It had been a long night, and neither Draco nor Hermione had had any intentions on waking up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to have breakfast with Draco's parents. Instead, they slept in. They could both admit that sharing a couch for the night wasn't exactly good for the back or other body parts, but they would groan about it later. Upon their waking around noon, Draco called for a house elf to serve them breakfast in the parlor room where they had slept. Hermione had still been tired and so she rolled back over, head buried in her arm, while Draco sat on the edge of the couch and watched her sleep.

Memories of last night (or this morning rather) were all a messy blur, but two things were clear: The Ministry had been willing to let them marry other people, and Hermione had said no.

"Damn bastards," Draco grumbled quietly. They knew that partners could be rearranged and they had kept that secret to themselves. He knew that a new witch to marry wouldn't have saved him from the horrid future he was doomed to live, but Hermione...

Draco sighed and ran his hands over his face. Hermione deserved better. That was the bottom line of it all. How comical it was that this woman —a beacon of light to nearly the entire wizarding population —was doomed to ruin it from the inside out. Unless she could actually break the curse, that is. It was an unfair task that he had asked of her and a hard one to boot. Besides, she had been right back when they had first met in the Ministry. Tampering with curses was never wise. Much like the one on his family, they could be worsened from their original casting or backfire in some type of way. He wondered, though, how worse things could get, but shuddered at the mere thought. At least in the interim he would make the curse work to their advantage.

"You're going to get worry lines in your forehead if you keep squinting like that," Hermione said from where she lay. Draco hadn't even realized that she had stirred.

"I'm not squinting. I'm thinking."

"Well, you squint when you think. What are you thinking so deeply on anyway?"

"That we should go on a date."

Hermione had only been half-awake and marginally alert, but now the sleep had disappeared from her eyes as she stared at the man who was looking down at her. "What?"

"A date," Draco repeated. "You know, the thing two people do to get to know each other? Typically romantic in nature?"

"I know what a date is, thank you," Hermione replied as she sat up. "I'm just confused as to why you think we need one?"

Draco sheepishly shrugged, and for the first time in her life Hermione saw him blush.

"Well, because of this blasted marriage law we skipped over the whole dating thing and went straight to engagement and shagging on the daily. Now, while I don't quite mind the former and I'm damn sure not complaining about the latter, I think we owe it to ourselves to do something normal. Something that we've actually chosen to do." Draco ran a hand through his hair and shrugged once more. "I'm pretty sure there's more to know about you than just the sex positions you like."

Hermione knew that it was rude to stare, but she couldn't help it. Draco was asking her on a date. While there were times that she couldn't tell whether her actions were curse-induced or not, this wasn't one of those times. Curse-induced actions were impulsive, bold, overwhelming, lust-filled, and often defiled her moral compass. This…this wasn't that.

"Okay," she replied meekly. Draco had turned his face from her while her shock was poorly masked. Now he had faced her again, relief having washed over him.

"Yeah?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "You're right. We owe it to ourselves."

"Alright then," Draco smiled. "I'll plan something."

Hermione matched his smile and they sat grinning like schoolchildren before a house elf brought breakfast in for them. With the horrid night of yesterday behind them and a date night to look forward to, they ate breakfast in peace. They talked about mundane things like books, topics from the Daily Prophet, and playfully debated about where they would spend their honeymoon. Normal felt nice. Hermione had almost forgotten what it was like.

"Your mother wants to send out invitations for the wedding next month. She asked me to compile a list of guests." Hermione took a moment to sigh before sipping her second cup of tea. "It's been hard to make one."

Draco was tempted to frown, but he kept it in check. They didn't both need to be solemn. "I probably know the answer why, but humor me."

"While I'm sure my family would love to come to the wedding of the ages, as your mother calls it, I doubt very much for any other guests —except Harry."

"Can't disagree with you on that one," Draco replied. "However, far be it from me to tell you how to tackle your friends, but Potter's the only one you've tried to mend bridges with, isn't he?"

Hermione pursed her lips, clearly not wanting to agree with Draco, but it was impossible. She hadn't spoken to any of the Weasleys since Ron had been admitted to the hospital —exactly one week and a day ago. Last she heard from Harry, Ron would be returning to work tomorrow, so she supposed the repairing of rifts would start then. What a joy that was going to be.

"Let's take a walk."

"What?" Hermione snapped out of her inner thoughts to find Draco standing with his hand outstretched to her.

