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The English Rose	By : TempestLore Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 20463 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Harry Potter Universe, nor do I make any profit off of this story or any others.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
The English Rose

Chapter Eleven

     Gobsmacked. That’s how he felt as he stood there, frozen like a block of ice. He was a father—a real father. He didn’t know whether to hug Hermione when he saw her later that evening or to strangle her for lying to him and for so long at that. She’d robbed him of his child who was not a baby nor even a toddler but the same age as Junior. Not only that but Malcolm was fatherless and was living in a brothel! A flash of anger passed over his face and Junior let go of his hand. “Uncle? Are you alwight?”
     “I’m fine,” Draco said through gritted teeth. He reached into his breast pocket and dropped a brown leather pouch filled with gold galleons into the tot’s hand. “Go on, buy yourself that new broom,” he said and Harry and Ginny’s son beamed as he took the money and disappeared through the doors of the Quidditch Shoppe. Isn’t that a switch, Draco thought to himself as the notion that he had a son in the world settled in his mind. Draco grew up wealthy whilst his childhood nemesis, Harry Potter, spent much of his youth sleeping in a cupboard. My how things have changed he thought when he realized that their children had swapped places, what with Junior living the high life and Malcolm living like a pauper. “Not in my town, and not in this lifetime,” he mumbled to himself.
     “Bad time?” a wizard said and Draco whirled on his feet to see Charlie Weasley standing before him as his thestral squawked on the street nearby. Charlie was holding a scroll tight in his fist. Next to him was an oversized crate that two Death Eaters hoisted off the back of a thestral where they lowered it to the ground.
     “Does it matter?” Draco seethed as he reached out his hand for the official scroll.
     “Where do you want these?” Charlie asked nervously as Draco opened the scroll and read. His face dropped when he read the new proposed decree that was signed by the Dark Lord himself. Draco was expected to vote on the said proposal in a mere fortnight’s time just as all in Voldemort’s inner circle would. Of course the “vote” was symbolic only. He held supreme power and every Death Eater knew it. There was really no point in voting at all, it was all a ruse to make the people think that their government was a functioning democracy. There was even a Wizengamot who ruled on the legalities of his laws, but like Liege Draco, they too were mere puppets for the Dark Lord.
     “Are those what I think they are?” the blond asked as he lifted the lid on the crate and peered inside it.
     “Unfortunately, yes,” Charlie replied.
     The proof that the impending vote meant absolutely nothing and that the new proposal would soon be law (after the Lieges’ all cast their fake vote that is and the law passed unanimously) was the crate that the Dark Lord sent along with the rolled up scroll. One thousand iron collars, about the size of a human neck—a Muggle-Born’s neck. A look of grief washed over Draco’s face. “This will bring about a revolution. What was he thinking?”
     “It’s the resistance. Last month seventeen checkpoints were taken down and hordes of families took flight. Word is they fled to Ireland, where there is open rebellion against the Dark Lord.” Charlie gave Draco a knowing look.
     “I’m well aware,” Draco shot him a cheeky grin. “Get these off the bloody street before the townspeople see. Take them to the armory and for Merlin’s sake make sure nobody looks inside the blasted thing! Nail it shut and then seal it with a spell. They’re going to burn the lot of us at the stake for this preposterous new law.”
     “Right away, Draco,” Charlie replied and then he gave the blond a sympathetic frown, this followed by a gentle clap on the back in a show of friendship. Draco raked a hand through his silken hair and then let out the breath he’d been holding as he sauntered into the Quidditch Shoppe. He made it to the door when he heard someone shouting at him from afar. He turned on his heels to see Healer McTavish waving an extended arm over his head in frantic fashion.
     “My Liege, thank Merlin I found you! I sent three owls but you never responded,” the old man said as he huffed, out of breath.
     “I have a stack of owls a meter high with no possible way to get to all of them. What is it?” Draco asked, though he was anything but interested in whatever the old man had to say. He had more pressing matters on his mind like Granger and how things would go down when he confronted her about the boy—his son, not to mention the impending law which was a direct assault on Muggle-Borns rights and freedoms. It was already a shit-storm of a day but then the Healer opened his mouth and things went from bad to worse.
