Chapter 4

Hermione whirled around, shoving Cyan behind her protectively while keeping a hand firmly wrapped around his forearm. "I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy," she said calmly, managing to amaze herself with the coolness of her tone.

"Oh, but I think you do," he replied just as coolly, grey eyes piercing her own brown ones. His pale hair was as sophisticatedly cut as usual, a bit longer than she had remembered it from that night- now it was falling haphazardly into his ever piercing grey eyes, lined with familiar thick lashes. He was certainly as good-looking as she remembered from that night, and she had a strange desire to run a hand over his arms currently hidden by black robes.

She stood tall with her shoulders straight, eyes glaring defiantly. He, however, was more than a head taller than her and therefore had no trouble peering over her shoulder at Cyan, who stared defiantly back up at the man who had scared his mother.

"Ah, and this must be your son," Malfoy said disinterestedly. "How… interesting."

"I don't see why it's of any interest to you," Hermione retorted hotly. "What do you want?"

"What do I want?" Malfoy said slowly, a feral smile slowly gracing his face. "Now that is an interesting question, Granger." He reached out a hand to lightly trace her cheek with the back of a finger. "I hardly thought that you'd be interested enough to inquire after my… desires."

She jerked away, taking a step back, taking care to keep a blank look on her face. It was possibly the most difficult thing that she had ever had to do—including giving birth—because truthfully, the only thing she wanted to do was turn tail and run. Of course, that would only amplify her guilt in his eyes. "I don't see what you need from me," she said instead.

"Imagine my surprise, Granger," Malfoy said in a strangely genial voice. "I was standing outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, just minding my own business, when I spy an old schoolmate making her way over with a child. The second she notices me, however, she grabs the child and runs away. Suspicious, wouldn't you say?"

Hermione glared at him with narrowed eyes. "Perhaps this schoolmate simply didn't want her child to associate with a disgustingly hid—"

"Careful, Granger," he interrupted carelessly. "I'd watch my tongue if I were you."

"I don't have time for this," Hermione declared coldly, inwardly thankful that Cyan had gathered enough to remain quiet, understanding that this was a tense situation. He has no idea, she thought wildly.

"That's all right," he said with a shrug. "I just wanted to chat with your boy for a bit."

Hermione thought her heart was going to stop beating. "That's too bad," she said with a voice full of saccharin. "I don't encourage children to speak with monsters, you see."

"What are you talking about, Granger?" Malfoy asked, distracted momentarily. "A monster?"

She gave a mirthless chuckle. "Good thing you're here, actually," she said. "I've always wondered, and you can answer me now. So, now that Voldemort's dead—"

"Don't say his name!" Malfoy hissed, eyes darting wildly around, as if any one of the witches and wizards congregated in Diagon Alley could be a reincarnation of Voldemort.

"Why not, Malfoy? Scared?" Hermione smiled, equally feral. "Can't bear to hear your old master's name? He's dead. Voldemort. Voldemort. Volde—"

"Don't bait me, Granger," He interrupted again, having regained his composure. "You don't want to do that."

It was imperative that she keep his attention on her, not Cyan. As much as she hated to admit, Malfoy was an intelligent man. If he had any suspicions, he simply had to utter "Finite Incantatem" with his wand, and the Glamour Charm that she had applied would disappear. Hermione didn't think that she had ever felt this panicked her life; even fighting against Voldemort hadn't been this bad. For in the Final Battle, her only personal risk was her life—in this situation, she had her son to worry about as well.

She had remained silent for too long, for his attention had shifted. He knelt, not minding the rough cobblestones, and held out a hand to Cyan, who was attempting to dart out from behind his mother's robes. Hermione panicked. "What do you think you're doing?" she gasped. "Get away, Malfoy, before I curse your balls off."

"Language, Granger," he said mildly. "Is that how Potter speaks in front of his son?"

Potter? Harry? Hermione thought wildly, before closing her eyes in relief. Malfoy thought that Harry was Cyan's father.

"Uncle Hawwy isn't my father," Cyan said defiantly. "My father died. And you're being mean to my Mummy. Stop it! Or I'll kick you."