"You're squinting," he teased and watched her face turn red. "You need a walk to calm your mind, so let's shower and dress. I'll show you the Manor's gardens."

"Flowers are going to take my mind off of things?" Hermione questioned as she put her hand in his and was pulled up.

"Don't question what you haven't seen yet," Draco grinned, and they walked hand-in-hand back to his bedroom.

Their shower, as expected, was more than that since they had unwisely decided to shower together. When they finally did manage to get clean, Draco brought Hermione to the south side of the Manor. There wasn't much to behold there except for one very long corridor filled with paintings of Malfoy relatives. Hermione noticed that none of them spoke and were quite muggle in nature.

"It's the quietest part of the Manor," Draco explained to her. "It was specifically designed that way for peace, hence no moving portraits."

Hermione smiled at the thought of it, and when they finally reached the end of the corridor, Draco pushed open two large walnut doors that must have had a charm on them for ease of use. Whereas the brunette had been smiling before, her jaw had dropped now. The Malfoy gardens were...exquisite. They were on the second floor and had walked out onto a rather large terrace. On either side of them were staircases that curved downward to the grounds. Despite having much to explore, Hermione didn't want to move. From the height she could see it all. It was an endless field of strategically placed arches of vines and flowers of a vast variety of type and color. Pathways were made of white brick and along the paths were marble pedestals with overflowing bouquets of lilies that touched the grass. On the patches of green were water fountains of beautiful cherubs and replica statutes of muggle artists' work. She couldn't hold back her surprise when she saw David and The Thinker and wondered just what else was waiting to be viewed up close.

"Shall we?" Draco asked as he urged her towards one of the staircases. They went down arm in arm until they reached the ground. He let Hermione go then and watched her do just as he thought she would —go right up to one of the statues. She was currently looking up at David, absolutely enthralled.

"Beautiful," she breathed as she tried not to touch it. "How did your family get a replica of this?"

"Who said that it was a replica?"

Hermione immediately lost her footing and ended up leaning against the statue. Mortified, she jumped up, turning her head from David to Draco repeatedly. Eventually, she caught herself, albeit in a stammer. "S-surely you're joking… It's supposed to be in Italy!"

Draco innocently shrugged, hands in his pockets, and smug pride dripping off of him. "Do you really think that the Italian government —muggle or wizard —would let such a priceless artifact be so easily accessible? What's in the Galleria dell'Accademia, as well as various museums throughout Europe, are the replicas —crafted by witches and wizards per an agreement between the wizard and muggle Ministries spearheaded by my grandfather. The real statues were placed here —protected under the many enchantments the Manor holds and added safety measures on the gardens themselves."

Hermione was at a loss for words. She was looking at David again, this time not only appreciative of its beauty, but in awe of a historic masterpiece.

"Forgive me for being so judgmental," she began after a quick lick of her lips, "but why would your grandfather care about these? They were created by muggle artists."

"Yes, they were. However, they're art. Priceless art. The stereotypical pureblood prides himself on what's beautiful, rare, and costly. Works by Picasso and the like are very much that, and it would be foolish to discount something so coveted despite who carved or painted it. It has value, and that's what's important."

"That's…an interesting ideology," Hermione mused as she continued to admire David. She then suddenly faced Draco with widened eyes. "You said painted… Are there paintings here, too? Like...Madonna of the Rocks, by chance?"

Draco swore he could feel Hermione's heart flutter from where he stood. He silently chuckled to himself before offering his arm. "Follow me."

Draco had been right. The gardens really had taken Hermione's mind off of things. Instead of thinking of her friends, she was lost in a sea of masterful works of art. The Birth of Venus, The Son of Man, Discobolus, and Venus de Milo. She felt like she had travelled the world with all that she saw and felt foolish when a tear rolled down her eye as she gazed upon The Kiss by Gustav Klimt. It was one of her favorite paintings from the colors used, the patterns, and the overall beauty. It was simply magnificent, but the painting wasn't what lay at the forefront of her mind as she and Draco headed back to his bedroom.

As Hermione had been lost in the painting, she suddenly realized that she felt warm. She had looked down for just a moment to notice that Draco's arms were around her waist. She was warm because he was standing behind her, his arms around her midsection, and holding her against him. Had he been so gentle or had she been so enraptured that she hadn't noticed? Regardless, Hermione found herself cherishing that moment even more than The Kiss.

