As Hermione and Ginny stepped into the parlour, Draco handed the older witch a thick book. She looked at him curiously. "What's this?" she asked, as she turned the book over to see if there was a title. There wasn't one.

"Come with me, Granger," he said as he led the two women further into the manor and up the central staircase.

Still curious about the book, Hermione opened it as she followed the blond. "Gardening?" she questioned, glancing up at the back of his head.

He waved a dismissive hand in the air. "The book is inconsequential," he told her, walking down a long hallway.

She frowned. "Then why am I carrying it? It's heavy."

He glanced at her and smirked. "I thought you enjoyed carrying large books," he said. "All those times in school when I saw you…"

"I ought to chuck this at you, you git," she growled.

"Now, now, Granger," he said, wiggling a finger at her and tsking. "We don't want to damage books, do we?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"Oh, and do try to remember where we are going," he said as he led the witches down another hallway. "I would hate to have to explain to Father how you managed to get lost."

"Where is your father?" Hermione asked. She had thought he would be here today.

He shrugged. "He had to take care of some business at one of our apothecaries. He'll be back in time for dinner."

"How many apothecaries do you own?" Ginny asked, glancing around at the walls as they walked.

"A fair few," he answered vaguely.

They reached a room and both women were confused as they stepped inside. At first, Hermione thought it might be some sort of drawing room, or maybe study. It was brighter than she had expected, with it's soft beige furnishings and white painted walls. There were shelves along one wall to the left that were filled with books of all shapes and sizes. Between the shelves was a massive floor to ceiling window that lit up the entire room. The wall to the right had a massive, cheerful fireplace with a beautiful painting above the mantle of a herd of winged horses. In front of the fireplace were two overstuffed plush chairs.

In the heart of the room was a light maple wood table surrounded by matching cushioned chairs, big enough to sit eight people.

Draco paused and turned to the women. He smiled as they gazed around the room. "Granger, until such a time comes when Father calls you his wife, these will be your rooms," he explained. "You will, of course, be allowed to decorate them however you choose. If you wish for privacy or grow tired when you are here, you can come here to rest and relax. Father, however, is not allowed in here. He may knock to come and get you for whatever reason, but he cannot pass the threshold."

Hermione glanced behind her at the door they had gone through. "I don't understand," she said, looking back at him. "I don't intend to live here until we're married."

Draco shook his head and scoffed. "Of course not. I never said you were moving here," he pointed out. "Training can be stressful. Astoria and I will be trying to teach you, pretty much, everything we were taught since we were born. You're going to want to take a nap, rest, or even get away from us from time to time. Not only that, it will be much easier for Astoria and me to give you lessons without the prying eyes of my father. He can't come in here, which means he cannot disturb you or us while you are learning."

"Well, that's convenient," Ginny said, glancing at her friend.

Draco rolled his eyes, but spoke as if she hadn't said a word. "The fireplace is connected to the Floo Network," he continued. "More importantly, it is a direct line to your flat. So, on days that you are here, you can simply use this fireplace to return home, rather than going all the way to my father's study."

Hermione gazed around the room, taking in every detail. "You said 'rooms'," she commented. "What other rooms?"

He waved a hand towards the end of the room, beckoning her to follow him. When they reached the other side of the room, Hermione noticed there was a small wet bar against the wall. Next to the bar was another door. "This door leads to a bedroom," he explained. "Astoria insisted on giving you a separate room to store your clothing, of course."

He opened the door and they stepped inside. Hermione gasped at the four poster king-sized bed sitting in the middle of a room larger than her entire flat. Draco shrugged. "I know it's not very large," he said, "but I reckon once you and Father marry, you'll share his rooms, so I didn't really see the point -."

"'Not very large'?" Hermione repeated looking at him in astonishment. She glanced at the bedroom again.

Like the study, there was a fireplace against the wall with two armchairs in front of it. Between the armchairs was a chaise lounge and a small coffee table in front of that. The table, like the furniture in the study, was made of maple wood. The chairs and lounge were ivory and matched the bed.

There was a small maple wood wardrobe against the corner of the room to the far right, nestled between the fireplace a door.

