Plot: As Draco and Hermione struggle in their marriage, Narcissa must cope with the return of her husband Lucius from Azkaban. A story about family conflict and reconciliation through the generations.
Request:
This request came privately from Darwindian. It was very detailed as this is mostly true to that request. We shared a few more messages about possible outlines etc. and this is the outcome. Darwindian – I hope you like this. Continue to make requests if you think of them! You did great.
Notes:
This comes into the family requests I have been getting so much of lately. This one will not be as smutty as some recent fics but won't be as wholesome as the fluff piece also.
Disclaimer: M for adult themes and I don't own HP.
Family Matters
Narcissa
Narcissa gripped the letter with white knuckles. This was it. The day she had been waiting for. But why was she so terrified?
Looking down, she read it again, for what felt like the hundredth time.
"Dear Mrs Malfoy,
Your husband, Lucius Malfoy, has been scheduled for release from Azkaban prison on the fourth of next month. The Ministry of Magic have ruled that he has served a sufficient sentence for his involvement in the second rise of he who must not be named given the additional, extenuating circumstances of the case.
He will be delivered to the gates of Malfoy Manor on the day at precisely 12 noon. Please be present to sign his release documents."
It had been over half a decade. Half a decade since she had seen him. Felt his touch.
All she had were letters. Letters in which he became more and more withdrawn. More and more hopeless. Would he still love her? Would she still love him?
How could they possibly be the same people after so much time apart?
Not to mention the secret she had hidden from him all these years. He had a muggleborn daughter in-law and two half-blood grandchildren.
Of course, at first, she had felt the way Lucius would have. Sick to think of the Houses of Black and Malfoy being disrespected with muggle blood. But nothing could be done.
Draco had foolishly dipped his wand in the Granger girl at some kind of post war party with the other Hogwarts students. He had always immensely disliked her, and given her history with their family, she assumed it to be the same for the girl.
She can only guess that it was a moment of insanity for the hormonal teenage pair. But regardless, the twins she carried were his, and on his honour, he had to marry her.
The saving grace for their reputation in the pureblood community was that she was the most famous and brilliant muggleborn witch in recorded history.
She had money, fame and connections in the newly reformed Ministry. Hermione Granger was a star on the rise, and the Malfoy name had been blackened. In truth, Draco's accident was a gift.
Over time, Narcissa had rather grown to like the girl. She was attractive, an attentive mother and had a brilliant academic mind.
Though she and Draco no longer bickered and bantered like they used to, every so often Hermione would have an explosion of wit – which amused and frustrated her son.
Narcissa knew that they were unhappy, but wasn't sure what to do about it. She had no idea how she was supposed to get them to see sense, or establish what was so wrong.
They were both attractive young people with twins they clearly adored and valued more than air to breathe. They had similar academic interests and complimentary senses of humour.
There had obviously been some kind of spark of passion between them to have gotten so carried away that night at the party.
Neither was drunk enough to black out, or so they had confided. Sure, they were inhibited when Rose and Scorpius were conceived, but not so much as to have lost control of their faculties.
To Narcissa it was clear that there was an underlying attraction between them, yet they had a sexless (she knew they kept separate rooms) and loveless marriage.
Why they never gave it a chance, she didn't know.
She frowned and turned her attention back to the letter and ran her fingers absentmindedly over her wedding ring.
Narcissa knew Draco and Hermione needed help, but right now she wasn't the one to provide it. She had her own marriage to worry about.
And her family.
What if Lucius still held onto his old values? What if he rejected their grandchildren and/or their mother? How could she be with him then? But on the other hand, how could she divorce the love of her life?
Wringing her hands, she looked at the image of she and Lucius that sat on the rich mahogany desk of the Manor Study. It was taken in happier times.
Gods, she felt sick.
Draco
As soon as she could walk, Rose was on a training broom.
Draco had always pictured that he would teach his son to fly and play Quidditch, but evidently it was his daughter that had the aptitude and taste for it.
He didn't mind either way – so long as he had at least one child to share it with.
