The next morning, Hermione woke and swore her lips were bruised and seared. Remembering the kiss she'd shared with Lucius sent heat coursing through her body.

But that heat was significantly tempered by the guilt she felt.

Thinking back to the night they'd gone to dinner in Hogsmeade, she remembered his faith in true Seers and prophecies, and that made her feel like she was manipulating him. If he actually believed it, then she needed to come clean with him before they took things any further.

After a long, hot shower — where her detachable shower head had come in quite handy — she dressed and headed over to Draco and Katie's unannounced. It would have been more polite to Floo them first, but she didn't want to take the chance that they'd tell her they were busy.

Katie was on the sofa, her feet propped up on pillows on the coffee table. "Draco, Hermione's here and she looks crazy."

Hermione flipped her off. "We've made a horrible mess of things."

"What do you mean, Granger?"

The first thing Hermione noticed was that Draco was shirtless. The second thing was that he was wearing Slytherin joggers that were at least a decade old.

She waved her hand at his torso. "Go cover up. For the love of Godric, I don't need to see all that."

Shrugging, he ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. "You're the one who showed up unannounced. It's not like I'm naked."

"Whatever," she said, silently hoping that Lucius had a similar physique. While the idea of sex with Draco nearly made her laugh, she had to admit he looked like her ideal.

Katie summoned a plain white t-shirt and shoved it into his hands. With a sigh, he pulled it on over his head and Hermione settled into the armchair closest to Katie.

"Fine. Now that my nipples are covered—"

Slapping him, Katie said, "What happened, Hermione?"

"I ran into Lucius yesterday while I was out shopping," Hermione began, hearing the nerves in her own voice, "and we spent the entire day together. It was… Well, we had a good time."

"So what's the problem?" Draco asked. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, but…" She trailed off, trying to think of how to phrase what she wanted to say. "The night that he and I went together after the photoshoot… He believes in Seers and prophecies, Draco. And he kissed me—"

"He kissed you?!" Katie interrupted excitedly.

Hermione nodded. "He did, and it was everything I ever could've wanted, but what if—"

"What if he's only kissing you because he thinks he's supposed to?" Draco finished for her. "Granger, as much as my father might believe in or respect real prophecies, I promise you he wouldn't kiss you if he didn't want to."

"But what if he only noticed me because the prophecy put me in his mind?"

Katie looked at her in confusion. "Wasn't that sort of the plan? To get him thinking about you? Seeing you as more than the Muggleborn that Draco knew from school?"

"Yes, but now I'm thinking it was wrong," she lamented, squirming uncomfortably in the armchair. "I don't — I can't let things go any further without him knowing the truth. I just can't. It feels like I've taken away his free will or something."

They all sat in silence, contemplating how to handle the situation.

Turning to face her, Draco said, "Granger, I know why you're feeling this way, and I know you're used to a more straightforward, honest approach, but you've done nothing wrong here. I knew he would be interested in you once he paid attention."

Hermione twisted the hem of her jumper in her hands and chewed her cheek, her nerves getting the better of her. While what Draco said had made sense, she still wanted to come clean with Lucius. She needed to. If their relationship was going to be a real one, she didn't want it to be built on a lie.

And she knew he wasn't just looking to get in her knickers; he could've done that the previous night if he'd really wanted to.

"How do I tell him, Draco? And how angry do you think he'll be?"

Katie squirmed her way off the sofa and moved towards the kitchen. "I'll make some tea."

"Darling, you don't have to. Granger and I can manage," Draco said quickly, one of his hands landing on the small of her back. "Your feet are swollen. Please go put them back up. We'll make the tea."

The tenderness in his voice made Hermione's heart squeeze. Draco truly loved Katie with every ounce of his being, and she found herself longing to be loved that way.

"Draco, I'm going to be swollen until this baby comes. I'm not just going to sit around—"

Silencing her with a kiss, he directed her back to the couch. "I know you're up to no good while I'm nohome, wife — on your feet, going down to see Angelina in Diagon Alley. Don't even try to lie about it. Since I'm here, I'll take care of the tea. Granger will supervise me if you're worried."

