I don't own Harry Potter at all! Blaaah.

AN: So, the story moves along. Love you all! Kisses! Mwahmwahmwah! *molests all her readers with hugs* I have a few chapters written ahead so things are going well in that department. After the next few chapters go up I'll skip a month or so ahead in the story, but it will happen tastefully. Trust me, you're not missing anything other than mushy gushy Hermione-baby and Draco-Hermione crap. (And there's already plenty to be had of that, isn't there?)

Draco swore under his breath as he stalked the halls of Malfoy Manor, on his way back to the safety of his own rooms. He couldn't believe things had gone to shit so quickly- Hermione had been his, eating from the palm of his hand for a few blissful days- hours, really- and now he'd have to start over. If he even wanted to bother. He felt like for every step forward he took with her, she sent him back an extra five, just for being himself. For things that weren't his fault. He couldn't tell her the truth! Not now, not when she didn't have a prayer of passing her Occlumency lessons. Why couldn't she just bloody trust him? He'd been beyond good to her and her half-blood, unborn brat. He'd been good and trustworthy and he was risking his own life, his family's lives, ten times over for her. Yet with a single look she could reduce all of that to nothing. It was so-

"Unfair!" he finally bit off aloud.

Then he hunched his shoulders and a sob ripped from his throat.

"Draco, darling?" came Narcissa's soft voice and Draco spun about, wiped at his face hurriedly. Narcissa moved towards him. "Oh, Draco."

She folded her arms about him without a word and he rested his head on her shoulder, let himself cry for another moment.

"It's too much, Mother," he gasped out and his shoulders shook some more.

Narcissa ran a hand over his back soothingly and kissed his head. "I know it is, my darling boy," she murmured. "You're too young for this. You both are."

His shaking stopped finally and she placed her hands on his shoulders and held him away, took a good look at his face. One hand came up and wiped his cheek tenderly before returning to his shoulder.

"Now, tell me all about it."

Draco looked at his mother with a mixture of relief and regret. She could always make him feel better, about anything. As much as he adored his father, longed for his respect and notice, it was his mother who'd seen to every scrape and heartache.

"Hermione," he began, and stopped.

"Your young lady?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. I know what all this looks like, but I don't know how she feels. One minute she's grateful and smiling and the next she insists I'm keeping secrets and won't speak to me."

"And are you?"

He raised a brow at her. She smiled coolly, touched his cheek again. He pulled away.

"Of course you are. You're your father's son. Secrets are second nature. But you have to understand her point of view, darling. She doesn't have any secrets, now. In her condition, in the time she's living, secrets could kill her."

Draco refrained from snorting at the irony of the situation and crossed his arms instead.

"Some secrets need to be kept."

"And some need to be told. Is this about your…status?" Narcissa asked, phrasing the question of his double-agency carefully. He shrugged, but it was enough for her to guess the rest. "She wants to know everything? She…oh my. She heard Bellatrix."

"She did," Draco replied quietly. He looked back up at his mother, the question plain in his eyes.

Narcissa pressed her lips together. "Let me talk to her first. You'll still need to explain a few things, but I suspect this discussion will go better if I smooth some ruffled feathers."

"I shouldn't have to say anything at all!" Draco finally exclaimed. "I've been more than good to her this whole time- she knows what's being done for her-"

"She's pregnant, not much older than you, and likely terrified out of her mind, Draco," Narcissa responded immediately. "In the space of two months you've both undergone major changes to your characters and ideologies. You can't expect these things to go smoothly, no matter how many nice coats you buy her, or how often you kiss her in a broom closet." She smiled softly. "You both need to have more patience with one another at this point in your lives than the average married couple will see in twenty years. I know it's hard, darling," Narcissa said, hugging Draco again. "But give her another chance, please. Let me talk to her."

Draco relaxed some in his mother's embrace and finally shrugged again.

"Fine," he said, when they'd separated. "Go talk to the bint. I'll be in my room." He turned and resumed his stalking in the direction of his rooms.

Narcissa watched him go, a worried expression on her face. Then she went to find the girl who was turning her son's life upside down…rather, the girl for whom her son seemed willing to turn his life upside down.