Scorpius and he bonded over other things, like potions. At five years old he was already quite the little brainbox, much like his mother.
Not that Draco wasn't smart as well – but he didn't enjoy studying the way his wife did. Scorpius had all the makings of a young Hermione.
He hoped that meant he would be grow up to be successful in his chosen field. Perhaps magical law, like his mother.
As for Rose, he rather fancied her to be a professional Quidditch player, although he wasn't going to push her. His parents pushed him far too much and he didn't want to repeat the mistake.
As a mother, Granger (sorry, Malfoy) wasn't pushy either. He appreciated that about her. They almost never fought over anything to do with the children. Actually, these days, they never fought much at all.
But he wasn't happy. They hadn't slept together since they conceived the twins, though neither was having an affair. They weren't about to disrespect each other or their children in such a way.
It was endlessly frustrating, but there wasn't much more he could do.
He tried his best not to resent her. They were both guilty of drinking too much and shagging like mad without any form of contraception. He could have used his brain. The spell that would have spared them all of this was only a few words.
But he had been too distracted by her, and all the things he wanted to do to her in that moment, that it slipped his mind. And, evidently, her mind too.
No, they were equally guilty. Every bit of resentment for her, he had for himself too. They were both to blame.
Still, when he looked at his children, it was hard to be angry.
Being born into the kind of world he was, he never thought he would have much control over his life anyway. But he always did fancy a wife he loved and children to adore.
At one point, he was trapped as a servant of the Dark Lord, thinking he would wind up dead or in prison forever… so keeping his fortune, his mother, and, winding up with two brilliant children was actually a fairly good outcome.
But it was still a struggle. He yearned to feel a soft touch. To be inside of a witch again. Any witch. He gazed longingly at the women serving his drinks in bars, or witches holding hands with their significant others on the street.
He wished he could have had that. Someone to share his life with. To go to bed with each night. To touch. To taste.
But he didn't. He had Hermione. A woman who married him only because she was knocked up with his children and recognised that she would never be Minister for Magic in this world (despite the modern times) as an unwed mother.
A woman who slept in a different room because she couldn't stand the man she married.
At times he didn't know whether to pity her in the way he pitied himself, or simply hate her for it.
Hermione
Hermione watched Draco teaching Rose about broom safety and smiled. He was a rather good Dad. At least she had that. She had a good father for her children – and they mattered the most.
Scorpius watched with vague disinterest, never having much time for brooms and the like. She figured Draco must be terribly disappointed his son didn't share his interest – but if that was true, he didn't show it.
He seemed to cherish his time with Rose, who she knew already was going to grow up to be a Daddy's Girl.
Scorpius clung to her side in the cool crisp weather, looking down at his little puzzle book. He was already a few years brighter than his peers, a fact that Hermione was insanely proud of. She tried not to be smug, but Harry and Ginny's children were nowhere as smart and talented as her own.
Then again, she expected all parents felt that way about their kids.
Her career was on the rise, and the Malfoy family wealth, combined with the fact that Draco could stay home with the children, and, when he had business, his mother could take them, really helped.
She supposed that she hadn't done so badly in life. She had wonderful children who were loved by both parents. She never wanted for anything. Her career was fulfilling and growing.
There was no need to feel bitter about the fact that she wasn't in a love marriage. But knowing this objectively didn't change the fact that she was.
If only they had of been careful. If she had have taken a potion as Ginny suggested rather than thinking last minute charms would do the trick.
She never considered that she would get so bloody drunk it wouldn't occur to her. She never did things like that.
Then Draco had appeared, lonely and broken in the same ways she was. Gaunt. Sad. Still attractive in an otherworldly way.
She had suffered a moment of weakness. Fallen into bed with a smooth talking and attractive man who had no real interest in her.
The consequences were life changing.
Though she and Ron were not dating, the chances of it ever happening died that day. The chances of her meeting a nice wizard and falling in love, taking her time to build a career then having kids when the time suited her, were gone.
