For the record, I've not given up on Telling Time, nor am I abandoning the HG/MM ship. However, I was in the mood for some Cissamione, and decided there wasn't nearly enough already written to satisfy my craving. Thusly, I had to start writing one. Hope you enjoy.

It had been a common enough thing, in the years since the end of the war, for witches and wizards to be found sporting muggle clothing and spending time in the muggle world. For some, it was a way to escape the memories that haunted them even two decades after Voldemort's fall, and for others, it was a reminder to themselves that their own war had cost lives beyond the wizarding worlds. Nobody had been safe, and it had taken a massive team of Ministry officials to wipe or alter the memories of muggles who had been exposed to conflicts between Death Eaters and their targets.

That said, plenty of the Pureblood members of society had rigidly stuck to their guns, wanting nothing to do with muggles or that world. Mostly, those sort stayed out of the public's radar, probably hoping that by the time the next generation was going to school, the crimes of their forebearers would be mostly forgotten, and as they grew up, they'd have a chance at building a life appropriate to their bloodlines.

Hermione Granger-Weasley had thought that the Malfoy family would fall into that particular camp - no one had heard hide or hair of Narcissa since her husband's incarceration in Azkaban. Draco had surfaced with a wife and son only last year, upon sending his progeny off to Hogwarts to be in the same class as her and Ron's daughter, Rose. Only a few weeks ago, Hermione had seen Draco again when she and Ron sent both Rose and her younger brother Hugo off to Hogwarts, though the current Lord Malfoy had been in the company of not only his wife and son, but with his mother and a little boy that she'd first assumed was a second son of Draco.

Truce having been struck up when Rose and Scorpius had become friends last year, Hermione had approached Draco, asking after the little boy's name, confessing she'd not even been aware he had another child. Draco had chuckled and stated that the child, Indus, was in fact his younger brother. Turned out, Narcissa had managed to get a visit with Lucius twelve years prior, mere weeks before he'd died, and that their final goodbye had resulted in the conception of a child.

Weeks after that surprising revelation, Hermione found herself even more stunned to run into the woman who'd been on her mind since the conversation with her firstborn son, in that she was wearing muggle clothes and staring absently into space while seated alone at a muggle cafe that Hermione frequented. "Miss Black," she greeted, surprise in her voice. "Fancy meeting you here."

She'd been told by Harry - dolt had known all along that Narcissa had a second child - that in the aftermath of Lucius' death, she'd taken back her maiden name, and upon the birth of her second son, had given the House Black one final chance to live on. Harry had also mentioned that Indus Black and his daughter Lily had been playmates for years. Hermione could not believe he'd never thought to mention the boy's existence to her before.

"Mrs. Weasley," Narcissa greeted. "I might say the same. Join me?" she asked, gesturing at the table.

Hermione really had no idea what compelled her to agree. She still held a fairly big grudge over the woman's inaction during her captivity and torture at Malfoy Manor all those years ago, and any other time might have declined politely and been on her way, had she even bothered with a greeting at all. Today, she was curious, and while she knew she could get most of the answers to the questions on her mind from Harry, or even Draco, she decided it was better to hear things from Narcissa's point of view. Providing the woman was even willing to talk to her about such things.

She nodded, and signaled the waiter to bring a second cup of coffee as she took a seat. "I have to admit, Miss Black, that I was a bit stunned to learn you had another child."

Narcissa smiled softly. "Whereas Draco grew up in the spotlight because of who his father was in high society, I felt it better that Indus be spared from that pressure. One day he will take up the Black Lordship, and I'll prepare him to do that, but for the first eleven years of his life, I wanted to let him be a child. Oh, and please, do feel free to call me Narcissa."

"Hermione," the younger witch returned the gesture. "And I think Indus will be better for that luxury. From what Harry says, Lily adores him. A Potter and a Black at Hogwarts together again - Merlin help Minerva!"

Narcissa laughed. "Oh, I hadn't even thought of that! Poor Minerva, indeed. Though if you haven't already heard, it seems that your own son has joined the mix. Adding Weasley blood to the mix of a Potter and a Black might just push the Headmistress into retirement."

The younger woman snorted. "Yes, Hugo got a Howler from his father for befriending Indus, much as Rose got one last year for befriending Scorpius."

"And from you?" Narcissa inquired. "A second Howler each?"

