More thank you's for lovely reviews and comments.

I am a little bit nervous about this chapter, as a relative "newbie" to the world of HP, I hope it comes up to scratch and that you enjoy it.

So Hermione returns to Malfoy Manor under very different circumstances...

"Portkey or train?" Draco asked Hermione mysteriously, as the Hogwarts Express pulled into Kings Cross Station.

"What?"

"We can either travel from here to the Manor by Portkey or by train, just wondered if you had a preference. Portkey is quicker of course".

"I didn't know we could travel anywhere else by train."

"Something you don't know Granger! Is this a first?" Draco feigned shock, opening his mouth and clasping a dramatic hand to his chest.

"Enough with the sarcasm Ferret, spill".

"There are just a few. They run between here and the big, old wizarding family homes in the country. Ours is of course one of them. My father likes to travel to the Ministry by train, it's less stressful and more befitting."

He once again mimicked his father's voice with malicious accuracy.

"As always, he is of course right. I have to admit its nice way to travel. All we have to do is maintain the concealment charm along with the Ministry."

Curiosity got the better of Hermione, travelling by portkey was almost as bad as apparating. Lucius definitely had a point.

"Train it is then, let's see how the other half lives."

Her jibe earned Hermione a Malfoy sneer, albeit a playful one. Their friendship having changed yet again over the last few weeks. Prompting Hermione to ask Draco one evening, if that meant, he had morphed into Harry and Ron or she into Crabbe and Goyle. The two had ached from laughing, Hermione had had tears rolling down her cheeks. Causing Professor Snape to enquire, "What Mr Malfoy had said to upset Miss Granger?" The Defence of The Dark Arts Master had not been amused at their howling with laughter at him and had promptly given them both detention. Seniors or not!

She and Draco walked to the very end of Platform 9¾. A small singular carriage, powered by a tiny steam engine awaited them. It was like a miniature version of the Hogwarts Express.

Dark green in colour, it bore the Malfoy coat of arms on its meticulously maintained paintwork. With somewhat uncharacteristic chivalry, Draco opened the door for her to board, it was a gesture very reminiscent of his father, Hermione mused.

How the other half lives, was right. The small carriage was ridiculous in its luxury. Hermione felt as if she had stepped into another world. Somehow she imagined, that was how the next few days were going to be.

Unsurprisingly bedecked in shades of green and silver, the carriage boasted four armchair like seats. The thick upholstery was protected by antimacassars, all of which had a small silver M embossed in the corner. A table was set to the highest standard between the four seats, crystal glasses sparkled and delicate china gleamed, on a pristine white table cloth.

"Err, how long exactly is the journey to Malfoy Manor?" Hermione asked.

"About an hour and half." Draco replied, clearly a little caught off guard by her question. "Why?"

Hermione took in the beautiful carriage, she could see why Lucius found this less stressful and even why Draco had said, in what was proving to be a gross understatement, this was a nice way to travel.

"R..i..g..h..t" She said smiling at the lavishness for such a short journey. But then she couldn't imagine Lucius Malfoy having it any other way.

Draco made himself comfortable in one of the chairs; "My father made one or two adjustments." He waved his hand around. "Not that I mind. Good choice Granger."

"Shame it's such a short journey, hardly long enough to enjoy it."

A self-propelling tea pot appeared and she took a seat opposite Draco.

When they had boarded the train at Hogsmeade, Hermione had been quiet and filled with trepidation. Spending an hour in the Three Broomsticks, trapped between father and son had proved testing enough. Being in the company of either one, individually was easy enough. Even if she and Lucius had not exactly exchanged much in the way of conversation. There hadn't really been much need. Hermione had looked away, feeling her face burn.

She and Draco had miraculously, and against all odds become friends. She had the distinct feeling, if the twain met, that wouldn't remain the case for very long. Eleven days at Malfoy Manor, what had she been thinking, she had to have been out of her mind to accept Draco's offer.

She glanced over at the young blonde, he was dozing against the window. Hermione was genuinely apprehensive about the upcoming few days. She didn't want to get caught between her friend and whatever Lucius Malfoy was. She didn't want to get caught period. Had this really been such a good idea?

