When Narcissa returns to Perth, the air is, in her opinion, sweltering. Disgusting penal colony of a continent, she thinks, turning up her nose at the very thought. It is dusk and the manufactured muggle lights are just beginning to illuminate against the slightly pink sky, the last remaining evidence of the sun waning rapidly.

The Granger's home is dark and she assumes they have stepped out. Though it is far from proper, she finds herself not having enough respect for them to care and casts Alohomora on the door, letting herself inside. She freezes in the entryway. The house is immaculate and by immaculate, Narcissa means it is completely empty. The moderately attractive furniture, photos of the pair, wall art, even that obnoxious muggle picture box...gone. The room has been stripped. Passing from the sitting room to what she imagines would have been the dining room and then the kitchen, she finds much of the same. The large appliances still hum in the kitchen but otherwise it is all bare countertops and open cabinet doors. Not so much as a package of crisps left behind.

Narcissa, for all of her stately posture and air of indifference, is crestfallen. She had never once believed Thomas and Jean Granger would actually abandon their daughter when given the proper chance. She understood they were angry at the girl for overstepping the usual bounds of a child to a parent. She had even tried, though it is nearly impossible really, to understand their dislike for the Wizarding world, trying to imagine the roles reversed if muggle society was more exclusive and she found out Draco belonged there instead... not that that would ever happen of course.

So she had given them a chance to come to terms before obliterating their memories once more as Hermione had so hastily done. In her mind, when she imagined this fanciful world in which her son is a muggle, she also imagined she would see her child grown and beautiful and forsake her entire world if she had to, all for him. She can't believe a Mother failed to give all for her daughter.

She scans the house for the photo of Hermione and Draco, not finding it and wondering if they took it along with them as a memento, or simply tossed it into the rubbage bin and thought no more on their only child.

She could make an effort to find them of course. And she would nearly do it for the girl she has come to know and maybe even love. But ultimately she recognizes it was their choice to make and they simply do not deserve her.

Narcissa removes herself from their disgusting muggle domicile, leaving the door standing open and the quiet hum of the house to its own devices. She had half a mind to burn it to the ground if only to financially damage the selfish blighters, assuming they still own the property.

That would be most uncivilized she knows and settles for splintering the coat closet door as she leaves with a very satisfied, very petty, smile on her face.

XXXXX

"You did what!?"

"Really, Draco, is that volume necessary? I'm just across the room."

"How could you even consider… you had no right!"

Narcissa sets her cup of tea on the table beside her and straightens, meeting her son's angry gaze with her own stern countenance. "I had just as much right as Miss Granger had. I took it upon myself to do something I thought best. The difference being, I reversed a spell rather than casting one. A very difficult one without killing them I might add. You're welcome." She picks up the cup and takes a sip.

"Why in Merlin's name would you do that?"

"Draco, don't you imagine it would have been easier for her to come to terms with her guilt if she had reconciled with the source of her sorrow? I don't see how this changes things for the worse. It could have only been positive or, as it appears, stay the same."

He pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes closed. "I wish you had discussed with me… with her… before you took this upon yourself."

"What's done is done, my dove. Now tell me, do you have your dress robes?" Draco is struck by how quickly that twinkle can return to her eye.

"Yes, Mother," he grits out, "and I've been fitted for tailoring. I do know how these things work."

"Allow a woman to dote on her only child, darling. This is after all, my only time to enjoy a family wedding so close to my heart. Until my grandchildren marry of course."

"Always a dozen steps ahead aren't you? Not even married yet and you have me with grown children and grey hair."

"Pfft. As if a Malfoy would be prematurely grey. Preposterous."

"Are you going to tell, Hermione?"

"About the hair? Or the grandchildren?"

"About her parents."

"Oh that, Merlin no. Why upset the poor girl? Nothing to be done about it now."

Draco clenches his jaw. "So now you've put me in a position to either go against that sentiment or lie to my fiancée? Excellent," he grumbles under this breath.

"Don't mumble, Draco, it's unseemly. And you're not lying obviously. To not divulge is simply marital privilege."

Draco actually laughs at that. "Something tells me that doesn't work if Father tries not divulging to you."

"It might. He's just so wretched at it I always find out anyway." She smiles into her tea before continuing. "I heard your fiancée had a little difficulty when choosing her gown."