     “The Madam of the brothel… it’s her boy,” the Healer said as he tried to catch his breath. “You know the woman…the one with the—“ the Healer blushed and rather than say that Hermione was vivaciously hot he instead drew the outline of a hourglass with his hands. Draco felt the innermost pangs of longing upon this action, a longing that he quickly swept away.
     “Rose Winthrop you mean?” the Healer nodded. “What about her boy?”
     “The poor sod, he has a nasty case of Squibitis. I fear without a magical infusion he’ll die. The symptoms are dreadful and his physical health is deteriorating fast. He could die if--” the Healer said with a serious expression. Draco’s heart began to race upon hearing the revelation.
     “Die? You should do the procedure at once. What can I do?”
     “Oh dear, you didn’t read your owls,” the Healer’s upper lip twitched, nervously.
     “What were the owls about?” Draco asked, suddenly interested.
     “Well the first owl was a request to draw your blood. You see you and you alone are a direct match to the boy.”
     “Perfect, just let me take Junior home to his Mum and we can head over to the brothel. I was headed there anyway,” Draco said and the elderly man’s eyebrows flew up. Draco just chuckled, uncaring as to what the Healer thought of him or his sex life (or lack thereof as the case really was).
     “My Liege, you can’t be the donor. I’m sorry. That is what the second owl was about.”
     “You said he needs a magical transfusion…infusion...whatever, yeah?” Draco bit back and the Healer nodded. “And you claim that I’m a perfect match?” The Healer nodded again. “Then why praetal can I not participate in the procedure? He’ll lose his magic and perhaps die in the process. That is what you said is it not?” Draco asked, growing perturbed.
     “Yes, my Liege, the boy is very sick. He’s stage two now, possibly stage three the illness moves quick so the situation is dire,” he said somberly as he dropped his eyes to the ground. “But you can’t take part in the transfusion. You’re a Death Eater and the Dark Lord forbade any who took his mark from being a donor.”
     “That’s ridiculous! I never signed anything…” Draco defended.
     “That was in my third owl. Dear oh dear, I do wish you’d read my letters. The boy is to be seized from his mother’s care, Miss Winthrop. It’s the law. Surely you’re aware of the Squib Hotel? It’s in the capital, near to the Lord’s Palace. There he will receive care and if he survives the illness, well, the Dark Lord has promised to give him and all squibs a more worthy life. I have drawn up the document per my orders from the Capital. I just need you to sign off on it, you being the authority here,” the Healer said and he thrust an official parchment into Draco’s hands.
     “Bollocks,” Draco grumbled under his breath as he perused the document. It was official alright, from the office of Voldemort himself and yet it required a Liege to sign it, and Draco had no intention of signing the damn thing. The Squib Hotel—a holistic place of rest for squibitis sufferers. He was familiar with the place although it was no posh hotel. No, it was anything but rest and relaxation for the unfortunate souls who were sent there. It was death row for squibs. If disease or starvation didn’t kill the poor squib then they had a life of scrubbing the Dark Lord’s toilet to look forward to if and when they ever got out of the blasted place which few ever did. It was worse than prison and there was absolutely no way his son would ever set foot inside the Squib Hotel. At that Draco ripped up the document into baby pieces and then he tossed it at the Healer. “We will do the magical transfusion. Today, just as soon as I take my son home,” Draco said and the Healer’s eyes went wide.
     “But, Sir…the risks. It’s dangerous for you to give your magic away.”
     “Nonsense,” the blond spat. “I can give my magic to whomever I choose and when I choose.”
     “No, you don’t understand.”
     “Then make me understand.”
     “The dark mark that you took…it’s infused with the Dark Lord’s—well, what I mean to say is, it’s a brand and one that contains it’s own sort of selfish nature. Believe me I’m fond of the boy too and I wanted to help him but once I found out that you were a potential donor I looked into the procedure more and what I found was disturbing.”
