A/N- Here it is! (Cheers) I'd actually had this written yesterday but I needed to edit some bits and I didn't have time to upload. I really like my 'mystery character' because he wasn't really mentioned in the books and it's fun to develop personalities of characters who don't have 'set' personalities. (Even though this is fanfiction and we can manipulate the characters to do/be whatever the hell we want :D)

SORRY for the cursing in this chapter. What would you do if you were in Hermione's position?

Thanks for the reviews/faves/follows! Review, por favor.

Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter but if I did, the flying car would've had ejector seats (did they have those in the book? I forget)

Ps. Happy Early Valentines Day!

Chapter Nine

Hermione had been having an amazing day. For one it was a Friday, and the previous week had flown by quite fast. Orion had been spending his days playing with the other children at the Boarding House. He was quite content, and was developing social skills, which made Hermione very glad. She wanted him to experience other children around his age, to get to know them better as well. The only thing she prayed for was that her son would not mention any 'Dark Things' or 'Evil People'.

"So I told the men to go home, and take their damn cat with them!" Andrew exclaimed, smiling widely, anticipating her reaction. In turn Hermione smiled before giggling slightly (yes, giggled).

Andrew was a very handsome man, with thick blonde hair and exceptionally white teeth. He was charismatic and witty. And the man loved books! Hermione could've married him on the spot.

"But didn't the cat try and bite them?" Hermione asked, leaning against the wooded counter for support. Andrew's story about the frat party was getting a bit ridiculous, but she didn't mind. It was interesting to see what he would come up with next.

Andrew laughed, a low sound, "Yes, and it was quite funny," He said, "The giant furball attacking their faces was undoubtedly the best part of the whole party,"

"Well I've got a better story," Hermione declared irrationally. The door to the shop opened suddenly, the hot summer air ripping through the cool air inside before it clanged shut.

"It was my Third year at a boarding school in Britain. There were a lot of rich jerks who attended there, and they were quite snobby," Andrew nodded sympathetically, "So one time my friends and I were with our good friend and professor, talking about attending a funeral for his… fish," Or a hippogriff, one of the two, "And there was this one guy, ugh we absolutely loathed one another, who always used to antagonize my friends and I. As we were coming back from the meeting, he and his cronies showed up. They started calling us names and insulting our friends… fish… so eventually I got so fed up that I punched the git square in the nose,"

Andrew gaped at Hermione for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"Julia… Julia you're a badass!" The brunette wrinkled her nose in return. She was not.

"No, I was just upset," Hermione fiddled with the edge of her green t-shirt. It was one she had bought at the Salvation Army in D.C. She hadn't had time to take much with her from Britain.

"Still," Andrew paused, before asking, "So have you met Evan McDermitt? He's British,"

Hermione nodded her head, "Yeah, actually. He came around the Boarding House last weekend,"

Andrew glanced away, his eyes distant, "Yeah. I remember when he first came here. We met through my Uncle, who is good friends with Evan's boss, Mr. Linney. When I first saw him, I thought he looked so… broken, like the world had screwed him over. His eyes were haunted, like he'd been in a war. But he never talks about his past, where he came from,"

"His father was controlling," Hermione bit out, before slapping a hand over her mouth. She shouldn't have said that.

"You knew him before?" Andrew inquired, turning back to look at her with a wondrous expression on his face.

"I suppose. I got to know him rather well when I punched him in the face,"

And just like that, the heavy atmosphere was gone. Andrew's head was tossed back, and he was laughing heartily, "No way! Evan was the guy you punched? That is too funny!"

Hermione grinned, "Yeah. I found it rather satisfactory,"

"Did you two become friends?"

"Hardly," Hermione snorted in a very unladylike fashion. He's just the father of my child.

A tall, dark haired man was approaching the register. He was dressed rather nicely, with a crisp white shirt and black slacks. Hermione thought that he was handsome, as well as familiar.

The man set down a book, 'To Kill a Mockingbird', on the counter. Hermione looked at it, then back to the man. He didn't say anything, merely stared at her. His dark brown eyes raked over her face, not ashamed of what he was doing. It was not a sexual interaction, merely as if he was trying to be sure that she really existed.

He looked so familiar…

"Don't I know you?" Hermione wasn't even aware that she had spoken until the final vowel came tumbling out of her mouth. This strange man fingered something in his pocket…

"Intelligent answer," He smirked, and everything fell into place. Suddenly, almost randomly, he pulled a small vial from his pocket and removed the stopper, drinking it all in one gulp.

