Chapter 10: Breathless Moments

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Hermione raised her hand to knock on the large oak door of Malfoy Manor. But she paused just before making contact, unconsciously waiting for the door to swing open much as it did on her last visit, Narcissa or, she rather hoped, an anxious Draco ready to greet her.

Alas, the door didn't budge, remaining firmly shut, and suddenly, she was filled with even more trepidation as the feeling of being unwelcome in this place overcame her.

She shook her head ruefully. She was being silly, plain and simple. The contracts were signed; this marriage was happening… and she had already been here once before, conquering her demons of uncertainty. So why, pray tell, were her hands starting to shake from anxiety from merely standing on the front stoop of the Gothic structure?

She inwardly groaned, taking a step back from the door and turning away to face the expansive grounds. She shook out her hands, stretching her fingers, clenching and unclenching them into fists. You can do this, she chided herself, summon that Gryffindor bravery… your Muggle courage…

Crack!

Hermione practically jumped out of her skin at the sound of apparition behind her. She turned to see a well-dressed house elf, in forest green wizarding robes decorated with garish gold moons and stars, now standing there on the porch. He bowed low, a small hand covering his heart, as he said, "Ms. Granger, I presume."

Compelled by his regal formality, Hermione curtsied. "At your service. And you are…?"

"Forgive me, milady, I am Flinty, head house elf for The Malfoys. I must apologize for my delay in greeting you. You were expected via the Floo. I was only just alerted to your presence at the front door a moment ago."

"Oh! Please forgive me, Flinty. I wasn't aware I had been given Floo permission…" Her voice trailed off.

He eyed her carefully, his face screwed up in confusion, "You will soon be the new mistress of the house, Ms. Granger, of course you have Floo privileges. Or am I mistaken?"

Hermione froze, unsure of what to say. Mistress of the house? No, she wasn't sure she would ever be comfortable with that title.

The elf shook his head, "No matter, Ms. Granger, all the details will be worked out, I'm sure." He offered her his hand, "May I escort you to the gardens? Ms. Narcissa is kindly waiting for you there."

"Well, all right, but only if you agree not to apparate. I'm not really fond of the practice. And you must call me Hermione. I insist."

Flinty seemed to relax at that statement. Again, he gave a small bow, "Whatever the lady wishes."

Hermione reached out her hand and allowed the small elf to lead the way. To her surprise, he chose the outdoor route, jauntily skipping down the front steps and taking a dramatic left to a hedge-lined path, bypassing the Manor all together.

"So, you said you are head house elf. How many house elves are there?" she politely inquired.

Flinty gave a short laugh, "Master Draco said you might ask Flinty these types of questions."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow, "Oh, he did, did he?"

Flinty nodded. "Said I am to tell you that we are all free elves and quite handsomely paid."

"Well, are you?"

"Yes, quite handsomely paid," he recited, "And Ms. Narcissa lets Flinty wear wizarding robes. She even sews them herself."

Now that was indeed surprising. "Flinty, if you don't mind me asking, how long have you been with The Malfoys?"

Flinty stopped to consider her question. "Twenty-five years, I think. Since Master Draco was just a baby." He glanced up at Hermione then, giving her hand a little squeeze, "He's a good lad, Master Draco. He treats us well… freed myself and my sister, Sierney, right after the war. But we didn't leave. They are family, you see."

Hermione nodded, "Yes, Flinty, I do see."

The elf resumed walking now, taking a right then another right before quickly exiting the shadowy path, escorting Hermione into the bright sunshine and beautiful array of flowers that must be the gardens. It was breathtaking… with peonies and roses and lilies; not to mention many species she couldn't even name.

Neville could spend days here, she thought in awe.

Her senses were assailed with so many colors and scents, she completely disregarded the gentle tug on her hand as Flinty moved forward. He now led her around a corner to an alcove just off the main house where a table was situated in the shade, with fine, intricate details carved into the metal which made it all seem beautifully medieval. And that was where she found Narcissa Malfoy, looking every bit the part of hostess.

She was clothed today in midnight blue robes, which seemed to make her bright blue eyes stand out even more against the paleness of her skin. And her blonde hair was swept into an intricate knot, braided and pinned into a perfect bun that rested on her neck. She rose from where she was sitting on a nearby bench, her smile bright and cheery, and she met Hermione and Flinty half way, instantly taking her hand within both of hers in a gesture of comfort.

"Hermione, dear, it is so good to see you," Narcissa greeted warmly. She leaned in, giving a soft kiss to Hermione's cheek.

Instantly, Hermione felt her fears from moments before melt away. There was no Harry Potter today… no Minister of Magic… Narcissa's affection was endearingly sincere, making all this much easier to endure. "Thank you, Narcissa," she replied, returning the cheek kiss in kind.

"My, don't you look lovely today." Narcissa openly appraised Hermione's outfit. Taking a cue from her new stylist, Pansy Parkinson, she had opted to show a little solidarity for her new family, donning a emerald green ruffle trimmed wrap dress with long sleeves, which tied at the waist and fell slightly short to just the middle of her thighs, paired rather perfectly with her heeled knee high brown boots. How she let Pansy convince her to wear the boots, Hermione couldn't be sure. She partially suspected Pansy hexed her into spending half of a month's salary on new footwear, because of course "new clothes require new shoes". Or something to that effect…

"Come. Sit. Sierney has laid out a feast for tea," Narcissa encouraged, sweeping her arm towards the table where two places had indeed been set for tea, accompanied by finger sandwiches, small almond biscuits, and at least four different kinds of small cakes.

Hermione's heart sank at the sight. Not at the fine China or the delicious looking food… No, she despaired that there were only two teacups instead of three. Draco would obviously not be joining them. She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat and painted on her most cordial smile. She tried to quell the thoughts plaguing her mind now. If she allowed herself to give in to the anxiety, she'd never make it through this day.

But one stray question niggled at the edge of her thoughts, and try as she might, wouldn't be squashed: Was Draco avoiding her?

Flinty pulled out Hermione's chair, then repeated the action for Narcissa. Hermione couldn't help but marvel at how Narcissa effortlessly glided into her seat while Hermione herself had to use full concentration not to stumble over her own feet, which were actually starting to ache from the 3 inch chunky heels of her boots.

"Would Ms. Narcissa like for Flinty to pour?" the little elf inquired.

"No, Flinty, I think we can manage," Narcissa replied, giving him an affectionate smile. Flinty bowed and with a resounding crack, disappeared from the garden, leaving the two women alone.

Narcissa turned her attention back to Hermione then, raising the heavy teapot, silently asking her if she wanted tea. Hermione gave a curt nod, and reached for an almond biscuit to nervously nibble. As soon as the flaky shortbread touched her tongue, Hermione couldn't suppress the small groan of pleasure that escaped her mouth.

"Delightful, yes?" Narcissa asked, with a twinkle in her eye.

"That is single handedly the most delicious biscuit I have ever tasted," Hermione confided.

Narcissa gave a short laugh, "Sierney has a way with desserts. Those happen to be a favorite of Draco's, as well."

At the mention of his name, Hermione faltered, another bite of biscuit turning to sawdust in her mouth and she had to cough just to choke it down.

"Oh dear, are you all right?" Narcissa partially rose from her seat, patting Hermione on the back. She offered her a cup of tea, "Here, take slow sips. I remember from last time, you are two spoonfuls of honey and a splash of milk."

Grateful for the drink, she took it and cautiously sipped the hot liquid. Here she was, choking on some of the finest food this side of England at just the mere mention of Draco's name. Narcissa must be appalled she's getting such an unrefined daughter-in-law and she mentally castrated herself. Get a grip, Granger.

But Narcissa smiled and patted her hand, "It's all right, Hermione. I was nervous, too, when I first sat down to tea with my future mother-in-law. And she was a monster."

Hermione couldn't help it, she laughed. And then Narcissa laughed too. Hermione gave the Malfoy matriarch a sheepish smile, "I've never done this before… I'm trying very hard not to embarrass myself."

"Oh Hermione, we are the ones who should be embarrassed. We haven't always been the nicest to you…" Her voice trailed off for a moment and her face fell just slightly into a frown. But as quickly as it came, it was gone, and she looked up into Hermione's chocolate eyes and said in earnest, "I'm sure my son has already apologized but… please, allow me to say, I am deeply sorry for what happened to you in my home and for what my sister did…"

Hermione shook her head, "You're no more responsible for her actions than Draco. And I harbor no ill will towards you… or him…"

Narcissa reached across the table and took Hermione's hand within hers and gave it a squeeze. And then her smile was back, along with the cheeriness in her voice, as she settled back in her chair, "I am looking forward to getting to know you, Hermione. Draco has spoken very little about you, so most of my knowledge has been derived from The Prophet, I'm afraid."

Hermione's heart clenched in her chest. "Oh, well… I do hope you take whatever they say with a grain of salt…" she stammered. He hadn't written… he was avoiding tea… and now she had to hear how very little he had spoken about her? Could this day get any worse?

Narcissa waved it off, "I rarely believe anything that rag says. If I did, I'd be sitting here having tea with that Greengrass chit instead of you." She took a sip of tea then, giving Hermione a knowing wink.

Hermione bit her lip, feeling that this moment may be her one shot at getting to the truth of the matter. She set her cup and saucer down in front of her and leaned slightly forward, "Well, now that you mention it…"

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything…" came a cool, distinctively male voice from behind Hermione.