There were two doors on the wall furthest from the trio and another door on the right wall before the fireplace and close to them. The wall on the left… well, there wasn't a wall on the left. Just a massive bay window with ivory curtains.

"If it gets too bright in here, you can adjust the curtains. When they completely cover the window, they block out the sun," Draco explained. "This door," he pointed to the door on the right closest to them, "leads to the hallway. Like the study, Father cannot pass the threshold of that door."

Curious, Hermione walked into the room to the window and looked out. "Is that a balcony?" she asked.

Draco nodded. "If you look, you can see some furniture out there as well, in case you decide you wish the lounge in the sun and read, or sit at the table and entertain your guests, like Ginger here," he told her.

She glanced back at the blond sardonically. "Let me guess. Your father can't pass the threshold there either, can he?" she asked rhetorically.

He frowned. "No, he can't. Although I don't know how he would get on the balcony," he said.

"Perhaps a broom? Or Apparation?" she suggested.

He shrugged. "Maybe?" he agreed. "Though I haven't seen him ride a broom in years, so I don't know why he would start now. Perhaps he could Apparate." He snapped his fingers. "That reminds me. This manor is huge and traversing it can become quite tiresome, especially if you and Astoria decide to go back and forth between our wings. Only family members can Apparate within the manor and grounds, so you won't be able to do so alone until you marry my father. Until then, you will need to rely on one of us."

"Why would I Apparate alone anywhere here?" Hermione asked.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You'd be surprised," he told her. "I will say that, even though Father cannot pass the threshold, he can stand on the balcony. So, he is welcomed to join you there, though I caution you from inviting him there alone. If you are alone with him, even on the balcony, Astoria and I will both be alerted, and one of us will be joining you soon after his arrival."

Hermione's eyes widened. "I beg your pardon?!" she demanded.

His eyes narrowed. "You're a virgin, Granger," he reminded her, "and Father isn't. The only thing keeping him from luring you into his bed is the fact that he wants to marry you, and a marriage between the two of you could become a permanent one, like Astoria and me. However, Father is also a man, learned in the ways of physical pleasure, and it's possible that he can get carried away while the two of you are amorous one evening. These safeguards prevent that from happening."

"You're talking of 'binding'," Hermione said, sighing. "I'm still not entirely sure I want to be bound to him."

"Why?" he asked, surprised.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't mistake me. A huge part of me wants to go through with it. I love your father. When I became reacquainted with him in the gardens, I was amazed by his generosity and altruism. I didn't know how kind and wonderful he could be, and, because of that, I want to be with him forever," she said as she leaned against one of the bed posts. She let her eyes fall onto the soft ivory duvet. "But then there's the logical part of me which cautions me from making such a hasty decision." She glanced at him. "What if something happens? Once we are bound to one another, that's it, right? There's no turning back. Even though I have no intention of ever leaving your father, there is no telling what will happen, say, five years from now. Truth is, as much as I love your father, what will happen if one of us dies? I do want children one day, and I want them with your father. But what happens if… I don't want to raise them alone."

"You won't be alone, Granger," Draco told her cautiously. He glanced at Ginny uneasily before turning back to the Muggleborn. "No matter what happens, once you and Father marry, you will be a member of this family, even if you never have children with him. And if something should happen that ends up leaving you with children and Father isn't here, I'll be here. Astoria and I both will be. And… if you tell anyone this, I will deny it vehemently, Astoria was correct when she voiced the fact that I was somewhat happy about you and my father marrying. I have always wanted a brother or sister. It took my parents years to have me, and they did try to give me a sibling, but Mother just couldn't. She would get pregnant, and then miscarry. The last time it happened, the pregnancy nearly cost her her life. I… didn't think I would ever get the chance of having a sibling, until now. So, don't worry about things like that. Malfoys stick together. We're loyal to one another. Even Mother is, though she denies it at the moment. You'll find that, once you and Father are married, her attitude towards you will change."

"What? She'll suddenly start liking the Mudblood witch half her age whom stole her husband from her?" Hermione questioned dubiously. "I highly doubt that, Malfoy."