Taken away by Draco bloody Malfoy.
She supposed she shouldn't blame him. He was just as drunk and stupid as her. Blinded by some kind of ridiculous lust and excitement about sleeping with the enemy. Either of them could have performed the charm and didn't.
He had done the right thing by marrying her (although sometimes she wondered if it really was right). If he had of just been a bastard about it. Denied them even, she wouldn't have been put in this gilded cage. She wouldn't be a Malfoy wife. She wouldn't be sleeping in a separate room to her husband.
Hermione was lonely. She looked at what Harry and Ron had with their wives and it made her want to cry. To go over half a decade without intimacy. Without being kissed. Without being pleasured in the way every woman deserved to be. It had been hard.
At times she thought of leaving. Telling society to sod it, she would make it with the kids on their own.
But then she would look at how they were with Draco. How wonderful their lives were at the Manor…The joy on their faces when she and Draco put on a show for the kids, holding hands or pecking each other on the cheek. The warmth of a family.
She couldn't take them away from all of that. And she couldn't stand the idea of forcing Draco to be apart from them either. Not knowing how much he loved them.
When she was younger, she thought people who stayed together for the kids were ridiculous – but what this situation had told her was that life wasn't black and white.
It was far murkier than that.
Narcissa
He hadn't taken it well. She had hoped that his time in prison had taught him that his ways were flawed. That what he had been carrying on with was wrong.
The world didn't crumble when the Dark Lord fell. If anything, things were better now.
She had (perhaps naïvely) thought that the joy of discovering he was a grandfather twice over to beautiful, healthy kids would be enough to sway him – especially given their family's long history of fertility issues.
It hadn't.
He was furious. Accused her of failing as a parent for allowing Draco to marry the "mudblood." That she should have forced the girl to terminate, and if she didn't, at least bribe her to stay away.
Narcissa was sick at the memory of it.
They had fought for hours, making little progress.
Eventually, he had agreed to dinner with the family. To anyone else, this may have seemed like progress or a victory, but Narcissa knew better.
She knew him better. He was likely changing his tactics. It bothered her that she didn't know what his new plan was – given blind rage has failed so spectacularly with her.
She was very nervous indeed.
Hermione
Of course, he had rationalised what his father had done. How dangerous it was for her to sit and share a meal with him.
He was always in denial about his perfect father. A man who, on several occasions had tried to kill her. She noticed that even at his worst as a Death Eater, Draco had never wanted to kill her.
They'd fought for hours about it. She had no desire to put her children anywhere near the man.
Who knew what state he was in after an all-expenses paid stay at Azkaban anyway? The place sent people mad. Who knew how many marbles the man had left?
She supposed she shouldn't have expected more from her 'husband.' He never stood up for her when it came to the poor treatment she received from haughty purebloods about her breeding.
His method of coping was simply denial. Pretending it didn't happen. Pretending he couldn't see it.
She knew he was no fool. He just didn't care enough to say anything.
If it weren't for her children, she would have been on the other side of the world by now. Far away from all of them.
But here she was, staring into the blank eyes of Lucius Malfoy from the other side of the opulent Malfoy dinner table.
Hermione cleared her throat uneasily, and looked to the children, who seemed to know instinctively to behave.
Narcissa had dressed them formally for the occasion, which she thought was cute, but also resented. In a family home, she thought they should be comfortable. She didn't like the snobby 'formal dinner' stuff.
Still, they looked adorable. Her children were beautiful, and not in the way all parents think their children are beautiful. People openly stared at them on the street.
They had inherited their father's colouring. White blonde hair with striking grey eyes. But they had her skin tone and delicate features. In short, the best of both of their parents. They looked different. They were different.
Though she knew one shouldn't put too much stock on looks, she couldn't help but feel prideful about them.
She assumed Narcissa thought dressing them all up so much might help things with Lucius. Though it made Hermione feel put out, like they were ponies on show.
None the less, she had done it. She had done it for her husband, who she may not have been in love with, but had a strong comradery with none-the-less.