Giving in, Katie sighed and sank back down, allowing Draco to grab her ankles and place her feet back on the pillow. "Fine. But don't be upset when I've managed to gain three stone."

"You'll be just as beautiful as you are now," he replied. "But you've barely even gained one. I can tell."

Hermione smiled and linked her arm through Draco's. "You're one of the good ones, you know."

"Who would've guessed?"

With a laugh, she said, "Certainly not me. I would've thought you were a total misogynistic arsehole who wanted nothing but a piece of arm candy to birth your babies."

"Baby," he corrected. "Misogynistic arsehole wizards only have one baby. And then they're done, especially if it's a male."

"Ahhh, of course."

As soon as they crossed the threshold of the kitchen, Draco started filling the kettle. "So, Granger, I'm just going to say it. I don't think you should tell him."

"What? Draco, I have to—"

"I'll talk to him," he said, interrupting. "The whole fake prophecy thing… It was my idea. And while I thought it would be a good laugh to see his face, I should've realised that you wouldn't be comfortable with it. Potter and Pansy… they just egged me on, and I ran with it."

Hermione summoned a tray down from the cupboard over the refrigerator and moved to the cabinet that held mugs. Grabbing three, she set them on the tray with the milk and sugar. Sped along by magic, the kettle whistled and Draco added boiling hot water to each mug.

"I didn't think it would bother me so much," she confessed, busying herself with tea preparation, watching it as it steeped. "But the thought of him believing we were fated for each other when really I just fancied him… It doesn't seem right to me."

"He's not going to understand why you fancy him. If not fate, then why? He's going to want to know," Draco replied. "Just be ready to tell him."

"He'll probably never speak to me again."

Shaking his head, he set a hand on her shoulder. "He hasn't so much as looked at another woman since my mother died, Granger. If he kissed you—"

"That makes this worse!" she cut in, her voice hysterical. "Draco, he opened himself up to me, and it was all because of a lie."

Gripping her shoulder, he forced her to turn and look at him. "Stop beating yourself up. We're going to sort this out, and he'll forgive you. I'll explain everything."

Hermione hugged him, needing the comfort of an embrace. Draco held her to his chest and one of his hands stroked over her curls.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice muffled by his t-shirt. "I just… It was such a good day yesterday, and then I couldn't stop thinking, and I'm panicking."

"Yes, because you've never overthought anything before," he teased. "It's fine. Let's go talk to Katie, and we'll all come up with a plan of attack. I'm sure that father will be coming by to tell me what happened between the two of you anyway."

"Father?"

Lucius was surprised to hear his son's voice in the middle of the day. He assumed Draco would be at work on a Thursday afternoon, but then his thoughts shifted to Katie. She still had eight weeks before her due date and while it wouldn't be a disaster if the baby arrived now, it would still be stressful for them both.

"Draco?" He called from the den, standing and bracing himself for news.

"Father," Draco greeted him with a smile, and Lucius relaxed. This wasn't about Katie and the baby. "Are you okay?"

"I was going to ask you the same." Lucius sat back down and shifted the parchment he was writing on to the side, discreetly placing a glass paperweight on it to hide what was written on it from his son's eyes. He didn't need Draco to see his dinner plans for Hermione.

"Granger gave me the day off," Draco explained and sat in the wingback chair on the opposite side of the desk. "She's dealing with the French Ministry since she speaks the language."

Lucius glanced at him over the top of his glasses and Draco flipped his hand in the air.

"Yes, you wanted me to learn to speak French, but if you remember you raised a spoiled brat who didn't do anything he didn't want to."

"I remember him well." Lucius settled back in his own chair, "was there a reason for your visit?"

"There is actually," Draco admitted and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "But I'm not sure how you will react."

Lucius didn't respond, his son's discomfort was somewhat concerning, but he was certain whatever he had to say wasn't nearly as disastrous as he was making it seem.

"It's about Granger."

Lucius' spine stiffened and a shot of adrenaline rushed through him. What did Draco know? Had Hermione told him already?

"And what is it that is concerning you about Ms Granger?" Lucius asked carefully.

