A/N: Love to all reviewers
Countess Black has once again proved herself invaluable. I couldn't thank her enough if I tried.
This is a two-parter, because I was feeling mischievious. and Hermione's not the only one who can get into trouble if left alone for too long :)
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Unlike Draco, Narcissa Malfoy had not the slightest problem with what had been done to Hermione. She returned to Andromeda's with her husband. Andromeda was awake, and they exchanged pleasantries as Lemmy fed Teddy and Andromeda rocked him to sleep. He was a finicky eater, just as Draco had been.
She and Lucius retired to bed. In the dark, he rolled to clasp her to him. Narcissa smiled and moved in a way that suggested subtly that she was receptive to his needs, should he wish to relieve them. After nearly twenty five years, these things had a rhythm all their own, and the two of them moved in perfect concert. After, he apologized as he always did for bothering her and she graciously pretended not to mind.
"Do you suppose they'll be all right?"
"The children? Yes, of course."
Like his wife, Lucius was untroubled by the underhanded means of securing the mudblood's consent. He worried rather more about Draco; Granger was clearly trying hard to help, but how could a woman know how to react to that kind of problem? Oh, no doubt she'd seen some frightful things—hadn't they all?—but it wasn't as though Draco could talk to her about all this, could he?
Strange as it sounds, a sort of culturally sanctioned amnesia had come over both Malfoy parents. Having given their word they'd accept Hermione as their daughter in law, they were now obliged to treat her like their own, and, in their minds, a kind of alchemy had taken place. Where once was a filthy, ancestorless mudblood, now was, or soon would be, a Malfoy.
Because of that, they ascribed to her all the characteristics of a Pureblood lady; gentleness, sensitivity, a disposition too fragile to deal with the harsh world. In fact, had Lucius discovered Draco had shared any of the horrors of his dreams with Hermione, he would have been absolutely furious and probably punished his son quite severely. Hermione was simply too delicate to tolerate hearing those things without some detriment to her health, just as Narcissa was. Women were to be cherished and cared for, not subjected to the weaknesses of those whose sacred mission it was to preserve their childlike innocence and frailty.
He held his wife closer. "We must expect these things, after the year we've had."
Narcissa snuggled into his shoulder. "Did he tell you what it was about?"
"The raid in Novemeber. With your sister and that damned werewolf."
Lucius considered that Bellatrix was the vindication of every theory about females he'd ever read. Her lack of reason had led to her all consuming devotion to the Dark Lord, which had caused her to become…well, Bellatrix.
If he was her husband, he would have corrected her the very first time she showed such an unwomanly inclination to start with. But, given Rudolphus'…tastes…it was unsurprising he'd preferred his wife distracted by her mania.
"That's unfortunate."
"Indeed. He should be fine. I gave him permission to share her bed tonight. They need one another."
His wife responded with the kind of loaded silence all married people know and fear. After a second, Narcissa said thoughtfully "Do you expect she understands?"
"Understands what?"
"About her marital duties ? To him?"
"He did ruin her, Cissy."
"I can't imagine she was fully awake. He must have given her a mild sedative or memory charmed her. And it was only that once, anyway."
Lucius considered. "An excellent point, my dear. Perhaps have a word with her?"
"I wonder what the muggle ideas that so upset Draco were?"
"I daresay we'll find out soon enough."
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All the same, when Narcissa stepped through the Floo, she anticipated a rough few days. The girl would be very upset, possible hysterical. It was good Draco was disinclined to humour her; it would make everyone's lives so much easier.
Imagine her surprise when, expecting something between a crying jag and finding the girl prostrate with grief, she found her dusting the bookshelves with a rag, clad in hideous muggle trousers and an old t-shirt. The girl's hair was frizzing every which way, and her feet were actually bare.
Hearing the Floo, Hermione jumped. She very nearly dropped the rag. When she saw it was Narcissa, she relaxed and stayed the hand that had been going for her wand. "Good morning, Mother."
