Draco didn't go home, nor did he sleep. He and Hermione had shared her couch until well after 2:00 a.m. before transferring themselves to her bedroom and becoming entangled with each other yet again. It wasn't long before the sun had risen, and they both lay on their sides to watch the sun come over the horizon and fill the room with its glow. It was a beautiful sight, but none more tantalizing than Hermione adjusting Draco's arm around her body so that his hand was in close proximity to her mouth. She was planting chaste kisses to his fingertips and running the tip of her tongue along his fingers. From this frame, he could see that her hands were still stained red from the deadly experience last night.

"That'll only start a third round, you know," Draco whispered in her ear, a kiss on the nape of Hermione's neck to follow.

"Perhaps that's my intention. Did you ever think of that?"

"I can barely think."

Had Draco's words been said with a tease, Hermione would have thought it romantic. Since they hadn't, she halted her ministrations and turned her body to the right so that she could look at her future husband. Just as she imagined, his face was stoic to match the bland and deadpan tone he had just emitted.

Hermione sighed and placed a hand on the side of his cheek. "Will it always be this overwhelming?"

"No," Draco answered as he kissed her palm and pulled her close. "There was a fresh kill last night. What we experienced was mania. An unholy high, if you will."

"Unholy is right. Murder should never make someone so...amorous."

"It shouldn't," Draco agreed. "It's heinous and falls in line with just how everyone sees a Malfoy. Sometimes I wonder if the curse was made to fit our perception or if we fell into it. A chicken or the egg cannundrum."

"Would it make you feel better if I said that I think it's the latter?" Hermione replied with a gentle shrug. Draco couldn't help his smile and rested his chin on the top of her head.

"That's kind of you to say, love, but I believe the former. Especially...after your incident last night." Draco tried his hardest not to gulp, but he did and it was loud. To him, at least. Hermione lifted her head from under his and looked up at him, her face laced with worry. His chest sank into his stomach when he stared at her and a wave of emotions hit him. Shame, for starters. Fear was another one. Anxiety was a third. He categorized these under the overarching umbrella of not wanting to disappoint or hurt her, but he struggled to decide if they were all his own. Did his feelings even belong to him anymore?

"Granger, I'm going to tell you something, and...I don't think you're going to like it."

A flicker of fright flashed across Hermione's eyes, but she took a deep breath and urged him with a nod.

"The person you killed last night? My mother sent him. She wanted to put you in a position to kill, and I'm sorry."

Draco had closed his eyes as he spoke, but he opened them one by one the longer his witch stayed quiet. When he could finally see her, her mouth had fallen into a small "O." He could sense the rigidity in her body, and despite it dissipating with gentle strokes of Draco's thumbs along her arms, the surprise on her face had morphed into one of anger and that could not be easily soothed away.

"She had no right to do that," Hermione snapped. "We were going to fight the curse. She had absolutely no business kickstarting it. What if I couldn't handle myself last night? I could've died!"

"I know, and that's what I told her when I found out. Not that she was bothered by intentionally trying to hurt you," Draco added with an irate huff. "Still think that the curse is the only reason why my family acts the way they do?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip. She didn't know the answer to that, but before she could attempt to formulate one an owl began pecking at her window. She was rather thankful for the reprieve and disentangled herself from Draco's arms to rise from the bed. A passing thought reminded her that she was naked, and yet there was no shame. She briefly looked back at Draco who was unabashedly watching her, his hand interestingly resting just below his waist. Hermione didn't resist her smile and returned her attention to the waiting owl. The bird dropped a letter at her feet and flew away. Her name was written in fancy and precise script which usually meant a Ministry letter. There was no seal, however, and when she opened the envelope, her eyes bulged.

"Your mother invited me for breakfast," Hermione announced. "She wants to, and I quote, 'get to know her future daughter-in-law.'"

"Of course," Draco chuckled. "Is that all she said?"

