Preserved

"Mum!" Harry yelled downstairs, at the top of his lungs. "Where are my books?"

"Where did you put them?" Hermione asked, keeping her voice at a lower volume.

"In my closet!"

"You might want to check there, then," Hermione suggested as she scooped eggs onto three plates.

"Here they -" Harry's yelling was cut off by a sudden bang. Obviously, Harry still hadn't cleaned out his closet, and his belongings had fallen on top of him... again.

Hermione was just about to ask if he was okay, when Harry yelled, "I'm fine, Mum!"

"Your mother goes to all this trouble to make you your favourite meal, and you can't even do her a favour and clean up your closet?" Draco roared at his son. "And who's going to clean this up?"

"The house elves?" Harry guessed.

Hermione snorted. She knew Draco wouldn't have a comeback for Harry's answer.

Harry always played the house elves card and Draco always found himself in a pickle.

"They certainly will not," Draco roared, louder than before. "You will clean this up before you leave."

"But what if I miss the train?" Harry pleaded.

"Then you'll just have to turn into a squib."

Draco casually walked down the stairs with a grin on his face. Hermione continued putting food on the plates.

She jumped when Draco placed gentle kisses on the back of her neck.

"I love it when you cook," he hissed in her ear. "You look so sexy."

Hermione let out a small giggle as Draco continued kissing her neck.

"Eww!" whined Harry, who had just come downstairs.

"Did you clean your room?" Draco asked, not even looking back.

"Yes," Harry answered matter-of-factly.

"Good," Draco said as he sat down at the table.

Harry went over to his mother and picked up his plate.

"Is it all back in you closet?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded and smiled.

"I'll let the house elves know," Hermione whispered.

Hermione and Harry joined Draco at the table. The three of them ate in silence. Draco glanced at Hermione expectantly, waiting for her to confront Harry.

When all of them were done, Hermione set down her fork and said," Harry, we have something we need to talk to you about before you go to school."

Harry glanced nervously between his parents. "Mum, I already know about the birds and the bees."

Draco's face seemed to lose colour at Harry's comment.

"It's not about that," Hermione told him.

"Oh," Harry said, sounding a bit surprised. "What is it?"

"It's just, er," Hermione said, fumbling over her words and glancing anxiously at Draco. "Never mind. It's really not that important."

Draco shot her an angry glare.

"Well," Hermione said as she excused herself from the table. "I'll just go get my keys and we'll be off."

Hermione went upstairs and waited for Draco to arrive. She knew he'd have something to say.

"Hermione, you said you wanted to tell him. Why didn't you?" Draco asked as he entered the room.

"I can't!" Hermione said a bit louder than she meant to. "He'd be furious if he knew the truth!"

"Shh!" Draco hissed. "He must know the truth. We can't go on lying to him."

"How am I supposed to say it?" Hermione asked. "You don't just go up to someone one day and say, 'The man you thought was your father isn't really your birth father.'"

"Do you expect me to continue telling him that the reason he doesn't look like either of us is just because of how you carried him before birth?" Draco asked.

"Is it my fault that he looks like his father?" Hermione asked. "Do you think I really want to feel like I'm looking at my best friend, whom I never got to say good-bye to, every time I look at my son?"

Hermione was now sobbing. Other than that, the room was eerily silent.

Suddenly, Draco and Hermione heard footsteps running down the stairs.

"Draco," Hermione whispered. "Please tell me that you didn't hear that. Please tell me that our son didn't just run down the stairs, after, most likely, listening to our conversation."

"He's not our son, he's your son."