"Master Malfoy," a house elf greeted once Hermione and Draco had left the gardens and made it back to the main portion of the Manor. "Pardon the intrusion, but Mistress Malfoy requests to see you in her quarters."

"For a frivolous reason, I imagine," Draco groaned before turning to Hermione at his side. "Can you make it back without getting lost?"

"I suppose we'll find out," Hermione grinned before kissing him on the cheek and taking off down the hall without him.

The Manor was big, yes, but despite its size there were only so many hallways and rooms that Draco and his parents used. Having spent far more time in this, surprisingly, not-so-morbid home than she thought she would have, Hermione had learned to figure out her way around. As she was walking, she began to hear familiar voices, and she slowed her steps on purpose. It was Draco's parents, of course, and while she wasn't usually one to snoop in on conversations, this time was different. She had heard her name, and that had warranted investigation.

"...told the Auror that I had sent out the invitations," Narcissa was saying to Lucius. "I'll send the RSVPs to him after I speak with Draco. While I don't think that the Ministry will pry very hard, it's still a good idea to have a more solid story just in case."

"I agree. I didn't think Rodolphus, of all people, would be the one to attack the witch. He had far more decorum than that. At least the engagement party did what it was supposed to do. Another brilliant idea, darling."

"Anything for our son."

"Yes, Draco," Lucius chuckled. Hermione couldn't see him, but she could still hear his smile. "He did me proud. His uncle was barely recognizable."

"I can remember a few times where a man at your hand was just the same."

"Of course. What won't a man do for the woman he loves?"

"He would do anything," Narcissa happily replied.

Hermione heard shuffling on the inside and she went back the way she came and turned a corner. She heard Narcissa's heels on the well-polished floor, and the brunette cursed herself for not having her wand on her. She supposed a good lie would have to do as to why she was just standing in the hall, but to her pleasure, the matriarch continued straight rather than curtailing right. Hermione sighed deeply before stepping out into the hall again. Lucius hadn't followed her, nor did she hear any other footsteps indicating that he had left.

She could go. Hermione could have headed to Draco's bedroom just as she had intended to do, but a bubble of mischief had risen in her chest and it couldn't be ignored. Her purposeful strides carried her outside of a dark, well-carved door that had been left slightly cracked. When she pushed it open, she was met with, she had to admit, an impressive library. Part of her lost focus once she had seen it for it reminded her of Hogwarts. It was by no means very large, but the way the bookshelves rose into the ceiling and the three large rectangular desks, chairs, and lamps set upon the tabletops brought back vivid memories for her. Lucius was sitting at the head of one of these tables at the far end of the room. His back faced a stained-glass window that depicted a hippogriff in midflight. Tricks of the light, or perhaps magic, made the creature appear to move as she walked further into the room.

Lucius was reading, and he brought a finger to his tongue before lazily turning a page in his book. "Did you forget something, dear?"

While the term of endearment wasn't new for Hermione to hear him say, the fact that it was directed at her, mistake or not, sent an uncomfortable shiver through her. A grime that her mind had tricked her into feeling over her skin.

"You're addressing the wrong witch," Hermione said as she approached the second desk. Lucius looked up then, surprise clearly evident, but wiped away as though it hadn't appeared.

"My apologies," he replied as he closed his book, a thumb held between its pages so as not to lose his place. "Are you lost, by chance?"

"No. Just wandering as I make it back to Draco's room."

"I see. Well, as beautiful as the Manor is to behold, wandering would be unwise. Some of these halls may prove to be a danger to you."

"Oh, I'm not worried," Hermione smiled as she finally made it to the last desk. She was three seats away from Lucius, and while he didn't seem fazed by her proximity, he was at the very least intrigued. "It can't be any more dangerous than your wife's attempts to kill me."

The intrigue had morphed back into surprise. This time, however, Lucius didn't reel it in. Instead, he set his book aside completely before motioning to the chair on his right for her to sit. Hermione obliged and sat with one knee gently crossed over the other.

"You were listening at the door."

"Your voices carry."

Silence trickled in before Lucius tiredly exhaled and cupped his hands over his lap. "You are not aware of this, but you had succumbed to a fit of insanity last week. Our family Healers—"

"I'm aware," Hermione interrupted. "Draco told me what happened to me —gruesome details left out, of course."

