Do not own Harry Potter at all. So sad.

AN: I think I mentioned in an AN already, but The Better Claim was nominated over at the Dramione Awards, if you'd like to check it out and then go vote for me. The stories with the most seconding votes go on to the finals. I'd love to make the finals, if you're so inclined. Love you all! ALSO, before you go off about Hermione being a b****, I'm just making drama. Remember she's hormonal and pregnant and terrified. She'll come around, no worries. I want her to get with Draco as badly as you all do. XD

Dinner was over soon enough and Hermione excused herself to go back to her wing. Narcissa seemed a bit disappointed and said so.

"Are you sure you wouldn't care for a game of wizards' chess, dear? Or perhaps some exploding snap? I so rarely get a whist partner, you know." The older witch smiled endearingly, hopefully, and Hermione felt bad.

"Er," she said. Trust the Malfoys to keep a game like whist alive. "I'm just feeling a bit tired, especially after exams all last week."

"Oh, of course," Narcissa replied. "How could I forget. And in your fragile condition. Go on to bed, then dear. There will be time for games tomorrow. Perhaps even helping me put up our tree. Wouldn't that be fun?"

Hermione smiled back at her genuinely. "That would, actually. Well, good night." She gave Draco a small wave as well, though he essentially ignored her, and then she was heading up the stairs only to promptly get lost. She decided she'd better try and backtrack if she wanted to leave the manor alive.

The doorbell rang right after she'd left and Draco started to get up, only to have Narcissa give him a sharp look.

"The house elves will get it, dear."

"Oh. Right." He shook his head and she leaned towards him.

"Why didn't you give your young woman a proper good night, dear?"

He shrugged. "Just giving her some space," he responded easily. "She probably wants it right now."

"Hmm," his mother said and stood up. "Well, I'm going to the parlor to see who our guest is."

But there was no need to leave the dining room, as a dark figure swept in the doors.

"Darling Cissy!" cooed a voice and Draco went very, very still. So did Narcissa, though she recovered nicely and gave her sister a warm hug.

"Bellatrix! What an unexpected…surprise!" Narcissa's voice was full of false cheer.

"And…Draco. How is my darling nephew?" the witch cooed again, leaning over his chair. He tried not to flinch from her grasp. Master of Occlumancy or not, he was in no mood to deal with his insane family. Not to mention, he was suddenly terrified for Hermione, who was right upstairs, unprotected, while his crazy aunt was under the same roof.

"Draco…" Bellatrix whispered. "I hear you've been a very busy boy, indeed."

He shook her off and stood up. "I have no idea-"

"Do not lie to me!" she howled and Narcissa was suddenly at her side, arms about her.

"Bellatrix, please, not in my home. Let's all act like the adults we are."

The other witch gave a stiff nod, though she cast a baleful glare at Draco. Narcissa let her go, still nervous, though she could see her sister was desperately trying to control herself. Draco had stepped to the other side of the room, keeping the table between himself and his aunt. His expression hovered somewhere between disdain and fear. Narcissa wondered…

"Why don't I go get us some refreshments?" she said, only to have Bellatrix pin her with a scowl.

"Cissy, you know that's elves' work. Why don't you sit? Why don't we all sit again?" She suited her words with action and pulled out a chair. She plopped into it girlishly, crossing her legs and leaning her arms on the table, propping her head on one hand. The other hand twirled her wand about idly.

"How is the mission to kill the old bastard going, Draco, love?"

"Is that why you're here?" he shot back. "To check up on me?"

"Well it's not as if we can reach you at school," Bella replied snidely.

"We?" Draco repeated and glanced at her sharply.

"Oh, your master dares not come here, not yet. It's just me…though I know you would love to see him, wouldn't you, Draco? You have so much to discuss with him…so many things to explain."

Draco cast a desperate glance at his mother. What was Bella doing here? This Christmas Break had suddenly taken a drastic turn for the worse and he felt rather sick.

Keep it together, Draco, he told himself and his hand slipped into his pocket, gripping his own wand tightly. He just had to stay on his toes, keep his guard up. There was no telling what his insane aunt would do and he had a woman and a child to protect, at any cost.

"And he expects me to discuss those things with you, instead?" Draco laughed, bluffing confidence. "As if I would. You're just being nosy, aren't you? Can't stand that I might have actually sullied our family line, is that it? Came to see if it's true, yourself."

"You know our lord will-"

"No, he won't. He won't do anything. He gave me a mission and gave me full leave to do whatever I must in order to accomplish his goals. You know that. So that means you're here strictly for your own, selfish purposes."

"No mud blood will ever bear the name of Black!"

"No? Well fortunately it's the name of Malfoy she'll bear, then."

"You intend to marry such a perversion?"

"If it helps me achieve my ends, yes."

Draco stared Bellatrix down, shoulders back, head up. Eyes cold and competent. Two could play at that game. Bella eventually relaxed and sat back.

"Well, well…it seems he was right to trust you, then. You're willing to risk anything, aren't you? All for the death of one old man…"

Draco didn't bother responding, just took a sip of the brandy an elf had placed before them all. He wanted to choke as it burned its way down his throat, but he swallowed hard and kept his eyes open and dry. He smiled across the table and lifted his glass.