Hermione blushed. "Actually I sent them each two galleons as a reward for forming friendships based on a person's character and not their House or bloodline. Heaven help me if Ron ever finds out I'm actually encouraging the children to mix with Death Eater spawn. Really, where does he get off trying to pass on prejudices that prompted the war we bloody fought to end?"

Narcissa blinked at her for a moment, and then grinned broadly. "I officially have hope for the future again. Thank you, Hermione, for being sensible. I know that… given our past… we could never be friends, but to be open enough to let our children mingle and grow together in a world free of that past, well, it speaks volumes about your character."

The conversation shifted over to the recent changes in the Hogwarts curriculum, and eventually to books in general, both admitting to coming to this very cafe because of its proximity to a very nice bookstore. An hour passed, and Hermione finally had to excuse herself so she could get home and get dinner going for her and Ron. As the two witches said their farewells, Hermione couldn't help but feel disappointed in the notion that, as Narcissa had pointed out, they could never really be friends. There was just too much history. While she agreed with Narcissa on that point, she couldn't help but wish she'd met this woman in another time, another place, where they had never been on opposite sides of a battlefield.

Narcissa sighed as she slipped the key into the lock of her flat, closing the door behind her and walking toward the street. Now that Indy was at Hogwarts, she found she had precious little to do with her time. When she'd still been Lady Malfoy, Draco's going off to school had not impacted her too much, given that House Elves had done much of the raising of her firstborn, Lucius wanting her by his side for all things, as was custom in Pureblood society. As Draco had been kind enough to provide for her and Indus' financial needs, and that she no longer attended high society functions, she had been able to dedicate one hundred percent to the upbringing of her second child. Now that he was off at school… she found herself rather bored.

And bored was what she had been for several weeks, until one Hermione Weasley had stumbled across her at a muggle cafe and engaged her in an hour long discussion about books and so forth. It had been the most fun she'd had in years. Granted, she loved Indus with all her heart, but it was nice to talk to another adult. While Harry had been open and willing to facilitate the friendship between her son and his daughter, they were absolutely not friends. Just as with Hermione, there was too much history between them.

Alas, where Narcissa never found her thought straying to Harry beyond arrangements for their children to have playdates, she had not been able to get Hermione out of her mind in the three days since they'd met at the cafe. In the course of those days - which absolutely nothing better to do - she'd gone back to that little cafe with a good book in hand, passing the time reading with a nagging hope in the back of her mind that Hermione might cross her path again.

She certainly couldn't Owl the younger woman. That would be an olive branch, and a precursor to an apology that she knew damn well that Hermione did not want to hear. Even if Hermione was the forgiving sort, Narcissa didn't believe that she deserved to be forgiven. Hermione had been tortured in her home, by her sister, and she'd done nothing but stand there looking away, too afraid that if she watched the suffering, she'd be compelled to make Bella stop. And if she'd done that… her life would have been forfeit, as would the lives of her husband and son by extension. Indus would never have been born. Knowing that, Narcissa couldn't even bring herself to be sorry for the choices she'd made.

For the fifth day in a row, Narcissa approached the cafe with yet another book in hand. Then she smiled brightly, spotting a familiar mass of chestnut curls already seated at the very same table they'd shared less than a week prior. It seemed that she was not the only one who found the other's company enjoyable. She did not even bother asking before she took a seat. "Waiting for someone?" she smirked.

Hermione offered a small smile. "Technically I am simply sitting here enjoying a cup of tea. However, if someone whom I was familiar with happened to show up, it would be impolite for me to ignore them outright."

Narcissa smiled back. "Very impolite. And of course, if someone happened to notice you and that person with whom you were familiar, your actions in striking up a conversation would be easily excused. After all, it most certainly would not mean that you were friends with this person."

"Exactly," the younger woman nodded. "Also, with a discreetly cast muffliato charm, any conversations we had which happened to be more personal and friend like in nature would not be overheard."

A subtle movement under the table told Narcissa that Hermione had went ahead and cast the charm to protect their privacy. On one hand, Narcissa thought she ought to walk away right now, but the boldness the younger woman was displaying was... appealing.