She had also done it for Narcissa, with whom she had become close in recent years.
She knew she missed her husband terribly and though she didn't understand how such a woman could love the likes of Lucius, she knew better than to question the intricacies of the human heart.
It was becoming increasingly clear that Lucius couldn't keep quiet anymore. He had already made several snotty remarks about herself and the children.
Hermione weren't sure how much longer she could take it.
She could see Draco was tense, but was unsurprised he wasn't standing up for their family against his own. Why change the habit of a lifetime?
From the corner of her eye she saw Narcissa put her head in her hands. Her heart truly went out to the woman.
She may have had to marry a Malfoy, but thank God it wasn't Lucius she was stuck with.
Narcissa
How could she describe the feeling at dinner? If she had to, she would say it was like some kind of horrific accident, she couldn't look away from.
All she knew was that Hermione had the patience of a saint to continue to sit there and take it as she had. She picked up every barb he made towards her. Every disdainful look. After what they had subjected the girl to years ago in this very house, she thought it took some real strength of character for her to sit there without flinching.
What she didn't notice, having been too caught up with Hermione, was her son's blood boiling.
She didn't realise Draco was going to explode until it had already happened.
"How dare you speak to my WIFE like that!" he hissed, trying to avoid the children hearing.
Sensing things were about to become unsuitable for children, Narcissa summoned a house elf to remove them.
She noticed that Hermione gave them each a reassuring squeeze before Trixie took them away to play, away from the 'grown up talks' that were going on at the table.
"What do you care Draco?" spat Lucius, "You only married her because you got the stupid cow pregnant!"
She could tell Hermione wanted to say something, but she took one look at Draco and closed her mouth.
He had risen from his seat and was now glaring down at his father with fury written across his features. His face was positively contorted with rage.
"That may have been WHY we got married but it's not why we STAY married," yelled Draco.
His father merely snorted and crossed his arms, shooting Draco a disbelieving look.
"I could have divorced her. It would hurt her career more than mine. It would hurt her bank balance more than mine!" he continued to rant, "but guess what father? I am so SORRY to disappoint you, but I don't fucking want to divorce Hermione. You know why?" he asked coldly.
"Why don't you tell me then son, since you are so eager to shout in such a classless way," replied Lucius with disinterest.
Draco closed his eyes briefly, clearly trying to hold on to his near out of control temper.
Hermione remained silent, eyes fixed to Draco. Narcissa, an adept reader of people, saw curiosity there. She saw that this was new information to Hermione, that she was just as eager to hear what her husband had to say as Narcissa was.
"Because she has the same priorities as me. She would go to hell and back for Rose and Scorpius – already has. Had to marry an ex-fucking Death Eater with a Monster like you for a father. But it didn't matter. She makes the decision every day to stick by us. She puts herself last for them. Just like I do. We're the same. That's why I don't divorce Hermione…" he said firmly, his voice becoming softer towards the end, as if he was only just realising this for himself.
Hermione's eyes were wide and her cheeks bore a slight flush. She rose to stand by Draco, and gently tugged on his wrist, indicating that it was time to withdraw to their quarters.
"How touching Draco. Dumbledore would have been so proud," he said, narrowing his eyes to the point where Hermione's hand met Draco's wrist.
"Sod off, you pathetic old fool," said Draco, his tone low and menacing. "If I hear you speak to my wife like that again, or God forbid, either one of my children, I will curse you until you beg me for death. Only then will I spare you and put you in the family graveyard. No one would miss you anyway," he spat, pulling his wrist upwards to take Hermione by the hand and drag her from the room.
When they were gone, Narcissa turned to Lucius with tears in her eyes.
"How could you do that to your own son? Your own grandchildren?" she asked, beyond angry, she was positively wounded.
"Narcissa, they're below…." He began, before she raised her hand and cut him off.
"I don't want to hear it," she snapped, "you need to re-join us in the real world which has gotten over the ridiculous ideals spouted by your former Master – other wise you will have no son, no grandchildren AND NO WIFE," she snapped, finally the anger seeping into her blood.