     “Go on,” Draco said as he walked and talked. Junior was smiling as the clerk wrapped his spanking new broom up in brown paper and ribbon.
     “There was a soldier, he was of the brotherhood, like you.” The Brotherhood was a polite way of saying Death Eater. In fact, it’s what they were officially called. The term Death Eater was only used by said enemies of the state. “He tried to give his son a magical infusion because he worried that his son would not make it into Slytherin House at the Hogwarts school. With the sorting ceremony fast approaching, he thought if he could share a bit of his magic with his son then the boy would benefit from the infusion and in so would make the cut and be sorted into Slytherin. It’s well known that Slytherin alumni are given the most prestigious positions in the Dark Lord’s government and the poor soldier was just trying to give his son a leg up. It’s silly if you ask me as one house is neither better nor worse than the other,” the Healer said.
     “No, I can see the logic in his actions,” Draco said and the Healer rolled his eyes. “What? I’m not saying I’d do it, but Slytherin is the best House and the students are smarter and better wizards than the others, so I get it. Go on now…” Draco commanded.
     “He paid a Healer to draw his blood and then it was given to his pre-teen son.”
     “Yeah, and the outcome?” Draco asked anxiously.
     “The child was fine, strong even, his magic that is. The magical infusion lasted about a week and then he returned to normal, his magic no different than before.”
     “See, nothing to worry about then and you said yourself that Miss Winthrop’s boy needs the procedure. What am I missing here, because thus far your story doesn’t make much sense aside from the fact that the old sorting hat probably would have sorted the boy into Hufflepuff regardless,” Draco chuckled.
     “I was in Hufflepuff,” the Healer scowled in an accusatory way but Draco only laughed. “My Liege. The boy was no worse for wear, but the father—“
     “Did he die or something?” Draco guessed.
     “No, the soldier did not die.”
     “Does this story have a point?”
     “The father of the boy lost his magic. All of it. Permanently!”
     “Ah, yes I can see how that would be a downside,” Draco said deep in thought. “You say it has something to do with the dark mark?”
     “It’s just a theory, but I fear so, yes. As his minion—“
     “I am nobody’s minion,” Draco snapped.
     “As his ally, you took his mark. It’s my belief that the mark contains a form of old magic. I believe that the Dark Lord means to help himself to ALL magic belonging to the brotherhood. Why else would he put a curse in the mark preventing the brotherhood from lending their magic to a sick child who is in desperate need?”
     “So he intends to steal my magic for himself sometime in the future if need be, rendering me completely useless?” Draco asked with narrowed eyes.
     “It’s just a guess,” the Healer said. “It makes sense. Of course Harry Potter is dead and Dumbledore was defeated so there’s no need for the Dark Lord to need an extra helping of magic since his enemies have all been defeated. I wouldn’t worry about it too much, the Dark Lord may have forgotten about it by now.”
     “Yes, all his enemies have been defeated,” Draco repeated deep in thought but in his head he was cursing his Master’s name. You will never have my magic, you decrepit, festering monster of a thief!
     “So you see why I can’t perform the procedure,” the Healer finally said, exasperated. “Besides, I wrote to the Ministry and they told me I couldn’t perform the infusion. Apparently squib healing is disallowed under the new regime.”
     “You can’t, but perhaps someone else could. Do ride with me and tell me about how the procedure works,” Draco said as he hoisted Junior into the carriage and then ushered the Healer into his posh ride.

__0__

     I nervously bit my nails as I watched Ron shovel flapjack after flapjack onto my growing boy’s plate. He loved pancakes and maple syrup and I had high hopes that his Uncle Ron would succeed where I failed in my attempts to coax the truth out of my son. I needed to know just what he told Draco when he whispered in his ear. By the intense look on the Liege’s face I had the inkling that Draco knew my secret. I hoped that I was wrong but Ron had a deflated expression on his face when he paced over to me. “Well?” I asked, anxiously.
