Author's Note: All disclaimers apply. I do not own the characters contained in this story. They belong to J.K. Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Bros. Inc. Also thanks for all of the reviews. They are very inspirational and appreciated! Edited to add credit to Kathleen E. Woodiwiss and her plot from Shanna. This entire disclaimer applies to her work as well.

Sorry that I didn't update again last week. I've been having terrible morning, actually all day sickness, and yesterday we had terrible weather. There were tornado warnings all day yesterday so, again I apologize for not updating like I promised. Hope you all will still hang in there with me. Take care everyone.

Celtic

Chapter 12

Trust is Earned, not Given

As calmly as she was able Hermione bent down and sat cross-legged on the floor. Then, she quietly proceeded to stack some nearby books into a box. She had intended to go upstairs first, to set her room to rights, but now, she couldn't go up there yet. Instead, she mutely packed books back into a box and waited for her anger to subside.

For over an hour Hermione sat in the back, by herself, not hearing anything from the front of the shop. Malfoy was lazy, and it was Sunday. He'd probably gone down to the cellar without her noticing and was lying on his cot gloating. Hermione Granger, the ugly, worthless, little Mudblood had been humiliated before his very eyes. It was a sight he would savor for the rest of his life.

Grabbing another book Hermione noticed how the binding was slightly frayed and grimaced, about to rise and retrieve her wand to fix it. The book's pages flapped about when she went to examine the binding more closely and several loose pieces of paper fell out. Carefully setting the book to her side Hermione picked the papers up, about to simply stuff them inside when a photograph peeked from between the pages. Pulling it out she was surprised to see three figures staring back at her that were very familiar.

Hermione had only seen Malfoy's mother a handful of times, but it was Narcissa, holding a tiny baby and standing rigidly in the embrace of her husband, Lucius. Her blonde hair was severely pulled back into a tight knot, which was probably fastened at her neck, and her eyes were a dull blue, emotionless, and empty. This was obviously not a happy family photo, for even in his younger years Lucius possessed a domineering sneer of disdain that marred his flawless complexion.

It was odd to have such a picture in a book, and so curious, Hermione opened the cover careful of the binding. Everything was handwritten in elegant script. She had never seen such beautiful penmanship. There were dates as earlier as nineteen seventy-seven at the tops of the pages and paragraph after paragraph of detail. Flipping gingerly over to the front cover page she already knew she would find the owner to be one Narcissa Malfoy. How had her diary ended up in an old box of books?

Well, she had purchased a good deal of books from the Malfoy library and had selfishly kept them back from being set out for sale just yet. Even though Malfoy had been an insufferable git he had impeccable taste in just about everything and Hermione wanted a first chance to skim the books herself, for any valuable volumes to add to her collection. Still, it was odd that such a thing would happen unless there had been a mistake. Malfoy had said the Ministry searched his own home. As thorough and destructive as their searches were the diary could have been misplaced.

Sighing, Hermione realized a harrowing fact. Malfoy had actually been sympathetic as she thought about it now with a clearer head. He'd been in the same situation. Rather, his mother had when his father's death was announced and the Ministry saw the opportunity to search for further evidence against the entire Malfoy family. They weren't innocent, far from it, but Lucius had been the one to draw the family closer to Voldemort. He had been the one to delve so far into madness that his family suffered for it.

Casting her gaze down at the diary Hermione knew she had the obligation to give it to Malfoy. Also, it would be rude to read it since Narcissa was still alive, in hiding it was believed, but alive. Then again, wouldn't the Ministry want to read it to see if there were any clues as to where Narcissa might have fled to or other evil crimes that Lucius committed at the command of the Dark Lord? No, the Ministry hadn't helped her or stood by her when she was trying to better others lives. Why should she offer them the one last thing that Malfoy had to remind him of one of his parents?

Standing Hermione left the remaining books for later and walked back to the front of the shop, just in case he was still there. She stopped short gasping slightly when she pushed the curtain back. Everything was in place, well almost but she could fix the few things that needed to be rearranged. Everything was clean and repaired also. Now she felt more than a little mortified at her earlier behavior.

"Malfoy?" she called out in almost a whisper, glancing around to see if he was nearby.

