Chapter 5

Draco Malfoy had plans for that night. Plans that including him, and a bottle or ten of the strongest alcohol known to wizardkind. He scoffed, disgusted beyond belief that Granger- Granger- had been the girl. Bloody hell, what had he been thinking? How could he have possibly mistook Hermione Granger, pride and joy of the crazy Dumbledore, best friend of Harry-Bloody-Potter and the Weasels, Bookworm Extraordinaire, and Queen of all things hideous, as a potential bedmate?

What had he been drinking that night? Why had he been drinking? That damned Memory Charm must have erased his entire recollection of the day; when he had awakened, he could not recall a single event that had occurred after the previous night. Draco shuddered, remembering his state upon awakening, that morning.

His clothes were at first nowhere to be found. It was only after a great battle with the furniture before he finally found his trousers, wedged partly under an armoire- he didn't want to think about how it had gotten there in the first place. His cloak had been folded neatly and placed on the doorstep outside the hotel room along with his shirt and a neat pile of buttons that Granger must have ripped off.

It had taken him a minute to gain his bearings. He had had muscle cramps in his lower back and thighs that had ached abominably. Draco winced, wondering just how many times he and Granger must have fucked for him, the seasoned veteran, to be in pain the morning after.

He shook his head. There were some things in the world that should never be thought of, and this- copulation between Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger- was one of those.

"Hermione Granger," he muttered in agony. "Granger. Bloody hell."

XXXXXXX

He had to find Granger, was the only thing that went through his mind the next morning. Draco paced outside the telephone booth leading to the Ministry offices, snarling at anyone who tried to come near him. He wasn't even sure that Granger would use the booth to get to work; she could have simply apparated into her office, or used the Floo. Hell, he didn't even know if she was on call today.

Still, it was the only way he could think of, to get in contact with Granger to verify his suspicions. He had tried locating her, but she had put up wards against that. That she worked in the Ministry, he knew, but far little beyond that. Anyone that he had asked, had either expressed their ignorance, or quietly demurred before disappearing.

Draco stood impatiently, sighing loudly when she did not appear for three-quarters of an hour, and he had to conclude that he would not get anywhere in this fashion.

As he turned to stalk away, he caught a glimpse of the next best thing after Granger: Weasley, who had grown even taller and lankier since Draco had last seen him.

"Weasley!" He called out, stroding forward to catch the man, who seemed startled when he looked up to see a Malfoy hailing him.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" He asked warily. "I'm busy."

"Listen, you co-er, listen, Weasley, I need a favor," Draco amended quickly, realizing that Weasley was far less likely to help him if he flew into a temper. He could only hope that Weasley had matured since their Hogwarts years, and understood his dilemma. After all, he was a pureblood and knew how it was for a pureblooded family to be into a situation like the Malfoys were in.

"A favor?" Weasley sniggered. "After all you've done to us, you have the gall to ask me for a favor?"

Draco nodded, ignoring his facial expression. "Look, you know the whole situation about Granger and the kid. I need to talk to her, Weasley. If that's my kid, then … fucking hell, Weasley. You understand, don't you? You have a kid yourself, I know that. Come on."

"The day that Draco Malfoy begs me to empathize with him," Weasley said blithely. "Never thought I'd live to see it."

"Weasel," Draco hissed, "the last person that I would beg is you. And the fact that I'm coming close to it must signify something in your small brain."

Weasley looked angry for a second, before his features smoothed out. "Ah, Malfoy, but I have one up on you, so you'd better watch your words."

Draco's eyes flared; he didn't know how much more of this… exchange he could take. He was coming perilously close to having to beg Weasley for something, and Malfoys did not beg anyone for anything. Ever. "Weasley," he said carefully, "as a pureblood to pureblood- and I'm not discriminating against anyone or anything right now- as a pureblood, you must understand the ramifications to losing an heir. You must understand what'll happen- the Malfoy family line will die out! Weasley…" Draco sighed loudly. "Please."

