A/N: Thank you readers, reviewers, followers, and those who have placed this fic on their favorite list.

Thank you to: hkmac, idonttrustquiet, Musette Fujiwara, Guest, Vidicon666, and Aya Diefair for the reviews.

Vidicon666: You made a very lovely and awesome point. It's true. What Jewish mother would willingly introduce her child to the grandparents who were Nazis? Thus, why I introduced the blackmail by blow ordeal and then hit my first domino in this crazy set up of a story. I'm glad you think that Alex should not be there in the manor and happy with the other reviewers, as well, who have said the same thing. But...that doesn't mean he won't be there for a little bit longer. *shrugs* Who knows? I do, but you know what I mean. Thank you again.

idonttrustquiet: Yes, the plinkets are part of the Magical U.S. currency. Thank you for your read.

Guest: Yeah, I liked the image, as well. :)

Longish chapter ahead. It will be the last of Baring Gifts before getting back to present time. Thank you and read and review. :)

"It was a doe," she said. "I never saw it, but both Harry and Ron did. Draco, I'm sure you can cast one. If you'd like, I can teach you and…and maybe Alex can play with two. He'd like that."

Draco grumbled something unintelligible and pointed his wand at the far wall. "Expecto Patronum."

Hermione would have been shocked if anything erupted from the tip of his wand with his half-hearted hold and lazy incantation. Expectedly, nothing happened and the man shrugged and presented her with a blank expression. "See."

"I saw nothing, Malfoy," she told him and then closed her eyes briefly and dryly scoffed. "Well, that's not true. I saw that you didn't try. Producing a patronus is difficult magic and nearly impossible to achieve on the first attempt."

"Let me guess," Draco drawled and let his head rest against the headboard of the bed, fixing his gaze on Alex playing with the scorpion. "You nailed it on the first go. Congratulations, you're a bloody genius."

Knitting her brows together, Hermione sat up. "Why so mean? And I'll have you know that I didn't get it on the first try." He opened his mouth and snapped it shut when she said, "Nor on the second. It was one of the most difficult spells I've ever done, but it was also one of the most important. I think you should at least try to conjure one."

Draco quietly responded, "What if I can't? It'll mean that I'm for sure a-"

"Let's not think about that. Let's think about now and how long you're staying. When do you have to leave?"

"I'll leave the 27th. I'll be taking a one way portkey to Kyoto."

Hermione brightened and beamed happily at the news he would be staying longer than he had the last few visits. "Really? Oh, this will be wonderful. I'm so glad I decided to cancel my Boxing Day appointments. We can spend the whole day together tomorrow. You can spend more time with Alex."

"Mmm," Draco noised while nodding pensively and then quipped, "And his mum. Which springs the question—when will we get to have our fun?"

"Probably after Alex goes to sleep." Hermione nudged her foot against her baby's bottom. He paid no mind to his mother and leaned over to caress the misty essence of the scorpion, humming in delight when feeling the pure, light magic make contact with his skin.

"When will that be?" Draco asked, crossing his legs and clasping his hands over his stomach.

"He's done all-nighters before."

"Bleedin' lovely."

Boxing Day 2003

Hermione stirred awake when rolling over towards the middle of her bed, her hand coming into contact with something wet and warm. Fluttering her eyes, she saw her hand dwelling on a dark damp spot with Alex's sopped diaper not far from it. Instead of wrinkling her nose in disgust, for she was far past such new-motherly reactions, she sighed. Not because of the sheets that would need washing or the disgruntled frown Draco would wear when seeing his face so close to a pee-puddle.

She sighed because Alex was nowhere in sight.

Sitting up, she scanned her bedroom and her adjoining bathroom, surmising their vacancy of her bare-bummed baby. Her vision caught a tiny wet pool of wetness on the carpet near the threshold of the door leading into the hallway, so she climbed out of bed and followed the first clue which led to a discarded pacifier near the sitting room.

The next clue was a disheartened whimper coming from the kitchen, so Hermione entered and rounded the counter to find Alex trying to reach the handle of the refrigerator, his blond curls terribly unruly and his round little tush naked. But he still had a shirt on.

"Alex," she said to him softly, placing her hands on her hips and cocking her head to the side. "What are you doing?"

Her baby turned around on unsteady legs and then placed his hands back on the fridge, patting his hands against the barrier. "Mama. Mi. Mi." He then leaned his forehead against it and broke out into a sob, and Hermione rushed towards him, scooping him up and holding him close.

