[A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited and followed! I couldn't help myself, making last chapter a cliffhanger was too good to resist. Shoutout to Grovek56, who said: "Nothing like misunderstandings, talking at cross purposes & the odd drugging to make the heart grow fonder." Couldn't agree more. I was a bit stuck on where I wanted to go at this point in the story, but I asked a friend and she agreed with where I was leaning. From now on, there'll be a few less flashbacks, as the backstory is mostly developed by this point. Feel free to review with any comments, guesses about what's happening, or recommendations. Enjoy!]

Chapter 6:

Confrontation

It was Draco at the door.

He stood, slightly dishevelled, on the doorstep. His hand was raised, as if to knock once again, and his eyes were wide; wild and emotive. A grin spread across his face, just at the sight of her.

"I need to tell you someth-"

The rest of his sentence was muffled by Hermione throwing her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his. It was a chaste kiss, but they could both feel the apology and acceptance, from both sides, in it. Draco was sorry for the situation to begin with, Hermione was sorry for abandoning him without finding out all the details. They were both in accordance, though, that Draco was in the wrong.

Hermione broke the kiss after a few seconds and smiled, "I read your letters."

"Y-you read them?"

"I only just found them. I should have guessed, when I saw the destroyed room, that you did truly love me, that it wasn't just a lie. But I didn't know what to believe anymore. You told me about the engagement to Astoria, which, I must admit, was better than if I had found out another way. And then you didn't come, and I waited, and waited, and then I saw the newspaper and I couldn't bear it anymore. I had no idea what was a lie and what was the truth, so I broke it off. I don't know what happened to your letters before I left, but I found them when I came back and I just read them, all of them, and I understand. I don't condone what you did," Hermione frowned, running a hand through her loose waves. "But I understand."

"I am sorry."

"I know you are. You aren't completely forgiven, because you were an idiot about it, but I am forgiving you to the degree that we can have a civilised conversation without me biting your head off. We ought to put the past in the past, so to speak," Hermione replied.

Proffering a hand, Draco asked, "Friends?"

"Friends," she smiled, shaking it.

"Why did you go back to her?"

"What?"

"Why did you go back to Astoria?"

They were sitting on the sofa, as far apart as possible, but facing each other. It was a three-seater, so the great distance between them was only several feet. Hermione sat with her legs pulled to her chest, chin resting on knees, while Draco had his feet propped up on the coffee table. After deciding to end all talk on their five-year-old misunderstanding, they'd been talking vaguely about their lives. But now Hermione had brought up the thing that she'd been wondering for hours.

"Most women I meet either work for me, with me, or are married. There are few women, you and Astoria included, who are single. Mother was pushing the match, again, knowing that I wasn't in a relationship. And, not under the influence of any potion," he looked at her ruefully, "I started dating her. It's only been a few months, but we both know it's not working. As far as I can tell, she fancies Blaise. Thank Merlin for that. I'm not the same person I was when we were children, thus not fulfilling her image of me, and she's not..."

"She's not what?"

"She's not you."

Hermione punched him in the shoulder.

"You were never this violent when we were together!"

"You were never this sappy!"

Draco laughed, grasping one of her hands in both of his, "Well, I never knew what it would be like without you. Dating, life, everyth-OW! You didn't have to punch me again!"

"Sap," she stated, trying to stifle her giggles.

He glanced at his watch and raised his eyebrows, "It's getting late. Do you have plans for tea?"

"Merlin, what's the time?" Hermione jumped up and ran into the kitchen.

"Five past six."

"Shit!" She swore as she hopped back into the room and headed toward the fireplace, pulling on a shoe. "I have to pick up Alec. If you wait here, we can go eat a friendly dinner together, or something."

Hermione almost tripped over the coffee table as she made her way, hopping all the while, to the dirty fireplace. She shot a glare at Draco, who was laughing at her.

"The Burrow!"

"I'll see you in a bit," he choked out before collapsing back onto the sofa.