"If you're going to complain about where everything ended up I'm not going to listen. You change the entire layout daily so I doubt even you would remember where everything was from one day to the next."

Walking forward Hermione saw Malfoy sitting on the floor leaning back against the wall with a stack of books to his side. Truly humbled she shook her head as she came toward him. "No, everything is perfect. You didn't have to. You could have left it and…"

"And you could have let Weasley see that I refused to clean your dingy cellar as well," he interrupted, but didn't take his attention from the books. He was avidly reading the covers as though searching for a specific title.

Apologizing to Malfoy for her outburst earlier was out of the question. That was far too friendly, and after what had almost happened that morning Hermione needed to put significant space between them. Giving him the diary was small thanks, and all she could offer. "I found something in the back. I thought you might be interested in having it."

Hermione held out the worn book for Malfoy to take. His eyes did rise to meet hers then and he grasped the book. For a moment he didn't know what it was but as careful as she had been he opened the cover. There was no way he could have hidden the surprise that came over his features and she was pleased for some unknown reason that she had gotten such a response.

Lowering herself, Hermione sat on her knees and leaned back on her heels, watching him marvel over the diary. "There was a photo that fell out with some stray papers. I put it back in."

"You could have given this to the Ministry," Malfoy whispered strangely cautious. "It could have been used as evidence to find my mother and use her as a witness. Why didn't you?"

"Don't you think the Ministry has picked through enough of our belongings for the time being?" Hermione shrugged, not sorry in the least she hadn't turned the diary over. Malfoy had helped her today, for whatever reasons of his own, and giving him the diary seemed like the only right thing to do.

"Yes, I'd think so," he agreed finally taking his gaze off the diary to stare back at her. "I suppose you can be grateful the Ministry Weasel didn't try and question you about last night."

"I suppose. That would have been preferable," she drawled and rolled her eyes.

"No, I don't think so. You don't lie well, never have." Hermione shot Malfoy an aggravated glare and he held up a hand. "Now that isn't an insult, it's kind of charming really, but not when you're trying to convince pricks like Weasley you're innocent."

"I am innocent," Hermione stated firmly, believing it completely.

"Yes and no. If you look at it you've defied a direct order from the Ministry to return a house elf. Are you sure you're not ready to give up the good fight and just admit it's not worth the hassle?"

"Then they win," she answered, as though it was the simplest explanation in the world.

"They, the Purebloods, the Du Mariers in particular? You still didn't answer me before. What did they say to you?" They had threatened her most likely, but Draco wanted to hear her say it. Hermione needed to realize her position, and quickly, while she was still somewhat ahead in the game.

"It doesn't matter," she muttered and started to stand.

Malfoy caught Hermione's arm and kept her from coming to her feet. "It matters more than you think. Did they have any specific threats or did they just try and intimidate you? Did they mention anything that might make you think they were the ones to send the box of chocolates?"

"They were very vague, but yes, they told me they'd be watching and that there were others," Hermione finally answered grudgingly. The truth behind trying to keep Malfoy from discovering what had been said was she couldn't understand his protectiveness at the present. There was no reason for it, or at least not one she wanted to think about or accept.

"End this now. Give them their fucking creature back," Malfoy ordered, tersely.

"No!" Hermione cried, outraged he would say such a thing. "Poor Prinny would be dead before the night was out if I sent him back to them. They'd make an example of him to the other house elves."

"Do you fucking think I care about what happens to whatever his name is? Forgive me if I'm more interested in my wife's well being instead of a house elf," he ground out tightening his hold on her wrist unconsciously.

"I'm a widow in every way that matters and soon you won't have to be forced to connect your name with mine," she snapped back trying to pull herself free.

"We're back to this again and I'm getting sick to death of this argument," Draco sighed with heavy irritation. "Once more, and pay close attention, because next time I'll use actions instead of words. I'm not divorcing you, we will be admitting very soon that we are married, and if I have to I'll use the old laws passed by the Ministry to ensure that you obey my orders to stop this elvish idiocy!"