It's true, Hermione had admitted to Draco she had been a little overwhelmed, looking at herself in her bridal gown, veil ghosting her face, and realizing her parents would not even be in attendance. Where his Mother had heard he can't imagine, so he asks.

"Oh you know how these things are. The Potter girl tells her Mother and you know how that Molly likes to speak out of turn. Next thing you know the whole tribe of Weasleys is discussing it over dinner. Andromeda picks up Teddy from a play date with one of the older sibling's children and voila! I have my intelligence."

"Well, it's true enough but she seems to have bounced back."

She hums in reply, as though agreeing but somehow coming across as though to say "If that's what you think, you have another think coming." But instead the hum is followed by silence and Draco shifts his weight and huffs.

"There's my beautiful wife." Lucius Malfoy stalks into the room and takes a seat next to Narcissa. "Draco. Are we to see you for dinner this evening or did you just stop in to visit?"

"I can't very well 'stop in' my own home, Father. You do remember this is my home yes?" Draco is not terribly greedy. Oh he enjoys his fine life of course but the Malfoy fortune is far too vast to expect he could spend it alone. But that expectation from his father that Lucius will waltz back onto his throne and Draco will just need to go elsewhere is starting to grate on his nerves.

"Yes, yes of course. I only meant you spend so much time in that muggle residence, it's strange to see you here."

"It's not a muggle flat, Father. It is simply close to muggle London."

"Semantics. So, what are we discussing?"

Draco starts to speak but Narcissa cuts him off. "Draco and I were just discussing his dress robes for the ceremony. Which reminds me, have you made your appointment yet?"

"I… no not yet, my flower. I will first thing tomorrow."

"Wonderful. I expect not to remind you again. Remember, it takes time for fittings and alterations. Also, did you look into that produce vendor I mentioned? The one with the exotic fruits? The elves could do wonders with some more interesting ingredients. Do say you haven't forgotten have you? I hope it's not too late. These things must be done in advance. Really all of this planning is almost too much. Such a burden being the Mother of the groom with no Mother of the bride to lean on." Narcissa daintily rests her face upon her fingertips, eyes fluttering closed with the weight of her supposed stress. "Perhaps I should speak with Molly Weasley a bit more…bring her around the manor. I'm sure she would be more than happy to assist with these little tasks. Oh! What if we invite them for dinner? Get to know the surrogate parents of our future daughter in law. I'm sure Arthur will be pleased to help you with fruit suppliers and other tasks if it is too much on your own, my darling."

Lucius rises quickly and takes his wife's hand. "My love, I will floo the supplier right now and then head to the tailor. I do hate to see you stress. Your porcelain skin should never be touched by worry. I'll be back for dinner, pet."

Draco has never seen him walk more quickly. When he looks back at his mother, she is once again smiling into her tea and he realizes his father will never be a match for her.

She looks up and quirks one thin brow. "What?"

When Draco quirks a matching blond brow back in silent reply she scoffs, "Oh please, you think I don't know how to get him to run an errand? I've my tea to finish and then I'll be directing dinner. He is such a bother when he has nothing to do. I love him dearly of course but he is quite clingy sometimes."

That might be insensitive, what with the man just coming out of prison, but it's Lucius so Draco just laughs.

XXXXX

"I went to St. Mungo's today."

"Oh? Have you been feeling unwell?" Draco sets his fork across his plate and lays the back of his hand against Hermione's forehead.

She bats it away with a bit of a laugh. "I'm fine, stop that."

She lowers her eyes to her plate and spoons a bite of potatoes into her mouth, keenly aware his eyes are on her but she chews slowly before continuing softly. "I went to see that… that mind healer. The one your Mother mentioned."

"Well that's…" He considers carefully: Good? He doesn't want to give the impression he was taking his Mother's side. "…surprising," he finally settles upon.

She shrugs and drags her spoon through her food distractedly. "I thought it couldn't hurt."

"And was it…?"

"Helpful?" she suggests to finish his sentence. He nods. "I don't know. Too soon to tell maybe? I should really thank your Mother. I know she's just trying to help. Maybe I've been a little unkind."