Draco chuckled. "Actually, she'll probably thank you," he joked. He sighed and shrugged as he walked over to one of the armchairs and sat down in it. "Truth be told, and again I'll deny it if you mention it, but truth is,the Dark Lord's return put my parents' marriage on a downhill spiral. They both hated and loved that he was back, and for different reasons. While they both still carried their ideologies about Muggles, I think my being part of the equation changed things for them. I don't think my father ever wanted me to become a Death Eater and I know for certain my mother didn't. And even though she loved her sister, I don't think my mother really wanted my aunt to come back into our lives. But, Aunt Bella was still family, so when she escaped Azkaban, my mother welcomed her, which, for my father, I think, was a huge turning point in their relationship." He shrugged.

"Where's Astoria?" Ginny asked as she sat upon the chaise. Her eyes widened. "Oh. This is really comfortable."

Draco smirked and lifted an eyebrow. "What else would you expect?" He shrugged again. "Astoria is still unpacking from our honeymoon. She'll be along soon enough." He looked up at Hermione. Sitting up, he rested his elbows on his knees. "Granger, as part of your first lesson, I want you to balance that book on top of your head and pace the length of the fireplace."

Hermione's eyes widened as she looked down at the book in her hands. "You're joking," she said.

He leaned back in his chair and tilted his head. "Am I? A lady with perfect poise should be able to do it. Both Astoria and my mother can. Is it too difficult for you?"

She glared at the challenge in his eyes. Standing straight and tall, she lifted the book above her head. "This is ridiculous," she said as she tried to balance it on her head.

Draco stood and approached her. Circling her, he pressed one hand on her lower back and rested another on her shoulder. "Shoulders back, spine straight," he instructed as he pushed her into said position. He moved his hand to her chin. "And chin up. You aren't a servant, so keep your head up and eyes forward. If you need to look down for anything, do so with your eyes, not your head. Now, take your hands off the book and step forward confidently."

Taking a deep breath, Hermione closed her eyes and did so. Two steps later, the book tumbled off her head and she barely caught it.

Draco laughed. "Good. Good," he praised. "Don't worry. People rarely get it on their first try. Now," he moved back to his chair and sat down, "do it again."

Heaving a sigh, Hermione rolled her eyes and placed the book back on her head. And again, the book fell. Frustrated, Hermione growled as she tried again.

That was how Astoria found the trio thirty minutes later. Hermione's curls had gone wild by this point and her face was scrunched in irritation, yet she still hadn't managed to walk across the fireplace with the book balanced on her head. Astoria frowned as she approached the group.

"What are we doing?" she asked curiously.

Ginny waved at the Muggleborn. "Draco said that Hermione has to walk across the length of the fireplace with that book balanced on her head," she explained.

Astoria glanced at her husband in shock. "Draco Lucius!" she snapped. Her eyes went back to Hermione and, softening kindly, she approached the older witch. "Hermione, you don't have to do this," she assured. "My wayward husband is taking the mickey out on you."

As the book tumbled from her head again, Hermione looked at the younger witch in shock. "Seriously?"

Astoria nodded, her lips lifting in slight amusement. "I don't know a single witch who does this and it isn't part of our training."

Hermione threw the book at Draco. "You lousy son of a bitch!" she growled. "How dare you!"

He deftly caught the book and laughed. "I'm surprised at you, Granger. I thought you were smart." He shrugged as he tossed the book carelessly onto the coffee table. "It was nice to see you fail at something for a change."

Astoria gave him a dull look. "Draco, we're supposed to be helping Hermione, not embarrassing her," she said.

"Alright, alright," he said, holding his hands up in surrender. He looked at the Muggleborn. "I probably shouldn't have done that, but you have to admit it was funny."

"Do they teach Pureblood aristocrats to apologize?" Hermione asked. "Because if they do, you suck at it, Malfoy!"

He smirked. Looking at his wife, his smile dropped however and he sighed. "Look. Nevermind the balancing books trick. The rest of what I told you was true. When a lady walks, it is with poise and confidence. Head up, shoulders back, spine straight, and if you must look down, do so with your eyes, not your head," he told her.

"You also must be conscience of you choice of words," Astoria said as she sat primly upon the chaise next to Ginny. "A lady doesn't swear, and she shouldn't have any need to speak above the soft hum of a whisper. When she sits, it is on the edge of the seat with her feet tucked under her if she can. And always crossed at the ankle. Her hands rest gently in her lap unless she is serving or drinking tea."