"Cheers, Aunt Trixie."

Bellatrix sneered, but lifted her own glass as well.

"You will regret this, Draco," she hissed.

"Regret what? Serving my master faithfully?"

Bella had nothing to say to that, short of being sacrilegious about the man she loved and served just as faithfully- more faithfully than Draco, really, but he wasn't about to let her know that.

"Well, are you done here, Aunt?" Draco said sweetly after another long moment of hard stares and silence.

Her expression changed swiftly and Draco heard his mother gasp. Whatever was going on, Narcissa knew what her sister was up to. He turned his attention back to his aunt.

"Actually, Draco, darling, I was hoping I could meet your gold-digging, goody-goody girlfriend."

"Excuse me?" He raised one delicate brow at her and she smiled sweetly. It made him want to vomit.

"Oh, please. I know she's here, the tart. Let me meet her, please, dear Draco? I promise to be good…I just need to see for myself that she's not going to turn our family name on its ear…"

Draco refrained from pointing out that she had done that quite well, all on her own.

"You will never come within three feet of Hermione Granger or my child," he said quietly.

"Draco, dear, perhaps now is not the time-"

Bellatrix held up a hand and practically growled at her sister. "Let him speak, Cissy!" She turned back to Draco. "And why not?" she hissed again. "Scared I'll see through this falsehood?"

"It is no falsehood," he replied, feeling strangely calm. And it wasn't- well, the fact that he was beginning to wish he was the real father, was starting to feel like he should have been the one to get Hermione in all this mess- those things weren't false. The emotions he held for her now weren't false…and it was those things that made him the father of her baby. He lifted his eyes to his aunt's and smiled coolly.

"Don't forget that she is protected, dear Aunt," he murmured.

Bella leaned back and relaxed again. "Of course she is, the trollop. Well, if you won't let me see her now, I'll just be on my way. I can see I'm not welcome in my own family's house."

"Oh, Bella-" Narcissa began, but Bellatrix waved a hand impatiently and stood.

"Not you, darling sister. I'll see you again when my ungrateful nephew is back at school with his whore."

Narcissa cast a sad glance at Draco, who sat firmly in place, arms crossed, a stony look upon his face. Bella paused at the door and tuned back suddenly, agitated again.

"Why her? After what she and her friends did- putting your own father in prison to suffer torture- how can you possibly stand to be anywhere near trash like that?"

Draco turned his head, inspected his wand, gave a few experimental flicks, sending some deadly sparks crackling through the air.

"I don't expect you to understand the subtly of my revenge, Aunt Trixie," he responded and glanced up at her. "Weren't you leaving?"

A wild grin spread across her face and she began to howl with mad laughter. Just as quickly she cut it off and turned one crazy eye to him.

"You do your family proud, Draco. Kisses, love. I'll see you soon."

Then she was gone, Narcissa following her to make sure she actually left. Draco waited a few ticks, then slumped down in his chair, though the cold, dispassionate glare remained upon his features. He drew one hand down his face, as if he could wipe away the feel of acting so evil. Then he stood and made his way out the other door, towards the stairs. He'd just reached the foot of them when a small noise caught his ear and he turned to look. There was a small motion in the shadows and he called the name of one of the elves.

"Moppy?"

Hermione wandered a few steps forward into the light instead and his heart stopped. A look of horror was etched upon her face.

"You…I was just lost, trying to get back to my room," Hermione managed to say. Then she kept talking.

"So you do have a mission…to kill someone? Is it- no, I don't think I want to know who it is. I think I can guess that well enough- old man…Draco, you can't…was all that true?"

He took a step towards her and she moved away as if he was poison.

"Well? Is it? This is just revenge? And to get you closer to Dumbledore? It is, isn't it?" she breathed.

"Hermione-" His voice broke on the last syllable and she glared at him, tears in her eyes.

"Don't! Just tell me- tell me the truth!"

But Draco couldn't speak. Hermione glared at him for a full minute and then she ran. Past him, up the stairs, into the darkness of a manor she didn't know, just to be away from him.

Draco turned and tried to grab her, but she moved too quickly and he suddenly felt sluggish and awful.

"Hermione!" he called. "It's not true! I swear it's not true!"

His words died away in the darkness and no one answered him, not even his mother. He swore and took the stairs two at a time. He had to find her, had to explain. It was time to tell her everything, because there would be no perfect chance anymore. His insane aunt had taken that from him as well. In fact, he wouldn't be surprised if she'd known Hermione had been listening…not that he thought she was that subtle. He swore again and doubled his pace, his long legs covering the ancient halls of his family home not nearly fast as he'd like, his voice calling Hermione's name again and again.