"Of course," Lucius nodded. "While you are privy to that, I'm sure that you are unaware that Draco had his own bouts with insanity prior to yours."

Hermione's face faltered at that, and while she had expected Lucius to derive mirth from it, he didn't. "He what?"

"Draco doesn't remember, although it's possible that he may suspect it. Regardless, I would appreciate it if you didn't tell him."

Hermione gave a curt nod. She remembered just how terrified Draco had been at his indirect accounts of what she had been through. She didn't want to be the one responsible for instilling such fear in him again —especially if Healers had put Mind Blocks him in just as they had done with her.

"I trust that you understand then why Narcissa resorted to such violent methods," Lucius continued. "It was for the greater good of your sanity."

"The greater good…" Hermione repeated. It made her chuckle really. Whereas she had been livid when Narcissa had first tried such antics for the same purpose, Hermione was now calm. It was comical almost, and she could only sigh and shake her head in amusement. "The age-old story people use to justify heinous acts. And I'm sure that you both would have shed endless tears at my demise if it hadn't gone according to plan," she added sarcastically.

A flicker of recognition flashed in Lucius' eyes, and Hermione knew then and there that she had hit the nail on the head. Typical. "Despite the fact that I'm getting sick and tired of your wife trying to kill me, Draco and I should probably thank you. It made plotting Rodolphus' death a lot easier."

For a man who was the pinnacle of stoicism and elegant poise, Lucius was unable to school his emotions this time around. His mouth dropped, and while Hermione was never one to care about manners, she found herself describing the scene before her as classless.

"Pick up your jaw," she crisply scoffed. Despite the hot directive, Lucius did just that and regarded her with stern, curious eyes.

"You planned to kill Rodolphus?"

"Draco is his mother's son without a doubt," Hermione shrugged. "He was worried about me. While it wasn't what we wanted, Draco and I put our heads together the night before the engagement party and figured that if the guests were already out to get me, might as well make it easy on them. So, we served myself up on a lovely platter. Rodolphus took the bait, we killed an enemy, and now we're sane. It worked out wonderfully, and now here I find out that my mother-in-law was trying to off me."

"That's quite hypocritical of you to say," Lucius huffed. "You turn your nose up at what Narcissa had planned, yet you have done the same. There's no difference."

"Yes, there is. It was a choice that I made. There's a difference between choosing to be a worm on a hook than someone intentionally dangling me in front of a bunch of predators. Can I be frank with you?" Hermione suddenly asked. Lucius had gone down the rabbit hole far enough, and so he gave her the lead with a wave of his hand.

"Go on."

"With my sense of morality dimming each day, I finally have the courage to say something that's been weighing on my heart lately." Hermione uncrossed her legs and sat forward, her fingers interlocked as she placed her hands on the table. With a deep breath she came out with it. "I would kill your wife if it wouldn't upset Draco to do it."

"Then I would kill you in return," Lucius replied without missing a beat. Hermione smiled then and leaned back in her seat.

"Then Draco would kill you —father or not. Interesting how neatly that ties up, isn't it?"

"Yes, interesting indeed," Lucius returned her show of teeth. "With such a tangled web, I suppose this means that we're stuck together then. Such a shame."

"Agreed," Hermione sighed as she rose from her seat. "Still, though," she said, pushing her chair in and letting her hands rest on the chair's back and staring Lucius dead in the eye. "I'd be careful. Your wife isn't the only one who knows how to strategize. It also helps to be the smartest person in the room."

Hermione flashed her engagement ring for Lucius to see before bidding him a lighthearted farewell and headed towards the door. She had barely made it the length of the desk where she had sat when Lucius' words made her pause.

"Will you tell Draco?"

Hermione turned around. Her head tilted as she observed the man who had, once again, let his façade falter. This time he was displaying fear. It wasn't the type of fear that caused a tremble in one's bones, but rather a fear of losing everything one held dear. In this case, she deduced that it was Draco. It was the fear of cocking up so badly that you needed to be reassured everything wasn't going to fall apart. Hermione must have stood for a near fifteen seconds, mulling over the earnestness in Lucius' question and the weight in the air as he waited for her response.

"I haven't decided," Hermione causally replied and watched the light leave Lucius' eyes. A maybe was, most assuredly, death to anyone desperate for an answer.

Author's note: I had notes on what was supposed to happen in this chapter and I got to none of it LOL. Writing can certainly take off when it wants to lol.

-WP