Weasley's eyes widened. "As much as I'd like to see you and your family suffer," he said quietly, "I'm not a git like you, Malfoy. I have no doubt that, if our positions were exchanged, you'd laugh and walk away if I asked you to help me. But you're right. I am a pureblood and therefore I understand what you're facing. You're just lucky you didn't run into Harry- he'd never understand. I'll help you," he concluded, still quiet. "I hope Hermione will be able to forgive me."

Draco looked exultant, but Weasley was still speaking. "But you have to swear," he continued, "swear on your mother's live. In fact, make the Unbreakable vow, that you won't ever try to take Cyan away from Hermione. You'll let her set the terms, and you'll abide by them."

Draco sighed again. "I can't do that, Weasley," he admitted. "I won't try to take the kid away from Granger, but the Malfoy heir must reside with the Malfoy family, under our roof. You know that."

"Then I'm afraid I can't help you," Weasley informed him. "Those are my terms; take it or leave it."

Draco thought furiously. If he didn't make the vow, then that meant that he could do anything in his power to get the kid away from Granger and keep the stupid thing with him. However, that resided upon the fact that he had to be able to find Granger, and then find the kid. And he knew just as well as anyone, that when a powerful witch was determined to hide, then she would not be found until she wanted to be.

He continued to rack his brains, searching for a loophole in Weasley's wording. He couldn't take the kid away from Granger- quite straightforward there. He had to let her set the terms- that was negotiable. If he could persuade Granger to let him have the kid- no, she was a Gryffindor, she'd never let go of her kid. Then she'd have to come with the kid, because there was no way that he'd let the Malfoy heir grow up outside of the family residence.

In fact, why didn't he just marry the damn woman? Yes, she was a muggleborn, but he had grown out of that I-hate-anyone-who's-not-a-pureblood-so-hear-me-roar phase a long time ago. She was smart, and that meant that the kid would be smart as well. She'd probably be a- he sniggered- loving mother, and that'd keep the kid happy.

And now that he truly considered it, marrying the bint would solve his problems entirely.

With that, Draco smiled benignly at Weasley. "Yes, Weasley," he said smugly, "I accept your conditions."

Weasley looked slightly startled, but nodded. "You can Floo to my house at eight tonight," he informed Draco. "Luna's going to be at some convention thing about Snorkacks, so no one else will be home. We'll lay out the conditions then."

"And who's going to perform the Vow?" Draco inquired curiously. "That is, if no one else will be there."

"I didn't say that no one else would be there," Weasley corrected nastily. "I said that no one else will be home."

Draco stared blankly at him. "Right, because that makes a huge difference."

Weasley sighed, annoyed. "Never mind, Malfoy. Just be there, and don't you dare be late." With that, he made to stalk off, before turning back around. "Oh, and just for your information," he added, "I'm just doing this because it's right for Cyan, not because I want to be doing you any favors."

"I rather gathered that, Weasley," Draco said lightly. "I wouldn't want you doing me any… favors."

With a choked laugh, Weasley left, and Draco sauntered off for a celebratory drink, unable to keep a smirk off his face.

Hermione apparated into the foyer of her flat, shooting off various spells to disarm the protective spells on her door. Ron and Ginny had laughed and called her paranoid when they'd first seen the glaze of the spells, but Harry had given her a tiny nod, as if he had approved. And in truth, Hermione acknowledged that she was a bit paranoid, but she felt that it was necessary anyhow.

Just as she was beginning to near the end, she felt a tingle at the back of her neck. Having learned years ago to trust her instincts, she whirled around and readied her wand to shoot off a spell. "Who's there?" she demanded.

A figure emerged from the shadows against a wall, hands held up. "Hello Granger," the man said smugly, nodding at her. "You can put that wand down."

"To the contrary," Hermione hissed, walking up and pointing the wand directly at his temple, "What the fuck do you want, Malfoy, and how did you find me?"

"How I found you is none of your business, Granger, and as for what I want… I want you to know what I know, and I want to know what you know."

Hermione's grip slacked, as she stared at him. "Malfoy. What are you talking about?"

