The whip-crack of Draco's appearance was almost lost in the roll of thunder and his sudden arrival startled the only other occupant of this section of Knockturn Alley. The hunched crone gave a startled yelp and staggered out of the doorway she had been using as a shelter. With a curse in his direction she vanished into the water-logged streets.

Draco barely noticed her as his breath was taken away by the ferocity of the storm. The intensity of the weather, here in London, was terrifying compared to Hogsmeade. The wind surged around his body, dragging at his robes; mischievous hands trying to pull him over. The rain poured down on him and he was instantly soaked to the skin. Each clap of thunder came on the heels of the lightning flash; the storm was here in full force. Gasping for breath Draco pushed through, not knowing where he was heading, using the storm as a flail to drive him on. His head spun as the cold air sent the whiskey to his brain, drunk for real now and staggering slightly.

He should have taken her and ran. His father would have been angry but at least Draco would have kept Hermione. And he could have protected her. The Malfoy men had been shouting and arguing back and forth for several days before Draco had, impulsively, declared that he would marry Hermione regardless of his father's wishes. But Lucius always had one ace left up his sleeve.

Two Weeks Ago…

The bone china cup shattered as it hit the stone fireplace, tea spattering across the hearth and the house elf stood to one side. The elf bore the sting of the hot liquid without flinching.

"Damn it, father!" yelled Draco, throwing his chair back and standing. He slammed his hands down on Lucius' desk, rattling the remaining cups in their delicate saucers.

Lucius merely looked at his son, one eyebrow quirked. "Calm yourself, Draco. This is not an unreasonable situation to find yourself in," he said quietly. His voice was calm but there was an undercurrent of steel. "As the heir to the Malfoy fortune you have a duty."

"Oh, duty!" Draco spat, stalking away from the table. "You talk of duty like it means something now! Think of the 'duty' we had, just a few years back, to support Him! It brought this family to the point of ruin! And you turned your back on Him at the last! Don't you dare tell me that duty is so fucking important!"

"You go too far, son," Lucius hissed, standing now, anger flashing in his grey eyes.

"I don't care!" roared Draco, rounding on his father again. "I don't care about your damn ideals. I care about Hermione! She loves me! Even after everything that happened to her, in our home. She has been able to look past that and forgive me, to see me; not my name, my family's wealth or the shit that covers our past. Me! She is the only thing I have, the only person that doesn't look at me and remember Him! I am going to marry her, father, with or without your blessing."

"You dare take that tone with me?" Lucius stepped around the desk and closed on Draco. "This family is one of the few in this world that is still pure and untainted. I will not let you ruin that tradition by marrying beneath your status!"

Despite himself, Draco took a step back as his father stepped closer. Lucius' face was filled with rage but Draco fought against the fear that gripped his stomach and stepped forward to meet the Lord of the Manor. "I am marrying only one person, father. Hermione Granger. I have already proposed to her and she has accepted me! Asking for your blessing was merely a formality." With a sneer Draco turned away and walked towards the door of the study. "There's nothing you can do."

"You forget who you are talking to, my son."

Draco froze, his hand on the handle, a sudden spike of fear ripping through him. He heard Lucius step closer and, swallowing, Draco struggled to keep his voice level. "What are you talking about?"

Lucius' voice was smooth and calm, emotions under control once more. "There was a reason that I was the Dark Lord's second in command, Draco." Lucius spoke directly into Draco's ear. "Think of the things that one would have had to do, in order to achieve such a lofty position."

Draco felt his knees tremble as his father stepped away once more. His thoughts raced wildly, fear for Hermione's safety chief amongst them.

"Consider, my son, the sort of people who wanted the position, the people I had to… out do… in order to gain my position." Lucius paused as Draco finally turned and slumped against the door. Lucius smiled coldly. "You have no idea what I am capable of, Draco."

It had taken all of the fight out of Draco. Lucius' smooth and silky words afterwards, assuring his son that he was making the right decision, had only made him feel sick, manipulated.

And so, Draco had said awful things to Hermione; horrible words that burned the back of his throat now to think of them. He had lied to her, told her that she was nothing to him - all so she would hate him. Hate him and be safe.