Malfoy stood slowly, eyes lighting. "Misplaced bravery? How like a Gryffindor. And what's this, he died, Granger? Interesting. Anyone I know?"

Hermione had to laugh from disbelief and it must have sounded quite mad, as Malfoy looked startled and asked if she was sane. "Yes, Malfoy," she said with another chortle, "I do believe you're acquainted."

But before he could get another word in, Hermione turned around again and picked Cyan up. "I have to go," she threw over her shoulder. Just as she began to hurry off, he dropped a strong hand on her shoulder. She paused, looking straight at that hand until he slowly pulled it back.

"Granger," he said quietly. "Turn around for a second."

Merlin help her, she couldn't refuse that voice. While her brain was screaming at her, demanding to know what exactly she was doing, her feet of their own violation slowly turned.

Malfoy lifted a hand to Cyan's cheek, and twitched in surprise as he made contact with the skin. "What in the…" he murmured softly before focusing on the face.

Hermione was petrified, but she knew that if he didn't pull out his wand, she and Cyan were somewhat safe. And from one viewpoint, this encounter was perhaps fortuitous; it was probably unavoidable and it would be good to get all his suspicions out at this time.

"Granger," he drawled, looking back up at her. "Those eyes of his."

Hermione was greatly tempted to check and make sure that they were still blue, but resisted. "Yes?" she asked coolly instead. "What is it about my son's eyes that captivates you?"

"They're blue," he said quietly.

She shot him a disbelieving look. "Yes, Malfoy, they are. Congratulations, you aren't colorblind."

"Granger, they're the Zabini blue," he reinforced, still quiet as to not attract even more attention than they were receiving, standing in the middle of the alley. "Only those with Zabini blood have those eyes that shade of blue."

Hermione cursed under her breath. How could she have made such a mistake with the Glamour charm? She had only been concerned with masking the Malfoy traits within Cyan; she hadn't given even a thought about the traits of the other pureblooded families. "Well, he's not a Zabini," she said flatly. "I've never even spoken to a Zabini."

"Granger, you don't understand me," he said, deathly still. "Only the Zabini family can have those eyes. There's a spell that all the pureblooded families have on—"

"Well he's not a Zabini," Hermione snarled, snatching Cyan away from him. "Come on, Cyan, Mummy's—"

"Cyan?" Malfoy reiterated. "Interesting name choice. Cyan is, I believe, the name of that exact shade of Zabini blue."

That, in truth, was the reason that Hermione had chosen that shade of blue for the Glamour Charm. She wanted to scream and stamp her feet now; how utterly moronic had it been for her to do that? She should have gone with a dull, nondescript brown, much like her own—but she had felt bad, hiding his beautiful eyes. Disguising them into completely different, but equally beautiful shades were somewhat of a consolation, she had felt.

"And the only way that any magical child can have any trait claimed by a pureblooded family without having the blood of said family," Malfoy continued in an odd voice, "is if he or she is under a…" He broke off, before resuming. "What is it that you're so afraid of, Granger, that you had to place a Glamour Charm on your child?"

Hermione thought she was going to pass out, because he knew. He knew. It was only a matter of time, then, that Lucius Malfoy found out—hell, he probably knew right now, and Malfoy was the one sent to retrieve Cyan. She couldn't let him see how much of an effect his words had had on her, though. "What are you talking about, Malfoy?" She asked mildly instead. "It must just be the light. His eyes are blue, that's all. Just a nice, plain blue. Now, if you'll excuse me—"

"Come on, Granger, you can do better than that," Malfoy said coldly. "You're supposed to be the cleverest witch from Hogwarts; you ought to be able to lie better than 'Maybe it's just the light!'." He grabbed onto her arm then, before easily cupping Cyan's face gently and upturning it to his face for a closer look. "It's—" His triumphant look turned ashen as he stammered, "Bu-but I could have…"

Hermione looked for herself at her son's face, surprised to see that his eyes had indeed turned from the distinct blue-green to a more commonplace cornflower-blue as she had earlier insisted to Draco. She glared at Draco as she thanked him for wasting her time before apparating away to her flat, inwardly thanking accidental magic that children seemed to be able to do during times of great emotion with all her might.