The last time she had been at the dark, foreboding house, buried deep in the Wiltshire countryside, she had been tortured. Of course she knew that wouldn't be the case this time, the only torment she was likely to endure this time around, was not being able to get her hands on the Master of The House. Her face flushed at the unbridled thought and she scolded herself for thinking such things.

She managed to put all of the thoughts out of her mind, and began to relax a little, when Draco had surprisingly, shared a few tales of Malfoy Christmas pasts with her.

Before the war, and his mother's departure, Malfoy Manor had apparently been the place to be for Christmas. His parents throwing a party for friends on Christmas Eve. Hermione smiled as Draco told her when he was very small he would sit on the huge staircase and just watch in awe, until one or other of his parents spotted him and would banish him back to bed. She found her heart lurching inexplicably in her chest at the thought of Lucius scooping his small son up in his arms and taking him back to his nursery.

It was difficult to picture Lucius, Narcissa and Draco sharing Christmas lunch, just as she and her parents had done in happier times. Her brain struggling with the idea of Lucius, carving the turkey or his striking wife, setting fire to a Christmas pudding. But as Draco continued with his tales, she realised that they clearly enjoyed the day together, just as any other family did.

According to Draco, The Malfoy's New Year's Eve Masquerade Ball was one of the highlights of the Wizarding World social season. Hermione didn't need to stretch her imagination very far to picture that.

By the time they actually arrived at Malfoy Manor it was dark, and with the darkness, came the terrifying remembrances of things past.

As they moved through the heavy wrought iron gates, surrounded on either side by tall neatly manicured hedges, Hermione was transported back to that fateful night when she had been tortured by Draco's psychopathic aunt. The gravel crunched beneath their feet as they moved towards the house, it loomed out of the night. The fears that she had long since buried, resurfaced. Draco's stories were all but forgotten, and the imposing building filled her with a sense of dread. Her blood thundered around her body and it took everything she had not to turn and run.

To her astonishment, Hermione felt a warm hand clasp her own icy cold one, moving her through the outer wards and towards the huge wooden front door, which swung open as they approached.

"It's OK" Said Draco quietly, his thin fingers tightening around her own. "There is nothing to be frightened off, not anymore."

He looked as if he was going to say something else, but didn't.

Hermione gave him a weak smile. She had made friends with Draco Malfoy. With his help she had overcome her fear of flying. She could put the horror of some bricks and mortar behind her, she could do this. And again, extraordinarily he was the one helping her.

The entrance hall was nothing like the dingy, foreboding room that Hermione remembered. In fact it was quite the opposite. A bright almost welcoming space, it was dominated by a sumptuous carpet that covered the stone floor and a massive Christmas tree, which appeared to be the source of most of the light. Hermione looked over at Draco, who still tightly clasped her hand, he looked almost as surprised as she did.

A sudden pop heralded the arrival of a house elf, it was closely followed by two similar sounds and a further two of the small creatures appeared. The first elf addressed Draco.

"Welcome home young Master Draco." He said politely "The Master is not home. He said that you were not to neglect your guest and that he will try to be home for dinner but cannot guarantee this"

"Like I was going to leave you on the driveway" Draco muttered irritably and Hermione squeezed his fingers.

The small creature coughed, and Hermione got the distinct impression it did not like being interrupted, but would never dare to say so.

"Go on." Draco prompted sharply.

"Thank you Young Master Draco."

It was as if the house elf had been given a list of things to say, and it had to relay them to Draco verbatim. Clearly it would not be happy until that had been done. Hermione fought the urge to laugh as Young Master Draco listened impatiently.

"Master said, we had to decorate the house like we did when the Mistress was here. That has been done." The small creature's huge brown eyes indicated the room around them, before returning once more to Draco. "The Master also said to tell you and Miss Granger."

Hermione got a nervous smile from the small elf, when he mentioned her name.

"That there would be a drinks party tomorrow evening, like there used to be and that guests would start arriving about 6.30pm"

Hermione tried to repress a smile, she could just picture Lucius dictating all of this information to the hapless elf and the tiny creature absorbing it all.

"Thank you Raffy, I…."

"There is more Young Master Draco." The uncomfortable looking elf tugged on its ugly clothing. Plainly sensing that the Young Master was becoming increasingly impatient with the list of messages from The Master. "Master also said that Livy is to look after Miss Granger, and that if she needs anything she only has to ask. Master has instructed that she sleep in the family wing and a room has been aired and made ready for her."