Hermione sighed as she sat in the armchair opposite of Draco. She mimicked Astoria's posture easily and looked at the girl. "My mother taught me this when I was young," she explained. "Mostly because she didn't want me to get a hunched back, like we see of many of those people in America. I mean, she and my father did try to instill some ladylike qualities in me."

Astoria smiled softly. "Good. Then training should be much easier than Draco and I feared," she said. At Hermione's wide eyed expression, Astoria's face softened apologetically. "Forgive me, Hermione. As Purebloods, we know very little about Muggle customs and traditions. Having met your parents, I do know they are very fine people, even if we don't agree on everything. I'm still confused over this notion of an unwed couple living together before marriage."

"It hasn't alway been a Muggle tradition," Hermione admitted. "Though, I do believe that some time after the women's rights movement, it became more commonplace, particularly among the middle and lower classes."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "And there you have it, Astoria," he said as if that answered it all.

Hermione frowned. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Middle to lower class," he pointed out. "It means that the lower your class the less you have of it."

"Excuse me?" Ginny piped up, glaring at the wizard.

He shrugged, unperturbed. "It's not like you can help it. You're born into what you're born into, but if you haven't noticed, it is rare that those of lower classes ever aspire to be more than what they are. And those who do aren't looked highly upon or it becomes such a struggle to rise that they give up and return to their roots."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Hermione argued, glaring at him.

"Sure I do," he said, leaning back. "Minus, of course, the Weasley brood, just take a look. Both Crabbe and Goyle were lower class, and they didn't get very far in life. While Ginger's brothers, and Ginger herself, made something of themselves, her father still remains on the bottom of totem pole in the Ministry. No one cares about his work and he doesn't do anything to make them care."

"Crabbe died, Malfoy, in case you forgot," Hermione spat.

"I didn't forget," he said, his brow furrowing. "I was there when it happened, as were you. Despite his death, Goyle still believes the Dark Lord was right about your kind. He wants nothing to do with all these new rules the Minister is putting in place and refuses to conform. So, he wastes away. Can't even get a girlfriend, much less a wife."

"People do care about my father's work," Ginny said, interrupting him. "How dare you suggest otherwise."

"No, they don't," he argued. Leaning forward, he looked at Ginny. "Your father still has a small office deep in the Ministry, buried out of sight. Why do you think that is?" He shook his head and held up a hand to silence her.

"The world is changing," he admitted, "but it hasn't completely changed yet. People don't care about the misuse of Muggle artifacts because it doesn't pertain to them. They don't notice it because they don't see it. Have you ever seen an article on the front page about anything your father has done? Except when he gets a stick up his arse to raid my home? And even then, the papers don't paint him as kindly as you think. No, his 'raids' and 'findings' are relegated to the back of the pages, just like his office. They are small, with as few words as possible."

"Draco, you don't have to be rude," Astoria admonished.

He shook his head in denial. "I'm not being rude. Truth is, this entire fucking feud is because he spends more time focusing on my family rather than on doing his job. Instead of looking for a reason to raid my home, he should be looking into this black market where Muggle artifacts are being smuggled into our community and transfigured or otherwise spelled into items that can be dangerous to the general public."

He pointed an accusing finger at Hermione. "Did you know that he is currently trying to gain a warrant to search our home because the general public thinks my father has charmed you? The entire family has been tried and found not guilty, but that man won't bloody leave us alone!"

"He did no-"

"He did, Ginger," Draco cut her off. "You weren't here when he and his buddies came knocking at our door last week, wanting entrance into our home."

"Neither were you," she hissed. "You were on your honeymoon!"

"We were," Astoria said. She sighed. "Father Flooed us at three in the morning to alert Draco. By law, as rightful heir, Draco had to be here through the duration of the search. Thankfully, it only lasted a few hours, as this raid was unannounced and had a very narrow warrant. Father made Mr. Weasley stick what he had in the warrant, which was looking in the family potion's lab. Draco was able to return to me, but, it still happened."

Ginny stood and turned away, staring at the window unseeing. "My dad would never do something unwarranted. If he requested a warrant to search this home, he had to have a reason."

