I don't own Harry Potter at all or make money here. Hmph.

AN: I realized, after a thoughtful reviewer poked me, that some of you may be concerned about Narcissa teaching Hermione Occlumency and potentially finding out the truth that way. Have no fear. I decided not to go back and address it directly in the story, so I'm giving you this explanation here: Narcissa isn't like Snape, merely out to demonstrate her power over Hermione and have at any and all memories. Instead, she'll work with Hermione based on predetermined memories and the knowledge of Draco's double agency (which is what Draco is most concerned about Hermione keeping hidden from prying minds). She will not be digging through Hermione's thoughts willy-nilly, so Hermione can keep the truth to herself. That is my explanation and I hope it works for you all. There's enough drama here without Narcissa accidentally discovering the truth, isn't there? ;)

Draco hesitated outside Hermione's room for the third time that evening before he finally shook himself, straightened his shoulders, and pushed the door open. The sight that greeted him nearly made him turn and rush back outside, but he held his ground.

His proud, purist mother and proud, muggleborn…what was she? Girlfriend? Pretend paramour? Partner in crime- that was it. At any rate, the sight of them sitting in matching arm chairs, laughing over tea while a fire roared away merrily in the grate was a bit much. What, he supposed they were best friends now, or something; bonded over how stupid and git-like he was. Poor, stupid Draco, too dumb to know how to deal with regular witches, let alone pregnant ones. Whose babies weren't even his. Not that he cared about that.

Someone had to love the little half-bred brat sooner or later.

Not that he loved it. Yet.

He shook himself again, rolled his eyes at his own weaknesses rearing their ugly heads, and proceeded into the room.

Narcissa saw him first and though her smile didn't disappear, her brows rose in a question he wasn't about to answer. He turned to Hermione, who had stopped smiling and was now staring into her tea cup as if it held all the answers.

"Trying to divine our future, Hermione?" he managed to drawl and at that her eyes snapped back to his and she frowned.

"Divination is bunk."

"Don't I know it," he replied and perched on the arm of her chair. She curled away into the opposite corner and looked to Narcissa, as if begging for direction. He sighed noisily.

"Can't we just put it past us?" he asked and she glanced to him again while Narcissa looked on, her expression one of mild interest. Clearly she was going to make them work it out on their own…until she felt he wasn't doing what he ought. Then she'd stick her dainty nose in, he bet. That was just how his mother operated. He'd learned from the best, after all.

Hermione looked somewhat perturbed with his flippancy, but she pursed her lips and gazed up at him determinedly. His sneer softened into a smile. So. There was the old Hermione. Confident, hard-nosed, wanting to work things out no matter what. He hadn't realized she'd been missing or that he had missed her in the first place until she'd gone all hormonal mess on him.

"We can't," she said simply. "I doubt we ever really will. But we can work with it, right?"

"Are you asking or telling?" he responded and felt, rather than saw, his mother roll her eyes.

"I-" Hermione began, then shut her mouth and thought for a second. "Asking, I suppose."

"Then I suppose I agree," he replied.

"Draco, your mother is going to help me at least get the basics of Occlumancy down this week. She has a…different approach to it than Professor Snape. I think I have a real chance of mastering it, and soon, too. If I-"

Draco made a sharp motion, cutting her off, and stood. He looked to his mother.

"This is your idea of talking to her? Of fixing things? Absolutely not."

"Draco, you haven't even-" Hermione began even as Narcissa's honeyed tones slid over her protests.

"Sit down, Draco." Honeyed, but dangerous. Draco sat. Hermione nearly reached a hand out to him before she remembered that he still wasn't on her side. Well. In as much as either of them could be on the other's side at this point. He was doing his best, she had to give him that much- she could be reasonable, after all. But she'd asked herself the question, was it enough. And no, it wasn't. Still, she wished… Narcissa spoke again.

"Draco, you're my son. You're still a minor. And you're still living under my roof-"

"Father's roof, don't you mean."

Narcissa drew a sharp breath and Draco winced at the hiss of air, but he didn't apologize. His mother stood up at that and though her son was already as tall as she was, she'd had years more practice at appearing intimidating. Now she seemed to almost tower over him at his insolence and his shoulders hunched while Hermione shrank even further into the seat. This time, Draco's slid his hand down the chair's arm and found hers. He squeezed her hand gently and snuck a glance at her. Hermione stared up at him, face pale and proud as his own.

Finally, after what felt like minutes but was only seconds, Draco apologized.

"I'm sorry, Mother. I didn't mean that."

"Of course you did," she replied. "And don't think I don't see you holding hands over there. Now, are you going to tell her the truth on her word?"

Draco looked back at Hermione, who'd reclaimed her hand. "I just…"

"I trust you, Draco, as much as I can, but I need to know the truth."

"If you need to know the truth then that's not trust at all-"

"It is! Why are you making this so-"

Narcissa clapped her hands once and the bickering stopped.

"I realize you're teenagers who didn't think this far ahead," she said, "but I'm tired and I really need you to make a decision now, in the next minute before I leave you two alone and head for bed. I don't want any misunderstandings or threats to one another's lives while I'm asleep."

"There isn't any decision to make, is there?" Draco finally spat. "You're going to make me tell her the truth whether I want to or not."