A curl came to Hermione's mouth as she walked back to the bed. She sat at the corner of it and showed Draco the letter. Even he couldn't stop the muscles in his face.

To my son,

Good morning.

Hermione and Draco had intended to stay in bed for the day, but seeing as they had been summoned, they headed for the shower. An awful idea in hindsight, for the moment they had stepped into the shower all thoughts of getting clean had gone out of the window. They ended up heading to Malfoy Manor a full hour later than intended because of it, but the heads of the family didn't seem to mind. In fact, it appeared to have been expected.

"You had the house elves lay out breakfast late?" Draco questioned as he and Hermione approached the lanai hand-in-hand. Lucius looked up from his newspaper, his lips fully-formed in a welcoming smile that baffled Hermione more than she could describe.

"Of course. Your mother and I anticipated a tardy attendance. Miss Granger," Lucius added with a gentle tilt of his head.

Floored yet again, but Hermione didn't let on as she and Draco walked over to the intimate table meant to seat only four people. Somehow she had expected something more grand. A large dining table meant for ten guests, maybe more, and Lucius and Narcissa sitting on opposite ends of it while eating their meals in silence. This scene, however, depicted something more...comforting. It was small. It was quaint. It was vibrant as well due the sun that lit up the room. The lanai reminded Hermione of Hogwarts' greenhouses (minus the plants). Through the glass the property on which Malfoy Manor lay could be seen, and it was nothing but a beautiful stretch of green, trees rimming the perimeter.

"I trust that you both had a lovely evening upon yesterday?" Narcissa inquired. There was a happy hum in her voice and a knowing expression as she passed a glance between her son and future daughter-in-law. The insinuation was heavy, but the air was light as she buttered a small piece of toast.

"Yes," Draco answered. "Can we change the subject?"

"If you mean to a tangential one, then absolutely," Lucius replied. "Forgive us," he added to Hermione, "my wife and I are rather blunt, you see. It's a waste of valuable time otherwise."

Lucius was smiling again. They both were. Draco aside, Hermione felt like she was in the middle of a Malfoy trap. While she understood that there was no way out of this arranged marriage, she still expected some sort of backlash from the heads of the family. A scowl. A public disdain for such a Ministry matchup. A slip of the word "mudblood" at the very least. However, Hermione was sitting at a small table, Narcissa on her right, and having her future in-laws politely engaging in conversation and acknowledging her presence with casual nonchalance.

It was unsettling.

Hermione glanced once at Draco, his face unreadable as he stirred his tea with a touch of wandless magic. Despite this, his right hand lay occupied with her left in his, a gentle caress across her knuckles. If he wasn't going to address the erumpent in the room, then she might as well be the one to do it.

"As you both value blunt conversation, then I suppose you wouldn't mind if I asked a question?" Hermione said. She could feel Draco's eyes on her, but she was focused on his parents who seemed to be quite enjoying the prospect of such an occurrence. "It was rather recent that the both of you would have jumped for joy at the thought of my death, and now you're here being cordial with me? Especially considering that, through no push of our own, your son and I are meant to marry?"

"You're stating facts, poppet," Lucius half grinned. "Ask your question."

"My question is why?" Hermione finally asked after brushing off that "poppet." "Absolutely nothing has changed about me-"

"—except that you killed a man last night," Lucius finished. "An orchestrated killing, so my wife has informed me —brava," he added to her with a fond lilt to his voice. Narcissa blushed, if Hermione analyzed the woman's features correctly for it was such a rare sight. "Draco can attest to the fact that I wasn't the least bit pleased with the Ministry's match for him. Someone of your...stature with my son? It also wasn't comforting to know that you both had opted for insanity versus the peace of mind that our family curse gives.

'Yet, here we are, happily cursed together," Lucius chuckled. "At your core you are a Malfoy now, Miss Granger. That warrants good behavior on our parts."

"Towards me, yes, but not towards others." Hermione turned her gaze towards Narcissa and shook her head in disappointment. "You sent an innocent man to die. The curse had no bearings on what you did."

