A/n: It's been a long time.

And I think I ought to say, just for clarification, Dramione is not one of this fic's ships :)

Narcissa clenched her hands into fists, very nearly shaking with equal parts rage and embarrassment. She looked instinctively out the manor window after the owl that had flown off just minutes before, as if it would be able to do something if only she were able to call it back to her. Shaking her head at the futility of the idea, she scanned the article over and over again. Still, she could not understand. She and Lucius were alone in the restaurant those few nights ago, and it should have been impossible to hear a word they were saying; Lucius had made sure of that. There simply wasn't any way for any of the people there that night to be the "anonymous tip" Rita Skeeter claimed that she had. The Witch Weekly article wasn't even particularly long, nor was it plastered across the magazine's cover, but the damage had been done: 'Malfoys Anticipate Miscarriage, Complications; Mrs. Malfoy Leaves Restaurant in Tears.' The latter part of the title she had fully expected, and even prepared for – after all, any patron of the restaurant could have told her that. The former, however, was another story.

Not a soul could have overheard them, and yet somehow, Skeeter had gotten the story that was more than invented facts and fabrications. Not even she could simply make up something that matched so closely what Narcissa and Lucius had discussed and publish it just days after the incident to go along with the report of their abrupt departure that evening. Narcissa bit her lip in anger, considering the only other remaining possibility. Her rational mind told her that Lucius had absolutely no motive to sell any story to the reporter, and she could remember his reaction to the first article she wrote about them after they had announced her pregnancy. He didn't want to be making the news anymore, and he especially didn't want her to be in that kind of spotlight, as far as she knew. However, with no hard evidence in his favor and her heightened emotions getting the better of her, Narcissa had herself convinced enough to storm out of the room, magazine in hand, to locate her husband in the sitting room.

"Lucius!"

Her shout cut through the silence of the room, and the mix of emotions he heard in her voice forced a sigh from the man before she even entered. He wasn't sure he was ready for another outburst, not when her moods had been deteriorating ever since the incident.

"Lucius!" she shouted again when she arrived, and stood directly in front of the chair where he sat. "What do you—What on earth do you have to say about this?" She thrust the magazine under his nose, paying no heed to the Daily Prophet he had been reading.

Despite her anger, Lucius did his best to remain calm. He had been very accommodating to her and her mood swings and the like in recent days and this was just yet another thing he would have to handle rationally; he couldn't lose his temper along with her. As much as he didn't like to admit it, he recognized that doing so became a more difficult task with each day that went by. Try as he may to tell himself he should have foreseen this after the things that had transpired, it didn't change the fact that each confrontation or disagreement they had continued to wear on his patience that much more.

"What is all of this now, Cissa?" He took it from her, under the scrutiny of her wide, furious eyes, and frowned as soon as he laid eyes on the title of the article. His frown turned into a scowl as he read it. "This is absolutely preposterous…! There is simply no way for her to get her hands on what we talked about, no way at all…"

"That's what I had thought, Lucius! But clearly, she did, and I'd like to know how!"

He was ready to indulge and share in just a bit her outrage at this, confused and put off by it himself, until the implications of her words and her tone hit him.

"Narcissa," he addressed her firmly, "you cannot possibly think that I had any hand in this…?"

"What else can I think? You and I were the only ones who had any knowledge of that conversation whatsoever, and I certainly don't have any desire to sabotage myself in the press!"

"And you suppose that I do…?" he asked, a bit too aggressively.

"I don't know what I ought to think! Not anymore, at least, not after this!"

Lucius paused for a moment, his annoyance at her outright ridiculous behavior rising. "Cissa, please, just take a moment to calm down, all right? You're being… Quite frankly, you're being uncharacteristically obscene, and I know—"

"Obscene? I'm being obscene? Lucius, maybe – just maybe – if you were in my position you could understand what's really 'obscene' here!"

Was she somehow incapable of realizing that she was not the only one her condition and resulting moods affected? He hardly needed to be in her position to feel the stress and pressure that came with the pregnancy and many of its related issues. "If I were in your position," he retaliated immediately, hardly leaving any time for further thought, "I'm sure we would not be dealing with this…This situation in the first place!" He finalized this outburst with a vague gesture towards her person, and he regretted it all as soon as the words left his mouth.

For Narcissa, at that moment time seemed to slow and a deep, impenetrable silence overcame her world. It felt to her as if she had been hit with more than just words. The tears that she had been holding back pricked at her eyes and the look of rage that had distorted her features transformed almost immediately to one of surprise and pain. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't say a thing. His words had hurt her more than Rita Skeeter's ever could.

Her eyes fixed upon his, she gave a small, nearly imperceptible shake of her head before turning her back and leaving him to be alone.