"Milk," she gently said to him and kissed his forehead. "Is that what you want? Why didn't you just wake Mummy up, you silly boy?"

Alex took longer to settle down than he normally did. His cries usually died off when she held him and whispered loving words to him. Placing her cheek against his forehead, she checked for a fever but her baby felt normal. She came to the conclusion that he may very well be in a snit for no apparent reason as babies tended to get into sometimes.

"I think I'm going to give you a bath," she said to him over his wails and one-handedly clogged the sink and set the faucet to warm water followed by adding bubbles. During this, Alex violently wiggled in her arms until she sat him down on the edge of counter and hurriedly stripped him of shirt, wondering why the designers crafted the baby collar so bloody small. Were they not briefed on how large babies' heads were?

Depositing Alex into the water, being sure it was at his favorite temperature and loaded with bubbles, his wails sharpened into shrieks. Realizing that the bath was going to be cut short, Hermione found a binky inside his bath toy container and plopped it into his mouth. It bobbed in and out three good times before being spat out, disappearing into the bubbles. His screams resumed and reached out his arms towards his mother.

"Just a moment and I'll let you out," she told him, lightly scrubbing his back and legs underneath the water.

She flung the soft sponge into the container of bath toys and was about to dive her hand back into the sink to drain the water when seeing a series of large air-bubbles boil up from the foam. They were also audibly muffled.

Alex then stopped crying, his tears dying off and replaced with deep breathing. Hermione watched in a half-alarmed and half-amused state as her now content baby started fiddling with his surrounding bubbles, squashing the white foam between his slapping hands.

"Bloody hell," groaned Draco. Hermione craned her neck to see Draco dragging his feet into the kitchen looking like he wanted to murder someone, maybe even himself. "What's with the noise?" Beat. "And the piss and the diaper?"

"Why don't you make some tea, Draco?" Hermione suggested. "I'm giving Alex a quick bath before breakfast."

"Tea," he muttered. "I think snorting coffee grounds would be more suitable at six in the morning on Boxing Day."

Hermione snatched the soft sponge from the container and began rubbing it over Alex's shoulders. He looked up at her and smiled, a few teeth gleaming back at her.

"There's my morning smile," she gushed and grinned back, running a damp hand through his mussed hair. "I'm sorry you were so sad. Your tummy was probably hurting, huh?"

"He was hurt?" Draco caught, taking the basket of tea packets out of the cupboard and setting them by the stove with a worried pucker.

"He had gas," she informed lightly while pulling the plug from the sink, and Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"I'm assuming he's better now."

"I think so. Poor thing. I had no idea. He's never had tummy bubbles that made him hurt so bad." Hermione rinsed Alex off with some warm water and picked him up. Wandlessly, she summoned a towel and waited the few seconds for it to appear and lay out on the counter top. Gingerly, she swaddled the fluffy cloth around her baby's body and snuggled him, his damp head falling on her shoulder.

"What kind of tea do you want?" asked Draco, rifling through her selection.

"Chamomile," she replied, leaving the kitchen in favor of the nursery to ready Alex for the day. She unwrapped him of his towel and applied baby lotion to his skin, having fun running her fingers up and down the bottoms of his feet. The next step was his diaper and before fastening, she healthily doused his bottom with a special potion to prevent diaper rash and baby powder.

She dressed him in a striped onesie, jeans, and cute little sneakers with wing-flapping baby dragons on them. After he was fully clothed, Hermione took him into the bathroom and combed his hair with painstaking gentleness, not wanting the comb to snag a knot and hurt him. Her fingers ran through his lank curls and she contemplated his reflection.

"I love your curls, Button, but you're starting to look like a girl," she said grimly and fished out a pair of nail scissors from the drawer beside her, tapping the blades against her mouth in consideration.

Ten minutes later, she reentered the kitchen to see Draco drinking his tea at the dining table with The New England Post in hand.

"Dada," Alex called out and Hermione set him down on his feet where he wobbled towards his father.

Draco's eyes ignited with pride at seeing the boy toddle towards him and abandoned his drink and newspaper when the boy arrived at his knees. The man picked the child up and set him on his lap, smirking affectionately. "He walks now."

"It took a little coaxing but still prefers being carried. He started letting go of my fingers about two weeks ago."

Draco's smirk morphed into a smug leer and he lifted Alex up at arm's length and beamed up at him, the child giggling. "I like your shoes." The boy swung his legs and giggled again and then Draco stilled, his eyes narrowing. "What happened to your hair? What happened to his hair?"