"Those laws are in the process of being changed, and I don't have to stay married to you if I don't want to," Hermione challenged growing wary of him, but not out of fear of him, but herself. He would use actions next time? Images of that morning unbidden came to the surface of her mind, and she squelched them she hoped before she started blushing.

"What if you wanted to, stay married that is. Unless something drastic changed in the course of a year you didn't have too many prospects for a husband if I remember," he said much too innocently his hold on her lessening.

Hermione glanced back with a mixture of confusion and shock displayed over her delicate features. "What are you playing at now Malfoy? For years you made it perfectly clear I wasn't worth licking the dirt from your shoes, and now you're acting desperate to avoid a divorce from a marriage neither of us wanted to begin with."

"No games, just thinking of a mutually beneficial agreement that's all." For some reason seconds ago she'd started blushing. Since she had removed her robes to start cleaning earlier and she was only wearing a scooped neck t-shirt and shorts, the scarlet tint to her skin was visible traveling down her neck and to her breasts.

"The last agreement we made wasn't exactly beneficial," Hermione reminded him, wondering why she hadn't just stood up and walked away already. She had given him the diary she should let the subject drop.

"At first we wouldn't have thought so, but I don't know. Being married obviously is advantageous to me, seeing as it's a way to get my freedom. Then you could use the money having the name Malfoy affords for your research and whatever other little charities you can think of." Draco paused then seeing her contemplating something and shook his head firmly. "Not this elvish shite of yours, but nice, quiet, safe charities. Go dedicate some money to a theater or museum. Donate to a children's hospital, Muggle even if you want, but get yourself out of this society for the elves. Leave it for the Ministry when they're ready."

"You'll never understand," Hermione sighed wearily. "You've never known what it was like to be forced into the service of someone you can't stand or be reprimanded for the smallest infractions. You've been spoiled and coddled your entire life and never had to get your hands dirty once."

For some reason her blatantly simple assumptions didn't anger Malfoy as they might have long ago. Neither she nor anyone else really knew how he had been raised, and by what standards he was made to live up to. Of course, everyone automatically assumed he'd had a physically abusive home life when anyone ever questioned him about his evasive mentions of his parents.

That wasn't the case. Lucius Malfoy was far too proud to lay a hand on him and his mother too cold and timid to exert any will of her own at all. His father merely controlled with his voice, innuendos, and of course his expectations. That, Malfoy admitted freely now, was another reason at first he'd decided to stay married to Hermione. One last laugh in the face of the man who had never allowed him a modicum of sanity or freewill, and if Lucius was a ghost in any form he was indeed rolling angrily in his grave.

"Not in the sense you mean, but that's not the subject I want to discuss. There's not just the money, because of course you'd never marry for money," Draco teased, changing the topic toward something other than himself.

"You know why I needed the money," Hermione defended, still ashamed that she had used such a disastrous and devious plan to begin with.

"For your noble causes, yes I know. I'm just trying to give you reasons to help you adjust. Malfoy's don't divorce Hermione, and besides doesn't the idea of marrying into a Pureblooded family appeal to you just a little?" Draco hadn't meant to start into this issue so thoroughly before convincing her a bit more of other benefits to marriage. This conversation might have gone more smoothly if Weasley and Longbottom hadn't intruded with the Du Mariers on their heels this morning.

"Blood doesn't matter to me Malfoy and not because I'm a Muggle-born, but because it just isn't something worth worrying about. Poverty, hunger, politics, the under privileged, and of course the dark wizards still scattered about merit more concern I think," Hermione answered truthfully, having never looked at people differently because of their origin of birth, but judged them for their beliefs and character.

There it was again, that maddening and endearing innocence that both humbled and infuriated him. Hermione was so strong and loyal, but at times her pure thoughts of how to protect and defend the world were sadly miscalculated. She sat back staring at him honestly believing that blood did not matter, that prejudices would someday disappear, and all she needed to worry about was doing as much good as she could. "Those are righteous causes, but why don't you think about yourself this time. You'd have a position in society almost equal to Potter's. I haven't seen the manor in a few years so I don't know what type of shape it is in but we can repair it if we have to. My inheritance would be substantial enough and with proper investment would grow over time."