Hermione was sitting in one of the arm chairs, watching the fire as it flickered and danced. Her eyes were quite dry and her hands were still and calm. She felt better now that she'd had a tantrum and she'd been doing quite a bit of thinking- about her baby, about Draco, about Ron, about Harry's mysterious tasks…about Draco's horrific tasks.

She knew what she was going to do now, at least. Or keep doing, rather. She was going to hold her head high and ignore people who stared and whispered. She was going to continue to be the best student and witch Hogwarts had ever seen. She was going to study and work hard to be the best young mother the wizarding world- or any world, for that matter- had ever seen. And she would do it all at Draco Malfoy's side, since it was the only way now to protect her baby. At least, that was true until her baby was born, in which case she would think of something else. But for the sake of the baby's safety, she could live with him for now.

He had done a lot for her so far, and she could be grateful for it. She could be dignified about it. But she didn't have to accept his bullheaded garbage about what she could and could not handle. She would work twice as hard at Occlumency. She would show him. She would prove that not only was she trustworthy, she was safe, too.

It wasn't so much that she was angry at him because he thought she was a stupid Gryffindor who'd managed to get herself knocked up. No, he could think that all he liked. She was angry because he had been so wonderful. And yet there was evidence that maybe he wasn't as trustworthy as she'd thought. And if the only thing that kept him from proving that he'd meant all his previous actions; all the sweet, kind things he'd said and done for her; was the fact that she couldn't call herself an occlumens to save her life (literally), well. She would fix that. And if he still wouldn't share the truth with her after that, then she'd have her answer. She'd know that he'd been using her all along.

She was thinking so hard about it all that she didn't hear Narcissa open the door and glide into the room. When the older witch took a seat across from her, she nearly jumped from her skin. Collapsing back against the chair, she gaped at Narcissa, one hand on her chest.

"You frightened me!"

"I'm sorry, my dear. You really must be on your toes more in our household. Strange things do happen from time to time."

Hermione merely nodded and then turned back to the fire. She bit her lip. Should she ask, or shouldn't she?

"I spoke to Draco," Narcissa offered.

Ah. Well, that answered that question. Hermione looked at her again, curiosity burning in her brown orbs. Narcissa smiled gently.

"He'll be fine." Hermione didn't quite relax at that, as a flicker of uncertainty passed Narcissa's face. "He has, after all, seen worse," she continued softly. "As I'm sure you have."

Hermione looked away. "Of course. I know this year must be hard for him." She shifted uncomfortably. After all, it had been even harder for her when she'd been battling the woman's husband and relatives for her life and the lives of her friends. She sincerely hoped Narcissa didn't bring that up, though. It was awkward enough, being in the same house.

Narcissa watched her quietly a moment. "I don't know exactly what happened between you and my son," she finally began, "and I don't really want to know. But the bottom line is that you have a baby to worry about now, regardless of how you feel."

"I know that," Hermione said sharply.

"Yes, but you're treating my son as if he's a criminal."

"He is, technically," Hermione bit off and her cheeks turned red, but she didn't apologize. Narcissa's face grew pinched.

"You knew my son was a Death Eater when you slept with him- you must have. No glamour charm can hide that thing. His status was good enough for you then, wasn't it?"

Hermione didn't say anything to that- what could she say? Nothing, unless she wanted to kill them all. So she bit the inside of her cheek and continued to look anywhere but at the other witch. Besides, Narcissa was right about that much. When she'd signed on for this scheme she'd known what Draco was. When she'd let him kiss her so sweetly in Paris she'd known. Why should it make any difference now? With a start she looked up and realized Narcissa had been asking her the same question.

"Hermione, are you paying attention?"

"I'm sorry," she answered immediately. "I am."

"I know you have a lot to think about, and more than your share of things to be upset about. But Draco wants to give things another chance. He doesn't want you to shut him out of your lives."

Hermione's face softened some. "That's good to know."

"But if it's Occlumency you're having difficulty with, I'd like to help. I agree with him, that he has to know whatever information he gives you is safe from prying eyes and spells."

"It already is-"

"Blind trust isn't always enough and you're far too smart a witch to pretend it is. Now, do you want my help or not?"