     “I wish I had better news,” Ron replied.
     “Oh God, what did he say?”
     “He told Malfoy that they had the same eyes,” Ron said with a somber look. “I’m sorry, but you have to assume that he knows. He just looks too much like Malfoy.”
     “Bloody hell, what am I to do? It’s late afternoon and Malfoy could show up at any time!” I began to pace as a million thoughts careened through my brain. Tuesdee gave me a much needed hug though the somber look on her face spoke volumes.
     “It seems to me you have no choice. You’re going to have to come clean and maybe Malfoy will respect your honesty and let you keep him.”
     “Are you daft? This is Malfoy we’re talking about!” I shrieked.
     “What’s wrong Mummy, did I do something wrong?” Mal asked and I sighed.
     “No, honey finish your supper and then you can have a hot bath and it’s off to bed.”
     “I don’t feel so good,” the tot said and he rubbed his hand over his belly. I raced to his side and fawned over him. He was running a fever again. The trip into town had been too much for him.
     “I got him,” Tuesdee said and she took Mal by the hand. “Katydid can watch Mal and I can run the brothel for you. These days I do anyway,” Tuesdee said as an afterthought. It was true too. I’d immersed myself in the Underground—the resistance that Ron and I formed and it took up a substantial amount of time. Whilst Ron and I coordinated meetings and such, Tuesdee ran the brothel. She’d been a godsend really. I was forever thankful too. “You just figure out what you are going to do. My husband was wrong though, you do have other choices,” Tuesdee said as she ushered Mal to the staircase.
     “You mean run?”
     “Well that too, but no,” Tuesdee said and then she made a crude motion with her hand and her mouth, simulating what could only be oral sex.
     “You’re joking I hope?” I said aghast.
     “Not at all.” Ron looked shocked and not in a pleasant way. It was as if he forgot that his wife was once a call girl herself. “Use your feminine wiles to your benefit. You have what he wants, so use it,” Tuesdee said bluntly with her back turned to me as she climbed the staircase and disappeared out of sight.
     “Don’t listen to her. I don’t know why she said that,” Ron said with the look of shame playing over his face.
     “Yeah, I suppose,” I said. I hoped it wouldn’t come to that. If there was one thing Draco Malfoy was not it was accommodating. True, when I was sleeping with him for a brief period in time he was easy to get along with, but that all changed when Ginny arrived. Oh I held onto the fake belief that Ginny’s baby wasn’t Draco’s, that it couldn’t be Draco’s at all because of the witch that cursed the Malfoy line making them unable to sire more than a single child. I held onto that notion for too long in fact, that was until Ron told me that he thought he remembered Lucius Malfoy having a brother and that put an end to Astoria’s proclamation that Draco could only have one child. Hell, Draco was probably the one to make up the lie to begin with since he was a lying snake in the grass. He probably didn’t want more than one kid so he plum made it up! I wouldn’t put it past him. I wouldn’t put anything past him! After all, he was a Death Eater and not to be trusted. Trusting him at all was the biggest mistake of my life and losing him the most hurtful.
     “’Mione?” Ron said and he tucked a stray curl behind my ear. “What are you going to do?”
     “The only thing I can,” I said. “I’m going to tell the Liege that you’re the father,” I said and Ron’s eyes bulged. “I know, he looks nothing like you but I have to do something.”

__0__

     It was half past seven and Malcolm was playing cards with his favorite Nanny, Katydid, as I prepared his bath. “Are you going to take Tuesdee’s advice?” Katydid asked and she blushed. I giggled at her naivety.
     “Use my feminine wiles against the Liege? No,” I replied as I folded Malcolm’s clothes and put them in the wardrobe.
     “Why not? Could be fun,” she said with a smirk as she helped Malcolm off with his shirt and put him in the tub.
     “Mmm, about as fun as being stung by a jellyfish,” I said with a fair amount of snark.
     “You don’t find him attractive in the least?”
     “Not in the least,” I responded in a sing-song voice.