Hermione went stock still at the familiarity of that voice. And then, as if on cue, a slight blush colored her cheeks as she allowed her mind to stray to a moment so long ago where that voice was a warm whispered promise against her thigh… begging her to come for him as he pleasured her with his mouth and fingers. She squeezed her legs together as a sudden ache began deep in her core. Merlin, she really needed to get laid.

"Draco!" Narcissa exclaimed with a smile, then it faded and she gave him a stern look Hermione suspected was reserved for mothers only. "You're late."

Draco came into view on Hermione's left. He was wearing faded blue jeans and a long-sleeved white cotton shirt, with a handful of buttons that ran from the neck to the center of his chest. He carelessly left the top four buttons undone, giving quite a peek at the muscled flesh of his collarbone and a light dusting of pale blonde hair. It made her mouth water, seeing him so casually dressed, and in Muggle clothing, nonetheless. She quickly had to tear her vision away, concentrating now on her tea, lifting the cup and saucer to keep her focus and her hands busy.

He shrugged, "You know how I like to make an entrance."

Hermione smirked, carefully hiding it behind her tea cup as she raised it to her lips, remembering quite vividly how Draco always made a show of it, pushing open the double doors and sauntering into the Great Hall with a pack of Slytherins on his tail.

"You can't hide that smile, Granger," he chuckled.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she lied, her smile only widening.

He smirked, before leaning down and giving his mother a peck on her cheek. "I see you started without me."

"Yes, well, again, you're late. And Merlin's sake, what are you wearing?"

Draco feigned innocence, glancing down at his attire, "Thought I'd make Granger here feel more comfortable…" And he turned his attention to her now, their eyes meeting, just as his body leaned forward towards her, intent on greeting her with a kiss too.

There it was, the clean smell of his cologne… it was so crisp and manly and did strange things to her insides. And that's when she noticed his blonde hair was slightly wet, a shade darker than normal.

Holy hell, she realized, Draco Malfoy was fresh from a shower. Moments ago, while she was being led to the gardens by his house elf, he was naked… and wet… the warm stream of water cascading over his bare, muscular flesh….

Fuck, now she was picturing him showering and those new silk panties Pansy had insisted she buy were clinging rather uncomfortably to her. She had to bite her lip just to keep from whimpering as he moved closer to her.

Instinctively Hermione half rose to her feet to meet him halfway, her torso bumping into Draco's as he leaned down. He moved to give her a quick kiss on her cheek, much as he did with his mother, but Hermione panicked and turned her head, the kiss landing at the corner of her mouth instead. She nearly spilled her tea down his front, had he not reached out and steadied the cup.

"S-sorry…" she mumbled.

"Relax, Granger. I don't bite," he purred. Then he tried again, his lips ghosting over her cheek in a feather-light caress before he whispered in her ear, "Unless you're into that sort of thing…"

He took a step back and she kind of fell back into her chair, her breathing unsteady. She set her teacup down and glanced up at him. He winked and gave her that smirk. Instantly she felt the familiar rush of heat as her entire body flushed with embarrassment.

He grabbed a chair, and sat between Hermione and Narcissa. Suddenly a third teacup appeared before him and he reached for one of those almond biscuits as he faced his mother, "In all seriousness, Mother, to answer your question, I'm going riding with Blaise later this afternoon."

"Explains the outfit," Narcissa murmured. She took a delicate sip of her tea. "You know how I despise that bloody awful contraption," she chided him.

"Mother, language!" Draco sarcastically admonished Narcissa. "And in front of our guest…"

Narcissa gave him a warning look before taking another sip of her tea. The exchange between the two was fascinating. Few words were spoken, but they were obviously communicating.

Draco rolled his eyes, slouching a bit in his chair as he munched on the dessert. Hermione couldn't help but note how, in that moment, he looked like his younger, carefree self from their days at Hogwarts.

"I don't much care for broomsticks," Hermione offered.

Draco chuckled again, "Yes, Granger, I quite remember you not having a proclivity for flying. But, Mother, here, isn't referring to me riding my Nimbus."

Hermione gave him a strange look which he met with a knowing smile. "Blaise and I have taken to riding motorcycles," he clarified.

"Oh! As in Muggle ones?" She was indeed surprised.

"Unfortunately," Narcissa mumbled.

Draco simply nodded, "Part of my 'rehabilitation' was to take Muggle studies. I discovered many fascinating things… motorcycles being a favorite."

Hermione was intrigued, "I wager it feels like flying, you know, without all that nonsense of leaving the ground."

He nodded then cocked his head to the side to study her, "Why Granger, would you like for me to give you a ride sometime?"

He eyed her carefully, and she got the distinct impression he wasn't only referring to the motorcycle. He confirmed her suspicion by glancing at her outfit now, his smirk fading into a frown as he took in every inch of her, his gaze noticeably lingering on her bare thighs. Instinctively, under his glaring scrutiny, she uncrossed her legs then crossed them again.

He cocked an eyebrow, "New clothes?"

Trying to remain coy, she simply said, "Ran into Pansy Parkinson yesterday."

"Bloody hell," he cursed.

"Draco, dear, language," Narcissa replied, the smile she had giving way to a playful, teasing tone.

But Draco didn't notice. He leaned towards Hermione, his expression like stone. "And Ms. Parkinson is responsible for… this?"

Hermione didn't back down from his challenge, "This being in reference to my new clothes? Well, she offered her advice but I can make my own decisions, Malfoy." She looked away now, taking a sip of tea.

"Oh, I'm sure you can," was his response. He stared at her for the space of a heartbeat before adding, "And what other enlightening knowledge did Ms. Parkinson regale you with?"

"Draco…" Narcissa warned. He glanced at his mother and then slouched back, his arms folding over his chest.

He was pouting now… like an insolent child. It almost made Hermione want to laugh. Instead she calmly set her teacup down and looked him in the eye, "Why are you so interested? Afraid she spilled your deep, dark secrets?" She was teasing him but he grew visibly uncomfortable, straightening in his seat.

He snorted, "Nice try, Granger. I keep my cards pretty close to the vest. Anything Parkinson had to say was either an outright lie or an exaggerated truth."

"So you admit there are a few secrets hidden in your closet, just waiting to be discovered?" she questioned, still lightly teasing him.

He leaned towards her again, maintaining eye contact and giving her a dangerous smile, "Yes, I admit I have my fair share as, I'm sure, do you… clearly something I look forward to exploring more in depth on our wedding night…" And then he winked at her.

She released a shaky breath as he moved away to settle in his chair, taking his own cup and drinking his tea, his gaze never leaving her.

"Well, I, for one, like your new look, Hermione," Narcissa tried.

"Thank you, Narcissa."

"Draco, you must admit, she looks very pretty…"

He straightened in his seat and leaned his elbows on his knees and studied Hermione intently, "You're fucking beautiful, Granger." Then he shrugged, looking away, "But I've always thought so, even in your jumpers and jeans."

Hermione couldn't help it, her mouth dropped open in surprise. She secretly willed him to look at her but he avoided meeting her gaze now. He stretched his arm across the back of his chair, choosing to study the closest rose bush while he chewed on a biscuit. Cleary, he was done with the conversation.

Hermione could feel the awkward tension in the air and she took a sip of her tea before folding her hands in her lap and staring at them. Thank goodness for Narcissa Malfoy.

"I, too, have found my Muggle studies rather intriguing," she said, trying to change the subject.

Hermione gave her a soft smile, "Oh, how so?"

"Well, the inventions alone… there is something called a television that I most certainly would love to see. And movie theaters…"

"I'm sure Hermione isn't particularly interested in having us pepper her with questions about her lineage," Draco suddenly snapped.

Both women turned towards him then, giving him stern looks.

"On the contrary, I don't mind talking about Muggles. I'm quite used to it, in fact. The Weasleys would often…" She suddenly stopped, realizing her mistake. It wasn't polite for her to talk about her former surrogate family… especially given the history she had with Ron.

Draco visibly tensed but said nothing. Narcissa straightened in her chair, her vision straying to stare at her own teacup.

Silence enveloped the three of them.

Narcissa was the first to speak, clearing her throat before addressing Hermione, "So, I hear you are a teacher at Hogwarts."

"Yes. Transfiguration."

Draco turned and gave his mother a stern look now, which didn't go unnoticed by Hermione. Narcissa chose to ignore him.

"And do you enjoy it – teaching?"

"Very much so. Especially the Slytherins. They love to hear tales from the war."

Draco cocked an eyebrow at this but still said nothing.

Narcissa continued, "My great nephew will be starting there soon. Maybe you are acquainted with him – Edward Lupin."

"Do you mean Teddy?" Hermione exclaimed.

Draco snorted, "Of course she bloody well knows him, his parents were members of the bloody Order, were they not?"

Both women chose to ignore him now, leaving him to stew in his sudden dark mood.

Hermione smiled, "I am very fond of Teddy and your sister, Andromeda."

"We've recently reconnected, Andromeda and I. And Draco, here…" Narcissa laid a comforting hand on her son's tense shoulder, "… has been teaching Teddy Quidditch. He's become something of a big brother to the young boy."

Hermione turned and gave Draco a look of surprise, "I didn't know this."