Draco remained silent, a small flicker of surprise had crossed his face, but he didn't seem in the least bit perturbed by any of the instructions or information. Unlike Hermione. The thought of having a house elf running around after her was bad enough, but sleeping the family wing of the house. She didn't want to offend anyone, but this was all too much.

"Oh no I don't need any special treatment and I certainly don't need anyone looking after me"

Raffy looked horrified and began to pull painfully on his large ears. The two elves that had accompanied him, one of whom she assumed was Livy, also looked mortified and shuffled uncomfortably, pulling at their equally hideous gowns, which resembled torn pillowcases.

"Granger, unless you want the elves to suffer the wrath of my father, and iron or boil bits of themselves I suggest you just accept what has been decided."

Hermione looked at him in horror and then back at the three, terrified looking elves.

"Ok Ok, but…"

"No buts, this is Malfoy Manor, things get done a little differently around here." There was a slight edge to his voice but he smiled at Hermione and pointed her in the direction of Livy.

"Go unpack, and settle in, if my father isn't going to be around for dinner, we can slum it and eat in the Kitchen, much more fun and cosier."

Much as she wanted to, Hermione didn't argue, she wasn't afraid to argue with Draco, but the thought of the small creatures inflicting harm on themselves or suffering at the hands of Lucius Malfoy, because of her was not something she wanted to be responsible for. She followed Livy up the large central staircase.

Much to Hermione's disappointment, Lucius Malfoy wasn't back in time for dinner, so she and Draco had their meal in the kitchen. Just as he had predicted it was cosy. The fun part came from Draco tormenting the house elves. Magically moving things around or making them disappear. Eating things and then saying he hadn't had any. Hermione shook her head at his childish antics. No wonder he was so pleased when Lucius hadn't arrived back at the manor. She doubted he would tolerate such behaviour at his dinner table. Apparently, he had been held up at the Ministry of Magic, according to a very brief flue call with his son earlier.

"I know he was just checking up on me." Draco said tucking into large helping of profita rolls, served by the third elf, from earlier in the day, whose name was Chilty.

"I am quite capable of looking after my own guests." He grumbled petulantly. "Of course I doubt that it is up to Lucius Malfoy's standards." His voice took on the resentful tone if usually did when he was talking about his father.

Hermione was inordinately curious about Draco's relationship with his father, well both of his parents really. She wanted to know what "it's complicated" meant. But it was the one subject, she never broached or pushed him on. If he volunteered information, she would ask very guarded questions but she always trod extremely carefully. As their friendship developed, she had become a little braver, her questions were a little more pointed, and she wasn't afraid to make the occasional observation. She was about to make one of those observations, when Draco continued to speak.

"I've never really come to up my father's standards, or expectations come to that". His voice was laced with bitterness.

Hermione didn't know whether to say something or just listen. She opted for the latter.

"I suppose in fairness to him, I've never really done anything to make him proud of me. My mother leaving made it worse. I felt responsible for that too."

Draco looked dejectedly into his bowl, moving the spoon distractedly, it clattered against the delicate china.

Although stunned by his sudden admissions and uncertain what to say. Hermione decided if she was brave enough to walk back into this house again, she was brave enough to walk this path too.

"Draco" She began firmly, trying to convey more confidence than she felt at this moment. "Other than a handful of brief encounters with your father."

Hermione felt the familiar rush of heat suffuse her body, she ignored it and went on.

"I don't know him. But the one thing I do know about him is, he is an adult, and for all of his faults and failings, he would not hold you responsible for your mother leaving. I am definitely no expert when it comes to relationships, especially not a relationship like your parents had, but he probably felt more anger at himself than at you, maybe he still does. My Mum said, you always hurt the ones you love. I think that's true, simply because we know they will forgive us. "

Draco didn't look at her, he didn't say anything. His face was unreadable as he continued staring into the now empty bowl.

"Perhaps…" She began tentatively, finally meeting Draco's pale blue eyes across the table. "Perhaps, you judge him too harshly." She continued quickly. "I don't know anything about your relationship, but I really do believe he only wants the best for you, he always has. Maybe he has a funny way of showing it, but it's the only way he knows how."

