It had been four years since Hermione had had her son. The Mickey to her Minnie. When Mickey was two, Hermione officially moved out to her own apartment. The location was easily accessible from both worlds, making it possible for either Mrs. Weasley or Mrs. Granger to watch the kid while Hermione went to work.

It was a Friday night, and Hermione had put Mico to bed two hours ago. Molly had taken Mico to Harry's, and she'd picked Mickey up from there after work. Hermione herself was fast asleep now; it had been a long day at work. It was the middle of the night, not even owl hooting. Hermione was out cold when her son's blood curdling cries woke her up with a start.

"Mummy!" Mico's painful cries stabbed her heart and she ran to his room as fast as she could.

"I'm coming, Mickey! Mummy's coming." She barged in the door and found him on the floor, balled up fetal position and crying.

"What's wrong, precious?" Hermione tried her hardest to keep her voice steady. "Where's it hurting?"

"A lot!" The boy whined and it took a lot from Hermione to not break down herself.

The worried mother picked her son up and dashed to the living room where the fireplace was. Fisting some floo powder from a bowl on the mantle, she shouted St. Mungo's.

The place wasn't weekend busy yet, but busy enough.

"Someone help my son! Please help!"

≈≈≈≈

Hermione sat right down on the bed next to her sleeping son, stroking his hair. She didn't notice the doctor come in.

"Ms. Granger," the doctor barely spoke above a whisper, fitting to the environment of the room.

"Did you cure him?" Hermione sniffled, eyes never letting go of her son.

"I'm afraid not. But I have given him strong suppressants. He'll be sleeping through it."

Hermione kissed Mico's head and walked to the healer.

"Do you know what's wrong with him?" She wrapped her shawl tighter, not ready for anything.

"I'm afraid I can't know anything without knowing of his parentage."

"I'm sorry, I really don't know. We used a spell to keep it that way. Isn't there anything you can do?"

The healer gave it a thought. "I suppose... we have a means to test his genetics."

"Well...?" Hermione questioned his hesitation.

"It's not really the most modern practice. More... invasive."

"It'll hurt him?" Hermione looked worriedly at Mico.

"Not more than he's already hurting."

Hermione eyes clutched shut.

"i'm sorry, but we really can't figure much out without knowing who his father is."

Hermione clenched her fists, took some breaths, then opened her eyes.

"Okay."

20 minutes later, in the middle of a crowded hall in the public offices building, the blonde wizard felt a burn beginning to etch on the back of his neck. It was so severe the great Draco Malfoy screamed in agonizing pain and fell unconscious as the fire coursed through his bloodstream.