"I cut it," Hermione said, pouring herself a cup of tea and bustling over to the table. "Just now."

"Why?"

"Because it resembled a bird's nest." She then added belatedly. "A girl's bird's nest."

Draco fingered a short, close-cropped whorl of his son's hair with uncertainty. "You should've consulted with me." It was Hermione's turn to ask why. "I'm his father. Don't I get a say?"

Hermione paused mid-stir with her spoon in the tea cup. "It's a haircut, Malfoy."

"Why didn't you say anything? I was right here."

"I didn't know I had to," she responded with a shrug. "I saw his hair needed chopping and I cut it. I had no idea you were going to be so sensitive about it. Would you like me to start consulting you whenever I trim his fingernails, too? Or how about when I change his diaper?"

"Granger," he huffed and readjusted Alex on his lap who was gnawing on his father's Slytherin tie again. "Don't have a hissy fit. I just would have liked a say in the situation. And by all means, change his diaper when necessary."

"It's a haircut, Draco, but fine. If it's so important to you, I'll let you know the next time I think he needs one."

"The male Malfoy receives his first hair cut when he's three," Draco said and gingerly stroked the top of Alex's head.

Pursing her lips and arching a brow, Hermione asked, "Were you ever mistaken for a pretty little girl before then?"

"All the time."

Chortling, Hermione covered her mouth and attempted to sober her mirth as Draco grinned back at her. When she composed herself, she then asked out of interest, "What about female Malfoys? When do they cut their hair?"

"No idea. There hasn't been a female Malfoy in over six hundred years. From what I gathered out of the old journals belonging to my ancestors, Anthonine Malfoi could be called today as an 'oops baby'. Her parents had not needed, nor had they wanted another child. They had their male heir so having a daughter was burdensome. But as Pureblood aristocrats, they tried to make the best of it. Unfortunately, by the time dear Anthonine was ten, she was declared a Squib."

"That is unfortunate," Hermione said with a nod. It must have been a nightmare being a Squib in the Malfoy family.

"That's not even the worst part. The girl's father. My great-great-great…well, you get the idea. Embarrassed by this, Gaultier made plans in murdering her, making it look like an accident."

Hermione gasped in horror and was then reminded of what an awful family Draco came from. Her instincts were shouting at her to grab Alex from him and flee but discarded the idea. She told herself that Draco would never do that, even if Alex never developed magical abilities. The man was clearly besotted by the baby.

"Please tell me he didn't," Hermione begged. "Please tell me he didn't hurt that little girl."

"Oh, he beat her plenty as she grew but when she didn't receive a letter from any wizarding school, he concocted a plan."

"And his wife, the girl's mother, was alright with this? What about her older brother, the heir?"

"I think Gaultier paid more attention to Anthonine than she did. The woman refused to even acknowledge her. As for her brother…"

"Yes?"

"He loved his sister," he said and Hermione smiled weakly.

"At least she had some sort of love," she said and her smile deflated when Draco sneered in disgust.

"Granger, you mistake my words. The love he had for her was not appropriate. He did things to her."

"No," Hermione denied, shaking her head and wondering if Draco was the only half-decent person in his entire family. "Did she ever have peace? Did her father kill her?"

"He brewed a potion ensuring she would contract Dragon Pox and die. He then told his son to give it to her. Jamet said he would and went up to the girl's bedroom quarters, but," Draco raised a finger, "he didn't give her the potion but switched it with something else. He switched it with another potion. Today we call this potion Draught of Living Death."

"He faked her death," whispered Hermione in surprise. Jamet may have been a despicable human being like his parents but maybe, just maybe…

"Gaultier thought he simply botched the potion and formed lies to all who asked of how Anthonine had been ill. He arranged a private burial for the girl but unknowingly put an empty casket into the ground."

"Jamet," Hermione said.

"Jamet had taken her to the Muggle gateway and left her unconscious body there before returning home."

"So." She swirled her spoon in the now lukewarm tea. "You probably don't know what happened to her. If she grew up, got married, had children. If she ever found happiness and joy."

"I do know," he said. "It took some digging. My great-grandfather was trying to work on a Malfoy Family Tree, much like the one the Blacks have. It would start with the first Malfoi and end with the last one. He died before even completing his research in the family tomes but came across the truth about Anthonine and felt that he needed to know what became of her. If she had a lineage of her own, not that her offspring would make it on the Family Tree, he wanted to know."