Draco smiled a tiny bit, "Finally something the Know-It-All Granger wasn't privy to…" Then he just shrugged, "My mother has a tendency to exaggerate."

"Nonsense. That little boy looks up to you."

Draco shifted in his seat, turning more towards the table to rejoin the conversation, "Seems we've now come to the point where my mother proceeds to sing my praises in a last ditch effort to convince you that marriage to me won't be total bollocks."

Draco leaned forward, placing his hand on Hermione's knee beneath the table while he turned to address Narcissa, "You can relax, Mother, Granger here will have plenty of time to get to know me once we are married…" He started to blatantly caress her, rubbing light circles before sliding his fingers beneath her knee to tickle the soft skin there. She jumped, banging her knee on the underside of the table, startling Narcissa. His smile grew wide as his fingers stilled yet he didn't remove them, "… well, at least for the next eighteen months or so…" he finished.

Hermione turned and looked at him, "Yes, why eighteen months? All the other couples are getting twelve."

Again, he tensed, withdrawing his hand from her to settle in his own lap. He cleared his throat and shrugged, "Given our history, I thought we could use the extra time to get comfortable with one another." He took a drink of his tea and then proceeded to run his finger along the rim of the cup, "I never thought you'd be so… amiable…"

Amiable… she considered the word. She's pretty certain he wanted to say horny.

"Best case scenario, I figured you'd hex me on sight," he added.

That made her smile. "And the worst case scenario?"

"You'd break my nose again."

Hermione roared with laughter and Draco gave her his patented smirk. But Narcissa watched them in confusion.

She turned to Hermione, "You broke his nose?" She sounded concerned.

Hermione met Draco's gaze, "Your mother doesn't know?"

"Come now, Granger, my parents would have tried to have you expelled. And I was being a complete arse. I totally deserved it."

He eyed her for a moment, then leaned towards her slightly, slipping his hand beneath the table once again to settle on her leg. But he didn't stop there. Cautiously he trailed the tips of his fingers across her knee before delving under the hem of her skirt to rest on her thigh. She swallowed, aware of the blush starting on her cheeks but afraid to so much as twitch, for fear he may remove his hand. And she didn't want him to stop. She craved his touch….rather desperately.

"Well, now I simply must hear this story," Narcissa replied.

And so they told her, animatedly explaining everything that led up to their altercation in 3rd year, with Draco supplying rather colorful commentary like "bloody chicken" when talking about Buckbeak and how he had to swear Nott and Crabbe to silence with the unbreakable vow.

And somewhere, in the midst of their story, Hermione's hand had strayed to his thigh, resting comfortably in much the same manner as his was on hers. And they had both inadvertently leaned towards one another, laughing in shared jokes and teasing each other mercilessly. All the while, Narcissa just smiled and sipped her tea as she listened to the pair.

"See?" Hermione was saying, "…a complete arse…"

"The bloody chicken attacked me!" Draco exclaimed. "But, to be fair, a death sentence was a bit much."

"Well, you can blame your father for that one," Hermione replied.

Both Draco and Narcissa tensed, shattering the relaxing, playful mood.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean… I shouldn't have said…." Hermione tried.

But Narcissa waved her off. "Lucius chose his path, my dear. We've come to terms with it."

"His path being slipping away in the middle of the night and running and hiding to avoid prosecution," Draco mumbled.

Hermione looked at him, seeing the sudden sadness there in his steely grey gaze. She gave his thigh a squeeze, "I'm sorry for your loss."

Draco shrugged, "Best case scenario is he's dead."

"And the worst?" Narcissa asked.

"That he's dead…" Draco whispered.

Crack!

Just at the right moment, Flinty appeared. He gave a perfect bow before saying, "Ms. Narcissa, your other guest has arrived."

"Other guest?" Hermione questioned.

"Yes, dear, I've decided to hire you a wedding planner… she comes very highly recommended," Narcissa said with a smile.

Draco groaned, and Narcissa gave him a dirty look, before rising from the table. "Please show her to the gardens, Flinty." And just as quickly as he came, the little elf vanished.

"You will behave, Draco," Narcissa said, poking him in his chest.

Draco painted on his best sly smile, "I don't think Granger likes it when I'm all gentlemanly." His hand drifted further up her skirt now beneath the table, causing her to slightly jump. Her hand fell to her lap and, through the fabric of her skirt, she dug her nails into his flesh to stay his movements. Any further and it was going to be practically indecent.

Narcissa sighed, "Hermione, I feel you may have your hands full with this one."

Draco continued to smile, turning now to wag his eyebrows at Hermione. "I think I'm up for the challenge," she replied. And Draco winked in response.

A throat clearing drew all three of their attentions to the entrance of the gardens. "Ms. Emma Vane," Flinty announced.

A curvaceous, statuesque woman appeared behind Flinty. She was dressed impeccably in a white, short-sleeved one-piece pant suit with her black curls falling perfectly down around her shoulders. Her large, dark eyes immediately sought out Draco, and she wet her lips as she stared at him for a fleeting moment before meeting Narcissa's gaze.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Emma charmed, extending her hand towards the older woman.

Hermione knew very little of Emma Vane, other than she was the older sister of Romilda, and born without magic to a Pureblood family. But what she knew of Romilda and her penchant for love potions in particular, was enough to make Hermione inwardly cringe.

Hermione tried to stand and Draco's hand slipped from beneath her dress reluctantly. He, too, rose and immediately took up a defensive position, arms crossing over his chest as he stood just behind her so she couldn't see his expression.

"And this is the bride, Hermione Granger," Narcissa introduced.

"A pleasure, Ms. Granger," Emma cooed, offering her hand to Hermione who didn't hesitate in shaking it, a normal practice when one was raised by Muggles, especially polite ones. "You attended school with my sister, yes?"

"Yes. We were both Gryffindors."

"Oh… that's interesting…" Emma replied. By her tone, Hermione could tell the young woman felt the complete opposite.

"And this is my son, Draco," Narcissa added.

Emma practically tripped over herself to push around Hermione and extend her hand to Draco. The Vane sisters obviously had one thing in common – they were bold and not afraid to show it. "It is so nice to meet you, Mr. Malfoy…" Her words oozed with adoration.

Draco's eyes fixed on Emma's hand for a moment then met the woman's gaze, "That's what people tell me." His arms remained steadfastly tight against his chest, leaving Emma's hand awkwardly just hanging there. Finally, she lowered it and stepped away.

"These gardens are simply lovely. Is this where the binding ceremony will take place? " Emma now remarked.

"Thank you, we do take great pride in our landscaping. But, I believe Hermione has her heart set on saying their vows under the gazebo by the lake. Perhaps you would like to see…" Narcissa offered, gesturing to another path that undoubtedly led to the gazebo.

Emma cocked her head and gave Narcissa a look of sympathy, "The lake, really? How pedestrian. Perhaps the bride should reconsider…"

Hermione opened her mouth to retort but was interrupted with cool fingers delicately pressing at the pulse point on her wrist. Draco stepped forward then, "What my bride wants, my bride gets." His tone brokered no argument.

"Of course, dear. I'm sure Ms. Vane was merely making a suggestion…" Narcissa offered.

Hermione glanced up at Draco. His jaw was tight, his teeth grinding. Suddenly his cool fingers turned burning hot against her wrist and she snatched her hand away, which proved enough of a distraction for him to tear his gaze away from the wedding planner.

"Well, perhaps we should continue on to the gazebo… let me get a feel of what you have in mind…" Emma replied.

"Most certainly. If you would follow me…" Narcissa started down the path with Emma in tow.

Hermione stared at her boots, which felt frozen to the ground, her mind reeling. Then she felt Draco's warm hand at the base of her spine, gently pushing her to follow the others. Anger suddenly swelled inside her. She stiffened against him until he removed his hand, then proceeded to walk at a much faster pace in an effort to give her some breathing room. She wasn't certain which pissed her off more –the fact that he wouldn't shake Emma Vane's hand, a known Squib, or was it how he treated Hermione so dismissively, speaking for her when she had her own voice… her own opinions. Or maybe she was just so taken aback by Ms. Vane, in general, who was obviously more interested in flirting with Hermione's fiancé than giving them the wedding of their dreams.

"Granger, a word?"

She briefly considered ignoring him, choosing instead to continue following Narcissa and Emma. But his long stride prevented her easy escape, and he was behind her almost immediately.

"Muffliato," he mumbled the incantation, ensuring a private conversation.

This gave her pause. She stopped but didn't turn around. Only when he came to her side, drawing closer than she deemed necessary, that she finally turned to glance at him. His jaw was set and there was a frown pulling at his mouth and furrowing his brow. He tried to meet her gaze, but she kept her eyes trained on the top button of his tight white shirt, anything to avoid looking up at him.

"You're angry with me," he stated.

"No, I'm perfectly fine," she snapped.

He scoffed, "You can cut the bullshit, Hermione." Her gaze snapped up to meet his. "I know that look and the way your voice just went an octave higher than normal… I spent enough of our school years on the receiving end of that fiery look of contempt and barbed tongue."

She rolled her eyes but then said, "It's nothing… truly." She tried to turn to walk away but a firm grip on her upper arm stayed her retreat.

Her gaze fell on his fingers, clutched rather tightly around her flesh.

"I won't ask again," he bit out.