Narcissa walked to where Hermione was standing and gently turned her to the side, holding her arm. As soon as she'd turned, Narcissa gave her a single hard smack on the backside, causing her to gasp and stiffen. It didn't really hurt, but she hadn't expected it, nor the hug that came right after.
"Hermione, love, are you supposed to be doing housework?"
"No, Mother, but I--"
"Who is to do these things?"
"Tibby, but--"
"No buts. I want you to go and change and then come back down with your hairbrush."
"Yes, Mother." Draco smirked at his mudblood as he walked out of the kitchen. 'Told you so' he mouthed, grinning. He loved being right, and he'd told Granger, hadn't he, that she ought to be resting? Narcissa turned to her son and gave him a Look.
"Why was Hermione doing house elf work, Draco?"
Draco crossed to his mother's side. "She's trying to keep busy, Mother."
"Keep busy?"
He lowered his voice. "After last night."
Narcissa still didn't understand. "I'm not sure I heard you correctly, Draco. You're saying Hermione is doing housework because of our talk last night?"
He shrugged. "I don't understand it either, Mother. She said she'd been selfish wanting them back, and she had to be an adult about it. When she woke up this morning, she asked Tibby to strip the beds and wash the sheets and started dusting. Something about channeling her energy into constructive pursuits."
Narcissa slowly shook her head. This was the last thing she'd expected, and frankly, it made her skin crawl a little. "What about her mood?"
"She's been …quiet. It's never good when Granger's quiet."
"Has she been crying?"
"Not that I know of. She's trying to keep a happy face, I think." Draco murmured something about needing to use the lavatory and made a hasty retreat to the stairs. He had absolutely no interest in the feminine go-ings on, and he dreaded being pulled into wedding planning or, worse, listening to stories about himself as a child. One of the few negative aspects of what he had dubbed 'the Plan' was the paucity of parental embarrassment for Granger. Life is just so awfully, dreadfully unfair some days.
Narcissa wished Lucius was here. Between the two of them, he was the one who'd succeeded in coaxing normal affection from the girl, albeit briefly. Perhaps he could have got a more normal emotional response as well, but he was testifying in from of some sub committee about Death Eater activity in the Ministry.
Clad in another hideous jumper—this one was a deep maroon—and baggy skirt, Hermione came back, holding the brush and a small jar of hair pins. She sat back down on the couch, forcing herself to relax as Narcissa came over, took the brush and began to do her hair.
"Dear, did your Mother ever explain about what happens once you're married?"
"What do you mean?"
Narcissa tried to phrase everything in a way that wouldn't scare the poor thing half to death. "That night my son had his way with you…you understand you'll be expected to do that again, don't you?"
Hermione blinked. "Yes, of course." Draco, unfortunately for him, had chosen that exact moment to come back downstairs. He'd overheard enough to have a good idea of what Mother was doing, and he quite anticipated enjoying the moment.
"Mother, Draco and I were sharing a bed."
"Of course you were. But since he says all you did was sleep, I wanted to make sure you understand there's more to it than that."
Draco's mudblood had gone pink. He swallowed a laugh and nodded solemnly. "Perhaps you'd best explain it, Mother. Hermione's just so modest and innocent…" His little girl was clearly dying to retort but, because Narcissa was there, all she could do was writhe. Not that he wasn't, at some level, sincere, but really, this was simply too good to pass up.
Draco had never encountered the muggle phrase 'hoisted on one's one petard'. It wouldn't have dissuaded him particularly if he had. All the same, things seemed to be progressing just right at first. Narcissa nodded gravely and began gently plying the brush, carefully easing the tangles out, calling for Tibby to go to Andromeda's to borrow oil to smooth Hermione's hair.
"Now, my darling, men are sometimes subject to urges. Because of that, my son will expect you to-- yield your person-- to him every so often." Draco bit his tongue to keep from laughing. Granger was almost purple, though with embarrassment or anger he couldn't say.
None of this seemed at all to contradict the gentle feelings he'd had for her—was still having—that morning. His mudblood had wanted a distraction and now she had one. As for him, he was simply appreciating the man layers of irony in this situation, at least until his descent into hell, for just then, Narcissa turned to her dear baby and said "Sit down, Draco. We may as well get this over with."