"Didn't you just hear me, Ginger?" Draco asked. "He wanted to see if my father had used something to trick Granger into falling in love with him."

"Can you blame him?" Ginny snapped. "Your father isn't a saint."

"And neither is yours, Ginger," the blond returned with venom. "The difference is my father doesn't pretend to be one."

"Not anymore…" she grumbled. "And my name's not 'Ginger', it's 'Ginny'."

He shrugged. "Still don't care," he said. "Either way, he had no reason to come to our home in the middle of the night."

"Apparently he and the Minister disagree," she said, staring at him. "Your father is engaged to a woman half his age, a woman who is one third of the Golden Trio and a high ranking Ministry official. There are still questions that haven't been answered."

"Those will be answered when Nott comes here next week," Draco stated. "Until then, your father needs to back off. If Granger really feared for her life, I highly doubt she would have allowed him to court her."

Hermione looked at him curiously. "Was that a compliment? Did Draco Malfoy just compliment me?" She asked in astonishment.

"Don't get used to it, Granger," he said. "What surprises me is that, as her best friends, you, Ginger, and your husband feel this need to try to sabotage their relationship instead of attempt to understand and accept it."

"I do accept their relationship!" Ginny protested angrily. "I have given Hermione my full support, in case you haven't noticed. I'm here with her because I am the only one who actually agrees with it!"

"And Potter?"

Ginny huffed and rolled her eyes. "I can't speak for my husband. There is a lot of bad blood there, you know this. Regardless of what is going on now, your father was a Death Eater, as were you, whether it was through choice or not. Not only that, but Lucius had spent years before Voldemort being an outright, snobbish bastard. As did you. You were a bully, a horrible, spoiled little bully who would cry to your daddy every time something didn't go your way. So, please, forgive Harry if he doesn't automatically accept this relationship. Acceptance takes time, understanding, and forgiveness."

"He's had, what? Three? Four months?" Draco said, glancing at Hermione.

The Muggleborn sighed. "Roughly three now," she admitted.

Draco's eyes focussed back on Ginny. "Sounds like he's being given plenty of time."

Hermione shook her head and cut in before Ginny could say any more. "It will take him more time," she said. "It's ok, Draco. I'm not looking for immediate acceptance. Harry's been through a lot. We all have. All I want right now is to get through these training sessions you and Astoria have devised for me so I can present myself properly into high class society. Although… I do question how important this training will be. As someone who is engaged to a Muggleborn, doesn't that make Lucius, well, a 'blood traitor'?"

Draco shrugged. "Maybe," he admitted. "But then again…" He glanced at the fireplace. "Things are changing. It used to be that the Daily Prophet was the number one source of valid, proper news that we would receive from the Ministry. Now I am finding myself reading the Quibbler more and the Prophet far less. Looney has recently hired some very prolific journalists and, along with her father, they actually produce credible articles with real sources."

"Her name is Luna, not Looney," Hermione corrected.

"Still don't care," Draco said with a wave of his hand. "There was an article published recently that, thanks to my father's engagement, more Purebloods are started to court Half-bloods and even Muggleborns. It seems you and father are leading the way to the change that desperately needed to take place. Your union will end up saving many ancient families from dying off."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, I doubt that," she chuckled.

He looked at her for a moment, then shrugged. "I'm just going by what the Quibbler said. For all I know, it could be fabricated to encourage more Purebloods to look at Muggleborns as potential mates. The Malfoys have always been trend setters, after all. 'If Lucius Malfoy can do it, so can I, blah, blah, blah.'"

"If that's the case, maybe denims will become a new trend too among witches and wizards," Hermione suggested. "Because who doesn't like a nice, comfortable pair of denims as opposed to trousers and skirts?"

Draco and Astoria both glanced at her with raised eyebrows. "The day you convince either myself or my father to wear a pair of denims is the day I will kiss an elf," he said.

Hermione smiled wickedly. "Challenge accepted."

Author's Note: Many thanks again to my wonderful betas, Elle Morgan-Black and cowgalnina! Much thanks also to my wonderful readers who've favorited and/or reviewed this story. You are all brilliant!

Don't forget to review and let me know what you think. Yes, I know there is no Lucius in this chapter, but no worries! He'll be back in the next chapter.