"Those are very practical reasons, but then again they're not. By admitting to the world I married you and in the way I did I'd lose Harry, Ron, Ginny, the Weasleys. Not to mention Neville's career would be ruined and he'd never find decent employment again."

"That's a snobbish way to look at it," Draco said, somewhat insulted. He was a criminal with a record now at the Ministry, but he was still a Malfoy. Power, money, esteem, the name itself projected those personas. Soon his excursion to Azkaban and time as a servant to his wife would be forgotten, or at least no mentioned in polite circles.

"It's a truthful way to look at it. Your mother would disown you, the rest of the Purebloods would consider you a Blood Traitor, and you might never recover socially," Hermione explained, not understanding why he was pretending to be hurt by her remark.

"To not care about blood you're obsessed with it as an excuse to get rid of me. We don't have to continue to stay married out of practicality alone. This morning you didn't seem too adverse to the other benefits of marriage." The blush that had started to fade from her skin intensified again. Purity was an arousing characteristic Malfoy decided, and hoped she wouldn't lose all of her innocence through the years.

"I didn't know what I was doing. I thought it was a…" Hermione clamped her mouth shut and hurriedly got to her feet.

"A what," Draco asked curiously, tucking the diary under his arm and standing as well. He left the books on the floor to the side no longer needing them. Ironically his wife had found exactly what he was looking for.

"Nothing," she stammered keeping her back turned and walking away. If she could get upstairs and away from him it would be for the better. This morning had been too close.

"What happened this morning wasn't nothing and it wasn't something that shouldn't have happened weeks ago," Draco pursued, but kept walking at enough of a distance so as not to overwhelm her too much.

"It shouldn't have happened at all. Malfoy, I'm going upstairs to clean my flat. Thank you for helping down here, and you're free to do what you want for the rest of the day," she called over her shoulder disappearing behind the curtain.

Hermione was too naïve to realize what she had just allowed. He was free to do what he wanted for the rest of the day? Well, if she'd really meant that she probably wouldn't have liked his ideas on what he would be doing and to who.

However Malfoy's conscience, a nuisance that kept plaguing him more and more where she was concerned, halted his train of thought. Blatantly coming out and mauling her in the basement hadn't had the desired affect, neither had ignoring her physically somewhat and waiting until she got used to him. Then, this morning, he'd thought he'd made exceptional progress. Hermione had nearly given in. No, she wasn't even trying to hold back, or stop him.

She was going to say she thought she was dreaming. Well, that was at least a small victory. In her dreams she was open to the possibilities making love to him could offer. Still, another approach was in order. Draco wasn't sure how to go about it, but he'd try and be pleasant all of the time and not just when he wanted something. It had gotten him the small token of trust, his mother's diary, earlier. If he was kind to Hermione the majority of their hours together she'd have no choice but to notice his other charms.

This also would mean more time sleeping alone in the cellar, but for some reason Malfoy actually believed she was worth it. He was going to have a different life than his parents or die trying. Opening the diary again the pages turned naturally to where Hermione had put the picture.

Draco had always hated that photo. Not because it was one of his first pictures as an infant, but because it was the most truthful form of expression his family had ever allowed to be photographed. Outsiders rarely saw it, and another had been taken so it could be given to the Daily Prophet. Fake smiles and tears of joy were employed before the second photo was shot. The one he held now was much more accurate.

The images blurred slightly before him, but not from frustrated tears. His father's face merged into his own and his mother suddenly looked like Hermione, miserable, broken, and bitter. Draco shoved the photo back into the crease of the pages and snapped the book shut. No, they would not become like the people who had raised him. If, no when, they had children they would involve themselves, admit that they loved them, and watch them grow with pride and encouragement. He even went so far in that moment to vow that no matter what their differences Hermione would never have a cause to frown or appear unhappy in family photos such as the one hidden in the diary.

A week passed after Percy and Neville had leveled Hermione's shop to utter rubble and the injunction against her still stood. The Du Mariers were not backing away from their claim. They believed, and still did, that Hermione Granger was responsible for their house elf's disappearance. So after learning that there was nothing to be done Hermione, kept to herself in her flat most of the day and researched, wrote incantations, and lamented life's unfair cruelty.