Lucius watched with a slightly pained expression as she stood on her elegant heels and marched out of the room, her expensive black dress swirling behind her.
Hermione
Draco said nothing as he continued to drag her by the hand towards their quarters. It was clear he wanted to get them both as far away from his father as possible.
She decided to say nothing as he led her, assuming some kind of discussion would take place when they reached the privacy of their living space.
When they reached the lounge room, Draco dropped her hand and began to pace up and down.
"Can you believe that man? Over half a decade in Azkaban and he's learned nothing! Can't be happy for his only son having a family. Can't even feign respect for his son's wife. For his own wife, for that matter," he rambled.
Hermione walked up and took his hand tenderly. This was more tender contact than they had experienced in a while and Draco looked somewhat shocked by her gesture.
She looked into his eyes and asked the question that had been on her mind since Draco's impassioned rant at the table. "Draco," she said quietly, "did you mean what you said?"
"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.
"That you know you could divorce me… but don't want to?" she asked, wide eyed.
Realisation dawned on Draco's face, and with uncharacteristic tenderness, he took her other hand.
Now facing each other and connected by the hands, she felt closer to him than she had in a long time. Maybe ever.
"Yes, of course I did," he said earnestly, his eyes softening as he regarded her.
Hermione bit her lip slightly and looked up at him. It had been so long. So long since she had felt the kind of intimacy she felt humming around them now.
It was like a light-bulb went on.
Perhaps there was more to their marriage than their status in the wizarding community and their children. Perhaps he really did see things in her that he desired in a wife.
She was certainly attracted to the way he defended her so passionately.
Hermione believed every word he said when he threatened his father. And it wasn't for the twins. It was for her. It was her he was protecting.
She saw him gulp slightly, knowing he understood what she was telling him with her eyes.
"Don't go to your room tonight," she said quietly, running her thumbs along his wrists.
She saw many feelings across his usually unreadable face.
Nervousness, arousal, excitement, fear.
None the less, he pulled her into an embrace, lightly kissing her neck.
"Take me to bed then," he said into her ear.
Draco
He couldn't believe it. Most of the time he thought he would never get a shag again – but his wife had invited him to her bed for the first time since he got her pregnant with the twins.
For the first time since they were married.
If he had have known that some good old-fashioned Malfoy possessiveness would get her between the sheets, he would have considered it sooner.
He supposed he did always have a desire to protect her, but she was such a strong witch, he seldom had to. But when his father started to speak to her as he did, Draco felt something snap inside of him.
How dare he?
She was beautiful. She was smart. She was an excellent mother. How dare his father reduce her to her blood? To imply she didn't belong in their home. It was her fucking home. She was the wife he chose, circumstances aside.
He wouldn't tolerate disrespect to her from anyone, not even his own father – who he spent a great deal of his life fruitlessly trying to please.
Finally, he saw that he and Hermione weren't so different.
Perhaps they weren't in love – but they never really gave that a shot, did they?
They had both assumed the other didn't want to be there and let it frame all of their behaviours for years, without so much as thinking to discuss it.
She was still gorgeous. He would be kidding himself if he said he hadn't noticed over the years.
He'd fantasised about her deciding to climb into his shower one day, or surprising him in the study while the kids were asleep as he touched himself. He should have seen it as yearning, rather than necessity. He should have tried to woo her. He should have made an effort.
Instead, he assumed it was simply because he was sex starved, desperate, and she was there, but now he thought perhaps he had been attracted to her, and buried it.
An interesting thought.
Either way, he needed to turn his mind off to enjoy the experience of her giving herself over to him.
He had her stripped in no time, enjoying being reacquainted with her lovely figure. Even after childbirth, she was petite and in shape. Her breasts were now fuller and she wore a few silver scars around her hips and thighs from the twins – he suddenly recalled her swollen stomach with regret for not having got to touch it as he wanted to.
She was shy under his attentions, given their general lack of practice. He was nervous too, but better at hiding such things.