"Holy shi… Zabini?" Malfoy's friend during Fifth and Sixth year, Slytherin extraordinaire, Pureblood… What the hell is he doing here? He had been a Death Eater, she knew that much. He was always away on missions for the Dark Lord, however, and Hermione had not been keeping track of him when she was at Malfoy Manor.

"Indeed, Granger, indeed. I don't believe that we were ever fully introduced," Zabini stuck out a hand, "I'm Blaise Zabini, Death Eater and Order member,"

Had Hermione been drinking water, it would've been everywhere.

"What?" She gaped, forgetting her setting completely, "You are… What?"

Zabini chuckled, "I pulled a Snape, Granger, and shifted between the greys,"

"Alright," Hermione crossed her arms, "Now you're not making sense,"

"Foolish woman, I was on both the light side and the dark,"

"Ok," Hermione responded carefully, eyeing him with curiosity, "That still doesn't explain why you're here,"

Andrew cut in, "Wait wait wait… you two know each other?" They nodded in sync, "And how come, Julia," Andrew rounded on Hermione, "That he is calling you 'Granger'?"

"We-ell…"

"Oh this is rich!" Zabini cried, rubbing his hands together, "You're under an alias then? Smart, something I had expected from you, Granger,"

Hermione frowned deeply, "Well, Malfoy did it. You honestly expect-"

"Draco is here?" Zabini's eyes got wide, as though Christmas had come early, "Really? Oh sweet Salazar, I… Merlin!"

"That's all you have to say? Wizarding exclamations about how your precious friend is in Kansas?"

"Woah woah woah! You cannot just interrogate my employee!" Andrew slammed his hands down on the wooden counter, "Furthermore, what the hell are you two talking about? You sound like lunatics!"

Zabini muttered something beneath his breath that sounded a bit like "Bloody muggles,"

"Andrew, this is an old… acquaintance of mine from school. I know it's a bit unprofessional, but no one is waiting in line and I'd really like to talk to him… alone…"

"No," Andrew replied, green eyes flashing, "Anything you can't say in front of me cannot be said at all,"

Hermione looked to Zabini for help, but he merely shrugged, "Right. Well, as much to your dismay I'm sure, I'm not here for idle chit-chat. Granger, I have important news,"

Hermione frowned, discerned by his suddenly serious expression. His eyes got colder, more distant, and frown lines creased his brow.

"The Death Eaters are trying to find you,"

Hermione felt like she was going to throw up.

"Fucking hell," She choked out, not meaning to curse but managing to anyhow, "How… why…"

Zabini held up a finger, "Allow me to finish. The Death Eaters are coming, however the Order is leading them on a wild goose chase to Brazil. McGonagall and I have put together an elite team, of sorts, to perform this task,"

"Who does it consist of?" Hermione dared to breathe.

"Denis Creevy, George Weasley, the one with no ear, Hannah Abbot and Hagrid the Oaf,"

"Hey!" Hermione shot back, "Hagrid is not an oaf,"

"Right, so that hippogriff in Third year just attacked Malfoy for no reason-"

"He was being an arrogant sod and you know-"

"Ok!" Zabini held up both hands in defeat, "He was an arrogant ass. That is not the point. The point is, we are leading a group of escaped Death Eaters to Brazil, where they think you and Orion are, where we will spring on them and cart them off to Azkaban,"

"So why are you here?"

"Because I was sent to track you down to find out your actual whereabouts. The thing is that the plan could backfire at any moment. The Death Eaters think that I'm searching America for you, which isn't exactly a lie but I have no intention of telling them my findings. I am the best tracker that ever laid foot on Voldemort's soil,"

Hermione shuddered. She had never actually learned what he did for Voldemort. Tracking down people for the Dark Lord was considered to be quite an honor.

"I was sent here to warn you, Granger. The Death Eaters are coming,"

"Like the British are coming?" Hermione questioned jokingly, though Zabini had a blank look on his face, "No? American history, you know, Paul Revere?"

The man on the other side of the counter let out a huff of irritation, "I am neither American nor muggle, Granger, so please spare me the history lesson,"

"Right. Go on,"

"They are hungry for blood, Granger. You killed their humble master, and they want revenge,"

Andrew gasped from behind Hermione. Damn, she had forgotten about him.

"You k-killed somebody?" The witch spun about to face him. His eyes were wide with shock.

"Someone evil," Zabini's voice called over her shoulder. Hermione sighed and pressed a hand to her temple, not turning around.

"Continue,"

"Well, the Death Eaters might take a little trip to come and find me before they head down to Brazil… and if they do, you and your son need to be far, far away,"

"You have a son?!" Andrew half-shrieked. Hermione nodded absently.