"Well," Draco began. "Something… we did something that she's quite concerned about, and wasn't sure how to tell you."

"So she recruited you?"

"Yes, and no." He shifted again and cleared his throat. "It's about the prophecy."

Lucius' mind went into overdrive. The prophecy orb was safely ensconced in his bedchamber, so there was no way she would have known about it. She'd used the facilities down the hallway from the library when she had needed to, but hadn't strayed anywhere else in the Manor — at least as far as he was aware.

"She knows of the prophecy?" Lucius removed his glasses and spoke slowly, "Did you tell her?"

"No, I didn't tell her. I didn't need to. She already knew about it."

"How is that possible?"

"I need you to remain calm, Father, and let me explain."

Lucius nodded and Draco continued.

"A few months back Granger began asking me about you. Nothing overly personal or intrusive, just a few random questions everyday, and I realised her enquiries were more than simple curiosity. So," Draco fidgeted with a loose thread on his jeans. "I asked her what was going on, why she was so curious, and she finally admitted her feelings."

Draco waited for a reaction, but Lucius simply indicated for him to continue.

"So, I told her where you would be. The cafe, your favourite lunch spots. The ice cream shop." Draco shrugged one shoulder. "She did follow you, but was concerned about your reaction if she approached you. So I suggested another way she could perhaps get your attention."

"The prophecy," Lucius whispered and Draco nodded.

"The prophecy. I thought if you were given a push, you would seek her out yourself, and if you did that she would be more comfortable admitting to you how she felt."

"So, the prophecy is…"

"Fake. Pansy was Trelawney, Harry was Smith. Kingsley was the Keeper of the Hall. Granger actually had very little to do with it."

"But she still participated in this ruse to trick me."

"She was against it at first—"

"But she was still involved."

"Father, please understand—"

"No, Draco. I will not simply understand. This was a trick. A complete farce. She knew about it and went along with it." His hands fisted the arms of his chair, his knuckles turning white with the force. "And you believed this would be.. what? A hilarious joke to humiliate me?"

"Father, no. Humiliation was the opposite of what I thought. She was overthinking everything and if we hadn't given her a shove, you wouldn't have been given the chance to know her."

Lucius rose from his chair and crossed the room, stopping in front of the window and staring out into the gardens.

The prophecy was fake. It had never been real. He should have known. Malfoys were not prophesied. But he had been stupid enough to believe it. Humiliation may not have been his son's intention, but humiliation was what he felt.

And she had been in on it.

His confusion swamped him. Were her feelings real? Or had she managed to con his son into believing that they were just so she could return the humiliation they both had afforded her as a child?

"This was my idea, not hers. I didn't mean it to humiliate or embarrass you. My intentions were—"

"I don't care what your intentions were!" Lucius spun around and sneered at his son. "You have humiliated me. I have repeatedly explained to you that I had no interest in another woman, and yet you felt the need to push this!"

"But you did enjoy being with her, am I right?"

"That is not the point. You forced this. You never gave her the chance to speak to me, and I never had the chance to tell her I wasn't interested." He paused with his hands on his hips, his fury at his son rising. "This is low, even for a Malfoy. Your mother was the love of my life and her memory isn't something to be sullied or shoved aside. I was content in my life, and I don't know why you and Ms Granger thought you had any business to meddle."

"Mother's memory isn't sullied by this. Granger knows how much you loved her, and she would never want you to forget that. She wasn't meddling, she just wanted you to give her a chance."

"Well, maybe if she had been truthful she would have been granted that chance." Lucius turned back to the window. "You need to leave, Draco."

"Father—"

"Leave, Draco."

In the silence that followed, Lucius expected to hear his sons retreating footsteps, but apparently Draco was unable to follow his request. Lucius glanced over his shoulder, Draco was unmoved, a deep frown in his face.

"I asked you to leave."

"And I will. But you need to think carefully about all of this. Hermione was opposed to this, she only went along with it because we insisted. You might not believe it, but she didn't want to hurt you. She is a good and kind person who believes in forgiveness. And despite what she's been through, what she's put up with in her life, she would never intentionally hurt or upset anyone. Including me. And including you." He headed for the door, pausing to look back once more. "She's more than you deserve, and yet she considers you worth her time. Give her a chance, or don't; the choice is yours. But just know that her feelings are real and the fact she is willing to admit them after everything you — we — did… well, she's more forgiving than either of us deserve."