When he entered her, he met resistance from her body.
She looked up at him and flushed, turning her head to the side in embarrassment.
"Sorry, it's just been… so long," she said, by way of explanation.
Remembering something from the first night they came together, he leaned down and whispered in hear ear, causing her to arch her back and shudder. He remembered she loved that. Loved to be whispered to and touched there.
"What are you embarrassed about love?" he said, nipping her earlobe, "being faithful to me all this time, unsatisfied, when I should have been giving you this?"
She relaxed under him and he knew she had accepted his point. He hadn't been with a witch in that time either – and she was only so tense because it had been so long.
Hermione let out a low moan as Draco began to move within her, marvelling at how good she felt. Gods, why hadn't he tried to seduce her before this? It surely would have been a better use of all these years.
Memories of that night came flooding back to him. The things she had let him to do her. The filthy things he had whispered as she came undone around him. He suddenly couldn't wait to do them again.
They were married now, and, in theory, he had forever to experiment with her. To use her in every way he could think of, and to let her do the same to him.
"Are you going to show me what a good girl you are tonight?" he purred, thrusting hard to punctuate the question.
"Oh, God, yes," she said, squeezing her muscles in a way that drove him mad.
Draco let out a low grown and rolled them over so she was on top of him.
"Show me what a good wife you can be, Hermione," he challenged in a husky tone, marvelling at how her body looked as she began to ride him at her own pace.
She looked blissful as she threw her head back and smiled. Her hair was wild, as it always had been, and when she opened her eyes they were sparkling, as though she were alive for the first time in a long time.
"Mmmmmmm you feel so good," she said, leaning down to cover his mouth with hers. He groaned into her lips.
"We have lost time to make up for," he said seductively, "if you think I will allow you to walk straight tomorrow, you'd be wrong," he added.
Hermione let out a load moan at his words, clearly enjoying his threat.
Suddenly, it was as if his future went from black and white to colour. Happiness, and all sorts of other pleasures seemed to lurk around every corner.
Lucius
He knew she meant it when she said she would leave. Narcissa loved him, he had no need to question that – but she loved her son and his family more.
He didn't want her to leave, but how could he admit to himself and everyone else he had been completely wrong, when he wasn't even sure that was the case?
Lucius knew very few muggles. For all he knew, Hermione was an anomaly. The one bright spark in a sea of non-magical people that were exactly as described to him by his Grandfather and Father?
Perhaps there was something to that. He didn't have to accept muggleborns per say, he simply needed to accept Hermione, and his grandchildren (who were half-bloods rather than muggleborns anyway).
He need not go down the rabbit hole of re-assessing everything he thought about blood purity – he only needed to reassess the girl.
Lucius has seen the protective flare in his son's eyes and knew that he would eradicate him from his life if he continued to criticise his wife. He saw so much of himself in Draco in the moment. The fierce protective urge he had.
He hadn't spoken much with Narcissa about the nature of the marriage and knew only what he was told. They had imbibed too much and fallen into bed at a post-war celebration, and Hermione conceived the twins. They got married to preserve the Malfoy name, aid Hermione's career aspirations and give legitimacy to the children.
Mudblood or not, Lucius had been relieved Draco had the good sense to make sure that he would not create the first bastard Malfoy children in recorded history. He was also relieved that in doing so, he had ensured himself a stake in their lives.
Truly, Lucius was proud that his son had the sense of honour to do the right thing, even though he knew from his snooping that he and Hermione kept separate bedrooms.
Lucius felt guilty that Draco had been able to put his prejudges aside and move on, when he had stubbornly held on to his – taking his entire family down a dark path.
He still agreed with the Dark Lord's principles on blood purity and was wary that muggles were not trustworthy – look at how witches and wizards who were caught have been treated throughout history? Thrown in lakes, set on fire and pressed to death.
It was a desire to preserve and protect his world that drew him into that path, and he was too far into it before he saw that Voldemort had other motives.