"How could he have ever found out what happened to her? She was placed in the Muggle World? He would have had to-"

"Go there, yes, but decided against it and told his Muggle-Born mistress to do it for him. A few months later, she returned with her assignment. Great-grandfather read the papers, made notes of the dates, and journal entries and came to find that Anthonine Malfoi died at sixteen."

"Sixteen?" balked Hermione. "From what?"

Draco's voice was hallow yet almost melodic. "Fire, Granger."

"Fire," she repeated.

"She was tied to a stake and set on fire."

Hermione numbly moved her head from left to right. "No. She wasn't a witch, though. She had no magic. She-"

"Could read, write. It didn't help that she was a harlot. I don't think I have to tell you this, but during those Muggle times, the worse thing than being a prostitute was being an educated one. And it's just as well. The majority of those bleedin' people burned in the name of God were not even magical."

"I know," she mumbled sadly. "But it's not fair what happened to that poor girl. She…" Hermione let out a mirthless chuckle. "She probably saw death as a blessing. And if hadn't been the fire, it may have been the plague or an STD or something else equally torturous."

"Perhaps but it's what she said before being burned that I find fascinating," Draco said, a lazy smile spreading on his features. "According to the bewildered spectators, Anthonine shouted from the stake that she cursed her family from ever having daughters, that she would be the only Malfoi girl. This makes complete sense. Since then, Malfoys have only begat sons."

"How could she casted a curse? She wasn't a witch."

Draco shrugged and quirked his eyebrows. "It does raise an interesting question."

"Do you believe in the curse? To me, it sounds like your ancestors were fine with their male first-born and never bothered to have sex again. Though it's rare to produce all those boys without a single girl thrown into the mix, it's possible."

"The Malfoys used to pride themselves of never having tainted the legacy with females, using the excuse of good breeding. Now they just pride themselves. As for believing if the curse is true…Like I said, it makes sense, but I'm not so sure about its validity. She was a Squib after all."

"Exactly," Hermione agreed and stood up from the table. "I'm going to make Alex some eggs for breakfast. Would you like some?"

"I suppose."

Hermione set to work making scrambled eggs, often glancing over at Draco and Alex and smiling to herself. The baby sat restfully in his father's embrace, trying to make a meal out of the man's tie.

"Do you think we'll get a chance to use these blasted uniforms for the purpose I purchased them for?" asked Draco.

"Alex will have a nap today, and he usually sleeps for a couple of hours, sometimes more. I'm sure we will." Hermione brought over a plate of eggs and toast and placed it in front of Draco and then took the baby from him and set the boy in his high chair, scooting it between her chair and his father's. "But I will have to wash the bed sheets before then and scourgify the carpet, tidy up the nursery, and then take down the Christmas decorations."

"The last two things can wait," he said dangerously. "Besides, there are still presents under the tree."

"Really?"

"I got Scorpius a few things, and you a few things. You didn't think that silly uniform was going to be your only present, did you?"

"I actually didn't think about it," Hermione admitted. "I'm mostly concerned for Alex and giving him gifts."

"You need to treat yourself, as well." Draco frowned and then took a bite of his toast.

"I do," she said unconvincingly. "I buy clothes for myself, books, and sometimes shoes." She sighed and slumped her shoulders. "Look, Draco, I'm going to let you in on a parental secret since you obviously haven't figured it out. What I want and what you want doesn't matter when it comes to Alex's wants."

An extra nose must've sprouted between her brows because Draco was staring oddly at her and Hermione assumed she would have to elaborate. "Like last night when he cried, instead of fulfilling our own wants, you got up and fetched him."

"Yes but…but…my parents always got what they wanted. Is this a money issue?"

"Not necessarily. As for you parents of always getting their desires, what effect did that have on you?" Hermione asked, already knowing the answer but wondered if Draco knew it, too.

"I got whatever I wanted. Scorpius has that, and you can, too."

Giving an endeared look, Hermione set her fork down and cupped her chin. "I'm sure you always had the latest broom, the shiniest trinkets, and the most expensive clothes. You were never without materials, but what were you without?"

Flaring his nostrils, Draco replied in a sharp offended tone, "I wasn't without love. I know how The Prophet loved publishing articles about how my father caned me into becoming a Death Eater as my mother stood from the sidelines encouraging him."

"I know you had love, Draco," Hermione said softly. "I just think you never had the proper care you and every child deserve."

"They're good parents."

"They could've been better, and you know it."

He looked like he wanted to argue with her but instead shoved some more toast into his mouth, glowering at nothing in particular.