She had to do a bit of fancy juggling with Cyan in her arms to retrieve her wand, which she had stuck in an inside pocket. Quickly opening the door, she stumbled in with the child and immediately began to plaster spell against protective spell against the door. The rest of the flat was as protected as Dumbledore knew; it was unplottable with anti-apparation wards.She was completely lost on ideas as to what to do. Malfoy knew, and it was only a matter of time before he found out everything about her. Oh, he couldn't enter her home easily, but he would know where she worked, where Cyan went to school- which she certainly hadn't kept a secret- and every other nonsensical detail in her life.

Cyan, who had remained quiet up until this point, could not resist any longer. "Mummy," he demanded, tugging on her robes, "Mummy, who was that man?"

Hermione closed her eyes, drawing on her powers to keep her calm. "Cyan, my darling," she said as she knelt, drawing him into a hug, "you know how much Mummy loves you, right?"

He nodded, giving her such a sweet smile that Hermione wanted to break down and cry.

"Then, baby, you have to trust Mummy on this, okay?"

He nodded again, looking seriously into her eyes. Hermione sighed, waving her wand above his head before murmuring, "Finite Incantatem." As his hair slowly straightened and lightened, and his eyes slowly paled to a silver-grey, she led him by the hand to a sofa, settling on a loveseat with him in her lap.

She sat with him facing her, and ran a hand through his hair. And no matter how much he had protested about this act before, he let her do so. "Cyan, that man… Promise me one thing, baby. If you ever see him again, you must not talk to him. In fact, don't even get near him."

"But why?" He questioned, looking confused, through wide grey eyes. "Mummy, I liked him."

"You liked… why did you … take a liking to him, Cyan?" Hermione had to take deep breaths. This conversation was one that she had hoped to save until he was older- perhaps a teenager? But it would not do to have Cyan unprepared for Malfoy.

"Mummy," he said in a voice so soft that she had to lean in to hear, "he looked like me."

Oh Merlin, how was she to get out of this one? "Darling, many people look like many others."

He took a deep breath. "Mummy, when he touched me, it felt funny."

Hermione's eyes widened as she stopped breathing for a second. It felt funny? What was that supposed to mean? Had Malfoy cast something? Did he know? "How did it feel funny, baby?" she asked, determined to keep a calm façade in front of her baby. She didn't want to frighten him- or more likely, since he wasn't a child that frightened easily, she didn't want to give him opportunities to ask more questions.

"It felt all tingly like how I feel if I touch you, but more," Cyan tried to explain. "It felt like magic."

Magic? Hermione didn't like the sound of that.

Draco Malfoy stood still in the middle of Diagon Alley, shell-shocked, not even aware of the curious glances thrown his way from the crowds that passed him. He had seen the Zabini eyes, and he was absolutely, positively certain that it had not been a trick of light. Granger hadn't had the chance to retrieve her wand, so the change hadn't resulted from her.

Accidental magic, then, performed from the little boy. Cyan, was his name? Accidental magic had the potency to be quite powerful at times, of course, but the boy should not have been able to change features like that unless he was very powerful.

After all, what emotion could he have been feeling that strongly? Fear was a possibility, but after he had actually told Draco off for scaring his mother—Draco had to laugh at that; the idea that Granger had been afraid of him, as well as the fact that a child that size had the gumption to chastise a fully grown wizard. Quite a Gryffindor, he thought with a scoff. Though, to be truthful, the kid had guts- impressive. He hoped that his son wasn't a coward- though not a total Gryffindor, of course.

However, one thing had caught his attention—Granger had been afraid of something. He could tell, from the shifting of her eyes and the tenseness as soon as she realized that he had been in the vicinity. The Granger that he had known would have never run from a confrontation; that was the only reason that Draco's curiosity had been aroused enough for him to track her down, after she had fled after seeing him at the ice cream parlour.