He walked away from her and casually leaned against a wall, crossing his arms. "Well," he said with a light laugh, "I'm talking about a lot of things, Granger. Why don't you invite me in, and we can talk like civilized adults?"

"Not likely," Hermione snorted, still aiming her wand. "Go away, Malfoy. I have nothing to say to you." Why was he acting so… normal? She had thought that he would be disgusted, or furious, or even as mundane as annoyed. But amused? It didn't make sense.

"No, I think you do," he contradicted, dropping his air of ennui immediately. His face hardened, as he loomed over her. "I think we need to talk, Granger," he said dangerously, "about your little secret. Except, it's not so little anymore, is it?"

Hermione swallowed. He hadn't been amused, not really. It had probably been a façade- and she had been right. He was furious. "What are you talking about, Malfoy?" She demanded, inwardly frantic. What did he know? How much did he know? What did he want?

"I'm talking, Granger," he continued in the same vein, "about your little Memory charm four years ago. I'm talking, Granger, about you keeping my son from me for four years. I'm talking about your lie, you stupid bint."

"Calling me names isn't going to get you anywhere, you idiot," Hermione said condescendingly. "Nor do I sleep around. I thought you were a Slytherin. Aren't Slytherins supposed to be subtle and cunning? You're about as subtle as a bulldozer, Malfoy."

"I do not speak your muggle tongue, Granger," he reminded her. "And as for your sleeping around, well," he waved a hand, "you're having an argument about a child you had from a drunken one-night stand. If that's not sleeping around, I don't know what is."

"Don't even," Hermione scoffed. "You of all people know what sleeping around is, you slag. I don't need such an influence over my son."

"Our son," he corrected softly.

"Mine," she insisted. "You can't prove anything."

"Oh, can't I?" he refuted, a smirk creeping onto his face. "You forget, Granger. We wizards can do anything. And once it's proven that you've kept the father away from his son, well, the Ministry won't look too favorably on the mother, now, won't they?"

"Are you threatening me, Malfoy?" Hermione flared, unbelieving. She had known that his reaction would have been as such, but to actually face him, and hear with her own ears… "How dare you!"

"No, how dare you?" Malfoy finally shouted, voice rising rapidly. "How dare you obliviate me? How dare you not tell me that I've fathered a kid? How dare you try and lie to me about it afterwards? How dare you stand here and accuse me?"

"I dare," Hermione said coldly, "because I love my son, and I don't trust you farther than I can throw a truck- with one hand. I dare, because I will fight you do the death before I allow you to take my son. I dare, because I would rather die than see my son with you."

"I think that can be arranged," Malfoy hissed. "I hear Azkaban is nice this time of the year, Granger."

"Don't you even," Hermione said quietly. "I'm done with this conversation." She turned, but before she could take a step, he grabbed her wrist in an unlocking grip.

"That's too bad, Granger, because I'm far from being finished," Malfoy's grip strengthened. "Don't underestimate me, Granger."

"Don't you underestimate me," she corrected coolly. "I'm the best curse-breaker the Ministry's ever had, and they were on their hands and knees begging me to go and work for them. I hardly think they'd throw me into Azkaban on the whim of some playboy."

"Not when the playboy can buy and sell the Ministry," he informed her quietly. "So watch your words, Granger."

She wrenched her arm out of his hand and slapped him across the face. "If you even attempt to take my son away from me, I will take Cyan and be gone so fast, that you won't even know what hit you," she snapped. "Do you think I'm stupid, Malfoy? I knew this could happen at some point, and I've had preparations made in the case that you did try anything. Malfoy, if I want to hide, nobody will find me."

He ignored the slap, but stared at her thoughtfully. "Such a Gryffindor," he said gravely. "I just hope the kid won't turn out like you."

"Oh, as opposed to you?" Hermione scoffed. "You're—"

Malfoy shook his head. "I cry pax, Granger. You win."

"—smarmy little-" she broke off. "I what?"

"Win." He smiled. Charmingly. "I won't try to take him from you."