     “I’m glad you said that because I was feeling a bit awkward about my attraction towards Draco,” Katydid admitted and my eyebrows flew up.
     “Oh? It’s Draco now? What happened to Liege Malfoy? Something I should know about?”
     “Oh! No, no, nothing like that. It’s just…the way he held me when we danced…It made me feel certain things.”
     “When you danced? I thought you said you weren’t seeing him,” I said and I felt an odd sensation in the pit of my stomach. It was a sick feeling and I wanted to lash out at Katydid for no good reason.
     “I haven’t made any effort to contact him if that’s what you’re worried about. I just meant that we danced once. It was a while ago when he first showed up at the English Rose.”
     “Katy that was years ago! I’ll bet he doesn’t even remember you, besides, I’m sure he only did that to gain my favor, you know, by showing my girls—in this case you, that he could be caring and compassionate,” I said and no sooner had I said it did I feel like I’d just laid a Ginny move on my dear, sweet friend and Nanny to my son, Katydid. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It must be nerves. Please forgive me,” I begged.
     “You still have feelings for him,” Katy said as a matter of fact.
     “Oh sure, I have feelings alright,” I called out and I could see her nod in agreement. “I feel like I want to vomit when I think about Draco Malfoy,” I said with conviction.
     “He’s not so bad, and Mal really likes the Liege, don’t you sweetie?”
     “Green apples! Green bananas!” Ron howled up the stairs and his voice was raised loud enough to wake the dead. I dropped the stack of towels I was folding and snatched my wand off the dresser. With a swish and flick I had locked the door.
     “Does that mean what I think it means?” Katy asked, wide-eyed and shell-shocked.
     “Yes, we’re being raided. Quickly, get Mal dressed whilst I open the secret panel. You must hurry!” Katy nodded and we both moved with incredible quickness. I chanted the secret password and the paisley wallpaper disappeared to reveal a hidden passage in the wall. Ron and I had put the passage in months earlier, and for potential Death Eater raid situations. We’d never had to use it though, not until then.
     “Are you coming too?” Katy asked and she plucked Mal into her arms and shifted him onto her hip.
     “No, Rob needs my help downstairs and I think I can buy you some time. I’ll rendezvous with you as soon as I can. Just follow the tunnel until it empties into the forest. Take a right at the moose tree and there you will find a fully stocked tent.” I then kissed my son on the forehead and raked a hand through his damp hair. “Mummy will see you in a little bit, alright? Don’t be afraid, just see this as an adventure, like Jack from Jack and the Beanstalk and you’re Jack and the tunnel is the magic bean stalk,” I smiled as not to frighten him but his face was paler than usual and he was dangerously quiet. “Go now. Once I seal the passage the bewitched torches will light themselves so it will only be dark for a moment.
     At that I sealed the passage and with wand in hand I descended down the spiral staircase and into the heat of battle.

__0__

     Whizzing red bolts zoomed over my head. It was like the American Wild West, the showdown at the O.K. Corral, with Ron firing off stunners from behind the bar whilst two portly Death Eaters threw hexes that ricocheted off the walls burning scorch marks in the brick. They weren’t playing, it was for real! Who shot first remained to be seen but the battle was in full swing. With my fingers clenched tightly around my wand I took aim and fired off a series of stunners. I was a tad rusty and it bothered me when only two of my spells hit their mark and one of the Death Eaters fell to his knees holding his hand over his gut where he let out a bellowing cry.
     “Go back upstairs. I don’t want you in this,” Ron ordered but I ignored him as I rounded the spiral staircase and made my way into the bar. That’s when a cold gust of wind smacked me in the face and I turned to see Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway. I raised my wand, the spell on my lips but for some reason I couldn’t do it and I hesitated. Suddenly my wand was thrust from my fingers with power and force as it clacked against a bar stool and fell to the floor. I felt his cold eyes on me but I dared not look. Instead, I dove for my wand. I nearly made it too as my body slid across the floor, but he was not done toying with me. I extended my arm as far as I could, my wand nearly in reach but just as I grasped it Malfoy chanted a spell and my wand jumped as if it were a jack rabbit with legs, launching itself across the room. It was hopeless. I was hopeless! I was face down on the floor when I turned to see a pair of black, leather boots as he hovered over me. I gulped.