"Yeah. I should show you a picture sometime," She muttered, sarcasm lacing her sweet tone.

"The Order doesn't know that you killed our ol' friend Tom, Granger. Only the team, McGonagall and I do. I plan on Obliviating the team as soon as they are done with their task,"

Hermione glanced back at Zabini, "Why would you do that?"

"You became a Death Eater, Granger. We are rounding up all of them, myself excluded. You will not be treated different because you did it to save your son. You will get a lesser sentence, two years at most, but still. I did it because I had already become a spy for the Order. You did it, by all means, willingly. I have no choice but to make them forget,"

"What a mess,"

"Indeed," Zabini pulled a small brown sack from his right pocket, dropping it on the table. Something metal inside clanged against one another, "Galleons," Zabini clarified, "A hundred of 'em,"

"Why would you-" Hermione was astounded at the amount of gold he had given her. They were practically strangers!

Zabini had removed something from the drawstring bag, paper slips, "Three airplane tickets. I was going to track Draco down too, but seeing as he's already here… The plane takes off tomorrow at five. Get the hell out of here, Granger, just for a couple weeks,"

The paranoid war heroine in Hermione came forth, "And how do I know that this isn't a trap of some kind?"

Zabini sighed, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose, "I'll prove it to you," He took the small vial he had put in his pocket earlier out, placing it on the counter. The glass connected with the wood with an odd sort of 'thunk'. Hermione picket it up immediately, examining it. On one side there was a label, written 'Veritaserum'.

"Truth serum," She breathed. You drunk this just before you talked to me," She couldn't deny that he had drown the entire bottle, she had watched him.

"Believe me?"

"Yes," Hermione managed to say. Zabini nodded and began to stalk towards the exit.

"Wait!" The brunette called, mystified at his sudden desire to leave, "Where are you going?"

"To find Draco and talk to him! I need to tell him what I have just told you. The third plane ticket is for him," Zabini said, rushed, "I need to be back in Britain by tonight,"

"Alright…" Hermione nodded, pocketing the Galleons and tickets, "I'll talk to him later as well," Panic swept her suddenly. The Death Eaters could find her at any time… Hermione wanted to faint.

"Oh, and Granger?" Zabini called, almost as an afterthought as he made his way out of the store, "Obliviate your friend for me?"

Hermione nodded again, and drew her wand from her pocket. She glanced about, being sure that no one was watching them. Andrew had backed up against the wall, terrified.

"I'm so sorry," She murmured, pressing her wand to his temple, "Obliviate,"

Andrew's jaw went slack for a moment, his eyes growing cloudy. Hermione pocketed her wand, wondering if she had done the spell wrong…

"Julia!" Andrew spoke in a relieved yet cheerful voice, "I'm sorry, I think that I blacked out for a moment there. Where was I in my story?"

"I think," Hermione offered slowly, "You were at the part about the cat attacking the men,"

Andrew nodded in affirmation, and without a single thought, dove into his story for the second time in an hour, leaving Hermione to her thoughts. She had taken a leap, trusting Zabini like that. What was done was done, however, and the brunette could not change her past decisions. Now, she needed to focus on whether or not she was going to get on the airplane.

X

Draco sighed and flipped through the folder again, trying to process the information. It was difficult, however, because Sasha was undressing him with her eyes from her desk across the room. The blonde was torn; half of him wanted to leap across the desks and snog her and the other half wanted to yell at her for being so irritating.

Sasha was not exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer.

For one thing, she got all the real estate terms messed up. A mortgage was not the same thing as a down payment, for Merlinssakes! For another, she was always staring at Draco, a man four years her senior. Not like he wasn't attractive (Because he was) but it was irritating when a dull bimbo stared at you all day long, no matter how great her willingness to leap into bed.

So here Draco was, on a Friday afternoon, trying to decide on whether or not he should just leave work early for the weekend.

Just then, the door to his office burst open.

In the frame stood what Draco thought was a ghost. His dark brown hair and reserved eyes were offset by the whiteness of his shirt. His skin was tan and his tie blue. Behind the man stood a woman, his secretary Clara, twittering about the man 'just barging in'.

Draco stood, his mouth agape.

"Blaise?"

"Holy shit man, you look so professional," The former Slytherin cracked a smile. And Draco threw his arms around his friend, pure happiness running through his veins.