"Well." Hermione blinked, lost for words.

"On one condition," he continued blithely.

"You're hardly in a spot to make conditions," Hermione said, disgustedly. "As if I'd go along with what you demand. Blackmail is still illegal, you know. What were you saying about Azkaban earlier?"

He shrugged it off. "Please," he said, annoyed. "As if they'd ever try anything like that." He turned serious. "But Granger, look. I'm asking you to help me… no strings. Just hear me out. If you refuse me after that, then…" he shrugged, "that's that. Just listen. Please."

Hermione was uncertain. She didn't want to concede anything, especially after that victory- that he'd announced! What was he up to? The Malfoy she knew would never admit defeat to anyone- especially a Gryffindor, especially a muggle-born, especially her.

"The Malfoy you knew," he interrupted her thoughts, "grew up. As for what I'm up to, I just need you to hear me out. I think you'll agree with me after." Upon her startled look, he sniggered. "Don't ever play cards, Granger. I can read you like a book."

She ignored that. "I'll hear you out, Malfoy," she said slowly, "if you swear on your honor that you won't try to take Cyan away from me."

"You actually trust me?" he asked in a mockingly disbelieving tone. "A Malfoy?"

"You know what? Forget it," Hermione said angrily. "I guess I was wrong to think that you could possibly be mature enough to—"

He sighed, interrupting her again. "Look, Granger, I… apologize. I'm just used to… well, never mind. If you really would hear me out, I'd really appreciate it."

She still looked uncertain, but nodded. "Swear," she demanded.

"Isn't once in a day enough?" he muttered under his breath, but held up his wand. "I solemnly swear on the honor of a Malfoy, that I will not attempt to steal the child resulting from copulation between Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, with the express disapproval of said Hermione Granger." The tip of his wand glowed black, before resuming its natural color.

"Malfoy!" Hermione hissed, turning red. "That's quite enough! Copulation, indeed."

"Happy?" he asked smugly, looking back at her. "No loopholes."

She thought, but couldn't detect any. "None," she agreed. "I suppose you can come in now." Hermione shot off a few more nonverbal spells at the door before pulling it open.

"Sit in there," she commanded, pointing toward the den. "And don't touch anything."

"In fact, I won't even breathe," he muttered as he stalked off.

Hermione sighed, wondering what it had come to, that she was entertaining Draco Malfoy in her house. At least he had sworn- and thank Merlin Cyan wasn't home.

"Here," she said rudely as she slammed down a cup of apple juice on the coffee table. "And sit down, Malfoy."

Malfoy was perusing the room at his leisure, examining the small cluster of photos that Hermione had arranged on the mantle. "Weasley, Weasley, Potter, Granger, do you have a photo of me up? Who's that, Lovegood? Merlin's balls, Longbottom… some ugly kid…"

"Hey, that's Ron's son!" She protested half-heartedly.

He snickered. "No wonder," he commented, before going back to the photos. "Where's the kid?"

"The kid," Hermione said heatedly, "has a name. Use it."

"Yes, oh goddess," Malfoy said sarcastically. "Where's Cyan?"

"He's at school," she said with a frown. "And you won't see him today, so don't ask."

Malfoy shrugged. "I'll see him tomorrow, then. And the next day. I meant, why don't you have a picture of your kid up?"

She looked at him strangely. "Cyan's right there," she said slowly, pointing to a large frame, where a mini-Malfoy was grinning and waving a toy broomstick.

Malfoy cursed under his breath. "Fuck, Granger, I thought that was me!"

Hermione looked at him warily. "Malfoy, are you okay? Why would I have a picture of you as a child up in my house?"

"You tell me," he demanded, before subsiding. He picked up the frame, and peered into it. "He looks like me," he commented happily. "Good-looking kid. Very handsome. Takes after his father."

"Yes, but he's also very smart, which didn't come from the paternal side of the family," Hermione said sweetly.

"Watch that ego," Malfoy said carelessly. "At that rate, Granger, you won't be able to fit through the doorway."