     “I apologize for this. This wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this. They were just supposed to wait for me,” he shouted angrily at the two Death Eaters one of whom was still picking himself up off the floor after he was hit by one of my powerful stunners.
     “Liar!” I shouted.
     “I should say the same about you. Where is he? Where’s my son?” the Liege asked and I closed my eyes and wished for death.
     “You can’t have him! He—he’s not here anyway.”
     “I can and I will. He’s ill and you can’t heal him. I can though.”
     “You— how did you know?...the Healer,” I deduced.
     “Yes, the Healer told me all about your visit. How could you do it? Do you hate me so much that you would allow a disease to devour our child’s magic, possibly killing him in the process? For fucksake, why didn’t you come to me immediately?” Draco accused. I’d never heard him so angry.
     “How dare you! I’ll have you know that—“
   “Do you want me to beat the woman, my Liege?” one of the Death Eaters exclaimed and he pulled back his fist as he towered over me.
     “You do and it’ll be the last thing you do,” Ron said from behind the bar where he hid.
     “No,” Draco hissed his response. “I can handle one little Mudblood,” Draco spat in that same sneering manner that he used when we were back in school and I wanted to throttle him I was so angry.
     “Why you slimy little ferr—“ I started but he cut me off.
     “Save it Grang—Rose,” he said enraged when he nearly slipped up and called me Granger only catching himself at the last second. “You’ll have plenty of time to explain. Now get up. On your feet, Mudblood!” Draco howled. “You and I are going upstairs and gathering the boy. Together. Play nice now, so he isn’t frightened.”
     “Uhh, he’s not there,” I said again.
     “Where is he?” Draco demanded.
     “Katydid took him…camping,” I finally said and Draco narrowed his eyes on me.
     “Lead the way and don’t even think about pulling any shit with me. I have a wand on you ‘lest you forget that woman.”

__0__

     It was a flurry of verbal assaults as we trudged through the woods. I didn’t want to show him the secret passage way so I was forced to take the long way to the campsite where Katydid and Malcolm hid from the likes of Malfoy. He was cocky enough and assured that I posed little or no threat so much so that he left the burly Death Eaters on the side of the road on the far side of town, but not before he bribed them to keep the whole affair private. I was thankful for small favors. The last thing I needed was the law crawling up my backside and poking around the brothel.
     The air was thick as if it were about to rain and more than once I heard the faint rumblings of thunder. Deeper and deeper we went into the forest until finally, at long last, I saw the tree with the jutting branches and the knot that resembled a moose head. “How much farther,” Draco asked, annoyed. He was not dressed for the woods and his spanking new Italian boots were covered in mud which probably added to his foul mood.
     “We’re nearly there. Perhaps you need to get out more and have a bit of exercise if this little walk is tiring you out,” I said cheekily feeling proud of myself.
     “It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s you. You’ll have to hike back in the dead of night and from the looks of it in the pouring rain, whilst I fly Malcolm and me out of these blasted woods. It’s not very motherly of you, to send a sick boy out camping, especially in wet weather like this.”
     “Don’t you judge me,” I bit back. “So the Healer told you did he?”
     “Yeah, he told me alright. He told me that my son, you know the son I never knew I had? He told me that he may die if he doesn’t receive a magical infusion and that my blood is the only blood that’s a match.”
     “He’s not your problem,” I said angrily.
     “Is that what he is to you, a problem because I’d be glad to take over his care—?“
     “You will never take him from me!” I said whirling around on him and wagging my finger in his face.
     “Why not?” he challenged. “You were all ready to let a vicious disease devour our son’s magic, possibly killing him in the process. I have to question your abilities as a Mum,” the blond said and that was it. I was stark raving mad after that hurtful comment.