Narcissa cocked a brow in the air, a coy expression appearing almost immediately. "Your point being, dear?"

"You have no remorse over it at all, do you?"

"Do you?"

Hermione wasn't prepared for her question to be shot back at her, and she hated that she hesitated. Even more so that Narcissa and Lucius noticed. "...In my head I know that I should, but in my heart? My conscience? I feel nothing."

"Precisely," Narcissa nodded. "Do you want to know why I had taken to this wedded burden so easily? It was because my heart was just as black as the curse, all puns aside. Men and women who marry into the Malfoy line tend to already be inclined to the sort of life we live. Deception, underhanded dealings, you name it. With regard to your new predicament, it's unfortunate that your soul is quite...untainted. And while my son is no saint, he's better than the lot of us and he, too, has an angelic heart. Your mind and recently transformed heart are at war, darling. You know what is right, but you will follow your baser desires every time. Silence your mind, Miss Granger. It will only ruin you."

"To baser desires," Lucius mockingly cheered as he raised a glass filled with pumpkin juice. Narcissa raised her glass just the same and tapped it with his. The soon-to-be newlyweds neglected their own glasses and instead clasped their hands tighter under the table, preferring not to be so joyous at such a decadent idea.

"Does it count as good behavior for me to say that I find your parents absolutely nauseating?" Hermione asked once she and Draco had made it back to her house.

The rest of breakfast held less talking and more eating, but what little conversation that was had was still rattling around in Hermione's head. Narcissa had been eager to discuss wedding plans. She was hoping to plan a "luxurious affair." This was not only because her one and only son was getting married, but also because she wanted to quiet those who had negative words to say concerning the new family addition. Lucius, on the other hand, nearly caused Hermione to choke on her food when he spoke of children. He addressed how that it was "imperative" that she and Draco have a son, and that if that wasn't the case, they simply had to try again despite the Ministry's decree that only one child was necessary. Needless to say, the entire morning made Hermione dizzy. Draco's sudden jovial nature didn't help either, but she was more forgiving where he was concerned.

"Let me guess," Hermione girlishly giggled as Draco waltz with her behind her couch. "Mandatory formal dance lessons arranged by your mother?"

"Arranged by my father," Draco corrected. He laughed when he saw Hermione's expression shift to one of shock and gave her a gentle twirl out and pull back into him. They paused for a moment so that Draco could slip her hands around his neck and so his could glide over hers, up her arms, and slowly down to the curve of her back. "Of the many Malfoy rules my father taught me, one of them was to be fierce with men, but delicate with a woman. Dancing, so he said, was a way of doing so. A method of control, finesse, and, of course, wooing."

"Is that so?" Hermione released her own laugh before proceeding to kiss just below Draco's jaw. "I would kill to hear your father say such a thing."

"Kill you say?" Draco said at just above a whisper. It sent a tingle through Hermione's lips as they passed against the flesh of his throat. However, it wasn't just because he spoke, and that was when she realized yet another sinister aspect of the curse that now ruled her life. The simple idea of murder gave her an inappropriate joy. One that she was finding hard to ignore.

"Yes," she replied. "I'd do anything for that euphoria."

That's not right, her conscience rang at a blunted decibel. It was being suffocated by Draco's roaming hands sliding across her arse and riding up her thighs.

"An Avada to the heart?" he suggested. "Slit a man's throat perhaps?"

No, no, that's wrong… It was just a faint call now. The whistle of a faraway train. The distant echo of a scream from a precipice.

"Maybe even a touch of poison," Hermione offered. She raised her head to meet the eyes of her future husband and Draco smiled broadly before nuzzling his nose with hers.

"You are Mrs. Malfoy," he said softly.

Yes, she was.

Her mind was quiet now.

Her conscience sleeps.

Author's note: It's been a while since I was able to post so often. I've missed it lol.

Happy reading :)

-WP