Truth to tell, he would have had no suspicions if Granger hadn't acted so strangely. Lucius had demanded that he go out and look in the London area; Draco had figured that Diagon Alley was as "London" as the wizarding world got. If Granger hadn't run, he would have spoken a few words to her, maybe patted the head of the stupid kid, and been off. By hiding, however, she had greatly aroused his curiosity.

And of course, once he had closely examined the boy, he was able to notice that things just weren't adding up.

First of all, what reason could Granger have had for placing a Glamour Charm on the child? If he knew anything about Gryffindors and Granger specifically, beyond their incessant and misplaced bravery, it was that they and she especially placed much value on family loyalty and, as much as he hated to say it, love.

Contradictorily, it was common knowledge that Glamour Charms, especially long term, could be detrimental to the host, especially if the host was of a young age. Thus, Granger must have had an important, possibly life-and-death reason for doing so on her own son. What was that?

And furthermore, why had she been so frantic to hide the boy from him? He didn't think that it was due to his reputation as a "Dark Wizard" for she had been afraid of him, not any of the others classified with him.

And, of course, one last thing that he felt was … strange, about the boy, was the strange surge of magic that had rapidly been exchanged when he had touched the boy. It was as if they had exchanged parts of their souls, in that one brief touch.

Draco shook his head, wondering when he had become susceptible to strange fancies. No doubt, he had imagined the whole thing—who had ever heard of an exchange of magic?

Absolutely unheard of.

The strangest part about this entire episode was that he had actually considered, for a moment, Granger as the possible witch that he had fucked senselessly. Was he out of his mind? The kid hadn't looked anything like him, first of all, and secondly, Granger would never have consented to anything with him.

"I'm talking in circles," Draco mumbled to himself. "Merlin's balls, I must be going crazy." If Granger had performed a Glamour Charm on her son, then so be it- it wasn't any of his concern.

What was his concern at the moment was the fact that he was still interested- even after he had discerned that Granger's son was not even a possibility in being the Malfoy heir.

Draco cursed under his breath, before whirling around to stomp off, resuming the useless search.

x

"How did it go, Draco?" Narcissa asked from her curled up position on the chaise as soon as he strolled into the library. Lucius looked up from his paperwork behind his desk as Narcissa spoke, and both parents watched their son as he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Not too well," he confessed honestly. "I saw nothing out of the ordinary."

Lucius frowned. "Draco, nothing is going to be glaringly obvious. There won't be a sign above the child, blaring 'Malfoy Heir.' As ridiculous as this may sound, you must rely on your instincts."

"I hardly think—" Draco stopped, upon seeing the infuriated look on Lucius's face.

"Draco Malfoy," he barked, rising from behind the desk, "do you not comprehend the importance of this? This is the Malfoy heir, your son. If you do not find this child, it will be the end of the Malfoy line. I cannot stress it enough. You must find that boy."

Draco sighed, frustrated. "Yes, of course I must. But you've forgotten; the mother must be magical. She could have placed a Glamour Charm on the kid, and I'd simply look over him." He complained, thinking back to Granger. "And I know," he hastily added, "that the fact that the mother had a Glamour Charm on the kid makes it suspicious, but she might have had other reasons- not to mention, I would have a hard time discerning that as well. Unless they're stupid enough to charm the eyes into the Zabini blue," he muttered, inwardly rolling his eyes at Granger's stupidity.

"Zabini blue?" Narcissa questioned, interest provoked. "What's this, have you run into Blaise's child?"

He shook his head. "It's not important, Mother."

Having ignored the exchange, Lucius handed a book to Draco that he had summoned off the shelves. "Here," he said. "Background reading."

Draco blinked blankly at the large tome. "You want me to read this all?" He asked disbelievingly. "It's got to have a couple thousand pages, at least! Do I look like Granger, or something?"

"Have a look at the title," Lucius suggested coldly. "Children of Magic. I suggest you skip to the section on bonds between the parent and the child. Come now, Draco, you aren't an imbecile so cease this act at once."

"You may be excused," Narcissa said lightly with a wave of her hand. "Go and educate yourself."