     “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? You’re a Death Eater! Do you really think you’re father material? And FYI I never intended to let him suffer. I would have told you. Yes, first I intended to scour every library in the country in search of a cure, but ultimately I would have come to you if it meant Malcolm would lose either his magic or his life.”
     “I’m the bloody cure and I’m going to save him. Tonight. I hope you know how to perform a blood transfusion because it’s that or Malcolm gets a one way ticket to the Squib Hotel.”
     I gasped and covered my mouth, the look of horror playing over my face. “You wouldn’t do that to him, would you?”
     “Me? Bloody hell! Of course I wouldn’t but the bloody Healer blabbed to the Ministry, so either Malcolm makes a miraculous recovery or the Healer seizes him and carts him off. I’d hoped to not have to kill the only Healer within fifty kilometers, so if it isn’t imposing upon Hermione Granger, Mum of the Year I need you to be a Healer tonight. Don’t fuck up,” he said with the tact of a mountain troll as we neared the clearing in the forest where the tent was erected.
     “I—I don’t know what to say,” I said feeling tongue-tied.
     “My confidence is shrinking by the second,” Malfoy bit out. “Can you do it or not?”
     “Probably and Katydid is a fair Healer herself so she can help, that is if we had the proper equipment.”
     “I brought the equipment. It’s in my breast pocket.” Shrinking charms really are handy. I was reminded of the many times I used that particular charm in the past.

__0__
     Shock was an understatement as I watched the blond take a knee before my frightened son, who sat on Katy’s lap beside a lit stove inside the tent. It was a bewitched tent and inside it was warm and roomy, albeit a bit rustic. Missing were all the bells and whistles but it contained the necessities and it was stocked with food and supplies. I always liked to be prepared. “You remember me, we met today on the street?”
     “Yes,” Malcolm said timidly. “The broom.”
     “That’s right. That was Junior who really gave it to you, not me. Do you know who I am?” he then asked and I bit my lip.
     “You don’t have to answer honey. I know you’re scared and confused and probably tired,” I said and I swathed a hand across his forehead to check for a fever.
     “You’re the Liege,” Malcolm said and I let out the nervous breath I was holding. For a moment I thought he might say something else. “And I think you’re my Daddy,” Mal said and I nearly fainted.
     “You’re pretty smart for your age, aren’t you?” Malfoy asked and he smiled at my son.
     “Yes.”
     “No more, Malfoy,” I begged and he shot me a quick glance but then dismissed me.
     “I hear you haven’t been feeling well. I bet you’d like it if someone could make you well again? Once you’re well I could give you a couple of flying lessons. Would you like that?”
     “Yes,” Malcolm replied and he beamed.
     “Do you know what’s wrong with you?” Draco asked and I was growing impatient with his questioning of Mal.
     “No, he doesn’t. I didn’t tell him. I didn’t want to frighten him,” I said.
     “I know Mummy. I maybe pretended to be asleep when we were ‘dere at the Healer’s office…maybe I was really awake.”
     “What?” I blurted out in shock and surprise but Malfoy only smirked. “I—you’ve never hid something like that from me before Malcolm. I’m surprised.”
     “I have squib bites and I’m gonna lose my magic soon, that’s why I feel yucky.”
     “Oh you poor thing,” Katydid said and she hugged him. I had tears trailing down my cheeks at the thought of my son having to deal with knowing about his illness all on his own. Had I known that he knew I’d have talked to him, comforted him. He didn’t have to go it alone!
     “You’re not going to lose anything, definitely not your magic. You know why?” Draco asked and then I watched as he shed his coat and unbuttoned his shirt at the wrist and began to roll up his sleeve.
     “No, Sir,” Malcolm said.
     “Because with your Mum’s permission I’m going to give you a bit of my magic and the Healer assures me that it will help you and you won’t be sick anymore. Does that sound alright to you?” the blond asked.
     “Oh boy does it! Mummy can he? I don’t want to feel yucky anymore.”
