucky that Other Draco had thought to pack some baby formula, and luckier even that Blaise knew how to prepare a bottle, because he certainly didn't, and he had no reason to suppose Granger could either. Why or how Blaise had such knowledge was a question for another day. A day less filled with insanity, and universe-hopping wizards, and babies that made furniture levitate when upset.
Scorpius had finally quieted down and was now happily drinking his milk on Granger's lap. She looked exhausted, a worried frown on her face as she looked at the baby, and something like concern coiled inside him. He buried the feeling, wishing he could strangle his double.
He could still see it now, could still feel the torrent of foreign memories and feelings flooding his brain, things that felt real and urgent and his, because in a way they were — Hermione smiling at him across the dinner table at the Burrow. The rush of adrenaline when he kissed her for the first time, daring and reckless and drunk from victory after a rare win in a war of too many losses. Her body alive under his, warm and soft and welcoming. Her breath against his skin, soft sounds whispered in the dark. Scorpius in his arms for the first time, tiny and miraculous and perfect. The overwhelming, all-encompassing feeling of panic when Pansy Apparated them in Grimmauld Place and Hermione wasn't there, had never made it there, would not make it there, and he couldn't take a swing at Pansy, so he had taken one at Potter, who had kept him from going back for her, who had reminded him he had a son to think of. The crushing heartbreak when he Apparated at the pub and saw her, this Hermione who was almost but not quite a perfect copy of his Hermione and who looked at him as if he were a stranger.
The other guy's thoughts bled into his, filling his mind with heartbreak and longing and other things that did not belong there, and it made him want to scream, if only he could decide at whom.
"You agreed to this charade," he said, making an effort to keep his voice low to avoid having anything levitate in a room full of sharp objects. "You don't get to just cut and run now."
"I'm not." Her gaze met his, her tone as perfectly measured as his. "It doesn't mean I have to live here."
"Oh yes, it does, because I sure as hell am not planning on losing any sleep over a crying baby. So congratulations, Granger, your life has just been upgraded. You're welcome."
"Now listen here, you arrogant, self-centred—"
"You two are giving me a headache." Blaise poured himself another cup of coffee, because somehow he also knew how to operate the coffee machine. "There are more pressing concerns than who sleeps where."
"Like what?"
"Like a paper trail. For all intents and purposes, that kid doesn't exist. What happens when someone starts asking questions? Or when he needs to go to the doctor? Babies need shots and check-ups, and child services tend to get very suspicious very fast."
Now he was the one getting a headache.
"If only," he said, looking straight at Blaise, "I knew someone who could take care of this problem."
Blaise chuckled, putting down his cup. "It will cost you."
"I can afford it. Make it happen."
"How exactly—"
"You really don't want to know, Granger."
Draco didn't want to know either. Mostly because he didn't care, as long as it worked. Who they had to pay off, whose arm they had to twist, he left that up to Blaise.
"Your room should be ready by now," he told Granger, who still hadn't agreed to stay, but who would, because Blaise wasn't the only one adept at getting what he wanted. "You should take him up and let him sleep." She raised an eyebrow at him but did not argue. Progress. "This is 'need to know' only. The three of us, Dobbson, plus whoever Blaise gets to take care of the paperwork. That's it. No one else needs to know he's even here. The last thing I need is the newspapers getting wind of this."
It was fine. It was going to be fine. He could hide a baby for a few weeks. No one had to know. And it was a big house. He didn't even have to see them, would barely even know they were there. Other Draco's little emotional blackmail might have dragged him into this circus, but it didn't mean he had to be involved. It was a big house. He would keep his distance and no one had to know. It would be fine.
When he came down the next morning, he almost ran straight into Ginny Weasley.
"Watch where you're going, Malfoy." She looked over her shoulder at the man who had just walked in from the street, carrying a suitcase. "Harry, do you need help with the books?"
"Ron is getting them from the car. We flipped a coin for it. He lost. 'Sup, Malfoy?"
"What the bloody hell are you lot doing here?"
"You should really mind your language around Scorpius." Ginny put down the bag she was carrying. "Babies are like sponges."
Just then Ronald Weasley walked in behind a box that covered most of him. "Little help here." Potter dropped the suitcase at Ginny's feet and went over to help. "Where to?"
"Up the stairs, second door on the left," Hermione said, coming down the stairs with Scorpius.
"Ma'am." Dobbson, the treacherous fiend, appeared out of nowhere. "Miss Lovegood asked me to inform you that pancakes will be ready in ten minutes."
"Thank you, Mr Dobbson. Malfoy, you're standing in the way."
Draco's scowl deepened as he stepped aside to let Potter, Weasley and their oversized box by. They were followed by the Weaslette, who picked up the bag she had been carrying and the suitcase Potter had brought in.
"Whatever happened to 'need to know'?" he asked Granger, who shrugged.
"You wanted me to move in. That means they need to know." She handed him the baby. "I need to go help bring the things from the car."
He glared at her receding form before fully realising that she handing him the baby meant he was now holding the baby. Scorpius smiled up at him, babbling something nonsensical and reaching up to touch his face. Draco instinctively smiled back before quickly replacing his smile with a frown.
"Your dad is a prat," he said.
"I've often said so, haven't I, George?"
"Very often, Fred. Nice house, Malfoy."
The twins walked past him with a couple of boxes, making faces at the giggling child, who prattled on at them and him. Whatever he was saying made about as much sense as anything that had happened in the past twenty four hours.