Draco considers this. Taking into account his Mother's most recent meddling, he doesn't think his witch should be the one feeling guilty. Ultimately he thinks nothing good can come of divulging Narcissa's intrusion and placates as best as he can. "She knows you appreciate it really. As much as anyone can appreciate their Mother-in-Law trying to interfere in their lives."

Hermione chuckles and picks up her mostly empty plate. "Done?" He nods and she takes his plate as well.

He watches her a moment, her back to the room, rinsing the dishes in the muggle way and approaches her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. He is smiling but it drops quickly when she stiffens a little and says, "Draco, can we talk?"

With a groan he untangles himself. "No conversation ever, in the history of ever, has started with those words from a witch and not been exceedingly bad for the bloke."

She turns around and leans on the sink behind her with her elbows and grins. "Oh please, it's not that bad."

"I'll be the judge of that," he motions with a 'come hither' of his upturned fingers. "Out with it then. I leave socks around the flat too much? Need to spend more time with your mates? Should I be a more generous lover?" He wriggles his eyebrows and smirks.

She laughs a little and visibly relaxes. "Gods no! I mean, I won't complain if you want to try harder of course. You could never be too generous," she winks. "But no, I was just thinking…where are we going to live?"

Hermione turns back around and continues with her cleaning as she speaks. "I mean, I can't believe we haven't talked about it really. You have your flat, I have this one, there's the manor…"

Draco's brows migrate a bit closer to his hairline. No one is more surprised than him that he hasn't thought about it either.

"I mean," she goes on, "I'm not expecting to live here. My lease is up next month and I thought I'd just let it go, move in with you before the wedding-I mean if that's ok with you! But it's silly to keep it. Your flat is paid for so it would be impractical to continue to rent this one. But then you always said you thought of the manor as being your real home. The flat was just a…well… I don't need to say out loud its main purpose," she finishes primly.

Draco winces. He probably shouldn't have admitted he bought the place so he could date muggles without his Mother's knowledge, 'date' being a generously polite word. Granger had been clever enough to figure out it was basically just a shag-pad. He decides to interrupt before she makes the room even more uncomfortable. "I always assumed we would move into the manor."

She turns to him again, surprise on her face. "Really? I mean, with your parents there and everything?"

He furrows his brow in response. "I thought you were getting on fairly well."

"Oh we are! I mean your Mother and I are. Your Father… well he hasn't called me the 'M' word or flashed his mark at me so I think he's being downright warm, considering. Anyway, that's not what I meant to imply. It's just… I never imagined getting married and moving in with my husband to his Mum's house you know?"

"That's because you didn't know you were marrying a Malfoy," he says with a bit of puffed pride. "It's not a house, Granger. It's a manor. An estate. Not uncommon for more than one generation to reside within. They have their own wing for Merlin's sake. We'll hardly see them."

He pauses a moment and has a disturbing thought. "Did you… did you want me to ask them to leave?"

"Of course not! Oh my God, Draco, I'd never! It's their home, even if you legally own it. I just didn't know if you would want… I mean if we might think about…Ugh!" She growls in frustration. "Would it be so terrible if I just want you to myself? Our own home with our own dining room and able to walk around in the buff in my own sitting room if I so desire?"

He grins, "You minx. I'll buy you a bloody castle if that's your plan."

She blushes and he slides back across the room to place his arms around her once again. "I like your parents…surprisingly… I want them to be a part of our lives and, eventually, you and I and the fates and Gods willing, our children. But can I just have you all to myself for the first few years? I want to keep this," she gestures to the room. "Private dinners, just the two of us. Snuggling on the sofa and not worrying about who might walk in. Shagging in the damn kitchen if I want. It's just… that's how I imagine being married to you and I'm too selfish to share." She offers a lopsided grin and slides her arms around his neck. Tilting her head to meet his, she kisses him on the lips softly, but a hint of things to come in the form of a quick tongue flick.

He whispers against her skin, "Anything you want. I'd live in muggle Canada to keep kissing these lips."

She pauses and pulls back just a fraction, "what's wrong with Canada?"

He smiles and breathes out a little less smoothly than usual, nipping her lips between disjointed thoughts, "Nothing…(nip)…was an example…(nip)…could've said Greenland…(nip)…or Laos…(nip)…or…," and finally resumes the kiss with earnest and no more words. They don't really finish the conversation. He doesn't care. He meant what he said. For Hermione Granger, he'd live anywhere.