After breakfast, Hermione handed a bottle of milk to Alex and instructed Draco to take care of him while she stripped the bed sheets and washed the carpet. She rather would have made Draco take care of the household tasks, let him be the help for a change but knew he'd do it wrong or take longer than necessary.

The pampered prince.

As the washing machine churned and swished the bedding materials, Hermione stripped out of the wrinkled uniform and into a soft silk robe and put her short hair up into a little ponytail. She washed her face of yesterday's grime and brushed her teeth, flossed, gargled with mouthwash, and even applied citrusy smelling lotion to her neck and hands. It wasn't a shower, but it would do for the next few hours.

She found Draco and Alex in the sitting room beside the Christmas tree, the child trying to yank the ornaments off the lower branches but failing due to the Sticking Charm cast on them.

"He's determined," Draco said with a pleased smile at his son's pinched expression. He looked up at Hermione and watched her as she sat down next to him on the couch. "You took off the uniform."

"It's stifling. Like you said, it was bought to be ripped off but you have yet to make such dastardly move," she sassily retorted and molded into his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

"The moment this boy falls asleep, I expect you to wear it."

"We'll see. I may just want to rip off your uniform instead," she said and puckered her lips for a kiss. Draco craned his neck and obliged with a chuckle and then stooped down to the floor and crawled towards the tree, poking Alex in the belly before picking up a gift and offering it to Hermione who took it.

Once removing the black ribbon and the shimmering green wrapping paper, a black box of velvet was revealed with a golden latch. Flipping it open, she opened the lid and gasped. "Draco!"

"Do you like it?"

"It's…" Hermione blinked and traced the sturdy rose gold chain, down to the voluptuously shaped pendent embedded with tiny sparkling diamonds in a journey-like pattern. "Wow."

Draco took the necklace out of the box, undoing the clasp and carefully placing it around the woman's neck. The pendant lay heavy on her sternum between the gap of her robe as he brushed his lips against her neck. She closed her eyes and savored the sensation and found it almost sad that she appreciated the kiss more than she did the piece of jewelry. Shiny, expensive ornaments were never her thing and thought them impractical; nevertheless, she said to Draco, "Thank you. It's lovely. You shouldn't have."

He kissed her again, this time on the mouth, cupping her face and deepening his ministrations. A few moments later, he pulled away and rested his forehead against hers and breathlessly said, "We should get married."

Avoiding giving him an outright no, Hermione nervously responded, "Should we?"

Groaning, the man let her face go and collapsed down beside her on the couch, glaring up at the ceiling. "I'll take that as a no."

"Draco."

"Why, Granger? Why won't you marry me?"

"I told you why."

"Yes, yes, my bleedin' parents. You think they're Mr. and Mrs. Satan or some rot."

"It's not just them, though they contribute heavily. I told you I don't want to go back to England and marrying you would require that. I want Alex away from all the baggage. Here, in the States, he's safe. People don't really stop to think who I am. They only know of Harry Potter and what he did for Wizarding England. They are near-convinced he was the only one fighting for the greater good, and you know what? I'm okay with that. It means I'm out of the spotlight and so is Alex. I go back to England with him, the paparazzi will have a field day, and he grows up with unregistered Animangi hiding in the bushes to get a closer look at him.

"On the more personal level, I don't think I fit the bill for being Lady Malfoy. I don't fancy the idea of filling my never-ending free time with arranging charity balls, tea parties, shopping in Milan and Paris. I'd want a career, not for the money, but to keep my brain busy. And if I ever managed to step in that house of horrors you call a home, again, I'd want the entire estate remodeled, and there would be no dungeons because what kind of self-respecting people have dungeons in their homes?" Not waiting for Draco to answer, she said, "Exactly. And thinking about it, why does Hogwarts have a dungeon? It's a school, never mind it's a castle. There are no schools in the States with dungeons for dormitories. How did you manage for seven years?"

"Granger, I know what you are doing. You're trying to dissuade me from wanting to marry you and, Sweetheart, you have not. If it takes setting fire to the entire bloody manor…"

"You know it's more than that," Hermione said and placed her hands on his chest, tugging at his Slytherin tie. "Think of Alex and what he needs."

They both craned their head to see the boy and laughed when seeing him curled up and sleeping underneath the Christmas tree, a single porcelain angel-shaped ornament wedged tightly in his little hand.

Wasting no time, Hermione yanked on Draco's tie to, loosening the knot and then making quick work on the buttons of his shirt.