Hermione just shook her head. "Sit," she said again, impatiently. "You wanted to talk. So talk."

"Ah, yes," Malfoy commented as he sat in front of her. "Talk. So, Granger, listen. For your sake, you'd better hope you didn't know this, because if you did know this and failed to inform me, then…"

"You aren't making any sense," Hermione said flatly.

He sighed impatiently. "Never mind. Cyan is a Malfoy."

"He is not," she protested.

Malfoy grunted. "Stop interrupting for a second, okay? Cyan is a Malfoy," he repeated, emphasizing the name, "because his father is a Malfoy. And as I am, as you oh so graciously pointed out earlier, the last Malfoy, Cyan is my heir as well as my son."

"So?" Hermione asked rudely.

He took a deep breath, eyes narrowing. "So, Malfoy heirs- all heirs of a pureblooded family- must grow up with the family. It's just how it is in the wizarding world."

"Cyan's not pureblooded, though," Hermione pointed out. "So your family isn't a pureblooded one anymore."

"And that's where it gets complicated," he tried to explain. "See, it's difficult to discern what exactly a pureblooded family is. Many- no, most pureblooded families that you know are not all pureblooded. Weasley, I know, has a muggle cousin or something. Vincent Crabbe's great grandfather or something was muggleborn. I think Pansy has a muggleborn relative somewhere in her family tree."

"So how can you call them purebloods?" Hermione asked, truly interested. "I mean, they aren't exactly 'pure of blood'. So, are you saying that while my Cyan isn't a pureblood…"

"The family's still pureblooded," he confirmed. "It's difficult to grasp, because there isn't a distinct line between what's pureblooded and what's not. Suffice to say, that the fact that his mother is a muggleborn witch won't leave a stain on the Malfoy tree."

"He's not on your tree," she reminded him. "And he won't be."

"Granger…" he sighed again. "I can't explain this too well, but he's my heir, my only son. I need him to become part of the Malfoy family."

"And I said no," she said firmly. "I won't let you take him."

"Granger, you don't understand," he said quietly. "If I can't get Cyan into the family, then I can't have any more children. Do you understand the ramifications of this? I'll be the one solely responsible for killing off the entire Malfoy dynasty. We date back to beyond William the Conqueror," he said smugly, but turned serious again. "Please, think beyond just your world. This is beyond your dislike of me; this is the end of a family older than anything you can imagine."

Hermione sat quietly, playing with a tassel on a pillow. "Malfoy," she said finally, "I understand your dilemma. I can even agree, to a certain point, but can't you see? I can't give up my baby. I just can't. I won't."

"But Granger," he said eagerly, leaning forward to grasp her hand, "you won't have to! Listen, I've got it all worked out. You can come visit him anytime you like. Anytime! He just has to live with me. You'll still be his mother."

Hermione snorted, pulling her hand away. "Tell me you're joking, Malfoy," she said with a roll of her eyes. "'You can come visit him anytime you like,'" she mimicked. "Again, I repeat, I won't give him up. Allowing him to live with you constitutes as giving him up."

Malfoy ran a hand through his hair, and Hermione watched the strands fall into the exact same places as they had been in before. "I didn't think you'd like that," he mumbled. "Okay, how about this? You can live in Malfoy Manor, with Cyan. It's certainly large enough; I'll even give you your own wing!"

She shook her head again. "I'm not that kind of person," she said quietly. "Not only does it give out certain… unfounded clues, but I just don't think I can handle it. That everyone will know that I… that you… that we had a kid together."

"They'll have to know sometime," he told her quietly. "You know that. You can't keep that Glamour charm on him forever."

"I know," she said softly. "I know."

"But I know what you mean," He continued. "The stigma."

She looked up sharply. "Exactly."

"And that's why I have the third option." Malfoy grimaced. "I have a feeling you won't like this any more than I do… but I'm desperate, Granger, I really am. I need Cyan. We can just tell people… tell them that we've been married this whole time."

Hermione blanched. "What?" She demanded. "No. Way."