A week had gone by since Draco's bombshell and subsequent departure. He'd owled several times in the following days, but Lucius had thrown the parchments straight into the fireplace in anger. Katie had dropped by, and while his old-school manners stopped him from exploding at his pregnant daughter-in-law, he was less than polite.

He'd also received owls from Hermione. He'd refused to read them, but he'd also not been able to throw them away. However, after a few days they'd stopped arriving, and he honestly didn't know what was worse; the rolls of parchment on his desk meant she was at least thinking about him. Her silence was like a stone in his heart.

He had been trying to go back to his days of hating her. Had tried to push her out of his mind. Out of his heart. But it has been an almost impossible task. Just like in the weeks before he kissed her, she was everywhere.

A day after he learned of the ruse, he found the little card that had allowed him onto the train. He'd stared at it for an hour — remembering her skirt riding up on her thigh, her finger curled into the belt loop on his trousers, the way his kiss had left her breathless — then tossed it angrily into the desk drawer, slamming it closed and believing that would be the end of it.

However, he'd been wrong.

The Muggle clothes she helped him purchase stood out like a beacon in his dressing room. The magazine Draco had left him, the one with the pictures of them all, sat on the hallway table outside his den.

And the library had been an unbearable reminder of her. He'd not been near it since he'd closed the doors, hiding the room from his view. The image of her reclined on the leather sofa was too much. The image he'd pictured of her the day she visited — her legs spread, allowing him to feast on her while she read some kind of filthy erotica — played on a loop in his mind, and he'd not been able to shut it off.

Sighing, he turned from the window and sat behind the desk. He'd spent most of his days in the den, shut away from everything, except the owls that had landed on the sill. He had eaten his meals at his desk, had moved to the wingback armchair to drink more cognac than he should have, had slept on the sofa when he was too drunk to Apparate to his room.

He had done the same after Narcissa's death.

He picked up the small, circular frame that held her picture. She was currently glaring at him — the picture was too small for her voice to be heard, but he could imagine what she was thinking.

She wouldn't be jealous; he knew that for sure. It had been a conversation they'd had when they'd deserted to the Order. Neither was to languish in despair over the other should the worst happen. Neither was to get lost in the memory of the other and forget to live. They had promised to continue on, to live proudly in the knowledge they had seen the errors of their ways and had helped bring down a monster.

But she was angry at him because he'd not lived up to those promises.

"Sorry," whispered, and her face softened. "I've let you down."

She held her hand up and he touched the tip of his finger to the small picture.

"I thought my heart would belong only to you, my love, despite those promises we made."

She touched the place over her heart and nodded her head, and he understood what she was saying. His heart had moved on, and she was letting him know she wasn't upset or angry with him because of it.

"I was content. I didn't want to move on." He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to find the words he needed. How did he explain his feelings for a new woman to the one woman he had expected to love until the day he died?

When he opened his eyes, Narcissa was smiling her sweet smile, and he saw her mouth the words, tell me.

"Hermione Granger has stolen my heart, Narcissa. She wasn't supposed to, but she has done what I had assumed was impossible. To give my heart to someone else felt like a betrayal to you, it's why I've remained loyal."

Oh, Lucius, Narcissa mouthed. You promised you wouldn't.

"How could I not? How could I give up my one true love?" He sighed, "But it would appear that I have. And it would appear that I have let my pride get the better of me."

She shot him a look that said, oh really?

Lucius huffed a laugh; his pride had been the cause of most of his wrongdoings his entire life.

"But it was all a lie. Our son was the instigator, but she played along. And now I don't know what's real."

You do know. Narcissa touched her heart again then pointed at him. Your heart knows.

He nodded; she was right. Of course she was. He tapped his chest, "You will always be in here."

Narcissa smiled and pressed a kiss to her fingers, then held them up towards him, mouthing the words, Go to her. Go to her and tell her.