Hermione waited for the "and what would you know about it" or the scrapping of a chair across the stone floor as Draco stormed off. Neither came. He simply looked at her, as if it was a notion that had never occurred to him. But then if he didn't talk to his father, or to anyone else for that matter, why would it. If Draco was as constrained by the same years of breeding, and lack of showing too much emotion, as Lucius, then it probably hadn't.

Taking advantage of his silence, Hermione went on.

"You were spoiled rotten as a kid." She said boldly, seeing a flicker of resentment crossing his face at her words.

"You got everything you wanted. That was probably how your father was encouraged as a child too, not with words, or affectionate gestures."

Hermione took a deep breath, talking to Draco was one thing, asking him questions about his relationship with Lucius, was unchartered and possibly dangerous territory.

"Have you ever told him how you feel, what you think?"

The disdainful snort that emanated from Draco, was not the reaction Hermione was expecting, his empty laughter reverberated around the room. "Talk to my father about how I feel? Tell him what I think? You do remember that my father is Lucius Malfoy."

Hermione was a little exasperated. Her friendship with Draco was nothing like the one she shared with Harry, she couldn't be as blunt, she would need to use a different tack, to get her argument across.

"You could say the same about us." She saw a little glimmer of interest flare in his pale face. "I bet you thought the same about me, talk to Granger, tell her how I feel, but you have. How am I so different?"

She saw him raise a slightly amused eyebrow, seeing his point, comparing herself to Lucius Malfoy was a tad beyond the realms of credence, but she carried on regardless.

"We could have carried on the way we always had, hating each other, being nasty and spiteful. But we got to know each other, and unless someone used a memory charm on me, that was mostly down to you. However it came about, and for whatever the reasons, we took the time and here I am spending Christmas at Malfoy Manor."

Draco's eyes narrowed and he ran his fingers through his hair testily. Hermione swallowed nervously, had she gone too far. His face became a little sad and then the tiniest hint of a smile curved his mouth.

"Hmm, you sound like my mother, she was always telling me to just talk to my father, to try and understand him. That he….that he did love me."

Hermione was taken aback and in more ways than one. Being compared to his mother was scary enough in itself, but being told in a roundabout way, that maybe she had a point was positively disturbing, but It gave Hermione courage, even if she did feel like she were about to light a Muggle firework, light blue touch paper and stand well back…..

"Draco its Christmas, goodwill to all men and all that, I think that includes Lucius Malfoy. Your father is obviously making an effort. I know this is your home too, but he has graciously allowed me to be here, and is extending me every curtesy. You said yourself it's been years since you'd seen the Manor decorated for Christmas like this, AND you told me those stories about the happy Christmases you all had. Why don't you make a little effort of your own, what harm can it do?"

Again she waited for the heated words or the explosion of temper, or both, again they didn't come. Again Draco viewed her from across the table. She felt she had pushed the boundaries as far as she could for one night and didn't want to risk actually upsetting or angering him.

"I think your father has a point about how you treat your guests though. I am sure good manners would have prevented him from eating ALL of the profita rolls." Hermione frowned at him, her brown eyes twinkling.

Draco's faced changed from one of consternation to horror as he looked at the empty bowl in front of him. "Merlin, Granger, it's true I've morphed in Weaslebee!"

She breathed a sigh of relief at his retort, and they both laughed, lightening the atmosphere in the room immediately.

Hermione was unable to stifle a yawn. They'd spent the best part of the day travelling and it had one way and another been quite an emotional rollercoaster of an evening. She was tired. But she was also itching to soak in the huge tub, in the bathroom that adjoined her bedroom.

Her mind, as well as her body, was already in her pyjamas, curled up on the bed the size of her dorm at Hogwarts, with the rather raunchy best seller she had picked up in a Muggle bookshop at the start of term.

"Go to bed Granger, it's been a long day." He said no more about their conversation. "We apparently have a party tomorrow and of course my father will be home." He rolled his eyes. "But…as you have proved such a smart arse, and know it all in the past, I guess you do have a point." He added one of his childish faces for good measure.

Through her fatigue Hermione was flabbergasted, but she kept her response light.

"Don't you know it Ferret!" Hermione returned the juvenile humour poking her tongue out at him, before bidding him goodnight and making for her tub. Her mind still reeling from their surprising and enlightening exchange.