Draco silently sighed as he made his way to his rooms. He could not believe that one mistake could result in the termination of his family line. He continued to berate himself as he passed portrait after disapproving portrait glaring down at him from their positions on the walls of the dark hallways.

"Oh, shut up," he ordered at one point, seeing that a great-great-grand something had opened his mouth- no doubt to chastise him for losing the next Malfoy.

Once he reached his room and settled himself cross-legged on his bed, Draco opened the book to the section on parental bonds. He skimmed over what seemed like pages and pages of useless information, before reaching a part that seemed as if it could be just a little bit conducive to his search.

"'The bond between a wizard and a witch and their child is one that is not fully understood by Healers to this day,'" Draco read out loud with a snort. "So why bother putting it in the book if they don't know anything about it? 'However, it has been proved that upon the first touch between a parent and the child, an exchange of magic takes place. The exact procedure is said to differ from wizard to wizard; some describe it as a tingle, while others claim that it is more of a shock. The objective, however, is the same; for the parent to be able to properly care for the child, he must first understand the babe; this can only be achieved with an exchange between the parent and the child.' Great, so now I have to go around and touch every sodding kid?" Draco sighed.

He yawned, before continuing with the book. "'In cases where contact from the parent and the child has been detained, the exchange may differ; it has been described by one case as more of a surge of power between the parent and the offspring, rather than a thread.'"

"A surge of power," He scoffed as he pushed the book off the bed and onto the floor. "People write this dribble? And they actually expect us to believe it?" He shook his head, before yawning again.

Draco crawled under the dark green covers, figuring that, after this entire useless afternoon, the least he deserved was a nap.

x

An hour later, he shot up from bed, frantically feeling around for the book. "Where the fuck is that… oh, I threw it on the floor…" he jumped off and sat himself on the floor, furiously flipping through the pages. "That page on … oh, Merlin… In cases where contact from the parent and the child has been detained," Draco read out loud once more, "the exchange may differ; it has been described by one case as more of a surge of power between the parent and the offspring."

He looked around the room with panicked eyes, a feeling of claustrophobia drawing near. "A surge of magic," he quoted again. "Oh, fucking hell, that's what it was when I touched Granger's kid!"

Hermione drummed her fingers on the tabletop, eyes unfocused as her thoughts drifted towards Draco Malfoy. It was just like him, to disappear after graduation, and appear back in her life to cause trouble before disappearing again. And then, just when she had things under her control, he'd decided to appear again—what was his purpose?

Of all the luck. She snorted, the drumming of her fingers unconsciously increasing in pace and fury.

"Hermione?" A tentative voice broached, breaking her thoughts.

She glared. "What?" She demanded, irritated beyond belief for an unexplainable reason.

Ron and Harry simultaneously sat back, eyes widened. "Nothing," Ron hastily amended as a frown slowly crept on his face. Harry, on the other hand, continued to look startled.

Hermione sighed, regretting her response almost instantly. She twirled a strand of brown curls around a finger as she chewed on her lip. "Sorry guys," she apologized finally. "And Ginny. I didn't mean to bark at you. It's just…"

"Hermione, if something's wrong, you know you can always talk to us about it," Harry reminded her, sincere beyond belief. "We love you. We're here for you; you know that."

Ron nodded enthusiastically in agreement, red hair bobbing up and down as he smiled at her. "Of course, Hermione," he said, adding his own approval. "We're always open."

Hermione didn't respond for awhile, still thinking. She hadn't wanted to tell them, but they were right; friends didn't keep things from one another- especially something as big as this- and she would need their help now that Malfoy had shown up. She could only hope that they wouldn't react too badly—after all, she knew just how much of lost love there was between Malfoy and the boys. And beyond that, they'd be doubly upset because she had chosen to keep something that big a secret from them, for years. She didn't know who they thought the father was, as if this moment—she had simply refused to tell them anything about the identity of the father, and Hermione suspected that Harry and Ron believed that she herself didn't know. As if I wouldn't, she huffed silently to herself.