She lightly pulled against his grasp and he immediately let go. "Look, I just…" She sighed, quickly glancing in the direction of his mother and the wedding planner. Pick your battles, her mind screamed. She swallowed, "You were rude… earlier."

He drew back like she had slapped him, "To you?!"

She shook her head, "N-no, to Emma Vane."

He gave her a puzzled look, his mind working to understand her meaning, then shock crossed his features, "To the wedding planner?" He said it with such disdain, further provoking her ire.

She nodded, "You wouldn't even shake her hand. I can't help thinking it's because she's a Squib…"

He took a step back, arms crossing over his chest in defense. "And I'm a Malfoy, so naturally I would see her as beneath me."

"Your words, not mine." She shrugged, "And if a pureblood Squib isn't worthy of your time, what could that mean for me – a Muggleborn…"

"A Muggleborn who is to be my wife…"

She made a horrible sound at that statement, snorting her disdain. "Your wife… who apparently isn't even allowed to speak her opinion on the matter of her own wedding. I'm not some passive little mouse who needs her rich, Pureblood husband to defend her. I think I've proven I can take care of myself, Malfoy."

He ran his hands through his hair, "For fuck's sake, Granger. After all this, you cannot still believe I practice blood prejudice."

Now it was her turn to get defensive, "Look, I was taken aback by your demeanor, that is all. It definitely reminded me of the git you were at Hogwarts… always teasing me and flipping up my skirt with your wand and in the same breath telling me the simple act of speaking directly to you was forbidden."

He huffed, his hands falling to rest on his hips as he studied her for a moment. Then he took two steps towards her, closing the distance between them. He brought his hands to her shoulders and forced her to face him but she kept her gaze locked on the center of his chest. "Look at me," he demanded, his voice low but nevertheless commanding.

She did as he asked, giving him an indignant look. "If I refused to shake her hand, it had less to do with blood purity and everything to do with the fact she's an ex of Blaise Zabini." He paused, letting that fact ruminate for a moment, before he stepped even closer.

His voice was a deadly whisper as he sneered, "She may pretend we do not know one another, but, trust me, Granger, we ran in the same circles for years. And, during that time, she made it abundantly clear on more than one occasion that she would quickly throw Blaise over if I would so much as look in her direction."

Hermione's brown eyes went wide at his confession and she opened her mouth to reply but he quickly cut her off, "I'm not finished." He spoke with such conviction, his warm, sweet breath dancing over her lips from being much too close. She couldn't restrain the gasp that caught in her throat.

He must have heard it because he heaved a heavy sigh now, took a step back from her and shoved his hand nervously into his hair before continuing, "The sideways glance she gave you when she first arrived… maybe you saw it, maybe you didn't…"

"Hmph. Oh I definitely noticed," she interrupted with a grumpy noise.

"Then you should know that any person, whether they be pureblood, half-blood or muggleborn, who dares to treat you, my fiancée, in such a dismissive manner will never come to shake my hand, let alone be given a knut or galleon of Malfoy money for services rendered."

He folded his arms over his chest, "Once we are finished here, I will speak to my mother and have the incessant woman immediately replaced."

He turned away then, determined to end the conversation and walk away but she found her voice now, "Did-did you do it?"

He stopped, his shoulders tensing, "Did I do what?"

She bit her lip, hesitating.

He turned to face her, calmly closing the distance between them with two long strides. He towered over her. "Say. It."

Hermione squared her shoulders and tightened her jaw, steeling her nerves. "Did you sleep with her?"

He smirked, his eyes searching hers for a moment before traveling to her lips. "No, Granger," he murmured.

She suddenly released the breath she wasn't even aware she had been holding.

His thumb stroked over her bottom lip then, and they immediately parted with a breathy sigh. He gave a little shake of his head, saying in disbelief, "Even when you question my loyalty… my sincerity… All I can think about is fucking kissing your swotty mouth…"

He leaned in, his lips lightly drifting over the sensitive skin of her neck, trailing a warm path to her earlobe, "You are not beneath me, Hermione Granger," he purred.

Her breath caught, goosebumps raising on her skin.

He gave a low chuckle, then, "At least, not yet any way. A fact I hope to remedy sooner rather than later."

She felt her cheeks reddening at his innuendo. Her fingers itched to slap him…. or perhaps pull him closer until he finally yielded and just fucking kissed her.

But he stepped away from her now, shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and sauntered over to where his mother and the wedding planner were busy discussing plans for the gazebo.

Hermione just stared after him, a bit awestruck at his words and even more so at his actions. Her entire face felt inflamed with embarrassment… or lust...probably both.

And then came the shame. She had jumped to conclusions about him…. yet again. She was always the first to reprimand others for not giving someone a second chance yet here she was, guilty of not heeding her own advice. And now she would need to find a way to apologize to him… or maybe not apologize, as he seemed rather objective towards her need to always apologize… Oh bloody hell, this back and forth was teetering on the ridiculous now.

She blew out a breath then practically stomped over to where the others were gathered. He barely glanced her way, choosing instead to take up residence leaning against the gazebo, his pose one of casual boredom as he busied himself picking at some imaginary fuzz on his shirt. But Narcissa eyed them both warily. Then she met Hermione's gaze, and the anxious pity she saw there made Hermione all the more angrier.

"Oh, Hermione, we were just discussing the possibility of using blue fairy lights to cover the gazebo…" Narcissa tried. "I was imagining, perhaps, the vows could be spoken closer to sunset and the fairy lights would give an ethereal glow to the two of you…"

She couldn't help it, Hermione's gaze immediately strayed to Malfoy before she turned to meet Narcissa's concerned look. But she had no words.

Narcissa approached her, taking one of her hands in hers, "Is everything all right, Hermione? You don't like the lights?"

She swallowed, taking the brief moment to clear her head. "No, I actually quite adore the idea, Narcissa," she sincerely said, attempting to plaster on her most convincing smile.

It must have been enough to placate Malfoy's mother, because she smiled, gave her hand a tender squeeze and moved on, continuing the discussion of lights and sunsets with Ms. Vane, readily including Hermione in all the decision making until her head started to spin and she was sure her dreams for the next week would most definitely be plagued with blue lights and Cornish pixies baring the rings.

All the while, Malfoy seemed quite content in his boredom, never again glancing in her direction (that she noticed, anyway) and only feigning interest when pressed by his mother. If there was one more noncommittal shrug of his shoulders, Hermione swore she'd hex him.

Finally, after what seemed like hours (but in reality was probably a mere twenty minutes) and pages of furiously scribbled notes by Emma Vane, the pair moved away from the gazebo and now meandered toward the lake, talk turning to the possibility of an outdoor reception and the pros and cons of such.

Hermione just stood there for a moment, a bout of anxiety threatening to consume her. Why did she let him affect her this way? Since they were 11, he always seemed to know exactly what buttons to push that would indeed rattle her the most with minimal effort.

She released a shaky breath, willed herself not to look in his direction, then made to follow the ladies. But she was suddenly stopped at the feel of long fingers brushing subtly along her back.

Malfoy moved to her left, his palm pressing lightly against the base of her spine, urging her forward but at a much slower pace.

She sidestepped him so he wasn't touching her. "What?" she bit out, her voice a harsh whisper, "Needing another moment to chastise me, Malfoy?"

He smirked, "Quite the opposite, Granger." He paused for only a brief moment, again reaching his hand to her back and slowly rubbing circles on her spine, his facial expression growing serious, "Are you all right?"

Again, she tilted her body away. "I'm fine."

He sighed, "That means no."

She scoffed but said nothing.

"Look, it's not every day your only son gets married... Mother may be a bit overly excited, but if it's too much or seems to be getting out of control, I'll do my best to rein her in... Just say the word."

Hermione stopped walking and Malfoy followed suit. She crossed her arms and turned towards him. "Don't you dare," she ordered, a finger poking him in his chest.

"Granger…" he tried.

"No, Draco. She is excited… hell, she has every right to be… and she's been nothing but nice to me so if she wants blue fairy lights and romantic sunset vows then she can have them! Hell, if she tells me tomorrow we are to ride on the backs of white peacocks down the aisle in some insane Pureblood tradition, I will smile and nod."

"Sweet Salazar!" he cursed, "That sounds rather gaudy and pretentious."

"Yes… very Malfoy, if I do say so myself."

He cracked a smile at that and damn it all to hell, she found herself returning it in equal measure. She playfully smacked him then, "Don't make me laugh."

"S-sorry…" he said, without even the barest hint of an apologetic tone. Then he laughed and she found herself giggling.

He took a chance and stepped into her, his hand falling to her hip. His humor faded as did his smile. He frowned, his gaze fixed on her waist as he expanded and clenched his fingers, clearly testing his hold on her, silently giving her the chance to pull free. When she shifted, bringing herself intentionally closer, his eyes met hers and he said, "Thank you… for indulging my mother."

"I meant what I said, she's nice to me. My appreciation for that goes a long way."

"You sound surprised."

She shook her head, "No, not surprised… just relieved."

He nodded once, again casting his vision to the ground, "They abandoned her, you know? All her so-called friends… after the war… Afraid to even associate with a Malfoy for fear they may be sent to Azkaban as an accessory."

She swallowed and her stomach twisted. Wasn't she guilty of doing pretty much the same when she obliviated him? "I can imagine it's been hard… for both of you," she whispered.