"Draco, darling. The question now isn't whether you trust her abilities, it's do you trust mine, since I'm the one teaching her."

That drew him up short and he stared at his mother a moment, shame-faced, before turning to Hermione. He reached for her hand again, but she crossed her arms. He sighed and rubbed at his eyes.

"Can't I go to bed too?"

"Nonsense. Now are you going to tell her or shall I?"

Draco opened his mouth, closed it, stared at Narcissa, stared at the fire, slid several side-long glances at Hermione, and finally stood up again.

"Go to bed, Mother. I'll tell her."

Narcissa gave a wan smile and kissed Hermione good night, then pecked her son on the cheek as well.

"Very well. I expect to see you both alive and well at breakfast tomorrow. Love, darling. Good night."

Draco watched her leave and shut the door tight, then took her seat across from Hermione, who was now looking directly at him expectantly. He made a face.

"Go on, gloat," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"Gloat!" he said. "You know, since you have the upper hand now. You got your way, you won. Thanks for turning my own mum against me, by the way, I hope that goes down alright, doesn't cause you any-"

"Draco!" Hermione exclaimed. "How dare you! This isn't about who got whose way, or winning, or anything like that! I'll consider myself as having won if I and my child are alive at the end of the damned school year!"

Draco closed his eyes and flopped back in the chair. He pinched his nose, then settled his chin on his hand and stared into the fire. Hermione glared at him at first, but gradually the frown wore away to concern. She was about to reach out to him again when he spoke.

"You're right. I'm sorry- I'm just- I can't help…I worry about it. I'm very, very worried."

"I know you're under a lot of stress," Hermione offered and Draco snorted.

"Stress? Oh, sure. You want the truth? I'm not under stress, Hermione. I'm under orders from the Dark Lord to kill Albus Dumbledore by the end of the school year or else my parents, my whole family, gets it. That's not stress. That's terror."

It was minutes before Hermione found her voice. "You haven't succeeded…oh, no." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Katie Bell."

"Katie Bell," he agreed and looked away. "Sure you still want to do all this? Stick by me? I'm terrible, I'm a monster."

Hermione started to shake her head again, but she knew it was true. She didn't agree or disagree, and instead ignored his question. After all, there wasn't much she could do at this point. She put a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes. Harry had been right about that much. But then…

"You're still working? Even after that?"

Draco sighed and wiped a hand down his face. "I was. I am? But I'm not doing a very good job. And then you…this thing happened and I found out…well, I found out some important things. And after talking with him, Dumbledore, I decided to just switch sides. I mean, what have I got to lose? My life? The lives of my family? They're as good as dead anyway, living under that fucking tyrant. So I switched. Now, I'm a double agent, or something like that, I guess."

"What does that even mean for you? Are you going to keep failing on purpose?"

Draco's eyes snapped to hers and whatever question she'd been about to ask, whatever theory she wanted to propound, died on her lips. The partial truth- the one Draco knew she would jump to- hit her.

"Oh, Draco. You actually have to keep trying, don't you? What are you…are you informing Dumbledore before you do it?"

"Have to make it real, don't we? But yeah, he knows most of the plans- half of them are his idea."

"Oh, Draco," she murmured again and they both fell to silence for some minutes.

Draco finally roused himself and glanced across at her. She was staring into space as pensively as he'd been and he suddenly felt terrible for burdening her with more than her fair share. She deserved better than him, didn't she? Then again, she deserved better than any of this: for her first child to come when she was safely married to a man she loved and already out of school, with a good job and a life, and long, long after the war was over…

He tried to ignore the part of him that kept suggesting he be the one she was married to in his daydream, but it refused to shut up. After all, his mother was right- they were just stupid teenagers with too much to deal with. What did either of them really know of life and love? But damned if his heart wasn't pounding in his chest and his mind wasn't putting images in front of his eyes.

"Draco?"

"Hm?" he responded automatically, glad of the orange firelight to hide his blushing cheeks.

"I understand now why you didn't want to tell me all this. But I'm glad you did, anyway. I have some time- and I'm going to work very hard with your mother this week."

He eyed her seriously and leant forward in his seat. "Are you really?" he asked softly. "Glad I told, you, I mean?"

She swallowed hard, then nodded. "I am. I'd rather know than be in the dark. We've enough secrets, don't we?"

Her eyes were soft and warm- accepting, even if they were sad. Sad for him and his circumstances, sad for herself, sad for their family and friends. He reached out and put his hand on her knee. She covered it with her own.

"We'll get through it, whatever happens," he said, but it was more of a question. She managed a grim smile.

"We have to," she said simply and continued to hold his gaze. The fire crackled away and the heat and dancing light sent shivers up both their spines.

"Hermione, I-"

"Don't," she said, with a small shake of her head. "Whatever it is, you don't need to say it. We both took that vow, we both knew the risks, even if the stakes are a bit bigger than I'd imagined. I'm in it with you, whatever either of us imagines we feel."

"I'm not imagining anything," he replied softly and then slid from his seat and, bracing himself on the arms of her chair, leaned over her. "And if you think I am, you're mental."

"Draco…" she whispered and a split second later, the rest of her words were swallowed by his mouth on hers.

AN: Ta-da. Cookie?