"It's the best idea that I could come up with," he insisted. "It sounds crazy. I know. But hear me out. We'll tell people that we got married, quietly, four years ago. But soon after, we had a huge fight, and you left me, not knowing that you were pregnant at the time. But we've reconciled, and you're moving back in."

"There are so many holes in that story, I could use it as a sieve," she said flatly. "It'll never work."

"Yes it will," he said confidently. "We'll just play it up, so people won't think to look for holes. They'll just snigger at me for losing my wife- but that's worth it, if I can get the kid."

"You're crazy," Hermione told him, in all seriousness. "An absolute nutcase."

"Trust me," he said. "Get Potter on your side; the world still adores him. My parents will back us up; nobody will contradict the Malfoy family," he predicted confidently. "It's the solution to our problems! I'll marry you, you'll be situated comfortably, Cyan will have a father and a mother, I'll have my heir, and you won't have to put up with negative whispering and rumors."

"You're an idealist," Hermione said with a short laugh. "Let's be realistic, Malfoy. What you're proposing, will just fuel the press. I'll never get a moment of peace, Cyan will be stared at everywhere we go, I'll have to put up with you…"

"Hey," Malfoy protested, "I'll have you know that every witch in the world would love to marry me. I'm rich, handsome, intelligent…"

"Modest, humble…" Hermione infused under her breath, before continuing. "So tell me, Malfoy, say that I accept your … proposal. What do I get out of it?"

He looked satisfied. "Now you're talking," he said happily. "You'll get the security of the Malfoy name, of course, as well as unlimited access to the Malfoy vaults in Gringotts."

She looked unconvinced. "However, I have no need of the Malfoy name, as people still remember Hermione Granger as the girl who defeated Voldemort along with Harry Potter; I have just as much credibility as you do. I don't need your money, because I have more than enough as it is, with my job."

Malfoy looked slightly upset, but continued. "You'll have the satisfaction of knowing that you did the right thing?" he offered. "I know that's a big thing with you Gryffindors. How could you live with yourself, knowing that you killed off the entire Malfoy line because of your stubbornness?"

"Ooh, that's a good one," Hermione admitted with a small smile, "and very Slytherin of you, to try and use guilt into manipulating me into doing what you want. But, I regret to say, not good enough to sentence me to a lifetime of your company."

He looked downright harassed by this time. "Well…" he thought for a minute, and smiled triumphantly. "Once you take the Glamour charm off, it'll be obvious just whose child Cyan is. Can you imagine how people would treat him, knowing that he is an illegitimate child? He would be scorned, Granger, and ridiculed. He's my son- he has a high chance of getting sorted into Slytherin. The Slytherins would eat him alive, Granger, you know that."

Hermione paled as she realized that he was right. Cyan would be harassed, and bullied, and generally made miserable. She couldn't let that happen; having spent four years protecting him, the mere hint of his future sent her into fits of panic. Was ensuring his future worth spending a lifetime with Malfoy?

"Granger, I'll treat him and you well," Malfoy was saying. "I'll be a good husband. I won't even sleep around! And I'd never hit him, nor you. So you needn't worry on that account. I'll provide for everything… "

Of course it was. Hermione hadn't been lying when she'd told Malfoy that she would have died to keep her son well- and subjecting him to emotional and mental abuse was not keeping him well.

"Granger…"

"You'd better call me Hermione," she said shortly. "Husbands don't call their wives by their last names."

A/N: Thanks to everyone for being so patient. I'm really sorry that I didn't update for a month (if you looked on my profile, I explained why, but in any case, it was because of finals and SATs). I hope to get back into a regular updating schedule soon! Please review.

Note: In response to Vashka's review.

-I dislike writing lisps, or any other speech impediment, to tell you the truth. I suppose that's why it wasn't very well done. But I've got plans for Cyan's lisp, and it should be gone within the next couple of chapters. (Thank god for that)

-i.e. Why do the Black sisters (Bellatrix, Narcissa & Andromeda) all look different? Or... What if Zabini and Ginny had kids?
That will be explained in the subsequent chapters as well!

Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far.