"M-mother?"
"It was only the once, precious. I'm not sure you understand it as well as you'd like to."
"Don't ladies usually do this amongst themselves?"
"Normally, but given the strange circumstances, this might be for the best."
"But surely Father--"
"Sit down, darling."
He did. 'I shall just pretend not to hear, is all. Yes, that's what I'll do. Pretend I'm elsewhere.' Then the real horror began. It wasn't that Draco was uncomfortable with the subject matter, but Mother had no business even knowing about these things, let along talking about them. Much more comforting to imagine he and Granger were the first to discover this particular thing.
"And so all you need do is lie very still and think of something else, and in a few moments it will be done." Narcissa smiled and patted Hermione's shoulder.
"It sounds must worst than it is, I promise. Do you have any questions?"
"No, Mother."
"There's a brave girl. Draco, what about you, love?"
Her son was green. "N-no, Mother."
"If it helps, darling, just remember the pretty little baby you'll have. Nothing good without struggle, isn't that right?"
They both gave the correct answer and Narcissa lightly tapped Hermione's neck with one long, varnished nail. "Love, didn't your mother ever explain any of this?"
"She did. Muggles tend to think of these things differently."
"Oh? How so?"
Draco swallowed drily and waited for the disaster to commence.
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Lucius Malfoy thought he had come off rather well in the hearing. Rising, he politely bid farewell to those around him and walked from the chamber. It had been far too hot in the room, and he wanted a shower at Andromeda's before he joined Narcissa in Darlington with the children.
A harried looking clerk bustled up. "Lucius Malfoy?"
"Yes?"
"This came for you." The man handed him a letter and strode off without another word, a far cry from the time when he would have fallen over himself bowing. Lucius rolled his eyes and slit the seal with a fingernail. It was from his wife, who seemed to think he needed to come right away.
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When he came through a few minutes later, he saw his son, clearly waiting for him. The mud—Hermione—was beside him, and Narcissa was standing behind them both. She smiled and gently propelled the children to the divan. "Father and I must talk."
The second the adults were out of sight, Hermione put her mouth right to Draco's ear. "Have you no shame at all?"
"None. Come on, Granger, the last ten minutes have been punishment enough. Surely that soft Gryffindor heart wouldn't want to disappoint Mother and Father, not to mention the trouble I'd get in."
Hermione tried to look cross. "You're terrible, just terrible. If I did a thing like that--"
"I'd whack you until you didn't sit for a month, I know. But Hermione, it was Mother. I just couldn't tell her."
"You owe me for this, Malfoy. I think a nice backrub might even the score."
Draco got very still. "Why—you-- little --brat, I can't believe—I ought to—jolly good." He laughed and embraced his little girl, who looked entirely too pleased with herself. He simply couldn't be stern with her after something like that. "That was very good, precious. My little girl is learning guile, isn't she?" He kissed the top of her head and grinned, relieved she was acting more normal.
Someone cleared their throat and the two teenagers sprang apart like they'd been burned. Lucius gestured for Draco to follow him up the stairs and Draco followed, worrying he was in trouble. Narcissa sat down in Draco's place and, sighing, began part two of the Plan.
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"No, you aren't in trouble. Just thought we'd give the ladies a little time to themselves. Mother was quite disturbed by some of what Hermione said, and she wanted to ask privately. And anyway, it's been some time since you and I just sat and talked."
"Rather wish you'd got here a little earlier, Father. It was awful."
Lucius smirked and shook his head. "Draco, it can't have been that bad. You did ruin the girl, did you not?"
"Yes, I know, but—Mother? It isn't right."
"Mother and I were young once, just as you and Hermione are. I remember we--"
Draco held up a hand. "Father, please! Couldn't you just smack me or something?"
"Pardon?"
"It can't be any worse than hearing one's parents speak about this."
Put that way, Lucius couldn't control his laughter. "I sorry it disturbed you, Draco. Mother simply wanted to be sure you both understood, that's all."