But he couldn't get her smile out of his mind, the feel of her skin under his hands, the smell of her hair. Did she still think of him in any way other than anger? Was there a part of her that wanted him? He knew where his thoughts were leading him, knew that he wanted Hermione back – in truth he had never stopped wanting her. He regretted every horrible word he had said to her, every lie he had told to make her hate him. It had taken everything he had to tell her those hateful things that night. His looks of disgust had been for himself, for not having the courage to tell her everything.

Could she ever forgive him after what he said? He didn't want to lose her but knew that it was probably too late. Even if he found the nerve to confront his father, battled to keep Hermione as his, to keep her safe from Lucius… would she take him back?

Draco let out a snort of laughter, which was lost in a blast of thunder. He flicked his drenched hair out of his eyes, stepping into Diagon Alley. The wind howled down the narrow street, a wild creature driving all before it, and Draco ducked his head and pushed onwards. In his drunken state he was making little progress, staggering sideways more often than forwards. If someone had said those things to him, would he ever forgive them? Part of him wanted to say, yes, because there had been good reason. The rest of him, the realistic side, knew the truth: there was no way that he would forgive half of the things he said to Hermione, no matter the reason.

He was convinced he had, in giving in to his father's demands, destroyed any hope of getting her back. A feeling of helplessness and self-loathing rolled over him as the sky was split apart by lightning, thunder hammering his eardrums. The concussive force of the blast, striking the weather vane at the top of Gringotts bank, drove him to his knees. The wind surged forward, sensing weakness and pulling at his robes, buffeting him mercilessly. A roar of near animal rage ripped from his throat as he screamed into the storm.

The rain water that pooled between the cobbles soaked into his trousers. The rain that lashed down from the sky pinged off his skin with stinging force. Draco slumped to the side, alone on the normally busy street. His stomach clenched with revulsion at what he had done to Hermione. She had stood by him through so much in the last four years but he had not given her a chance, failing to tell her of the danger threatened by Lucius thereby allowing her to have a say. He had taken that choice away from her; assuming, like the arrogant prick that he was, that she wouldn't be able to handle the danger.

What gave him the right? She fought in the second war. She was tortured in front of him by his insane aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange. She fought in the Last Battle, incapacitated Fenrir Greyback and duelled the very woman who had tortured her. She stood up to You-Know-Who all the way to the end and had not been afraid to speak His name, when every other witch and wizard had been. What right did he have to assume what she could or could not handle?

Draco sat in a puddle, cold and shivering: could things be changed? He could talk to his father again. Tell him that he had meant what he had said, that he was going to marry Hermione (if she would still have him), whether he liked it or not! The fact that Lucius was likely to tear him down for defying him didn't scare him anymore. Living in this wretched state without Hermione was what really scared him now. But would his father even listen to him?

There was only one way to find out, he figured. As the clock at Gringotts chimed the quarter hour, Draco gripped his wand and staggered to his feet, leaning against the wind that still wailed down the street. Steeling his nerve and fixing his destination firmly in his mind, he Disapparated.

With a loud CRACK he appeared in the main hallway of Malfoy Manor, stumbling forward. The disappearance of the wind threw him off balance for a moment and he drunkenly tried to compensate. The result was him in the hallway, half crouched and wobbling precariously with his arms outstretched. It put him at eye level with one of the family's house elves.

The elf, wearing a dirty pillow case, bobbed a brief bow in his direction before vanishing with a slurping rush of air. No doubt the elf would tell his father that he was home. He would be in his study: Lucius kept strange hours these days and often didn't retire until the early hours and, even then, he barely slept. His father worked hard to erase the memory of his family's involvement with You-Know-Who. In his drunken state, Draco knew that he could talk to his father, make him understand. With the assurance of the inebriated, he knew he could convince his father of anything!

Flicking his wand, he drew the rain out of his clothes and hair and unsteadily manoeuvred the resulting globe of water towards the decorative bucket set to the side of the front door. Letting it drop, the water hit the marble floor with a splash, Draco gave himself a shake to settle his now dry clothes.

He had taken only a few steps towards the stairs when the large fireplace on the left hand wall of the great entrance hall flared a bright green. The jade flames leapt in the grate as a dishevelled Hermione, dressed in a short night gown and her dressing robe, stumbled out over the hearth.

Taken aback Draco could only stare for the moment, marvelling at how beautiful she was, how much he had missed her; she was incredible, even with her wild hair, red eyes and frenzied expression. "Hermione?" he gasped, confused. "Wha…?"

She had taken two unsteady steps before she saw Draco.