"I've already been taking lessons from Professor Snape," Hermione responded. "If he can't teach me-"

"Tut, tut," Narcissa interrupted again. "He's a man. You're a woman. You think differently, you approach life differently. I can promise you, good man though he is, Severus Snape will never be able to teach you Occlumency with any success."

Hermione pondered this, decided it made sense, and then wondered if that meant Harry was actually a woman. Her mouth quirked upwards and she stifled the laughter that bubbled up in her throat.

"Alright," she said, speaking directly. "I'm game."

"Good. You have the rest of the week with us- let's make it worthwhile, shall we?"

The two witches shook hands on it- both secretly relieved the other hadn't gone in for a hug- and Narcissa started in on Hermione's first lesson.

"But what about your after-dinner game?"

"It's rather difficult to play whist with myself, Hermione," Narcissa replied. "Besides, this is more important. The sooner you master this- and I doubt it will take you much time, once you've grasped the key differences- the sooner you and Draco can start spending time together, as you ought."

Hermione didn't say much to that, merely wrinkled her nose and hoped she wasn't blushing too hard. Somehow, she didn't think the amount of time she and Draco spent together was the problem.

"Now, let me guess what dear Severus has been telling you- that you must close your mind, make it impenetrable- that in order to master it, you have to hide your feelings and never wear them on your sleeve. That in order to gain any skills at all you must learn to block your feelings entirely, at least as you are first learning." She paused and lifted her nose snootily in the air, imitating Snape, and quoted, "'Only the most skilled occlumens are capable of picking and choosing the emotions and memories they betray to the other party.'"

Hermione snickered at Narcissa's mimicry and then bit her lip, nodding. "Spot on."

"But partly because of your pregnancy and partly because you're a girl, your heart is everywhere but firmly in your chest and every single thought is plainly upon your face."

Hermione nodded again and sighed this time. "I've tried everything- meditation, more meditation, all of his techniques-"

"Yelling 'Clear your mind!' at a student over and over is not a technique, darling, it's verbal assault." Narcissa waited for Hermione to stop laughing at that before she went on. "So you've tried everything short of mind altering drugs. Well, you haven't tried this. The key, my dear girl, is to use those very things- melodrama, irrational emotion, and the propensity to great love- in order to shield yourself."

Hermione sat up a little straighter and stared at Narcissa. "Shield…myself?"

"That's right. You use the things that men see as a disadvantage to gain the upper hand. If your memories are buried under an overwhelming mess of incoherent babble and anxiety, do you think the Dark Lord- or any other man, for that matter- has the wherewithal or desire to go digging through it in order to find a single grain of truth? No. He'll simple see it and say, 'She's a hysterical woman, just like every other woman on earth,' and be done with it."

Hermione nibbled her lip a little more. "It can't possibly be as simple as all that."

Narcissa sat back and summoned a now cold tea cup over, took a sip and made a face at the offending beverage. She waved her wand and heated the liquid again before taking another sip. This time her face settled into a pleased smile.

"I'm telling you, dear, it is that simple."

Hermione shook her head. "But what about-"

"If you want to present only certain information, use the strength of your emotions to down play the other area you're trying to hide. In time, you can bury the secrets rather well with the other feelings, without presenting a tangled mess." She took another sip. "It all depends on what your goal is as to how you use them. But the bottom line is, that as a woman you must use your emotions to compartmentalize your life, not cut them off altogether."

"I'll need to practice," Hermione began and Narcissa cut her off once more, summoning another tea cup over into the girl's hands.

"Of course. A few minutes a day with me as your guide and you'll be on your feet in no time."

Hermione regarded Narcissa with open curiosity as the other woman continued to gaze at the fire. After a moment of quiet company and tea, she spoke once more.

"It still doesn't solve the question of Draco telling me the truth."

"He will," Narcissa said confidently. "Once he knows you will have at least a rudimentary skill in Occlumancy by the end of the week, he'll tell the truth."

"How can you speak for him that way?"

Narcissa smiled then, and it chilled Hermione briefly. It was the same smile she'd seen Draco use, whenever Ron had thrust himself into their happy party. It was a predatory smile. A scary smile.

"He'll speak. He's still a minor and I'm still his mother. Whatever hold the Dark Lord has on him, it is nothing compared to mine."

Hermione didn't ask anymore questions for some minutes.