Draco smirked. "Granger went red as strawberries. It was almost worth it."
"Mmm, I imagine. You two were having a very good time when I came in. Is that how you always are?"
"Mostly. We argue, sometimes."
"All married people do. As long as the good outweighs the bad…Draco, I do not like to speak about the aftermath of that…unpleasantness at the Ministry, but I will tell you this: of all the things that happened that year, do you know the worst?"
"No, Father."
"Missing Mother and yourself. I would have given everything I had in the whole world to see her smile once more, or to have heard you laugh." Draco looked away, embarrassed by his father's unusual sentimentality and not sure how to react.
"How did you feel that year you and Hermione were apart?"
"Afraid. Not like I ought to have been, but I really thought He would…stupid. Snape tried to warn me."
Luciu clasped his son's shoulder. "You're young, Draco. We all make mistakes. Though I must say, had I known how you were occupying yourself in my absence…"
Draco squirmed. "I thought it would serve the Cause."
"I'm not scolding you, Draco. Only remarking on the vagaries of fate." They sat and chatted, well content to known their women were safe below, for quite some time.
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The more time Narcissa spent with Hermione, the more she wanted the girl's parents found. Not for Hermione, precisely, though that was part of it; mainly, she wanted to hex them for a while to express her displeasure with what passed for parenting in the muggle world.
The girl herself was suspiciously well. Given the talk they'd had the night before, and the nature of that day's discussion. Narcissa would have felt better had Hermione been a little less…sanguine. Really, would a small fit if tears have been too much to ask?
On the contrary, the child was almost painfully cheerful and clearheaded. She was completely open to Narcissa's ideas about the wedding, she professed to be unafraid at the idea of marital intimacy, and she even claimed to be fine with waiting to search for her parents.
It seemed to Narcissa a simple matter of the inappropriate, headstrong independence Hermione persisted in showing. She ought to have been a wailing, sob mess precisely because it was not for her to spare them. They cared for her, after all. Hermione ought to trusted them enough to get completely hysterical so they could give comfort.
In service to this, Narcissa sat back and asked Hermione to put her head in her lap. Hermione, clearly uncomfortable, did just that. At least she was learning to relax a little. Narcissa carded her fingers through the girl's hair, trying to make her feel calm and safe for this next part, which would be difficult for all of them.
"Darling, are you quite sure you don't want to talk about last night?"
"I'm sure, Mother."
"Because Father and I would be very upset if we thought you didn't trust us. You do trust us, don't you, darling?"
"Yes, of course I do. But I was thinking about it, and really, you were right."
"Of course I was, precious, but I find it rather hard to believe that you're as happy as you say you are."
Hermione could tell this was going somewhere, and her skin tingled a little in warning. She made herself slowly count to ten.
"I'm not happy. But I think we have a choice in things, and so I'm not going to be miserable about it."
Narcissa felt a little admiration despite herself. She found the whole notion as stupid and muggle as anything the girl had ever said, but bless her if she didn't seem resolved in it.
"That's all well and good, but the rest of us are quite worried. It isn't normal, dearest. You aren't meant to hold feelings inside like this. Like opening the floo of a chimney, do you see?"
Hermione bit her tongue to keep from laughing as she recalled what else she had heard compared that way. "I'm not a crier, Mother. I never have been."
Narcissa didn't reply right away. Taking the afghan off the back of the divan, she covered the girl up and spent a little time just holding her head. "Dearest, every woman is a crier. Nature made us that way."
"I'm sorry, Mother. I just can't right now."
Narcissa patted her cheek. "I'm not angry, love. But we need to deal with this."
Hermione said nothing, only lay very still as Narcissa fussed over her. She really didn't want to talk about it. She'd been consciously avoiding the issue all day, and Draco had been very willing to indulge her in that to avoid messy emotional issues.