"You!" she yelled, pointing her wand in his general direction. Her voice cracked slightly as she shouted and Draco kept a close eye on the wand gripped in her hand. "The last two weeks have been hell for me!" she shrieked. "Do you have any idea? I've hidden from my friends! I've taken time off work! I swore I'd never speak to you again, cross the street if I ever saw you!"

The wand became more accurately aimed as she closed in on him, stabbing towards his face. Draco could only focus on the wand tip, convinced she was here to blast him. He opened and closed his mouth ineffectually, his own wand held loosely in his hand, forgotten.

Draco began to speak but she shouted over him.

"I'm not letting you go so easily! I don't care what your father says, who he bloody well thinks he is; I'm not giving up on us!" She was only a few feet away now and Draco knew that she was probably as drunk as he was, though her tirade was quickly sobering him. He could see her slightly unfocused eyes, the sway as she stood there, the smell of wine on her breath. He felt his heart soar as her words sank in.

"I have never," she hissed, gesturing with her wand. "Never backed down from something I believed in. I fought and risked everything in the war to take down Voldemort! You!" She took another step towards him. "You are not getting away from me! Consequences and Lucius bloody Malfoy be damned. You are my man! Mine! And you are going to accept me as I am or I am going to hex you into oblivion!"

Draco could feel a stupid grin forming on his face. His heart was pounding and his skin tingled. It was the most ridiculous feeling he had ever had and he knew that smiling might not be the best idea at the moment. Sure enough, Hermione's face tightened in anger when she saw his grin but he couldn't have stopped smiling if his life depended on it; which, he realised with an involuntary laugh, it just might do.

"Don't you laugh at me, Malfoy!" she yelled, her wand inches from his face. "Blood purity is not that bloody important! You proposed to me! You love me, I know you do! I love you and no-one should be able to stop us being together and doing what we want. Not Lucius, not some French slut – no-one! I am…"

What she was about to say was lost as Draco closed the remaining distance between them, sweeping her wand aside and capturing her mouth with his. His arms wrapped around her body and he felt her legs leave the ground and wrap tight about his waist. Her hands gripped his hair, painfully tangled in it as she returned his kiss with passion.

It was some time before either of them surfaced for air. Hermione looked into Draco's eyes, searching them for something. She smiled hesitantly. "Really?" she asked. "I thought…"

Draco nodded, gazing into her eyes. "I love you and I've missed you so much. I'm sorry for everything I said. I lied to you, Hermione. Father threatened you and I had to end it before he hurt you. There is no French daughter for me to marry; I made that up to drive you away. There only ever was you. Can you ever forgive me?"

In answer Hermione, her own heart leaping in her chest, kissed him again and hugged him close. After a moment she wriggled out of his grasp and stood on the cold, marble floor again. She smiled up at Draco - then pulled back her hand and slapped him hard across the face. The sound of the strike echoed around the hallway and Draco let out a pained yell, staggering away from Hermione, hand to his face, eyes wide with shock.

"Wha…? What was that for?!" he yelled.

Hermione smiled sweetly and walked up to him again, pulling his hand away and planting a gentle kiss on Draco's abused cheek. "Never assume to know what I can or cannot handle ever again. You are partially forgiven." She kissed his rueful smile with a small laugh and wrapped her arms around him, putting her head on his chest and closing her eyes, savouring the feel of his arms as they encircled her. "You will continue to be punished until I am satisfied." She smiled as he kissed the top of her head. "It could take years, you know?"

"That's fair enough, I suppose," he murmured.

"So… what are we going to do about your father?" she whispered. She slapped him lightly on the chest as he laughed at her. "I know what I said just now but if he threatened me, then we need to work out how we are going to do this, don't we?"

Draco smiled and brushed some of her wild hair away from her face. "There's nothing we can't handle together," he said as he turned on the spot and the pair of them vanished with an echoing report.

Above, on the balcony, unseen by the two lovers, Narcissa Malfoy put her wand away. She stood for a moment, staring down at the point from which the young lovebirds had vanished. There had been a moment when she had thought that Draco might have needed defending. Lucius would need to know about this.

Turning away from the balcony she began to walk along the richly appointed corridors of Malfoy Manor. The marble floors echoed with her footsteps, the decorations and tapestries on the walls showed off the wealth of the Malfoy family but Narcissa barely noticed. Her thoughts raced as she considered all that she had heard.