He shrugged, "I have Blaise and Pansy… sometimes Theo…but she was left with only her disappointment of a son for company."

"I highly doubt she sees it that way," she murmured, though having little frame of reference with Narcissa Malfoy, she wasn't exactly held to the conviction.

"She's too well-bred to say it out loud…" he shrugged. "But this wedding has given her new life. Now she fields Floo calls all day from members of society begging for an invitation to the event. I fear it truly has become a circus… and she's loving every minute of it." He paused, "So again, I say thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. You're the one who's footing the bill." She cracked a smile.

He chuckled, "You're marrying into one of the richest Wizarding families this side of the Atlantic, Granger, money is no object."

"Says the wealthy prat," she teased.

He laughed, his fingers moving to toy with the tied belt of her dress, "Take advantage of it, Granger, I don't mind… really."

"Good, because you kinda bought this dress," she responded playfully.

"Did I now? Well, I'm sure Pansy added a nice commission for herself…"

"Oh, I don't doubt it."

He grew quiet and she watched as he continued to fiddle with her dress, almost as if he was fighting back the urge to untie it. "Draco," she started.

"I have a past, Hermione," he replied, interrupting her.

She swallowed, "I know…"

He gave a curt nod, "But I've never done this before…"

"This?" she questioned with uncertainty.

"Been someone's boyfriend…" He said the word in the same manner in which he used to sling around Mudblood.

"All right…" was the only reply that came to mind.

"But I'm willing to try… for you…" he added with sincerity.

She was surprised and she knew it showed on her face. "Oh…uh…"

He sighed, "Just bear with me, Granger."

She smiled, "I think I can do that."

His hand fell away, aimlessly searching for hers. He found it and intertwined their fingers, bringing their conjoined hands to his lips for a soft kiss. Then he turned and they proceeded to walk beside each other towards the lake.

While she normally liked their stretches of companionable silence, she couldn't help but ask, "So do Purebloods never date?"

He chuckled low in his throat, "Not as often as you would think."

She furrowed her brow, "Then how do you… find a wife?"

He gave her a questioning look, then sighed, "Are we really having this conversation?"

She nudged him, "What? I want to know."

Again, a small laugh, "So inquisitive, Granger." He took a deep breath then shrugged, "It's more or less how we were paired together. We're born, contracts are negotiated, you come of age and then you formally meet."

"That sounds awful…."

He cocked an eyebrow, "Says the witch who volunteered for an arranged marriage."

She shrugged, "I guess…"

"We do occasionally have dinners… or tea… but mainly it's to get a picture in the paper to promote the union."

"So it's all just a business transaction?"

"Sometimes there's a love match… but yes, it's all about who has the land, who needs the land… that sort of thing."

She looked at him but his gaze was trained on the ground. He seemed a little sad and her heart wretched. Did he regret leaving Astoria? Were they one of those love matches he spoke of?

They were close to the lake now and could see off in the distance Narcissa gesturing wildly and Emma trying to keep up with her.

"You know, if you think she's bad now, wait until you give her the first grandchild... She'll be positively unbearable," he noted with a trace of humor.

Her mouth dropped open, "First? How many children do you plan on us having?"

"Oh, at least a dozen or so," he replied in all seriousness.

Hermione scrunched up her face, "Malfoy, that sounds like a lot of... work."

His patented smirk pulled at his lips as he glanced at her from the side, "Don't worry, Granger. I'll make it enjoyable." He gave her hand a little squeeze.

She smacked him again, "I was talking about raising that many kids, you git, not making them!"

He shrugged, giving her a nudge, "You know what they say, once you go Malfoy, you don't go back."

She rolled her eyes, "Ugh. That was a terrible line."

He laughed, "It was. Forgive me."

"There you two are!" Narcissa exclaimed. "It's already past four, it would seem, and Ms. Vane has another appointment."

"Past four?!" Draco released Hermione's hand then, much to her dismay. "I'm late to meet Blaise."

"Well, perhaps you could walk me to the Floo, Mr. Malfoy?" Emma replied, feigning a quality of innocence, all the while she was puffing out her ample bosom in his direction.

Hermione had enough, "I'm going that way too, so I can walk with you."

Emma turned and gave her a deadly look, blinking several times as if that would make Hermione simply go away.

"Actually, Hermione, could you be a dear and stay? I have something I wish to show you," Narcissa intervened, seemingly oblivious to the standoff between the two young women.

Hermione caught Draco's eye for the briefest of moments before she deflated and agreed, "Of course, Narcissa."

Narcissa's whole face lit up, "Wonderful." Then she called out, "Flinty!"

Crack!

The elf immediately appeared. "Yes, Ms. Narcissa?"

"Please kindly lead Ms. Vane to the Floo."

"Oh, uh…." Emma stammered.

Narcissa's friendly smile faded and she looked Emma directly in the eyes now, saying in an authoritative tone, "My son is an engaged man, Ms. Vane. You'll do well to remember that for all future consultations."

Emma swallowed, "Yes, Mrs. Malfoy."

"You may leave now."

"Y-yes, Mrs. Malfoy." And Flinty took Emma by the hand and proceeded to lead her away.

Hermione couldn't help it, she smiled. Then she glanced over and caught Draco staring at her, a smirk tugging at his own lips. He gave her a wink.

"If you ladies will excuse me," he replied, giving a slight bow of his head.

"Do be careful, Draco," Narcissa called after him. He gave a little wave of his hand before he apparated away.

Narcissa turned to Hermione now. "You're a decent girl, Hermione. It took everything inside of me to remain polite this entire time and not hex the little bitch. I'll have her removed and another wedding planner hired by tomorrow." She took Hermione's hand and gave it a little pat of reassurance.

"It's quite alright, Narcissa. But thank you… for sticking up for me. It means more than I could say."

Narcissa gave her a genuine smile, "You're family now and we Malfoys stick together."

Hermione felt her heart clench and tears well behind her eyes. She swallowed thickly, willing the tender emotions away, "Thank you, Narcissa."

"Come. Let's go inside."

And the two women walked back to The Manor, chatting the entire way.

Hermione was pleasantly surprised when Narcissa led her up the main staircase to the second floor of The Manor. Hermione reckoned it was a moment akin to Alice first wandering into Wonderland. There was so much artwork and closed doors that possibly led to private quarters where the family hid during the war.

Her mind chased one thought as she glanced around her surroundings, numbly listening to Narcissa as she gave her the tour: somewhere in these long corridors was Draco's room.

"Right through here, dear," Narcissa replied, taking the hall on the right. She was at least three steps ahead of Hermione now and she hurried to catch up to her, puzzled at how different this way was from the other corridors. The walls were a smoky grey but hardly held any decorations except wall sconces that automatically lit as they passed, and instead of being lined with doors on every side, there were now just four, two on each side, evenly spaced out.

These rooms must be huge, Hermione thought.

Narcissa came to the first large oak door on the right. "Draco is going to be angry with me, but I simply cannot wait until the wedding," she said, her hand on the handle. She gave it a push and walked in, gesturing for Hermione to follow. With a feeling of unwarranted anxiousness, Hermione entered the room.

She stepped into the largest bedroom she had ever been inside. There was a huge, four-poster bed situated at the center of the space, covered in the finest fabrics of red and gold with more grand pillows than any one person could have a need for. Off to the left was a stone fireplace and two red, velvety wingback chairs and a classic loveseat carefully staged in front of it. Bookcases lined almost every wall, some already partially filled, and there was a beautiful, ornate desk situated by a large bay window, complete with parchment and ink and quills. And beside the bed? French double doors that undoubtedly led to a balcony, where Hermione assumed was probably the best view she had ever seen.

She turned to face Narcissa, who was still standing by the door and a large wardrobe that Hermione guessed served as someone's closet. She gave her a questioning look.

"It's yours, Hermione." She finally moved, gliding into the open space, her footfalls silent against the soft, plush red carpet. "I had it done in Gryffindor colors because I wasn't sure if you had a favorite… but it can be changed, just say the word."

Hers… Hermione surveyed the room again, words dying in her throat.

"You hate it," Narcissa replied, her voice filled with worry.

"N-no.. no, please… It's so beautiful… I just don't understand…" Hermione stammered.

Narcissa approached her and took both her hands within her own and looked Hermione in the eyes, "He's so concerned… Draco… he really wants this to work and he believes the key to doing that means making you feel as comfortable as possible. He doesn't want to rush things, I think… frighten you away…"

Hermione gave a little humorless laugh. Frighten her away…? She shook her head in disbelief, her fist pressing against her mouth to keep her from saying something she may regret. "I'm not going anywhere," she whispered. Unless forced… she added silently.

"Oh dear, I've upset you," Narcissa responded and she pulled Hermione in for a hug, which she readily welcomed.

"N-no… it's not that…" She stepped back, nervously twisting her hands as she looked around. "I feel like the two of you have gone through a lot of trouble for me…"

"It's no trouble, dear. Truly," Narcissa assured.

She gave a curt nod, still not trusting herself to speak.

Narcissa moved to one of the bookcases, "Draco said you are quite the reader so I had a few books sent up from the library… and I'm sure you'll have your own collection brought over from your Flat..."

Hermione nodded, "It's perfect, Narcissa. Thank you."