"Guys," she began softly, biting her lip as she wondered how exactly to phrase this, "I'm really sorry I couldn't tell you this before. I know you were hurt when I said that I couldn't tell you who Cyan's father was, but… it's difficult to say."

Ron and Harry exchanged looks, before Harry leaned forward. "Hermione," He said, obviously speaking for both Ron and himself, "Ron and I were disappointed, yes, that you couldn't trust us with that information, but we understood- and we still understand, of course- that you have your own reasons for not telling, and we respect that."

"Although," Ron added innocently, "if you want to tell us now, nothing's stopping you."

Ginny reached over Harry's lap to shove Ron, but Hermione didn't seem to notice, as she had been staring blankly out the window. "I didn't tell you," she said slowly, "because I was afraid of your reactions- especially you, Ron. I knew how you would react, and I knew how volatile you were… still are, though not as bad, of course. And I couldn't have you go and… threaten him, or attack him. Because then, he'd know."

"Hermione…" Ron trailed off, looking vaguely horrified. "Are you saying that the father doesn't know? That's… that's really bad. I mean, if Luna and I weren't married, and she got pregnant with Robert and didn't tell me I'd had a kid until he was four years old…"

"Ronald," Ginny intervened hotly, indignantly turning to face her brother with her hands placed on her hips, "shut up, okay? You don't even know the circumstances, so don't get started on her."

"As if you know, Ginny Weasley?" Ron retorted, glaring at his sister from behind Harry, who looked uncomfortable at being caught in the middle of a Weasley spat.

Ginny glared back, eyes flashing. "And what if I do, Ronald?" She shot back, looking ready to commit murder.

"Thank you, Ginny," Hermione intervened, speaking heavily. "I'm being really melodramatic about this, aren't I? God, I'm sorry, I don't mean to be. Ron, the father is a pureblood. You see?"

Ron froze, as the redness in his face slowly drained away. "Oh," he whispered finally, seemingly mostly to himself. "I'm sorry."

"Wait, what?" Harry demanded, looking confused and a little lost. "What does that matter, Hermione? Ron?"

Ginny quickly explained to him, while Ron and Hermione stared blankly at one another, neither seeing anything. Hermione was breathing shallowly; she hadn't regained her breath from when she had run into Malfoy earlier at Diagon Alley, and she suspected that she wouldn't fully recover from this episode until it was all resolved. She didn't know how she could possibly live in the fear of having her child taken away from her for a long period of time, though that was infinitely preferable to having him actually taken away. She shook her head slightly, realizing that it was a lose-lose situation.

Harry looked extremely worried upon finding out what exactly that entailed. "So," he said uncertainly, "were you planning on telling us, Hermione?"

"Yeah." She affirmed. "And you're wondering why, of course. Well, the fact of the matter is, I ran into him, yesterday."

"M—the father?" Ginny breathed, eyes widening in horror for her friend. She got up from where she had been sitting with Harry, fingers entwined, and joined Hermione, wrapping an arm around her. "Lord, Hermione."

"And that's not all. I think he suspected something," she continued, closing her eyes and immediately seeing Malfoy's sneering face. She winced and jerked her eyelids open, before focusing on the table in front of her. "He saw Cyan, and …"

"Zabini, right?" Ron said angrily. "I'll kill him, Hermione—"

"Why did you say Zabini?" She asked curiously.

"The eyes," he said as if it were something she obviously should have known. "Cyan has the Zabini eyes."

"You knew?" Hermione whispered. "Why didn't you tell me? I could have changed the charm before—"

"Hermione, they're the traits of the Zabini family," Ron stared blankly at her. "Every pureblooded family has them; I thought you of all people would know that. It's red hair for the Weasleys. Zabini eyes. Those insipid green eyes of Pansy Parkinson. The pale hair and grey eyes for the Malfoys."

"Well, I didn't," Hermione admitted, "so when I placed the Glamour Charm on Cyan, I just made his eyes that color because of his name. So all this time, everyone's been thinking that I slept with Blaise Zabini!"

"Well, yeah—" Ron began to say, but was interrupted by Harry, who was slowly growing redder- and angrier.