When the two finally pulled apart, Draco waved a hand at a very confused Clara, "It's ok, he's my friend,"

The secretary looked shocked, though it was probably because Evan McDermitt had just declared that he had friends. If they weren't careful, zombies would probably spring from the ground.

Clara nodded and shut the door softly. The blonde turned and walked to his desk, opening the bottom most drawer. He pulled out a bottle of whiskey, one of his hidden ones he kept reserved for special occasions. Zabini nodded and Draco filled up two glasses. The blonde sat back in his chair, as did Blaise in the one on the opposite side of the desk.

"What was the first thing I ever said to you?" Draco asked suddenly, sipping the drink.

"'I'm not sure why,'" Blaise recalled, "'But I think you'd make a good Slytherin,'"

Draco nodded, accepting the answer. Blaise and he had met on the Hogwarts Express before First year, though they hadn't become good friends until Fifth.

"My turn," The Italian said, "What did you do after seeing Nott and I discussing how hot we thought Granger had been after the Yule Ball in Fourth year?"

Draco flushed, something that was quite unusual for him, "I…er… Do I have to answer, Zabini? You know what happened!"

"The point," Blaise smirked, "Of the question is to see if you are really, well, you. You've got to answer,"

Draco set his jaw and spoke flatly, "I said 'She has such potential, if only she wasn't a Mudblood,'"

Blaise nodded, grinning now at his friend's expense, "Yes, indeed. I remember that well," His dark eyes grew distant for a moment, as though reliving an old memory, "Speaking of Granger…"

"She's here," Draco finished, running a hand through his hair, "I know. Mate, I thought I'd escaped it all, I thought…"

"They're hunting her down,"

Draco felt his stomach drop into his shoes. He knew who 'They' were… The Death Eaters. They were coming for Granger and her son. His son.

"I am leading them down a false road but they've got spies everywhere," Zabini whispered. Sasha looked up from her paperwork, smiling slightly.

"I'm going to copy these," She said as she stood, waving the thick packet of legal work in the air, "I'll let you guys keep talking, ok?"

The door shut with a subtle click.

"What do I do?" It was the first time in several years that Draco had sounded desperate, but now he was holding the glass so hard that he thought it might break and his face was flushed, "Granger is gonna flip shit, Blaise! We just met up about a week ago, I don't know how the hell—"

Zabini chuckled, much to Draco's surprise, "I've already talked to her, mate,"

"Really? She actually talked to you? What did you tell her?" The blonde felt giddy and ridiculous, but he didn't care. This was the first person, besides Granger, whom he had been in contact with from the magical world in five years. Draco was entitled to his un-Slytherin like behavior, even if it was just this once.

"I'm working for the Order of the Phoenix,"

Draco nearly dropped his drink.

"You've been… what?" Draco couldn't believe it. His friend, his SLYTHERIN friend, had been fighting for the light side.

"Funny," Blaise said, tipping his head back to finish off the whiskey, "But Granger had almost the exact same reaction,"

"Don't compare me to that… Mudblood," The blonde bit out halfheartedly. He didn't care about her blood status anymore. Living with muggles got the prejudice out of one's system rather fast.

"I'm also a Death Eater. I joined just after you left. I'm loyal to the Order, though. Which is why I'm here," Blaise set down his glass with a chink on the wooden table, leaning forward on his elbows, "The Death Eaters are looking for her. I was sent to look about North America, though it hasn't been easy. I've been here for two months, tracking her down. I also observed you two from a distance for a while, waiting until I could talk to you each separately,"

Draco nodded, taking it all in.

"Basically, the Order has a team of people leading the Death Eaters on a false trail, where they will be captured. Naturally, they are pissed at her for killing Voldemort. However, several of them are rather… suspicious. Nearly all of them were Slytherins, after all, and they are bringing out their cunning sides. That's why they sent me here; they want me to be sure that Granger is not in North America. I realize that this task could be impossible with just me, I mean look at all the people in this country! I think that they thought I could handle it, which I did. I found Granger and her son, and you as a bonus,

"If they find out about the false lead, however, the Death Eaters might pick up on something real, a trail leading right to Granger. That's why I am here really. To warn you, the both of you. If you get caught here, Draco, you will be punished as a traitor,"

The blonde settled back into his chair, not realizing how he had been leaning forward to catch Zabini's every word.

"So…" Draco trailed off, choosing his next words carefully, "What is going to happen? Where do I go?"

Zabini stood, smirking slightly, walking across the room to study a painting, "Well, mate, I think it's time you get out of this blasted farmland. I don't like it, it's too dull. How do you feel," Blaise turned around, facing Draco once more, "About New York City?"