Hermione huddled against the window seat looking out over the dimly lit, snow covered hedges and gardens in back of the manor. She tried to quiet her snuffling with her sleeve, except the material wasn't right for stopping a runny nose…and if anyone's nose was running, hers was. She'd been bawling like a little girl, long silent sobs wracking her diaphragm until she thought she might see the crème brûlée again. She knew she was making herself ill, but she couldn't help it. To think she'd trusted Draco, trusted his motives. Trusted her lips to his, trusted her heart in his hands- or at least, she'd begun to. They'd had such a lovely time the last few weeks, especially with that weekend in Paris…she'd thought she was finally getting to know the real him. Oh, but now she wanted to sink into a hole and die, she felt like such a gigantic fool. Even more of a fool than she had over Ron and getting pregnant in the first place.

What was she thinking? Harry had been right the whole time, hadn't he. She sniffled some more, wiped her face again. She was so confused and upset she couldn't even properly transfigure a handkerchief so she didn't ruin the sleeves of her dress. Malfoy bloody manor. What was she doing here? Of course, Dumbledore had given her a portkey, hadn't he? For just such emergencies as these. And if she really wanted to she was sure she could easily floo to the Burrow, or something…but her feet wouldn't move. She swung her legs over the edge of the seat and stood up, but still she couldn't make herself walk to her room. There was a tiny sliver of doubt about the entire situation that bound her ankles together and glued her feet to the floor.

Buck up, Hermione, she told herself. You have another life to think of beside your own. So what if Draco is the father on paper and everywhere else but blood? If he thinks he can double cross Hermione Jean Granger and get away with it…

That did it. Her feet finally moving, she marched herself straight to her room. Only once she got there, she couldn't make herself pick up the portkey. Couldn't make herself use it, even once she'd slipped it from the pouch.

"Argh!" she exclaimed, frustrated and still quite weepy, and floated the portkey back into its pouch for safe keeping. What was wrong with her? Was she actually, maybe, possibly in…in love with that ferrety, good for nothing, lying sack of Slytherin, Death Eater rubbish whose home she was staying in?

She exclaimed again for good measure and was about to slide the portkey back out and force herself to use it this time, by golly, when her eyes fell on the lovely Parisian jacket.

In seconds the jacket was being shredded into itty-bitty pieces. She was about to set fire to it when a small noise made her look up from her handy-work.

"Oh, Draco," she remarked, quite calmly. She was feeling a bit better now that she'd taken out some of her aggression. "How nice of you to call on me."

He eyed the jacket- still being meticulously shredded, the whole time- and took a deep breath.

"Yes, well…I looked for you everywhere else I could before I thought of-"

"Checking the room you gave me? How clever of you to think of it. Of course a filthy mudblood like me wouldn't normally be in a guest room above stairs, would she? More likely to find the knocked up, unworthy girlfriend below stairs in the maid's quarters, right?"

"Oh, Hermione…" he groaned and sank to his knees beside her, tugging the remains of the beautiful coat from her hands. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry."

She got up and retreated a fair distance from him.

"Sorry for what? For making a fool of me and my baby? For using me? For plotting to kill one of the best men this bloody world has to offer?"

He shook his head. "Hermione, let me explain, please."

She crossed her arms, sniffed a few times and turned her back on him. "Go ahead. You can try."

"Alright," he murmured. He stood as well, still clutching the ruined fabric. "Hermione, I…yes, I was given a mission this year. A hard mission. A terrible one. But I'm not…you are just going to have to trust me that I'm not going to…"

"Complete it? Is it all a sham, then?" She turned her head slightly, as though she wanted a response, expected the right one.

"You have to trust me, Hermione. If I could say anymore without endangering you and the baby, I would-"

She whirled about at that, started crying again, though they were tears of rage. He was surprised at how violently his heart reacted to that sight…how much he wanted to hold her, make the source of her tears die a thousand deaths.

Oh, wait. That would be him.

He settled for holding his hands out to her, instead, and dropped the jacket. She cried harder.

"You don't get to say things like that!" she exclaimed, angry as a slighted hippogriff. "You don't! You've endangered me just by agreeing to all this- by bringing me here, under the same roof as that insane woman- you know she tried to kill me last year? She tried to kill all of us! She would love nothing better than to see me and my baby dead!"

"Hermione, I know, but I can't- this is the best thing. She didn't stay, she's gone, I won't let her hurt you. You know you're protected-"

"What sort of protection is this? When that woman can come here, taunt you, insult me- when half the people who are sworn to protect me and this baby hate me?"

Draco found that he was just sixteen, after all, and was losing patience, as much as his heart hurt.

"This is best and you know it," he said. "Where would you be if you'd come out about the truth? Do you think your friends could keep you safe at that school? You think anyone could? They can't. No one can, not anymore, not after what I-" he stopped short suddenly, face aghast.

All the blood drained from Hermione's face and she turned back around.

"Hermione, I didn't mean-"

"I don't care what you meant, anymore," she answered quietly. "If you can't tell me the whole truth, if you can't trust me the way I've trusted you, then there's nothing more to say."

Draco grit his teeth and fought the urge to throw something. Instead, he turned and stalked from the room, muttering a quiet spell as he went. The door slammed shut after him and Hermione stayed where she was for several seconds before turning around to look after him. Her eyes immediately found the reason for the quiet incantation.

There on a chair lay the lovely emerald coat, knitting itself back together seamlessly, not a rent in sight. She teared up again, stomped her foot and a loud expletive filled the empty space.