"Wait a minute," he interrupted loudly. "Glamour Charm? Are you saying that I've never seen what my godson really looks like?"

"Yeah!" Ron chimed in, apparently just realizing that.

Hermione nodded miserably. "I'm really sorry," she said sadly, "but Cyan looks just like that stupid sperm donor, and if you saw him, then you would have known."

Ron looked mystified at the term while Harry stared for a moment, before nodding grimly. "I suppose that makes sense," he admitted reluctantly. "I'm not condoning what you did, Hermione. You should have known that you could have trusted us with anything; I thought we were closer than that. But all right, I do understand."

Ron paused. "Are you saying that Ginny knew?" He asked finally, frowning still at his sister, who glared back. "That's not very fair."

Hermione winced; if she had been in Ron's shoes as of this moment, she would have felt- well, not left out, exactly, but… disappointed, at the very least. "I did tell her," She said finally. "But it was the day after… waking up, and I had to make a Pregnancy Potion…"

Ron winced too, mirroring Hermione's earlier action. "And did you cry?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "Maybe it was a girl thing. All right."

With their words, Hermione felt as if a large burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She sighed again, this time happily. "Thank god," she said in relief. "I thought you guys would hex me for having kept you in the dark this entire time."

"I was thinking about it," Ron admitted, "but then I figured, what the hell, I'd end up forgiving you anyway. So, can I see what Cyan looks like now? I have to admit, I'm really curious."

Hermione hesitated, before catching herself. "Of course you can. But I have to warn you, you aren't going to like this… either of you. So please, do me the favor and don't get mad- especially in front of the baby- and seriously, don't even think about confronting M—the father."

Ginny had left earlier to retrieve Cyan from his room, where he had been distracted with new books, and returned at this time with Hermione's son. Upon seeing the gathering, he greeted Harry and Ron exuberantly before crawling up to sit next to his mother, grasping a cold hand in his own chubby ones. He pulled himself up to his knees, placing a loud, smacking kiss on her cheek before settling himself in her lap.

"Remember," Hermione reminded her friends quietly before murmuring the counter spell. As Cyan's features began to morph, Ron choked; his face turning as brightly red as his hair. Harry blinked, his face contrarily paling.

"Why are Uncle Hawwy and Uncle Won looking like that?" Cyan asked, shifting uncomfortably as the two continued to stare at him. "I look better with my weal hair and face, Mummy."

Ginny snickered at that. "He's definitely Malfoy's," she commented. "Just as … confident as our old friend."

"Of course you do," Hermione said comfortingly, dropping a kiss on the top of his now blond head. "Ron and Harry are just surprised to see you, that's all. Now, Cyan, why don't you go back to those books?"

"No," he dimpled, as sweet as pie. "I want to stay with you, Mummy. Does this mean I don't have to change my hair anymore?"

Hermione patted his cheek. "Mummy will be in your room in ten minutes, okay? I just has to finish talking with your uncles and Aunt Ginny, but afterwards, we'll be able to play. So go wait in your room."

He reluctantly crawled off the sofa, trudging back to his room.

Once he was out of hearing range, Ron, who had managed to keep himself quiet, wheezed out, "H-Hermione! That's Draco Malfoy, come to life. Are you kidding me? How the hell did you end up sleeping with him!"

Hermione nodded disgustedly. "You see what I mean? And if Draco Malfoy finds out, he's going to…"

"Kill you?" Harry snarled. "Hermione, what were you thinking? Are you crazy?"

"Well, yes," she agreed uncomfortably, "sometimes, I rather think I am. And that was the whole problem, Harry- I wasn't thinking."

Ginny, who had been retraining herself for the whole conversation, couldn't hold it any longer. "Hermione," she burst out urgently, "what did you mean, when you said that Draco was suspicious?"

"Draco?" Ron asked immediately, picking up on the one word. "Since when are you on first name basis with Malfoy the Git? Do you have a secret too?"

"Draco, Malfoy, whatever," Ginny said impatiently, waving his concerns away. "It doesn't matter, Ron. Can you please get your priorities set? And besides, that was the most tactless question, ever. Hermione," she turned once again to her friend, "what happened?"