The last real relationship she'd had with a fellow adult had been Lucius, and he was nearly twelve years dead and another eight gone from her life. The Pureblood elite had wanted little to do with her after the war, and she'd wanted nothing to do with them either. While Draco was technically an adult, he was still her son first, and thereby they could never be equals. While Hermione had been a child when they'd first met, they'd never really had a relationship of any sort. Today, they were just two women. Two women with at least a few shared interests, and at a mutual loss of what to do with their time now that their respective children were off at Hogwarts.

"This is mad, Hermione," she whispered, despite knowing the low voice was not necessary. "Even setting aside the past, we come from two different worlds. What little standing I have left in Pureblood society would be gone if they knew I was…"

"Friendly with a mudblood?" Hermione finished, sad look on her face. "Just as most of my friends would sooner cast me out of our social circle than support my becoming friendly with the wife of a Death Eater."

"But?"

"But I'm lonely," Hermione sighed. "I have some good friends, sure, but none that are fellow intellectuals like you. I know plenty of other mothers, of course, but at some point I want to discuss something other than our childrens' marks, or changing nappies, or what bra is best for nursing. I have people in my life, but the other day when we talked was the first time in years I didn't feel alone in a crowd."

Narcissa said nothing as she mused over her companion's words, hearing them echo back in her own mind, in her own voice, with a few minor amendments. While a couple of decades older, in in theory the wiser between the two of them, what resolve to put an end to this before it even began seemed to vanish in light of similar feelings for far longer a time. The last time she'd had another adult she could talk openly to had been before the war had even begun, back when she and Lucius had just been a man and a woman who, despite an arranged marriage, had come to love each other. She wasn't really sure if she'd ever truly fallen in love with her husband, but unlike her sister Bellatrix, her marriage had not been an entirely unhappy one.

"I know the feeling," she admitted. "And despite my concerns of what should befall if we were discovered to be seeing one another socially, and find those worries to be outweighed by a desire to get to know you better."

"That doesn't make us friends… technically," Hermione said with a small smile.

"No it does not," Narcissa replied, smiling back.

They never actually planned to meet - agreeing that planning was for real friends - but rather in the course of conversation when they did chance upon each other would drop hints about places they liked to visit, and when they could usually be found there. In the course of seven months they had chanced upon each other a grand total of thirty-nine times and in seven different locations. Never once had they sent an Owl to the other and despite the oddity of it all, it was an arrangement that had been working quite well for them.

Hermione was satisfied with the way things were, or at least she thought she was. Then, it was June the sixth and she and Ron were at King's Cross picked up Rose and Hugo. Narcissa's familiar voice floated into Hermione's ears as the older woman greeted Indus and his year older nephew, Scorpius. Rose, Hugo, Scorpius and Indus were just as aware of the tension between their families as Hermione and Narcissa were, and had all said their goodbyes on the train before greeting their parents.

Eight months ago, Hermione had seen Narcissa on this very platform and her casual curiosity had led her to confront the woman a month later. Today, as Hermione glanced at the Malfoy and Black clan, she couldn't help feeling jealous as hugs and kisses were exchanged between them. She and Narcissa had agreed at the beginning that while no one could hear what they were discussing, anyone could see them together and thus any physical signs of familiarity were out of bounds.

It occurred to Hermione in that moment that for the way they were safeguarding the existence of their relationship, it might as well be a love affair for all the secrecy and boundaries. An image formed in her mind of Narcissa's delicate hands running along her own curves, and their lips meeting for the most precious sort of dance. Hermione's mind imagined the older witch's body and how it might look without any clothing at all…

Her heart stopped and she gulped for air, very abruptly acknowledging the flood of arousal coursing through her body at the very thought of taking her not-friend to bed, and worse yet, she knew that the feeling gripping her so wholly right now was not simply lust. It was more. It was…

No. She could not think like that.

Hermione's eyes automatically searched out Narcissa, still fighting for breath. She couldn't explain how Narcissa could have known, but suddenly a pair of dark, concerned eyes met her own, widening as she saw that Hermione was continuing to decline towards a full blown out anxiety attack.

Oh, gods, Hermione thought. I'm falling in love with her.

Slowly, Narcissa began creeping towards her position, mouthing the word breathe over and over as both her family and Hermione's own remained oblivious to the latter's current state. She was almost there, when Hermione finally choked out a whispered confession. "Can't…Cissa..."