Without a hope of her turning back, Lucius sighed heavily and reclined back in his chair. He could hardly believe he let something so idiotic, so utterly stupid, slip like that. He tried to tell himself that this was but the most recent in a chain of the many ways he had disappointed her as of late, but he knew that this time it was a bit more than that. What he had said and how he had snapped at her… Lucius was ashamed. That damnable article alone dredged up in him, and even more so in her, to be sure, certain memories that neither wanted to think about at the time, and he had managed to find a way to make it even harder on her.

He wanted, of course, to run upstairs after her and offer her his sincerest apologies, but knew that would be a fool's errand – she would never accept them, not now, and she'd surely only lash out at him again if he tried. His hands covered his face as he exhaled a deep breath. Whatever he did, he could only hope it wouldn't be something to continue the downward spiral his interactions with her had been taking, for both of their sakes.

Narcissa, meanwhile, sat down at the desk in her own seldom-used study, her heart still pounding and her mind still racing. She withdrew from it a piece of parchment and wiped her eyes, not wishing for it to be ruined by her tears. It was only the late morning and already, in her mind, the day's events made everything else that had transpired between them recently, good and bad, pale in comparison. She simply couldn't understand what would prompt Lucius to say what he did, either to Skeeter or to herself. With a slow, deep breath, she took up a quill, dipped it in the pot of ink, and began to write.

Dear Andromeda…

-Later, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry-

Draco sat at a table towards the back of the library, books and papers piled high upon it. It seemed like just yesterday he returned from his holiday break, and yet already he had an exam in Charms. Across from him sat Astoria and Daphne Greengrass, both hard at work at their own assignments.

"Astoria," he said to the younger of the two, "Charms in your best subject; would you agree that—"

His inquiry was interrupted by unexpected approach of quite possibly the last student he thought he would see outside of his Head Boy duties: Hermione Granger. Her stride was swift and urgent, causing nearly every student to turn their heads as she passed.

"Malfoy," she addressed him.

"Yes…?" Conversation was always awkward between them on every brief occasion they had been forced to speak to one another after the war, and this was no exception.

"I'm sure you've already seen this." She laid before him a copy of Witch Weekly, turned to the article regarding his mother.

"And what of it?" he asked, immediately defensive. She was right, he had been shown the article over breakfast, though he didn't know what about it someone like Hermione Granger would find upsetting. It was odd enough already that she had arrived with such haste, let alone appear genuinely troubled by it.

She looked from Draco to the two girls. Three pairs of eyes met her own expectantly. "Come with me," she demanded of Draco suddenly.

"Wh-what? Why?"

"Just do it."

After some deliberation, he made the decision that he ought to go with her, if not just to see what she had to say, especially if it was in regards to his mother. He could always fill Astoria and Daphne in on what had happened when he returned. "…Fine," he agreed.

Hermione lead him several bookshelves away where she as sure no other students would be likely to overhear them.

"I can't believe her nerve!" Hermione exclaimed when they were alone, just loud enough to warrant a vicious glance from Madame Pince, who was busy shelving books nearby. "People are still hurting from the war, your family included I'm sure, and she's already going around causing trouble? It's as if she's forgotten that if it weren't for your mother, she – and both of us, no doubt- wouldn't even be here now!"

Draco made no objections to what she said (and was in fact impressed that she would give Narcissa that kind of credit) but failed to see her point. "And…?"

Hermione gave a short sigh and folded her arms. "And, Harry and Ron and I have stopped her before when she was harassing Harry in our fourth year." She decided to forego reminding Draco of his own involvement in bringing Rita her stories that year and continued. "I don't want to interfere with your family's business, and that's why I thought it better to ask before I did anything, but if putting a stop to Skeeter would help in any way, I'd be more than happy to try it."

He looked her straight on for a moment, trying to decode any ulterior motives he could. It wasn't like the Hermione he knew to offer him help in anything, let alone his pureblood family affairs. She met his gaze evenly, as if to prove she had nothing to hide; he could take her offer or leave it.

"Look," she said, "I'm not doing this for you. No one deserves to have such blatant falsities said about them, particularly not after they've been through what people like your mother have. And if I can put a stop to any of it, I'd certainly like to!"

Draco didn't have any particular desire to accept her help. His family had just been rebuilt after Voldemort's reign over them, after all; their burdens were their own to bear, and they could get through them together. However, the things Narcissa and Lucius both must have been feelings in response to this latest article coupled with the last one had been weighing on the boy. And Hermione did have a point – Narcissa did not deserve or ask for any of what she was getting.

At long last, he let out a short sigh. "Do what you want," he said, and swiftly swept past her on the way back to his table.

Hermione knew that was the closest to a "yes, thank you," she would ever get from Draco. She smiled as he left, despite his rude manner. Her meeting with Draco had gone better than she had hoped, and now, she had a bug to catch.