Hermione coughed on the billowing soot as she and Alec reappeared at their home. Alec dashed out first, but Hermione soon collided with him, as he stood stock still, looking at the man cooking in their kitchen. She coughed, and he span to face them. Draco wore her mother's old pink frilly apron and had a smudge of flour on his cheek.

For a second, Hermione considered how it might have been, had 'the Incident' never occurred. They would have been a happy little family. Draco could have taught Alec how to fly, they could have all gone to Quidditch matches together. Hermione could have taught him innocuous spells to use as pranks on his father. As a couple, they could have read Alec bedtime stories, before switching out the light and going to their own bedroom. They could have cooked together in a kitchen, ending up throwing the contents of the mixing bowl at each other instead of actually cooking it. They could have been a family.

She shook her head, clearing the thought, and instead looked down at her son, "Alec, you remember Draco, don't you?"

"Of course," Alec smirked and, for a second, Hermione could see the clear resemblance to his father. The eyes, the skin, the smirk. His love of flying, of anything magical. His occasional arrogance when confronted with other kids, his love of being babied (as much as Draco wouldn't admit it, she knew he loved it). She'd never compared them, not really, because by the time Alec had passed infancy, Hermione's memories of Draco weren't as full as they'd once been. But now, the two standing in the same room, the resemblance was clear as day.

"How're you?" Draco asked the boy, peering strangely down at him.

"I'm good! Uncle Harry was at the Burrow and he took me flying just before. And Mrs. Weasley said I could have a birthday party there if I'd like and I want to and Mum can I?"

"Of course you can," Hermione smiled weakly. If Draco knew Alec's birthday was coming up, he'd start counting back. He'd realise just when Alec was conceived. He'd realise just who the possible father was. He'd realise that he'd had a little boy for five years and he'd never been told. Shit. Shit. Shit."Why don't you go up to your room and unpack your books and spare clothes. By the time you're done, dinner might be ready."

Alec nodded and dashed up the stairs. By the time the thump of a door being crashed open was heard, Draco had turned to Hermione and was looking at her intently, "When's his birthday?"

"What?" She squeaked. It was already happening.

His voice was hard, "When is Alec's birthday?"

"Next week. Tuesday."

Draco paused, calculating. Hermione sat down at the kitchen table.

"Eight months. A little over eight months after the war ended."

Hermione nodded helplessly, "A week past my due date."

"That means... did you know?"

"Know what?"

"When we broke up, did you know?"

"No, I didn't know. I realised a week later and did the spell to check and..."

Draco froze, "It... he is mine, isn't he?"

She sucked in a breath, "Yes, he is."

"I knew it," Draco whispered. His eyes met Hermione's, "I wondered, when I first saw him, when I first saw you... I wondered. But I thought it was a crazy idea. I thought it was ridiculous. I pushed away the idea, thinking you'd found someone else and had a kid. But he's my child. Why didn't you tell me? Was I never going to be told?"

"I hadn't intended on it, but, after today, I was going to."

"I have a son. I have a five-year-old bloody son, who I have seen no more than three times in his entire life! How could you think that I didn't deserve to know?" Draco's voice was raised, and he paced back and forth across the kitchen.

"I was heartbroken and I thought we might be better off without you involved. It wasn't a fantastic decision, but I was 18! I was upset and I didn't want to have to face you all the time," she explained, one hand massaging her aching temple.

He nodded, curtly.

"Your reasoning, while plainly stupid, was understandable," he took a deep breath. "But I disagree completely, and am frankly disgusted. I want to spend time with Alec... Alexander."

"That can be arranged."

"And you have to stay here this time, Granger. You can't just run away."

Hermione flinched at the use of her last name. He hadn't used it once since her return. He hadn't used it since before he joined the Order. It hurt. It really hurt. So what if she'd taken to calling him Malfoy in recent days, she'd returned to 'Draco' in the past few hours. But here he was, throwing the name 'Granger' right in her face.

"I'm done running."

"Good. I'll drop by tomorrow morning. We can spend time together here, if you would rather."

"That's fine. Goodbye Draco," Hermione sighed.

"'Bye Granger," he snapped.

Draco disappeared through the front door, slamming it behind him.

[A/N: And just when we thought things were going well...]