Despite his gentle protests Malfoy went to work at Fred and George's shop at Hermione's request. He hated every moment of it and liked it even less that she was alone. The Du Mariers were waiting for something, or maybe another family was helping them, and they were planning Hermione's demise. If she were alone all of the time it would be easy to over come her. Well, not easy she was fierce in a battle, but alone she wouldn't stand the same odds of coming out victorious as they did.

"You're going to the Weasleys' again tomorrow," she'd said the moment he was escorted back by Fred. The overgrown oaf always walked him back to Hermione's as though he wasn't aware of the way himself.

"Thanks Fred, I'll have him sent over before seven," Hermione called not looking up from the counter where she sat with quill and paper in hand.

Fred actually looked at Malfoy a bit questioningly, but finally shrugged, and said a quick goodbye and thank you to Hermione. Shutting the door behind him Malfoy waited until Weasley was out of sight down the street and his manacles dropped from his wrist."They're running out of things for me to do," he said casually pulling up a stool and sitting across from her. "I'd much rather stay here with you anyway."

"They're open for business, I'm possibly shut down forever. I'm even thinking of offering to let them buy out the rest of your years in service to me," she said frowning over a particularly awkward line in the spell she was studying.

"You aren't closed forever and if you are then so be it. What can you do about it? By the time the Ministry gets around to actually treating you fairly we'll be back at Malfoy Manor and it won't matter." Hermione wasn't really entertaining the idea of selling him again was she? That was demoralizing in more ways than one.

"I told you that I wasn't staying married to you. Neville will have the papers I know it," Hermione said, almost desperately. Why had Malfoy started being pleasant? Was he still feeling sorry for her about the Ministry search? Everyday since he had always greeted her politely, warmly really, and now he was trying to soothe her. It was an unorthodox way he went about it, but to him he was actually comforting her.

"Remember what I said the last time we talked about this," he reminded her taking the quill out of her hand laying it to the side. "Now, this divorce discussion is over, forever. We're married, we're going to stay that way, and I think it's for the best."

Malfoy was deliberately trying to unnerve her she thought by taking her hand in his after he tossed her quill aside and rubbing her skin gently with his thumb. "I don't think it's for the best. I still don't understand why you're so determined to have your way about this."

Admittedly his own motives were becoming a bit clouded to him as well, but Draco didn't explain that to her. "You gave me something to think about in prison to pass the time. Everyone had someone on the outside, and in a sense so did I, a wife. Now, just don't analyze this too much."

"I have to get back to my research," Hermione mumbled, snatching her hand away finding it was easier to continue her dislike of him if he wasn't touching her so affectionately.

"Stop it," Draco snapped, suddenly jerking the paper out of her grasp and tossing it aside to land near the quill. "You're angry, you feel betrayed, and you need someone to blame and hate. I understand all of that believe me. I'd rather have you ranting at me or debating than sitting here day after day picking your brain for new spells and reworking old ones."

Hermione finally sighed and looked up at him. Her dark eyes were red rimmed and from more than simple strain from staring at the same piece of parchment for hours on end. She had been sitting and crying no doubt, and the reason she sent him daily to the Weasleys' was probably so she could mourn her broken dreams in peace. "I don't blame anyone but myself. I broke the law by forcing Neville into helping me and marrying you for my inheritance. Nnow that I'm actually trying to do something decent I'm going to be punished for it. Everything has consequences and now I'm seeing that."

Draco had never seen her cry before he realized. Not except if he counted the brief show of tears before he and Neville were ordered to the back of the shop the week before. It wasn't something he was ready to deal with, or particularly felt comfortable in watching. The Granger from Hogwarts never cried when he'd insulted her, called her foul names, or hexed her mercilessly. However, seeing her daily and having come to know her more intimately, Hermione the woman was as sensitive as other females. Maybe she was more sensitive if she went to such great lengths to hide herself and her more tender emotions.

"I've said before that I don't care if you ever save another lost elf again. I've ordered you actually to give the society up altogether, but apparently you're too kind hearted to abandon your cause. Was it wrong to sneak out a Ministry prisoner? Probably, in the eyes of the Ministry most definitely, but consider this. You saved me just like one of your abused little creatures."