Some of Narcissa's nervousness faded and she gave Hermione an understanding smile. "It's so much change, I know."

Hermione nodded again, then took a deep, shuddering breath before turning around, really giving the room the thorough once-over. That's when she saw it - another large oak door almost hidden by the fireplace.

She started towards it, "Is this the loo?"

"Not exactly," Narcissa answered and Hermione paused with her hand on the handle. "That would be Draco's room."

Hermione snapped back like it had burned her, staring at the door with uncertainty. "Oh!"

"Actually this is his personal wing of The Manor. He had his suite split to give you your privacy." Narcissa came to her side now. "It's enchanted… so only you can unlock it."

Hermione was speechless. She worried her bottom lip as her mind twisted and reeled.

"I know," Narcissa sighed, "He can be a bit overly dramatic."

Hermione chuckled. "Yes...but I… I appreciate it… all of it." She turned to face Narcissa now, "I want this to work, too. More than you know."

Narcissa brought her hand to Hermione's face and swept a loose curl back, tucking it behind her ear. "You care for him. I can tell."

Hermione gave her a shy smile, "Don't tell him. He'll be so smug about it."

Narcissa laughed, "You really do know him, don't you?"

Intimately, Hermione thought to herself.

"I have another surprise for you," Narcissa said, moving now over to the large wardrobe.

Hermione released a shaky breath, completely unsure of what would happen next. She could feel the anxiety building in her chest, and she desperately tried to stifle it. Once she was home, she could let the events of the day overwhelm her but not here… not in front of Narcissa.

"I got the impression from our correspondence you haven't begun your search for a wedding gown yet," Narcissa was saying, "So I had Madam Malkin send over some choices for you." She opened the wardrobe then, revealing an array of a dozen or so of the finest dresses money could buy.

Hermione burst into tears. And not the tender trickle one might see in a movie, where the actress is overwhelmed and she cries so prettily. No, these were the sobbing, blubbering fountains that wrenched from deep in her chest.

Narcissa immediately came to her side, hugging her and shifting her to sit on the bed. She pulled Hermione close and rubbed at her upper arms, "Ssh… love, it's alright."

Hermione cried even harder. She never expected this… warm and caring affection from his mother. If Narcissa knew what she had done...

"I think I've been a tad overzealous about the wedding and for that, I heartily apologize," she was saying.

Hermione shook her head, "It's not that…"

"Is it about your parents?"

Her parents… She sobbed louder, burying her head in her hands. The terrible choices she has made

"Draco told me what happened. Maybe I can help, I'm a Legilimens, after all."

Hermione's head snapped up, "You are?"

"I am. Though I've never attempted it on a Muggle before… But whatever I can do… Hermione, we'll figure this out."

She swallowed, "You're too good to me."

"Nonsense."

Hermione took a breath, "Narcissa, I'm not the perfect Golden Girl as The Prophet portrays me."

"Hermione, Draco isn't marrying you only because they agreed to return his wand. He's trying to restore respect to the Malfoy name," Narcissa confessed. "So you see, none of us are perfect."

Hermione snorted. She had suspected as much, but in the end, she was still getting the better end of the bargain… she was finally going to be with the man she loved.

She wiped at her eyes. "I don't want to disappoint you."

"Just be good to my son. That's all I desire."

Hermione nodded.

"And a handful of grandbabies…" Narcissa added with a smile.

Hermione chuckled, "Draco told me this afternoon he wants twelve."

"Twelve?! Merlin, that would be a lot of work!"

"That's what I said!"

Both women shared a small giggle. Narcissa patted Hermione's hand. "Lucius and I always wanted a big family," she replied, her voice somewhat far away.

"W-what happened?"

Narcissa shrugged, "It proved a rather difficult venture." She swallowed, "I had several miscarriages before I got pregnant with Draco… and then we almost lost him. After he was born, the healers advised against any more attempts. Lucius was so stoic about it… but I could tell he was crushed."

Hermione felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach now, and her hand absently strayed to her abdomen. "Several miscarriages," she murmured.

"Oh don't you worry about that right now, Hermione. Purebloods are plagued with infertility. It's the reason for this whole Initiative in the first place."

Hermione nodded slowly but her hand remained protective against her stomach.

"Would you like for me to give you a moment alone? Maybe take a minute and let everything sink in?" Narcissa offered.

Hermione shook her head. "I think I just need to splash some water on my face and I'll be okay. Then we can look at the dresses."

Narcissa rose, gesturing off to the side where there was indeed another smaller door Hermione had not seen before. "This way, dear."

Hermione stepped into the loo, softly shutting the door behind her. She sighed at the black and white opulent decor; with its marble bathtub big enough for four and a standalone shower. The small entrance was deceptive. This one room was almost as large as her whole Flat.

She walked over to the his and hers sinks, noticing a few of Draco's products neatly lined up on his side of the large vanity. Looks like they would be sharing this bathroom and she glanced over and saw another door which more than likely led to his room, too.

She sighed, then proceeded to turn on the silver polished faucet. She glanced at her reflection, not surprised at how red and swollen she looked. She leaned over and splashed the cool water on her face, her breathing suddenly going shallow, the panic attack she had been trying to avoid finally rearing its ugly head.

She closed her eyes and she was immediately reminded of a memory of another bathroom, her small body curled up on the cold tile of the floor, surrounded by so much blood. No one had told her there would be so much blood.

She pressed her fist to her mouth while her other hand clutched at her belly. A broken sob tore from deep within her.

Several miscarriages….

She frantically shook her head but the memory refused to abate.

Twenty weeks…a short time in reality yet it carried with it a lifetime of love. And she cherished every day… thinking how he grew just a little more… became a little more real...

She had just started to feel him move inside her; fluttering like a delicate butterfly in her womb. He had been so alive and then, in a blink of an eye, he was suddenly gone, taken from her forever. No bigger than a banana, she had held his lifeless body against her chest and wept. The last vestige of her and Draco's love now destroyed.

She silently cried into the palm of her hand. She couldn't imagine having to suffer through it again, especially over and over. That one time had nearly destroyed her.

Bile rose up in her throat and she barely made it to the toilet in time, tea and delicious almond biscuits definitely tasted better going down than coming up.

Afterwards, she washed her mouth and then her face again. But this time, she didn't dare look at her reflection, afraid to see the deceptive woman whose lies were most certainly going to catch up to her.

After the sixth dress, Hermione felt worn out, both mentally and physically. While they were all beautiful and well made, none of them felt right… like the one.

"No, it just looks wrong," Narcissa replied.

Hermione sighed, "I think maybe it's me. I'm a mess."

"No, dear, it's the dress." She studied her closely, "You do look tired though. Perhaps we should call it a night… maybe you can come by later this week."

She nodded, "Alright." She carefully slipped the dress down, before delicately handing it to Narcissa. Hermione reached for her own clothes folded neatly in a chair but stopped as something else in the wardrobe caught her eye.

She pushed the remaining new dresses to the side as her eyes fixed on a gown sealed in a see-through protective bag. It was indeed a wedding dress, rather old but well taken care of. She pulled it out, unzipping the bag, her fingers dancing over the lace fabric.

There were no words to describe its beauty or why this one called to her specifically. Letting the plastic bag it had been sealed in, fall haphazardly to the floor, she held the gown before her, her heart now beating hard in her chest.

It was exquisite, with a plunging bodice, jeweled waistband and illusion back with diamond encrusted buttons running from the neck to the small of her back. The white tulle skirt flared in a princess cut, complete with a soft, subtle light mint green underskirt, giving it just a hint of color. It was long sleeved, which Hermione loved, and had sparkling lace appliqués of moons and stars sprinkled throughout the tulle and down the arms.

She pulled it closer, detecting a pattern in the design. She suddenly whirled around to face Narcissa, "Is this what I think…"

Narcissa, tears in her eyes, nodded, "The constellation known as Draco… always one of my favorites…"

"This is your dress," Hermione stated.

"Yes." Narcissa swallowed, "I added it to the others on a whim. You see, I always wanted a daughter…" She stopped, tears starting to tumble down her cheeks.

It was Hermione's turn to offer comfort, closing the distance, wrapping one arm around her soon-to-be mother-in-law.

"May I?" she shyly asked, nodding to the dress she still held.

"Please do not feel obligated to do so," Narcissa replied.

"This isn't an obligation," Hermione whispered.

"Then it would be my honor, Hermione," Narcissa said.

With Narcissa's help, Hermione carefully climbed into the dress. It fit like a glove, almost like it was meant to be. She stared at herself in the wardrobe mirror, a lone tear slipping down her cheek.

"This is it… this is the one…" Hermione confirmed.

Narcissa ran her hands down the skirt, smoothing it out as she studied Hermione. "You look positively radiant… even better than I did on my wedding day."

Hermione chuckled, "I doubt that." But she had to admit, she did look good.

"Are you sure?" Narcissa asked nervously.

"This. Is. The. One."

Narcissa smiled and mouthed a sincere thank you in the mirror.

Crack!

A small elf in a cute little apron suddenly appeared.

"Ms. Narcissa! Ms. Narcissa!" Sierney exclaimed. "There is an emergency in the kitchen!"

"Oh my! Hermione, love, if you'll excuse me. I'll only be a moment."

Hermione nodded and both Narcissa and the elf apparated away.