Hermione began to fall, and Narcissa quickly grabbed her and eased her to the ground. "Breathe, Hermione," the older witch commanded quietly. "Come on, now, in and out, that's it."

The world seemed to swim before her, and she felt on the brink of passing out, but gave her everything to focusing on Narcissa's voice. She breathed in. And she breathed out. And again. And again. And finally, the world began to come back into focus.

"Oi!" Ron's voice sounded. "What the bloody hell are you doing with my wife?!"

"She collapsed," Narcissa said crisply. "I caught her, hoping to save her a head injury."

"Are you alright, hun?" Ron inquired.

Hermione offered a weak smile, though not really directed at any one person. Her little anxiety attack had apparently caused quite the gathering. "I'm fine," she said quietly to her husband. "I must have missed breakfast… you know how my blood sugar drops. I'm lucky that… Miss Black noticed I was about to fall."

She felt Narcissa flinch at the use of formality. They hadn't used honorifics since that first day at the cafe. It felt… wrong. "Happy to help, Mrs. Weasley," Narcissa returned.

There was no bitterness in her tone, though Hermione knew her well enough that she could hear the sadness. The resignation. As Narcissa helped her to her feet, Hermione used the brief embrace as a cover to lean in and whisper in her not-friend's ear. "Saturday morning, at the cafe."

The briefest of nods was given as they parted. Ron grudgingly thanked Narcissa for her help, and she noticed a series of perplexed expressions being exchanged between the Weasley, Malfoy, Black, and Potter children. Whereas the seven adults standing here didn't want to see anything more than the surface they expected to see, the children all hated that summer holidays meant they couldn't all be together. They not only were willing to see beyond social expectations; they wanted it.

This could be a problem.

In seven months of meeting, Hermione had not once planned a meeting with her. It was, in fact, part of the agreement between them that they did not plan to meet. Yet, in the wake of what could have easily been an exposure of their familiarity with each other, Hermione had prompted a time and place.

Narcissa knew an anxiety attack when she saw one - Andromeda had them as a teenager often enough - and Narcissa wondered what had prompted Hermione to have one a few days prior. As far as Narcissa knew, the younger witch had never suffered them before, though there they'd been, together but not, at King's Cross, and suddenly she'd felt this urgent need to look Hermione's way, despite her mantra the whole way to the train station that proclaimed 'I will ignore Hermione, I will ignore Hermione.'

And then she'd looked, concerned at the sudden worry that had gripped her, and she'd seen the panic in the other woman's eyes, and the sweat beginning to show on her brow. She had hoped that Hermione would have pulled herself together before she'd even gotten over there, though when Hermione had looked at her…

"Can't…"

Narcissa shivered at the memory of the single, gasped word, and the desperation etched in Hermione's features as she said it. She found herself thinking back on the war, and the way the younger witch had still looked defiant as she'd gasped for air under the cruciatus curse. No, it wasn't lack of air that had terrified Hermione so greatly. It was something else.

Then there was the way Hermione had gasped her name in the process of collapsing into her arms... Cissa. The way she said it had almost sounded like a lover's plea. A call for completion, or a cry of relief.

The thought of Hermione in the context of a lover made Narcissa's body hum, much to her surprise. She'd certainly been attracted to women over the years, and Lucius had not been the only one to take on a mistress from time to time. Hermione certainly was attractive, so Narcissa supposed it wasn't too surprising that she'd become attracted to Hermione. After all, the secrecy of their relationship did lend to erotic notions, as all secret relationships were prone to do.

It's not as if she was falling in love with Hermione…

Or maybe… no. Absolutely not. She couldn't possibly be… and even if she was, Hermione did not feel that way about her, so…

Wait.

And suddenly Narcissa knew why Hermione had fallen apart at the station. She really didn't have any actual evidence to support the idea, but still, every fiber of her being was insisting she was on the mark.

"Narcissa."

She turned as Hermione whispered her name, and without so much as a how are you, she reached out and took the younger woman's hand, apparating them away to a cabin she sometimes used as a getaway. As soon as they fully materialized, she pulled on Hermione's hand, spinning the younger witch right up against her body, and kissed the woman with whom she could never be friends, but had somehow fallen in love with.

Continue or no? This, I know, it a stupid question because my bestie will murder me if I don't continue, but your opinions all matter too. PLEASE REVIEW!