"Well," Hermione recalled slowly "I ran into him at Diagon Alley. We had a little spat; you know how it was back then. And then he looked at Cyan, and noticed that he had the Zabini eyes, but I told him that I'd never met a Zabini- from that, he deduced that Cyan was under a Glamour Charm."

Ginny and Harry winced, though Ron hadn't reacted, still flushed.

"And," she continued, "the thing that worries me the most is that he touched Cyan. And Cyan later told me that he felt their 'magic' exchange at that touch."

"Why, what does that mean?" Ginny asked, confused. "I've never heard of that before."

Hermione thought longingly back to the library at Hogwarts, which had never failed her before. "I don't know," she had to admit.

Ginny thought for a long while. "I wonder…" she murmured, before jumping up. "I'll be right back," she said quickly as she hurried to the fireplace. "The Burrow!" she cried as she plunged into the fire and disappeared.

Hermione turned her gaze on Harry and Ron, who looked overwhelmed. "Bloody hell, Hermione, I don't know what you're going to do," Ron said at last. "If Malfoy knows about the charm…"

"It's worse," Hermione realized. "I'd totally forgotten, but at Diagon Alley, Malfoy was looking at children. No, he was looking for children."

"He probably found out somehow, and was looking for a child that resembled him." Harry said quietly. "How are you going to get out of this, Hermione?"

The three sat in silence, each engrossed in his or her own thoughts. Hermione was preoccupied in discerning exactly what was the safest and best option in dealing with Malfoy- she briefly considered hiding in the muggle world, but quickly rejected that idea. She wanted Cyan to attend Hogwarts, so hiding would only postpone the inevitable confrontment.

She didn't know how long they had been sitting there in silence, when Ginny returned, slightly sooty and breathless from the fire. "I've got it!" she cried. "I talked to Mum, and she said that she felt the same thing when she first touched each of her children. She said that the first time a parent touches a child- magical, of course- they exchange a bit of themselves with the other."

Hermione had suspected that it had been something like that, but she was still shaken upon the confirmation of her beliefs. "So now we know why," she said, "but not what to do about it."

"Hey, Hermione?" Harry looked questioningly at her. "How did Malfoy forget that he'd, you know, slept with you?"

She looked sheepish. "Well, it was just a one night thing… he was drunk, I was drunk…" Neither of the three looked convinced. "Oh all right," she grumbled, "I put a memory charm on him."

Ron burst out laughing. "That's my girl," he praised, rather proudly.

"So he won't ever remember," Harry said thoughtfully. "Useful."

Hermione shook her head in the negative. "Not really. I was using Lavender's wand… long story and not very important," she hastily added, seeing that Ron was about to inquire as to why, and not wanting to explain why exactly she had been so drunk that night, "and so it wasn't a very strong charm. That's also a reason I was on tenterhooks for a long time; I thought he'd break it. I just hope he doesn't get that drunk again," she added darkly. "That'd do it for sure."

At Ron and Ginny's blank looks, she elaborated. "There's a thing that muggles call 'State Dependent Memory' which is the phenomenon where people are more likely to remember an event if they're in the same state as when it occurred."

Ron still looked hopelessly confused, so Hermione elaborated. "So basically you remember things that you did while you were sober when you're sober- because you're in the same state. Similarly, you can remember what happened when you were totally wasted if you're at that same state again. Make sense?"

"So," he said slowly, "if I did something when I was drunk, and couldn't remember when I sobered up, I just have to get drunk again to remember?"

Hermione shrugged. "That's the basic concept. It's really fascinating, isn't it, how the memory encoded in the hypo—"

"Hermione," Harry interrupted. "Thanks for the Biology lecture, but let's focus on Malfoy here."

"Right," she agreed hastily. "Thanks Harry. So back to what I was saying, if Malfoy breaks the charm- and he actually might have, we have no way of knowing- he was really wasted that night, so he probably won't remember anyway, unless he gets that drunk again. Which, obviously, he hasn't."

"So," Ginny breathed out. "What now?"

What now, indeed.