Hermione returned her gaze to her reflection, admiring the dress and it's sheer beauty. She bit her lip, glanced around to make sure the coast was clear, then gave a little twirl, letting the skirt swirl around her. She couldn't help it. She actually giggled girlishly.

"Well, someone's happy…" a voice commented from behind her.

Hermione whirled around, startled. "Draco!" she exclaimed.

He was standing in the main doorway, leaning one shoulder against the frame, his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk pulling at his lips.

"I like it when you scream my name," he purred. He pushed himself away from the door, stepping into the room. "I wonder what other things I can do to elicit a similar reaction…"

He stalked towards her, his grey eyes on fire, his gait predatory.

She grabbed a blanket from the bed, bringing it to cover herself, "You have to leave. Now," she tried to be stern but the smile she couldn't hide betrayed her.

"Sorry, Granger, not very convincing." He came within arm's reach of her but stopped short.

"I...I thought you had left… motorcycle riding with your mate…" she stammered.

He shrugged, "I thought it would be in my best interest to stick around here…" He openly appraised her and she tightened the blanket around herself instinctively. "I've been pacing by the Floo for an hour, hoping to casually run into you before you left."

Her smile widened, "How very slick of you…"

"But, by the gods, woman, you've been up here forever. I grew impatient," he replied.

"These things take time, I'm afraid," she teased.

He huffed, then he smiled slyly, "I think I know how you can make it up to me…"

She laughed, "Oh, I'm sure you do. But you must go… Now."

He took one step closer, cocking an eyebrow, "Why? Afraid what might happen if I don't?" He cautiously reached his hand out to her but she smacked it away.

"No! More like you're not supposed to see the bride in her dress before the wedding."

He looked confused, "Says who?"

She grew exasperated, "I don't know! It's just a tradition or something. And it's bad luck!"

He rolled his eyes, "Seriously, Granger? Given our history, I don't see how things can get any worse for us."

"Be that as it may, I'm not taking any chances." She pointed to the door, "Please go."

He made no effort to move.

She gave him a playful shove, "Leave, Malfoy."

He caught her by her wrist and suddenly dragged her close. He stared down at her, his face growing serious, "A moment ago I was Draco… now I'm back to Malfoy…" His grip tightened and his gaze settled on her lips. There was something dangerous in the way he stared… an insatiable hunger she wasn't sure she could sate.

She reached up to his face with her fingers, gently giving his cheek a soft caress before saying, "Close your eyes."

"Why?" he questioned suspiciously.

She sighed, "Must you question everything I say."

"Yes, otherwise where's the fun?"

"Just close your eyes!" she ordered.

He groaned, but reluctantly complied.

"No peeking," she said.

"Bloody hell, Granger."

She waved her hand in front of his face before she was satisfied his eyes were closed then she shifted in his embrace, turning to give him her back.

"Draco, I need for you to undo the buttons," she whispered.

"And how do you propose I do that with my bloody eyes closed, Hermione."

She stepped back, bringing herself flush against his body, "Feel your way…"

He swallowed deeply, his hands planting firmly at her waist. She could feel the air in the room shift suddenly… a pulsating charge of electricity raising the hairs on her arms.

He slid deft fingers from the curve of her hips, up the length of her torso, pausing briefly at the roundness of her breasts, until he found her shoulders. The palms of his hands caressed the bare skin of her neck for a moment, feeling their way until they met now in the middle.

With ease, the first button was undone. Followed by the second, then the third. Her breath caught as one knuckle slid over her exposed skin, blazing a fiery path down her back as his fingers undid each small clasp with painstaking slowness.

The garment loosened around her. She scooted away from his arms, giving him a quick look over her shoulder. "No peeking," she reiterated.

"I wouldn't dare, Granger."

She watched him for a moment then quickly moved to the wardrobe and climbed out of the dress. Carefully, she rehung the garment before grabbing her dress and slipping into it. She tied it at the waist, shut the door to the wardrobe and then grabbed her boots, moving to sit in one of the wingback chairs.

"Okay, you can open your eyes now," she finally replied, once she was again fully dressed.

He gave her the once-over, feigning a pout, "How disappointing…"

"You'll survive," she teased.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and just stared at her for the space of several heartbeats. "There's something I want to show you."

She visibly tensed. She wasn't sure if she could take anymore Malfoy surprises today. "I-I'm not sure…"

"Come now, Granger, where's that Gryffindor bravery?"

She folded her arms over her chest, "Your mother will be back any moment. I don't wish to be rude…"

He flung his head back in exasperation, "Use your pretty little head, Hermione. A kitchen emergency? I don't think my mother has ever set foot in the kitchens since I've been alive."

She opened her mouth to retort but quickly closed it. She considered his words. "She knew you were still here," she replied. She shook her head then, "You snakes are so manipulative."

"You'll get used to it," he countered with a smirk. "So will you come with me now?"

She hesitated.

"I promise to keep my hands in my pockets the entire time," he replied.

She smiled despite her uneasiness. "One of these days, I'm going to learn to say no."

"But not today," he said with a wink.

Draco pressed his back against a set of double doors and grinned mischievously at Hermione.

She stood before him, arms crossed in irritation and waited.

"You have to swear to me, Granger, that whatever you see beyond these doors will not have any bearing on your decision whether or not to end our marriage after the eighteen months," he urged.

"Malfoy!" She really was exhausted.

"Swear it," he ordered.

She rolled her eyes, "Fine. I swear." She took a step closer, "But if there is anything illegal in there, or if this is where you decide to tell me you have a vast collection of Horcruxes, I will break your nose again."

He smiled, "Of that, I have no doubt." He pushed open the doors then stepped aside to allow her entrance.

Years ago, before she received her Hogwarts letter, Hermione's parents had taken her to The London Library, one of the oldest of its kind in England. She remembered the moment she had first entered the magnificent building, filled to the brim with such a large collection of books. The best way she could describe her feeling at that time was that it felt like coming home.

That was exactly the same feeling she had now, walking into the massive Malfoy library.

Hermione gasped as she saw three floors packed with books and scrolls, the smell of parchment and ink heavy in the air. There was a large fireplace on the bottom level, with comfortable grey chairs, and three large desks perfect for studying. A grand staircase carried you to the next level and then another which led to the third. There was a large floor to ceiling window that gave off the perfect amount of natural light and she could see the sun fading in the distance, casting shadows throughout the room. It was utterly beautiful.

"I'm never leaving here," she whispered.

Draco chuckled, "I kinda figured, Granger."

She glanced at him over her shoulder, giving him a sheepish smile. He was leaning back against the closed doors, hands still in his pockets, legs crossed at the ankles. He looked so breathtakingly handsome, she almost forgot about the books… almost.

She suddenly looked away, her throat going dry. It dawned on her they were alone… in a library… no Harry Potter anywhere in sight to interrupt them. She swallowed thickly.

She glanced around, her gaze finding a pile of books on a nearby table. She pointed to them, "May I?"

He gave a short nod but otherwise didn't move.

She walked over to the pile, cautiously pulling the top one off the stack. Upon reading its title, her face pulled into a frown. She grabbed the next one and the next. Yes, they were all similar in theme.

She looked at him, "W-what are these?"

"Books on memory charms. Some of them are the only known copy in existence…" His voice trailed off.

She turned away from him. Oh god...oh god… oh god… She reached for one of the books, nervously turning the pages, her mind too filled with trepidation to even begin to comprehend the words before her.

She felt his approach rather than heard him. The plush carpets in The Manor definitely aided in the ability to sneak up on unsuspecting individuals.

His body was so warm as he drew near but yet refrained from touching her. "I thought these might help you in reversing your parents' obliviation…" he murmured, his lips ghosting over her neck.

"Th-Thank you," she somehow managed to squeak out.

He leaned closer, the tip of his nose nudging against the back of her neck. "Granger…" he purred.

She released a shaky breath, "I seem to remember you mentioning something about keeping your hands to yourself…"

He chuckled low in his chest, a throaty sound that made her blood run hot and her knickers feel tight. He pressed himself flush against her, planting both of his hands on the table before her, effectively trapping her in his embrace. "See? No hands…"

She whimpered at the feeling of his hard body against her soft form. One thought found its way to the forefront of her mind: I'm in trouble.

She calmly laid the book she had been holding down onto the table. "You realize how cruel you are to invite the Hermione Granger into your library and you won't even let her have a proper look around..." she replied ruefully.

He snorted his disdain, his lips skating over the sensitive flesh just beneath her ear, "You realize how unfair it is to tease the Draco Malfoy, Slytherin sex god, with black lacy lingerie and refuse to even let him have a decent look at it..."

"You promised you wouldn't peek!" she exclaimed.

"Uh… hello, Slytherin… we're known for lying…"

She shook her head, "Never trust a snake, huh? When will I ever learn?"

She gasped as his one hand slid underneath the hem of her skirt now, dancing over the bare flesh of her thigh, while his other fell to her waist, deft fingers toying with the tie of her dress.

"Granger, the library has stood here for a hundred years and will probably be here for a hundred more. But this..." He pulled at the belt, "Merlin knows when I'll have another chance to see it..."

She gave a girlish laugh, "And if I say yes, can the self-proclaimed Slytherin sex god promise to be good?"