Hermione's frown dissolved into a mask of confusion. "Saved you? How so?"

"I was sentenced to death, about to be forgotten and executed without a second thought. Then you came and offered me a chance at a small reprieve before the dreaded day I was supposed to die. Maybe you set something into motion that day that lead to the change in my fortune. I'm not sure, but either way for some reason knowing there was someone still in the world I was connected to, even if it was only on paper, made prison more bearable." It was the truth but Draco hadn't planned on telling her that until after he had secured her agreement to remain his wife. Hermione needed to hear it however. Watching her guilt eat away at her was almost painful and he wondered how she had managed to keep her secret for so long after they had parted a little over a year ago.

Surprisingly the git was sincere and it astounded Hermione completely. All the while she had thought him dead and gone, having suffered a fate he did not deserve, he had been thinking of her, waiting to see her again. How odd really, but when one was imprisoned what few connections they had to the outside world they probably held dear. "You didn't deserve to die and I'm glad you didn't, but that isn't a basis for remaining married. We're getting along better, we might even say we've managed to develop an awkward friendship really, but that's all. You'll sign the papers and…"

Draco's hand came up and over her mouth to silence her, knowing if she said the word divorce one more time he'd say something that would ruin the moment. She was open to discussion with him, and he wasn't going to frighten her into a retreat. "The only thing I'm signing are the papers that state I'm free after I've figured out a way to reveal our marriage without inciting Percy. He'd love to appease the Du Mariers and drag you to the Ministry for any reason now I'm afraid."

Waiting impatiently for him to remove his hand from her mouth Hermione glared at him momentarily before he complied. "You're not trying to keep me in this marriage to upset Harry are you?" That thought came to mind from time to time, and made sense to her. Harry would hate, and loathe, knowing that she was bound to Malfoy, and out of pure spite Malfoy might keep her just to mock his enemy.

"What does Potter have to do with it? Does he have some secret love for you or something? The miniature Weasel not enough?" So, she thought he was capable of only wanting her for the sake of aggravating Potter. That was a perk as far as their agreement was involved but only that. He wanted her for far more selfish and carnal reasons.

"No, but…" Now that was not helping her. Hermione was running out of grounds to accuse him of having ulterior motives toward their marital state.

"Yes, Potter will grind on my last nerve until we're both dead and buried. Yes, your Weasley clan will make me barking for the rest of my life. Yes, I still think you're too smart and too opinionated for your own good. Does that mean I'm going to waste the rest of my adult life staying in a marriage I don't want just to deal some twisted retribution? Give me some credit really? Prison changes you. Things that mattered before, things that you thought would always mean the most don't suddenly. I have different priorities now." What he left unsaid was what his priorities were.

After Hermione had given him his mother's diary Draco decided he did want a family life. A somewhat quiet, but cheerful one, without talk of dark magic and politics constantly. Malfoy Manor was out of the way of the world, and if they put their own touch into rebuilding it, then the austere, lackluster quality would cease to exist. Instead of silent and dark winding halls Draco wanted to hear laughter, and have every candle lit all of the day and night. There had been too much darkness in his early years already. Having been released from prison and living with his wife, even if she could be stubborn and unreasonable, had shown him a vibrant spark that had always been missing in his life.

"We're complete opposites. We'll want to kill one another before the year is out," Hermione predicted solemnly. "Are you hungry? I could make something if you are?"

"Will you be using magic I hope?" This request was a sincere one. Hermione, bless her, was terrible in the kitchen without a wand. Those Muggles had thoroughly ruined her for the more fine tasting dishes Draco was sure.

To his surprise she laughed and raised an eyebrow wickedly. "Maybe, maybe not. Depends on if you plan to behave yourself if I let you stay here with me tomorrow."

"I suppose if you promised not to ship me off to the Weasleys' I could suffer through whatever you manage to prepare," he smiled back genuinely pleased that she was not going to mope at least for the time being. Hermione had changed the subject, but Draco was more hopeful than he had been in a long time. She was willing to consider it, staying married. Well, she hadn't ended the conversation talking about divorce. Maybe kindness was the better approach, courting, wooing, whatever one called it. This tactic had much more potential.