Narcissa huffed, very like Draco. She spent another minute giving the child affection, concerned that she not feel abandoned, and then an idea came to her. "Darling, I shall call Father, and you might speak to him about it." There was no sense of question or suggestion in either tone or words; Hermione was going to tell someone about her feelings and go totally to pieces and that was that. Standing, Narcissa called up the stairs. Lucius appeared at the top, eyebrow raised, and after a quick, whispered conference, the adults switched places.
Hermione and Lucius stared at one another uncomfortably. Hermione had sat up and taken her afghan off, and hands in her lap, she struggled to find a way to politely convey the fact she simply wasn't as terribly upset as Narcissa seemed to think.
"Hermione?"
"Yes, Father?"
"Mother thinks your lack of sentiment is a sign you don't trust us. I presume she is mistaken?"
"Yes, sir. I simply gave the matter some thought and' Hermione shrugged ' she was quite right. The Ministry hasn't been the slightest help, and I can't be with them every single instant. I mean, even the office in town might not be safe, let along places like London. They can't live trapped here forever."
Lucius eyed the girl. She seemed sincere and quite calm about the whole thing. Almost despite himself, he was starting to like Granger. She was a tough, resourceful girl who seemed blessedly free of the usual feminine games and silliness.
He dropped his voice and murmured right in Hermione's ear. "Mother shan't give you a second's peace until you've cried and one of us has comforted you. Why don't you make it easy on yourself and cry a bit, hmmm?"
"I can't."
"Can't?"
"Not unless I mean it." Hermione took a deep breath and sat up very straight. Lucius chuckled softly at her apparent seriousness and spoke again.
"Surely there's something? Some bit of verse or children's story that makes you tear up?"
"It's all upstairs."
He swallowed an improper exclaimation and sighed. "No chance, then?"
"Sorry."
Lucius toyed briefly with the idea of breaking her—trying to break her—verbally. He could probably do it; had done it to others often enough in the past, and surely under her calm exterior, she was in some kind of pain.
He found himself strangely disinclined. More interesting to watch it play out. His wife would have her way in the end, almost certainly. But he would enjoy watching the mu—Gr—Hermione's attempts to evade Narcissa, and the girl would learn a lesson.
"All right, my dear. I'm not cross with you. Mother will be vexed, however. She will likely wish to continue this tomorrow."
"Yes, sir."
Touching her was less distasteful this time. He patted her back for a moment and called his wife. Narcissa looked as displeased as he thought she might, but he shrugged it off. There was only so much he could do, after all. Draco had followed Narcissa down, and the Malfoys kissed both children, made Hermione swear anew that she'd call for them the second she needed them, and left.
Draco sat on the divan with a sigh and summoned the latest muggle book he'd been reading. Hermione sat beside him, deep in thought. Nothing, she reflected ruefully, is ever quite as we assume it to be. She knew Malfoy was waiting for her to say something.
"Draco?"
"Hmmmm?"
"Can I—may I—sit in your lap?" Hermione blushed and tried to ignore how silly she felt. There was nothing wrong with admitting to needing affection, she told herself sternly. Draco put the paperback down and patted his leg. "Of course you can, my darling."
Hermione climbed on and he wrapped his arms around her. Granger never initiated affection. Not that he wasn't very pleased—he adored cuddling his mudblood, and it was an excellent sign that she felt safe enough to ask for what she needed from him—but it drove home that something was wrong. Draco flashed on her papery, still face from the night before and felt something squirming in his guts.
"You're really scaring Mother."
"Not on purpose."
"Of course not. Mother has got very fond of you, and it's quite worrying her that you're so blasé about all this."
"This is how I am, Draco. You know that."
"I also happen to know a little girl who keeps her feelings inside and pretends nothing is wrong until she makes herself half sick. Do you know anyone like that?"
Hermione snuggled into his shoulder silently. "Granger? I asked you a question."
She took a deep breath. "I'm not, though. I would have thought you'd want me to agree with your parents, Malfoy."
"Of course I do, but I won't have you hurting yourself, and neither will they. You watch, Mother'll be at you until you break down."
"Unless you take care of it."
"Sorry?"
"Help me, Draco, please?"
