Chapter 14
Draco bounced Ana around on his lap while she declared "earthquake." Their laughter drowned out all other sound, including the opening of the front door. Hermione was the first to hear the door close and quieted her husband and daughter down. "Go to Mummy," Draco instructed as he left the living room to see who had entered their home.

There, by the front door, stood Blaise.

Draco saw red. He didn't see Blaise's friendly smile. He didn't see the small wave he gave. Pulling back his arm, Draco let it go and his fist connected with Blaise's jaw. He heard the surprised cry of pain before he felt a hand tugging on his wrist. Turning around, he found Hermione behind him. Afraid he might take his anger out on her, his arms dropped to his side and he moved closer to her.

"What the hell, mate?" Blaise demanded, prodding at the reddening skin to make sure it hadn't broken.

But Draco no longer paid him any attention. With Hermione's arms around him and her soothing words whispered in his ear, he tried to calm himself as best he could. Small arms wrapped around his leg before he heard the voice.

"Daddy okay?" Ana asked worriedly.

"Sweetie, can you take Daddy upstairs?" Hermione suggested, her voice even. She unwound her arms from Draco's waist and encouraged him to go with their daughter. He was reluctant to leave, but allowed Ana to lead him to the second floor. "Why are you here?" she demanded only after she heard a door close.

"To see my friends," Blaise replied indignantly, still cupping the side of his face. "Want to do something about this?"

"Want to tell me why Theo knows that you've figured out what happened to my husband?" she retorted. "Want to tell me why you didn't tell me or the Ministry? Or how about Draco? Don't you think he had a right to know?"

"So, you won't be healing me then," he mumbled. Her stance alone was enough to tell him no. "Okay, fine, I figured out what went wrong. I didn't see the point in saying anything though until I figured out how to fix it."

"And?" she inquired.

Sighing heavily, he walked past her and entered the living room. After making himself comfortable on the sofa, he continued. "I don't know anything, Hermione. Believe me, I want his memories to come back just as much as you do. You're not the only one who misses Draco."

"What happened?" she asked, settling herself into the armchair near the sofa.

Blaise laughed mirthlessly. "Bad lacewing flies," he replied. "It was actually Draco who pointed them out to me the other day when he came by."

She nodded, but was unconvinced. From the way Draco told it, Theo implied that Blaise had known all along. "But this is Draco we're talking about," she said, brows furrowed. "He would never use expired ingredients. He used to toss out the milk if it was a day past the expiration date."

"Maybe someone switched them out when he wasn't looking," Blaise suggested with a shrug of his shoulders. "I mean, we keep the ingredients cabinet locked up, but it's not hard to get into. Literally anyone could have done it."

Getting to her feet, Hermione shook her head. "It doesn't explain why he'd use them though," she replied. "Unless someone added them without his knowledge, those lacewing flies never would have made it into his cauldron. So, the real question is who could have done that?"

Shrugging once more, he stood. "Don't know," he said nonchalantly. "Look, if Drake isn't going to talk to me, then I'll just leave. No use sticking around here with only your obtuse accusations for company."

Hermione let him go, anxious to get back to Draco. She expected to find him and Ana in her room, but it was empty. "No, pink, Daddy," she heard across the hall. Pushing the door open slightly, she found father and daughter in the nursery.

"We can't paint it pink, baby," he told her. "Mummy's having a boy. Boys don't like pink."

Ana stood over his shoulder as he popped off the lid on a can of light blue paint. "But what if her a girl?" she asked. "Girls like pink. I like pink."

Dipping the tip of his finger in the paint, he placed the dab on the tip of her nose and laughed. "She's right behind you," he told her. "Ask her yourself if you don't believe me."

The little girl turned, an indignant look in her eyes as she spotted her mother. "Daddy painted me," she huffed, crossing her little arms over her chest. "And I want a girl."

"The paint will wash off," she assured her. "As for the baby, Mummy and Daddy don't get to pick what it'll be. But I think Daddy really wants a boy this time. He wished for you the last time, and his wish came true."

Smiling, Ana turned back to him. "Love me, Daddy?" she asked.

"Forever and ever I do," he promised with a smile of his own. "Why don't you go wash your nose?" She turned to leave, but Hermione stopped her to whisper something in her ear. Ana's grin grew as she ran back to her father and pressed her still wet nose to his cheek. "Hey!" he shouted, laughing as she ran away.

"We need to talk," Hermione said as he advanced on her.

He stopped, all thoughts of retaliation out of his mind. "Blaise?" he asked, receiving a nod in return. "What did he say? Was that punch well deserved?"

"Maybe," she replied with a shrug of her shoulder. She told him what she learned and deduced from her conversation with Blaise. Draco sat on the floor of the nursery with his head in his hands. Hermione lowered herself into the rocking chair near him and smoothed back his hair. "Sweetheart?" she asked.

"I'm okay," he mumbled, muttering it over and over to himself. "He did it. Blaise did this."

She placed her hand over his. "I think he may have."