He had to concede that his release from Azkaban was a second chance, and one muggleborn witch in his family probably wasn't worth ruining it for.
Lucius could hear his wife's angry words echoing through his brain from their angry exchange about the dinner.
"The world has changed. Your ideas are outdated. It's been years since you lost the war… the wizarding world is absolutely bloody fine!" she had yelled.
Unable to argue with her point, Lucius had shrunk away.
Later that night they had agreed to work on things. It had been so long, and they had so much catching up to do. They needed to get to know each other again – and he conceded that he needed to change.
He decided that change wouldn't happen over night and perhaps never could on a large scale, he was set in his ways after all. But he would try his best to accept Hermione and her family and love his grandchildren to the best of his abilities.
She had told him that while she welcomed his decision, Draco had made it clear that he wasn't to come near Hermione or the children until he could be sure that he was serious and would not hurt them.
He conceded that this was reasonable, and agreed to start to earn back the trust of his wife and son.
Five Years Later
Narcissa
She could tell that Draco and Hermione were dying to get away. They had been planning this trip for a long time and could hardly wait to get each other alone in the Malfoy family holiday home in Greece.
It was beach front, secluded, and absolutely romantic. She remembered it fondly from her younger days with Lucius.
Things had changed when Lucius returned years ago – for the better. She had observed that Draco and Hermione appeared to turn a corner, accepting each other and giving their marriage the serious attention it deserved.
They also, quite clearly rediscovered some long buried physical chemistry. It wasn't long before they received the happy news that they were to be grandparents again, this time to a healthy baby boy named Hugo, who was now a rambunctious three year old.
She knew Lucius had been looking forward to having the grandchildren for two weeks over the summer as well. He was always champing at the bit to spend time with him, and they all adored him – especially Scorpius, who he seemed to develop a real affinity with.
It had taken some time before Draco had cautiously allowed Lucius back into his family's lives, but it had been worth it.
Hermione had forgiven him of course, but that was just her way. The Gryffindor amongst the Slytherins.
Lucius had confided in her that his life had become happier when he had stopped hating people – and this had been a revelation for him. He was happy to enjoy his wealth and his family, stepping back from politics and the still prejudiced social circles he once ruled.
He was far happier spending time with Narcissa, Draco and the rest of the family.
It warmed her heart to think about it. She felt like the man she married had come home, after so very much time away.
The children were practically hanging from their Grandfather as Hermione lectured them about behaving themselves. Draco silently rolled his eyes in amusement. They weren't going to behave themselves and they were going to be spoiled rotten by his parents – he knew as much.
She admired the children for a moment, taking in their striking features and strong magical presence. Muggle heritage had clearly done nothing to besmirch their bloodline.
"Have fun darling," said Narcissa, giving Hermione a peck on the cheek and a quick wink when the boys weren't looking. Hermione blushed furiously.
Narcissa returned her blush was a knowing look.
If Draco was anything like his father, Hermione was going to be in for a VERY nice few weeks away.
She saw Draco give her a cheeky squeeze as they held on to the portkey, ready for the pleasures that awaited them on the sun-soaked beaches of Greece.
"Ah, remember when we were that young?" asked Lucius fondly.
"Mmmmmmmmmm. I certainly remember our trips to Greece," she said, eyes sparkling
Lucius smirked and looked at her adoringly.
All of a sudden, he grabbed her hands and pulled her in for a quick, but powerful kiss.
"Gods, I hope these kids get to sleep early," he groaned, pulling himself away to play games with the young Malfoys.
He obviously decided to pick the highest energy games he could think of, wanting them thoroughly tired by bedtime so he and Narcissa wouldn't be disturbed as they, hopefully, re-enacted some of their younger days alone on the deserted beaches of the Greek Islands.
Okay, that's two family focused stories. I have some more requests I am working on and a few original bits too. You all are keeping me busy!
That said, I have been very sick this year and unfortunately have had a relapse, back to the doctor tonight for more medication – it may slow me down.
Still, keep the requests and reviews coming.