"Oh, but then I would be lying again, Granger," he teased. He grabbed hold of one end of the tie and gave it a gentle pull, letting it come undone. "Oops..." he breathed, the word like a hot iron on her already burning skin.

She bit her bottom lip to stifle a groan. "Draco…" She shifted against him, wanting more than anything for those fingers caressing small circles on her upper thigh to move ever so slightly to the place she needed his touch the most. "There's a hook...here…" She took his hand, guiding it to the hidden clasp still holding the infuriating dress together.

He growled, "So Hermione Granger does indeed have a naughty side…"

He quickly undid the hook, letting her dress fall open, then he turned her around to face him. She placed both of her hands back against the surface of the table as he pressed into her.

His hands fell to her waist, his fingers almost bruising in their hardness, as if he was afraid she might try to bolt at any moment. And then he leaned down, his lips hovering a fraction above hers, their panting breaths mingling.

He finally kissed her. It wasn't gentle or kind. It was primal… hungry… hard and hurried. He crushed his lips to hers and she opened her mouth in delicious abandonment. It was the best fucking kiss of her life… like he wanted nothing more than to devour her or perhaps swallow her whole.

His tongue thrust into her mouth while his hands slid over the length of her body, memorizing every curve, every dimple. And then he pulled free, dragging his lips down to the hollow of her throat, past her collarbone, over the fullness of her breasts… the rough tip of his tongue leaving a wet trail in its wake.

He sank to his knees before her, his mouth sucking a bruise just right of her navel, then another at the tender skin of her hip bone. She moaned and writhed, wanting more… wanting his mouth there… in the place she ached the most.

"Fuck, Granger… you're already so wet… I can smell it…"

She whimpered in response.

He growled, pushing himself to his feet, finding her mouth again with his own. His hand shifted to lay against her cheek and he kissed her over and over, leaving her little room to catch her breath before he was assaulting her again. All the while, his free hand tugged at the waistband of her panties, his inner bad boy clearly at war with his need to remain a gentleman.

He finally pulled back, his grey eyes searching her brown gaze, his lips so swollen she brought her fingers up to trace over them, proving to herself that this was indeed real and not another of her dreams.

He turned his face into her palm and pressed a small kiss against it.

"I think I need a cold shower," he replied, his voice harsh with restrained passion, as he laid his forehead against her shoulder.

"Can I join you?" she asked.

His head snapped up, "Fuck, Granger… you're not making this any easier…"

She sighed, running her hand through his hair then urging him to meet her lips. She softly kissed him now, gentle sweeps of her tongue mating with his.

He pulled back then released a shaky breath. His hands fumbled now to close her dress with reluctance, before he took a step away from her.

She fixed her dress, hooking the clasp and tying the belt before smoothing out her skirt. She was almost afraid to look at him. He had wanted her… but he had stopped. Why?

"I have an idea," he replied.

"Do you now?" She was hurt and it rang true in her voice.

"Let me take you to dinner… wherever you want."

Now she looked up at him, surprised at his words. "Y-you don't have to…"

"I want to," he said sincerely. "I'm trying, Hermione."

She smiled, "Well, I have been craving pizza from this little place in Muggle London…"

He frowned, "You're going to punish me with greasy, processed food…"

"Oh absolutely," she replied.

He smirked, "Alright, that's fair." He approached her, ran a hand nervously through his hair before he reached for one of her hands, his fingers toying with hers.

She swallowed, her throat growing tight. Then he leaned down and swept his tongue against the seam of her mouth. Her lips parted with a sigh and she moaned as he immediately deepened their exchange.

"And for dessert?" he whispered, his lips sliding to the slope of her shoulder.

"There's a frozen yogurt place across the street, I think..." she gasped as his teeth gently nipped and pulled at her earlobe now.

He cringed, "You can think of something better than that, Granger." He brought himself even closer to her now, an arm stealing around her waist.

She laid her hands on his chest almost as if she was going to push him away, "Sorry but I'm not on the menu, Draco."

He laughed heartily, "You sure, Hermione?"

His lips found hers again and he splayed the fingers of one of his hands over her breast with sheer possessiveness.

Nope, she was definitely not sure about that, in the least.

She made a small noise and pressed herself into him. He drew back, "I want you… I just don't want to fuck this up."

Well, damn, she had to respect that.

"Some Slytherin sex god, you are…" she teased.

He chuckled, lifting her hand to his mouth to gently kiss, "Don't challenge me, lion."

"Oh I think you like to be challenged; it's why we're so perfectly suited."

"Touché," he replied. He jerked his head to the doors, "Come on, let's get you fed. I can feel your stomach growling." He intertwined their fingers and started to pull them towards the exit.

"Wait, my books!" she exclaimed.

"I'll have Flinty floo them over later this evening, Granger."

"Alright. But it has to be tonight. I want to get started on reading them."

He rolled his eyes, "Yes, dear," he mocked.

She smacked him playfully and he laughed. Merlin, she couldn't get enough of that sound… a genuine Malfoy laugh.

They left the library hand in hand, making their way to the front door of The Manor. She kept glancing at him from the side, her heart seizing in her chest at the sheer handsomeness of his profile.

"So, there's this thing on Tuesday…" she started.

He cocked an eyebrow, "A thing?"

She swallowed, "More like a dinner… with Harry and Ginny… some other Gryffindors…" For my birthday… she wanted to say, but feared it sounded too manipulative.

He stopped walking and turned to look at her, his smirk teasing his mouth, "Why, Granger, are you asking me to have dinner with you and your pack of lions?"

She opened her mouth to retort but was cut off.

"Draco?" called out a soft, feminine voice from behind the both of them.

Draco froze, his pale face suddenly going very white, his playful smile fading. He jerked free of Hermione's hand as they both turned to see a waif-like, taller woman with long blonde hair standing by the Floo. "Astoria…"

She was even prettier in person than her pictures in The Prophet, Hermione noted. And she couldn't help but notice how nervous Draco had suddenly become.

He stepped away from Hermione's side, inadvertently putting some distance between the two of them now.

"Draco, I need to speak with you. It's rather urgent," Astoria replied, the look she gave them one of haughty disdain, though she made no attempt to acknowledge Hermione's presence.

"Right," he said. He glanced back at Hermione and swallowed, "Not sure how long this may take and I know you have school tomorrow…" His voice trailed off. He cleared his throat, "Raincheck, Granger?"

It was like he had slapped her. Her thought process took a tumble, her words dying in her throat. She stared at him in disbelief for a moment. But she quickly recovered and opened her mouth to tell him to go to hell but something in his gaze stopped her. He looked distraught…

Please… he mouthed to her.

She simply nodded her head and quickly turned away. She started for the front door, half expecting him to catch up to her and give her a proper goodbye…

But he didn't.

She glanced back only once, watching in jealous dismay as he came to Astoria's side, his hand gently touching the other woman's lower back as he escorted her from the Floo, all his attention reserved for her and her alone.

Hermione felt crushed and tears pricked her eyes. She pulled open the front door and hurried out.

By the time she had finally returned to her Flat, those tears had faded and now she was simply angry.

She entered her small apartment, throwing her Thai takeaway on her coffee table before plopping down on her sofa to pull off her shoes.

And that's when she saw the pile of books on her desk. Seemed Flinty had already paid her an unwelcome visit.

Her aching feet finally free of her boots, she practically stomped over to the desk and stared down at the neatly stacked tower of tomes. Then with unprecedented rage, she took her hands and pushed them to her floor, scattering them everywhere, along with scrolls and quills and the large shoebox of Malfoy keepsakes she still couldn't bring herself to part with.

She sank to her knees, giving into the tears as she started to pick up her mess. The shoebox's contents had spilled, sending Prophet clippings all over. She started shoving them back into the box. But when she came to one of him and Astoria and their "engagement announcement", she found herself shredding it in a fit of fury, a scream of pure rage tearing from some place deep within her.

She took a deep breath, feeling just a little bit satisfied now that she allowed herself the moment to express her anger. Then she began restacking the books, piling them under the desk. She picked up the scrolls and parchment, placing them on top of the desk and grabbed the quills and a pen that had rolled partly away.

She stood, setting them down. She looked at the unorganized mess, deciding she was too tired to care in that moment about cleaning it. She was about to turn away when something strange caught her eye.

She picked up the pen, turning the sterling silver piece over in her hand. This wasn't hers, she realized. But it was familiar

She closed her eyes, looking through her mind's eye, sifting through memories.

And then there it was… being thrust in her face yesterday afternoon by the strange man demanding her autograph.

She dropped it immediately, letting it hit her desk. As if on cue, the enchanted object's surface started to blur and writing began to appear, a secret message scrolled around the pen meant for her and her alone.

She refused to read it, choosing instead to scoop it up and hurrying into her kitchen to toss it in her rubbish bin. Then she pulled the bag from the bin, tied off the top and took it to the front door where she deposited it out into the hall.

Afterwards, she calmly locked her front door, whispered a few incantations to prevent any surprise visitors and locked her Floo. She took a deep, shuddering breath and made her way to her room, forgetting all about her cold food she left on her coffee table.

She sat at the edge of her bed, her mind and heart a torrent of emotions and unwanted memories.

She had a past too. And try as she might, there seemed no escaping it.

Would she ever be free of the mistakes she had made?

She rather thought not. And Hermione laid back on her bed and began to weep.