Reaching an ornate door, beautifully decorated with runes and strange symbols, Narcissa tapped lightly and waited.

"Enter," said a voice from beyond and she pushed the door open, stepping into the warmth of her husband's study.

"Ah, Narcissa, my dear," said Lucius, briefly looking up from his letter before returning to his writing.

"Husband," she replied warmly, walking forward to plant a chaste kiss upon his cheek, before settling into a chair in the corner.

There was no sound for a moment other than the crackle of the fire in the large hearth and the scratch of Lucius' quill across the parchment. Narcissa plucked her sewing from the hands of her house elf, who had appeared silently and vanished just as quietly.

Lucius looked up at his wife. "The elf's news that our son has returned was correct, I presume?" Narcissa nodded as she rethreaded her needle. "Furthermore, I take it that that awful caterwauling just after Draco's arrival means that Miss Granger has also come to call at this ungodly hour?"

"She has indeed. She seemed keen on speaking to Draco at some length, at turns reviling him and then praising him."

"Is Draco still in one piece?" Lucius asked lightly, returning his gaze to the letter. A small frown creased his forehead as he reread the previous paragraph before continuing with his scratching. "I presume that Draco was the focus of her impassioned yelling?"

His wife smiled slightly to herself. "He was, though your name came up in conversation. I believe that Miss Granger is giving our son a thorough examination as we speak, my dear."

"I see. So the boy intends to defy me after all, then, despite the risks to Miss Granger's life that I so… carefully… hinted at…" he said with a tight smile but Narcissa interrupted before he could continue.

"It would appear so, my dear." Her eyes never left her sewing though she was aware of Lucius' gaze upon her. Unruffled and serene, she said, "Draco has been brooding for the last two weeks over what was said, to you and to Miss Granger. He deeply regrets losing her – it was inevitable that he would want her back."

Lucius' quill dipped into the ink pot and resumed its march across the page. "Draco confided in you on this matter?"

Narcissa shook her head slightly. "Not in words, husband. But a mother sees. A mother knows her son's mind well enough. Draco has never been able to hide anything from me. He confided in Miss Granger tonight that, together, they could handle anything. Including you, I would presume"

"Is that so?" Lucius said quietly. Putting down his quill in the ink pot he sprinkled sand from his pounce pot, across the page, and laid it gently to one side. Standing, he collected his cane and stalked towards the door before turning back to his wife. "Miss Granger has no blood heritage, her parents were both Muggles. I have given him my reasons for my refusal, did I not?"

"I believe that you did, darling. I'm sure that Draco is aware of Miss Granger's many failings in your eyes."

"And yet, he will go against my wishes," he said quietly, holding out his hand to Narcissa. The Lady's personal house elf appeared in that instant and collected the sewing that she held out, gathering it carefully, and vanishing again. Taking her husband's hand, Narcissa stood and smiled at him.

"What do you intend to do about this… refusal… to bow to your will, husband?" asked Narcissa, looking up at Lucius through her lashes.

"Under the circumstances? I think I shall be pleased that he is acting like a true Malfoy. Malfoys get what they want and do not let anything or anybody stand in their way. If he had married Miss Granger in his previous state of mind, it may not have lasted. And we do not divorce! This family's name has been dragged through the mud enough of late. I have worked too hard these last few years to have all my effort undermined by Draco's love life." Lucius kissed Narcissa gently on the cheek and she gave a gentle laugh.

Narcissa squeezed Lucius' hand. "Miss Granger will be a good addition to the family. She is a heroine of the war and her name, merged with ours can only raise our profile once more. She makes our son happy, too," she said. "Also, the fact that Draco has had to fight you in order to gain Hermione's hand… I think they will be very happy together." She smiled at her husband, stretching up to kiss him softly on the lips. Lucius returned the kiss and felt his wife melt into him.

After a while they parted, Narcissa's face slightly flushed with pleasure. Lucius looked at her with a hunger in his eyes, but business, as usual, had to come first. "Shall we go and give the happy couple our blessing?"

Narcissa smiled and patted Lucius on the cheek. "I would give them a while, dear," she laughed. "There will be plenty of time in the morning." Coyly she played with the ties at the neck of Lucius' shirt, gazing up at him with hungry eyes. "Come to bed now, my love – I'll let you give me your approval instead."

With a laugh, Lucius swept Narcissa into his arms and the pair of them vanished with a rush of smoke.

~* nox *~