     “Your Mum set this whole thing up, it was her idea,” Draco lied. “She loves you so much that she came to me and asked me if she could borrow some of my magic.”
     “Thank you Mummy so so much!” Malcolm said and it was as if a great worry had been removed from his mind. He launched himself at me where snug arms wrapped themselves around my neck. I mouthed a thank you to Malfoy who merely nodded in response.
     “You’re welcome?” I said feeling overcome with emotion. It was kind of Draco to do that. I owed him BIG for telling that little mistruth.
     “I love you Mummy. I’m not mad at you.”
     “I love you too, Mal. Now say thank you to Liege Malfoy.”
     “Thank you, Sir,” Mal said cheerfully and he smiled up at Draco.
     “No thanks needed Malcolm,” Draco said, again in an almost sweet way that was so not Malfoy. “You shouldn’t call me Sir though.”
     “Considering you’re the Liege, I think Sir is appropriate,” I said, butting into their conversation, perhaps rudely though my heart was racing and I was nervous.
    “What should I call you?” little Mal asked.
    “Whatever you want to call me. Sir is too formal and we’re friends now right?” Draco asked and again I held my breath.
     “I know what I want to call you, but Mummy…” Mal dropped his eyes turning from me.
     “What do you want to call him honey?” I asked and I set him down where I held his little hand in mine.
     “Is he my Daddy?” Malcolm whispered, but it was loud enough for everyone in the tent to hear. Malfoy cocked an eyebrow, anxiously awaiting my response. I gave Mal a quick nod and again Malfoy was smirking at me.
     “You can call me Father or Daddy if you like but you don’t have to, it’s only if you want to,” Draco said sounding quite accommodating, another shock.
     “Thank you for making me better, Daddy,” Malcolm said and I saw Draco’s eyes go misty as he leaned forward and raked a hand through Malcolm’s blond hair. I was overcome with emotion and salty tears trailed down my cheeks as I busied myself cleaning the kitchen table off for the procedure that would save Malcolm.
     “Before we get started there’s something you need to know,” Draco said to me in whispers.
     “Oh? Look, I took a first aid class in London shortly after I became a mother. What with the horrible care for Muggle-Borns I figured it made sense. They taught us a lot of things like CPR, wound care, and how to run an IV. Actually I had to ask the instructor about that one because it wasn’t part of the Muggle course. I’m not sure why I wanted to know that, but it comes in handy now so—“
     “Granger,” Malfoy interjected and I gazed up at his silvery eyes. “Shut up. This is serious.”
     “I’m sorry, when I’m nervous I ramble. It’s just that this is so important for Malcolm. Thank you Malfoy. From the bottom of my heart…Thank you,” I said sincerely and he nodded.
     “There’s a small chance that I could have a bad reaction to the procedure.”
     “How small?”
     “Not that small,” he chuckled but it was a nervous chuckle. “The last guy in my position who tried this ended up with a myriad of shitty symptoms.”
     “Oh my,” I said, alarmed. “Is he alright now?”
   “Sure, he’s fine. He just isn’t a wizard anymore he’s more of a Muggle really,” Draco said and my throat suddenly went dry. “So let’s get started, shall we?”
     “Draco, listen to me. I’m proud of what you’re doing for Malcolm, but if this is dangerous—“
     “It is but only because of this bloody mark on my arm. Do me this one favour Granger, will you?”
     “If I can,” I said feeling overwhelmed with what the blond just told me.
     “If I go mad, get Malcolm out of here. I don’t want him to see me like that.”
     “Yes, yes of course. Draco, thank you for doing this, I can’t tell you how much it means. Also, I’m going to be here through the whole thing…not just for Malcolm but for you as well. I owe you that,” I said and I saw the tension and worry lines disappear from Malfoy’s face.
Review?

Sorry this took a while, I just got sidetracked and then I mulled over this chapter for quite some time. So Draco & Hermione are forced to work together which could be good for their relationship although Draco is going to have a bad time of it for a little while. Just a little clue. As always let me know!
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The English Rose